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sepherinaspoppies · 5 months

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hunger - michael gavey x reader

summary: the things Michael does for a crunchie bar.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, mentions of oral m receiving, oral f receiving, fingering, overstimulation, f squirting.

wc: 2,366

masterlist

notes: my first time writing for Michael lol. yes I did watch the movie and im still appalled by it (too much dick). like all of us, I wish Ewan had more screen time on this cause I felt pretty bad for Michael. he just wanted a friend 😩. I plan on writing another fic about him but when? idk I have too many wips

She uses the pad of her thumb to collect the line of cum that had trickled down the corners of her lips. Bringing the digit back into her mouth to suck off the pearly white liquid, all while seductively gazing at the disheveled boy that sat on the edge of her bed.

Michael let out a breathy moan, feeling his softened cock rousing back to life as he watched her throat swallow every bit of him again. She hums at the taste, salty with a hint of caramel from all those fucking crunchy bars he devours everyday when she’d seem him in class.

She brings herself up from the floor, her knees starting to recuperate from the carpet digging amongst her skin. Standing, she begins to thread her fingers through Michael’s soft sandy hair, appreciating the silkyness of it and the faintest little whines that emitted from his lips before tugging his head back rather abruptly.

“Would you like a taste of me, Gavey?” She asks, even though she knows the answer. It was why they were here, settled at her dorm.

Michael nods zestfully, his eyes trailing to her covered core as if he was already undressing her with his eyes. She grabs his hand and doesn’t fail to notice it was a bit clammy with nerves, and it almost made her feel slightly bad about continuing but the way his blue eyes darkened when she directed his hand toward the hem of her floral dress, made her think differently.

His fingers work at lifting up her dress. A deep shade of crimson floods his perfectly sculpted cheeks as he awkwardly and neatly folded her dress on the side of her nightstand. She giggled at his adorableness, she wasn’t as gentle as he was with her clothing. After, when they made their deal about what they wanted from each other, she clawed out his clothes and scattered them somewhere across her room, having no regard for them.

Once she made quick work at getting rid of her bra, Michael’s eyes widened in amazement as if had just received the perfect gift he always wanted. His fingers twitched, longing to touch what was right in front of him but she knew deep down he was holding himself back.

“I-um- I don’t know what to do” he admits sheepishly.

She knows this, having it heard and confirmed by Felix and Oliver when they were at the pub with a group of their friends.

She gives him a reassuring smile before straddling his lap, “I’ll teach you”

Michael’s face reddened even more if it was possible. His gaze lingered on her lips, then a back up to her eyes giving her a silent look for permission to kiss her lips to which she nodded fervently.

He wastes no time to crash his lips to hers, leaning his head forward to deepen the kiss. She moans, unsure if Michael knew how to kiss but even then she was willing to teach him if it need be. She moves her knees to get closer to Michael, her bare breasts scraping tightly against his chest as she wraps her arms around his neck desperately needing him to be closer than they already were.

She whines softly into the kiss as she swipes her tongue over Michael’s bottom lip. Michael moans in response, parting his lips open to let her gain access and she seizes the opportunity to dance her tongue against his own. Michael furrows his brows in concentration, taking mental notes on how exactly she liked to be kissed by the way he strokes his tongue synchronously with hers and the soft little moans that follow out of her lips.

She pulls away, a hint of chocolate and mint lingering on her lips, as she yearns for more of him between her legs. She almost wants to continue kissing him as she watches Michael’s blue eyes slowly flutter open and his lower lip curling into a pout, mewling at the loss of contact.

“We can kiss more after, if you want. Right now, I need you to return the favor” She pants, out of breath. Michael mends his pout into an eager smile that makes her chuckle. For such an arrogant know-it-all he sure had a way of being cute.

She lifts herself up by the help of Michael’s shoulders, crawling over the middle of her bed to rest her back against the duvet. “Ready?” She asks, wiggling her brows enthusiastically, already feeling giddy deep in her stomach.

Michael nods as he slowly adjusted to sit between her legs, his curious eyes never leaving her damp covered center, his pink tongue sweeping over his lips quickly practically already tasting her.

“Take of my panties, Gavey”

She hears Michael audibly whimper as his quivering fingers hook to the waistband of her underwear, sliding it off and causing her to release a shudder over the coolness of his fingertips.

Michael brushed his fingers against the garment of her underwear, studying it before he brought it to his nose, deeply inhaling the juices that were caused by being in the mere presence of him, from having him inside her mouth, around her hands, his kiss…

There was something so hot and erotic about it, seeing the guy who always picks on her for not being as smart as he was, sniffing her juices like he was a starved man. She moaned at his actions even more so when he quickly bent over the bed and stuffed her underwear into one of the pockets of his cargo shorts, probably saving it for later.

She bites back a protest. Those were her favorite pair but she supposes she can spare them for now.

Michael resumed his previous position in between her thighs. This time his face laid just centimeters away from her glistening core. She can feel his hot ragged breath fanning over the little patch of curls above her cunt, and very faintly she can hear Michael murmur “christ” under his breath.

She props herself on her elbows, “Give me your hand” Michael releases another shaky breath before he allows her to direct his hand to cup her mound.

“Do you feel how wet I am for you, Michael?”

Michael groans, desperate for some friction he grinds his cock on the bed. He can feel it. He can feel his hand soaked with her arousal. Michael wants to pull back and lick everybit clean off his hand.

“That’s- that’s my clit” She informs Michael with a strain voice as she runs his index finger through her folds. Michael stares at her engorged bud, having remembered studying it from his anatomy class and how it brought him great curiosity. Now, he was face to face with it and nothing could prepare how much excitement it brought him.

“The clit is very important. It’s where most of our pleasure comes from. Just pay adequate attention to it and gently circle it-”

She isn’t sure of the noises that leave her mouth, only feeling Michael beginning to circle her bud in a manner where not even most guys she’s been with have done so. It’s unhurried, unsure and gentle but it’s enough for her to feel waves of pleasure up her spine and her toes curling against the duvet.

“Oh! Michael” She moans, arching her back and unintentionally caging Michael’s head between her thighs.

Michael pulls his finger quickly like lightning away from her bud, his face showing a bit of concern. “What? What’s wrong? Was this not to your liking? I can try-”

“No, no. You’re doing great, really. I-I just, well, I like it and I meant it in a good way” She reassures him with a smile, a slight warmth shoots to her cheeks.

God, was she blushing at Michael fucking Gavey? Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan or the agreement!

“Oh, I see” Michael smirks before lowering his head, “Can I use my tongue?” She almost wants to desperately scream ‘YES’ and grind herself against his face but she instead nods and that was enough of a response for Michael as he flattens the tip of his tongue where her clit was.

Her back arches again, instinctively, feeling Michael’s tongue circle her bud and sweep through her folds all while he keeps his lustful gaze on her, watching the way her face contorts into different forms of pleasure and the audible moans and gasps he hears when he flicks his tongue in a rhythm he notes she likes.

Michael soon also finds himself moaning at the way she tastes. It was a flavor so sweet. Sweeter than the chocolate of his crunchy bars he so religiously ate. How could he ever tire of her taste?

Her chest begins to heave, her stomach feeling fuzzy and tight. She was nearing her first orgasm in weeks.

But then suddenly something unexpected happens. Michael hooks her thighs under his arms, bringing her cunt closer to his face. His red and swollen lips closed in around her clit, tenderly sucking. His actions along with the vibrations of his moans, sends hot shocks of pleasure that she feels the band in her stomach about to snap.

“Michaelllll. I’m about to-to cum” She cries, feeling orgasm seconds away from releasing.

“Really?” Michael mumbles with an exciting look in his eyes. She hums, her hands no longer fisting the duvet but instead gripping Michael’s hair.

Michael continues to lap at her core at the same rhythm he notices she likes, working his tongue quicker until he feels the meaty flesh of her thighs close in on his head and tremble.

“Michael! Yes! Yes!!!” She chants so loudly that both her and Michael know everyone in the dorm floor would listen. She couldn’t bring herself to care about everyone listening. The genius math nerd in all of Oxford just gave her the best head in the world.

Michael drinks in her release and this time he is able to pinpoint what flavor she reminds him of.

Honey.

She mewls softly. Her body feels weak and tired like she had just ran the longest marathon in her life. “So good, Michael. You did such a good job” She praises, giving the cunt-drunk man between her thighs a lazy smile as she brushes the damp hair away from his face.

A blush creeps into Michael’s cheeks, a sense of pride fills his senses. He knows he wants more now that she let him taste her. Michael supposes she could give him another taste to satisfy his hunger. She was right there for the taking. Why not?

“What are you doing?” She curiously asks, peering over as Michael dips his head again making her eyes widen in amazement.

“Michael, wait. We agreed just… Oh fuck!” Her back arches, hands gripping her breasts and a series of gasps leave her lips as Michael redoubles his efforts and works his tongue at an incredible speed that makes tears leave the corners of her eyes over the sensitivity.

Michael was getting skilled at this. Too skilled with tongue.

The thin metal of Michael’s glasses dug at her thighs, his face tightly pressed at her core as he growled devotedly. Had she just accidentally created a feral animal? Fuck.

This time she feels herself ascending closer to her peak more than usual. Her legs involuntarily begin to tremble and her mind feels fuzzy as she has no more strength to fight the waves of pleasure Michael was awarding.

“Michael” She cries, unsure why.

Michael, however, lost in his pleasure instinctively comes up with an idea. He unhooks one of his hands around her thigh and brings one of his fingers toward her entrance, plunging inside her walls in and out and curses at the way she clenches around his finger.

“No, no, no. Stay” Michael mumbles as her hips buckle away from his ministrations.

This was all getting too much for her. But she does what she’s told and stays and her body violently trembles one last time until she feels the pressure deep in her belly explode and her vision going absolutely blank.

Has she died and gone to heaven? Cause fuck!

She doesn’t seem to remember how to breathe or pick up the surprise yelps from Michael. She was absolutely drained and spent.

“Are-are you okay down there?” She asks, panting, gathering whatever strength she had left to peer down between her thighs. Michael’s round blue eyes look up at her in shock. His face, coated with much of her juices. Even his glasses had not been spared. A palm sized wet patch soaked her bedding.

Did Michael fucking Gavey make me squirt?

“I’m sorry that's the first time that ever happened to me. Wait here, let me get a towel to clean you up” She stammers as she begins to crawl out of her bed but Michael’s hand wraps around her ankle, preventing her.

“No need. I quite liked it” He blinks as cleans his face with his fingers, licking away her arousal like the embarrassing thing she did not happen.

He plops himself next to her on the bed, landing with a heavy thud. “So” Michael trails with a smirk, his head resting on his elbow. “Did I earn my reward?”

She scoffs playfully. How could she forget their deal?

She was walking to her class earlier on the day when she spotted Michael pouding and cursing at a vending machine for eating the last cash he had on him. She evilly laughed at him before she nonchalantly walked over to the vending machine and purchased the last two crunchy bars while waving it on his face. Truthfully, she did not find chocolate as pleasing as he did. Michael had scoffed before he followed her like a lost puppy, telling her he’d pay her back the next day. A wicked plan forged inside her head in a way he could pay her back.

“Here” She slams the two golden bars against his chest after she retrieved them from her bag. Michael smiles and mutters a ‘thanks’ as he unwraps his treat and brings her body to rest against his chest.

general taglist: @dreaming-for-an-escape @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @kittendoll05 @fullmoonworshipper @smayhem @bunbunbl0gs @summerposie @dusicapopilic @tulips2715 @kckt88 @chaoticwinnercupcake @imsoshygirl

empty is who I couldn't tag sorry :/

if you'd like to be tag on my general taglist click here

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey smut #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey #ewan mitchell

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vixstarria · 6 months

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My Fanfiction Master List

All fics can also be found on my AO3.

The following have accidentally turned into a series, although each can be read as a standalone.

Mostly Astarion x female Tav / reader, although other characters do make appearances.

Most are shameless reader self-insert, too.

To summarise: a take on Astarion's relationship progression with a hectic, unhinged bardlock Tav. Mostly humour and banter, fluff with light angst. And then there's the smut.

Ongoing series

Bloodbang Chronicles - post-game continuation of my bardlock series (see below), Astarion x f!OC [Most recently posted fic, to be updated regularly]

One-shot series:

Fluff

In chronological order, as they would take place in-game:

Where my nice, simple plan fell apart - scenes of Astarion x Tav relationship progression in Act 1 generally

Another Gift - Tav tries to comfort or distract a brooding Astarion, reflections on vampirism / Astarion's past

Mark me as yours (Astarion POV) - takes place the morning after 'Missionary with the lights off' (filed below under smut) - a day of pining in camp in the life of Astarion

Down by the river (alternating POV) - 18+, takes place immediately after 'Mark me as yours' - Astarion and Tav spend a night by the river, away from camp

Something real (Astarion POV) - An evening in camp, Astarion and Tav are finally alone

Are you mine? (Astaion POV) - just flirty pillow talk and comfort

Gentle Warding Bond - short & sweet, Astarion finds the "true love's caress" and "true love's embrace" rings in the Shadow-Cursed lands and makes a decision

Admit that you love me - Act 2, Gale fucks around and finds out, Lae'zel becomes poetic and Astarion most certainly does not tell you that he loves you

Confession (Astarion POV) - title self-explanatory, love confession, tooth-rotting sweetness

The Morning After - short fic, follow-up to 'Confession', morning in camp - banter, humour, etc

Intimacy - Astarion's struggle with sex and intimacy, includes some fairly softcore smut

Communication - It has been nice, but it's time Tav and Astarion actually figured out what it is they're doing and what comes next [Most recently posted oneshot]

A night at the inn (part 1) - the gang gets a chance to let loose for a while. Humour, banter, and a lead-up to something smutty to come [Parts 2 & 3 under smut]

Smut

Also part of series.

Missionary with the lights off - Uh. Some really mindblowing sex here. No, really. Porn with plot, fluff to smut

Seeing stars - Astarion is jealous. What's more, he's eager to prove that no one could possibly compete with him.

A remedy for sleeplessness - porn no plot, Tav can't sleep and Astarion takes matters into his own hands

What do you want to do with it? - porn no plot, dirty talk, 'use your words', oral sex (male receiving) (kinda)

A night at the inn (part 2) - porn, Astarion x Halsin x F!Tav/Reader, dirty talk, oral sex, PIV and more

A night at the inn (part 3) - continuation of porn, Astarion x Halsin x F!Tav/Reader, vampire bites as an aphrodisiac edition

The Sheath of Frontiers - Wyll's never been with a man. Astarion and Tav decide this must be rectified. (and yes that was an anal pun)

Challenges, shorts and misc

'Erotic Misadventures' - my entry for the BG3 April Foolishness challenge: 'write something spicy that uses the worst possible terms for body parts, sex acts'. Reader beware.

Untitled - Ask reply HC, Astarion accidentally attacks Tav during a nightmare

A cut - Tav accidentally cuts themselves, and Astarion scampers over like a cat to a can of tuna

Untitled - Ask reply, bonus scene following Seeing Stars - jealous giddy Astarion enacts revenge on Wyll after his failed awkward dance seduction attempt

'Gentle Warding Bond' should rightfully be here also, but it's too relevant to the 'plot' if you can call it that

My OC bard (bardlock) headcanon

(the lady in all the above fics)

OC Questionnaire

OC more in-depth questionnaire

Another 'get to know your Tav' post

OC songs and outfits

Why my Tav fell for Astarion

Why Astarion fell for my Tav

Going strong and planning to do more.

P.S. I am a whore for comments, and nothing sparks joy and feeds further inspiration quite like a simple "HHHNNNNNG ASFKJAGJLKSJF" in comments or reblog tags.

P.P.S Feel free to leave a comment if you'd like to be added to a taglist. :) And if so, do let me know if there are any categories you would prefer to be excluded from.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion fanfiction #pinned post #I give you my soul #You can give me your HHHNNNNNG ASFKJAGJLKSJF

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sungvrhs · 2 months

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ATTENTION - Park Sunghoon

Genre: Smut | CEO Sunghoon!male x reader!female

Word Count; 3.0K

Having numerous attempts at getting his attention? No way, either of those came across your mind and each and every one of them were so bland that you almost decided to drop out of this idea of yours.

Not to mention how difficult this job was even after he was your husband, you weren't willing to give up- not just yet. “Y/n, maybe you should simply go and confess it out to him that you don't like it when doesn't attend to you or stuff. That is a hundred times better than the numerous failed attempts you are making to grasp his attention.” Your co-worker, Sarah spoke, causing you to groan as you ducked your head down on the table. “It's such a bummer to a pretty face with a pathetic personality.” You mumbled, lifting your head up to glance at his picture that was secretly displayed on your lockscreen. You didn't know if he ever wanted you to show him off, which you never did, or even be possessive towards him when other girls would twirl their hair or give one the most seductive looks to him. What surprised you was how ignorant he was to them. As a man, he had more than what you could label as ‘control’ over greedy desires which you were pretty thankful for, but you despised it a little when it came to you. How can he not change himself just when he is around you? Just a little bit? It was all that you ever wanted.

You were thankful to have married a loyal man who wouldn't raise his head to meet the gaze of another woman that wasn't his, or would never cherish their existence in any way to make way for any sort of expectations. But if that was being applied to you too, then you didn't know what to feel about it; unlucky or thankful?

“Come on Y/n, don't think much about it. I hope your man realizes that soon.” Sarah spoke, patting your back as she felt guilty for not being much of help to you. Just as she was about to leave, your eyes widened as you sat up straight, causing the latter to get her attention back to you. “What what? What happened?” Sarah questioned you worriedly, looking back at you with a smug expression resting on your face. “I can do this one last thing I haven't done yet.” You spoke, giving a pause to your sentence as Sarah sighed. “And that is?” “I can make him jealous.” You spoke, grinning as Sarah rolled her eyes. “You think that after what you have told me about Sunghoon, he would fall for this?” You thought for a while, as you spoke “He might if it is his best friend.” You spoke, raising your eyebrows as Sarah finally understood. “No way you're pulling Jake into this.” You whined a little at her response, “Please Sarah! This is the only chance I got. I promise I won't emphasize on anything like that ever again!” You gave her the most doey eyes that you could as to which she sighed. “Fine fine, I'll talk to Jake.” She spoke as you lunged forward to give her a big hug, muttering a small thank you as to which she smiled. If that is what can fix her friend’s life, then she was down for it. Both of you knew that Jake and Sunghoon were like two peas in a pod and having him as your bait was a perfect plan. And with him being Sarah’s boyfriend just added cherry to the top of your well designed plan. ‘This shall be it.’ You thought to yourself as you vowed never to turn back to this request after this attempt.

“This is it. Does this look fine?” You asked her as the three of you sat in your office, to which Sarah gave you a thumbs up. “Well you look pretty, regardless of how you dress up in your usual days.” Jake spoke, suppressing his laughter as to which you threw the ribbon on his face. “Respectfully fuck off Jake.” You spoke as to which the latter shrugged his shoulders. “I can, but you both have bound me not to.” “Well it's all this once Jake, I hope that knocks some sense in your best friend to not keep hurting Y/n.” Sarah spoke, her hand resting on his shoulder as to which he sighed. “I’m gonna be dommed once he finds out that I’m the one flirting with you.” He spoke, facing you as to which you smiled. “At least he would notice. Unlike the rest of the days.” The last phrase almost came out as a whisper, causing you to bite your lips to suppress the disappointment that was evident in your voice. “Hey, it’s going to be fine. Trust me.” Sarah spoke, causing you to give a soft smile to her. “Well, if this doesn’t work, I’ll surely go talk to him.” Jake spoke, your smile evident at his expressions. Well, at least something happened to be good today. You were thankful to have two good friends here. Otherwise, the workspace would have been more like a prison to you.

The meeting was unexpected and you were thankful for wearing your makeup in the morning otherwise you wouldn’t have looked presentable. And to add fuel to the fire, you were running late to the meeting room as you sprinted through the hallway, the clock striking exactly 3.03pm which meant that you had messed up. Reaching up to the meeting door, you pushed it slightly, the former voices dropping down to dead silence as you peaked your head, noticing how the pair of eyes were looking at you. Nervousness took over you as you made your way inside, muttering a small sorry to the people for interrupting as you made way towards the table. It might have escaped your lips as a whisper but it was audible enough for your friends to notice as Sarah motioned you to sit beside Jake. You took your seat, skipping your usual empty one that was next to Sunghoon as you made way to sit next to Jake, exchanging a small smile with him as you failed to notice a raging pair of eyes at you both.

“Is he looking?” You asked Jake, not making it evident by looking at the screen as to which he responded, “He is, though he seems a bit unbothered.” You heard him speak as you scratched your nape, turning your head to look at where Sunghoon was seated, his cold gaze from his specs meeting yours as a chill ran down your spine. ‘How could he be effortlessly breathtaking?’ You thought to yourself as you were quick enough to break eye contact. “You can take off your coat, that might help.” Jake spoke, motioning his eyes to Sunghoon as you slightly nodded, taking off the coat as Jake helped you out. You could see how Sunghoon was clenching his jaw, definitely pissed off at your actions as you smirked to yourself. You could see that Jake saw it too as he was trying his best to suppress his laughter.

Adjusting his specs after the employee finished with his short presentation, Sunghoon was quick enough to agree with the ideas as the meeting was called off. “That's it for today, everyone is dismissed.” You turned around, looking at Jake as he was confused at how straight forward he was. “It's alright, we will figure something out.” You nodded, as you hugged him. “Thanks a lot though.” You spoke, breaking the hug as he nodded sideways. “Chill Y/n, I just helped you with your coat, nothing else.” His orbs moved across to meet Sunghoon’s bizarre ones as he grinned. He knew he was going against the plan but he was 100% sure it was going to be worth it. Leaning close to your ear as his hands rested on your shoulders. “ This may sound stupid, but I think this will work.” You pulled back a bit confused at his words as he made way to good your hand, kissing the back of it as he passed you a wink as took a few steps back, leaving you stunned, your face heating up at his actions. You were definitely not prepared for this but you cleared your throat, grabbing your files as you made way to exit the door before you heard a voice reaching out to you. “Except for you, Park.Y/n. I would like to exchange a few words with you.”

Your ears perked up at his icy voice, movements halting at his words as if your body had failed to respond after he called you out. You could easily pick up hints of another vibe reflecting in them as your eyebrows furrowed at the sudden swift in tones. You turned to face him, watching his every move; how he would set his specs on the bridge of his nose, his slender fingers sliding across the page of the file as he kept his one leg on the other, adjusting the tie loose around his collar. Not going to lie, it was all more than to make you feel a blazing sensation across your chest. And whilst you were busy admiring the small details, you heard the door being locked, pulling you back to reality as you turned to find him messing with the buttons of the CCTV camera and the sound adjustment.

"Done staring shamelessly at your boss?" His raspy voice snapped you out of your trance as you mentally scoffed. ‘The attitude.’ You rolled your eyes at him as you spoke, “I wasn’t staring. Why would I stare at someone whom I loath the most?” You spoke, causing him to turn around on his heels, raising an eyebrow as he let out a chuckle, nodding sideways at your words. It was unbelievable to his ears that you would ever loath his presence. “You? Loathing my presence?” He spoke, taking slow steps towards you as you took a step back. “Of course you would when you got my best friend to flirt around with.” You couldn’t believe his words, but the fact that he caught you right on point was itching a smirk on your lips, but you tried to avoid it, maintaining a poker face.

“Excuse me? I wasn’t flirting with him. We are just friends-""Y/n, the attitude you had a few minutes ago clearly doesn't justify your words." He cuts you off, his slow steps towards you progressing up with every passing second. The echoes of his steps were syncing with your heartbeats; rapidly taking pace with every passing second. “What is wrong with you Sunghoon? Your dual personality is a growing headache for me. It's either you despising me and not sparing a glance at your very own wife or you’re completely pissed off at me talking to my friend-””I don’t care if you talk to someone or not.” He spoke, now completely in front of you as you mentally cursed the table for existing right behind your back right now. “What I despise is how happy and smiley you seemed with him.” His hands made way to take away the files from your hands as he kept them beside on the table. “How you both talked as you both shared a loving eye contact.” His other hand made way to tuck a hair strand behind your ear as he leaned closer, his cinnamon breath hitting your cheeks as he continued to speak. “How you were seeking his help to take off your coat.” His hands traced down your outlines, slowly and sensually as it didn’t fail to give you tingles. “S-Sunghoon.” You whimpered, your breath becoming shaky at his actions as he chuckled deeply. “What? You can’t handle it? I didn’t even start anything.” He spoke, raising an eyebrow as he undid the buttons of his coat, slowly and painfully as you found it hard to maintain eye contact with him whilst his actions did the opposite. He knew the right buttons to press and this is exactly what he wanted to do. You found yourself at the loss of words as your mouth was hung at his actions. Letting the coat dangle free around his body, he swiftly took it off, flexing his chiseled body under the white clean shirt as he turned to throw it on the table, watching it land down as he turned attention to you again, his tongue poking his inner cheek.

“You did this on purpose didn't you?” He questioned you, his hands resting on either side of the table as he had you trapped in between. You looked away, finding it hard to meet his gaze. ‘That was not how this was supposed to go.’ “What? Cat got your tongue?” He scoffed, knowing very well the impact he was setting on you was like setting up a jenga tower, step by step. You gulped at his actions, trying not to get away with his little play. The thin white shirt was clearly not helping as it traced out the outlines of his whole body; from the top of his broad shoulders down to his sculpted abs, your gaze went to his muscular biceps that followed his veiny hands, settled right beside yours as his figure trapped yours. “Eyes up here love.” His slender fingers came in contact with your chin as he raised your head to level your eyes with his. A moment of silence follows, with only the rhythmic breathing of the two of you syncing whilst his calm attire contrasts your freaked out one. It was nowhere close to being intended but seeing him all pissed off by the way his darkened orbs pierced through yours, it wasn’t helping the heat that was arousing between your legs.

“I hate you.” You spoke, tongue poking your inner cheek as you pushed him back, creating space between the two of you as you heard him scoffing. “If you lie,m try to be a bit more evident, my love. The way you were technically undressing me with your gaze speaks the opposite of what you just ‘meant.’” Emphasizing on the word ’meant’ as he clicked his tongue, his hands resting on your waist as your cheeks turned into hues of red. He spoke nothing other than leaning down next to your ear, his hand squeezing your waist as you held back your gasp. “Try a bit harder to hate me, your body language ain’t helping you either.” He chuckled in your ear, his husky voice ringing like a melody as you turned to face the opposite side, hating how weak you were becoming in front of him. He pulled back a little, his cinnamon breath fanning across your lips whilst his chocolatey orbs captivated your hazel ones once again.

“Tell me that you hate me in front of my face.” He spoke, his gaze flickering between your lips and orbs as he inched closer to you ever so painfully whilst you gulped down the lump forming in your throat. “I hat-” Before you had the chance to declare what your heart never desired to you felt his lips meeting yours, pulling you in a feverish kiss as his hands gripped yours wrists, pushing them behind your back as he held them in place just by one of his hands, earning a groan from your end as to which he only smirked. He knew you very well and seizing the right opportunity was his art. The bridge of his specs kept knocking against your nose as to which you simply wanted to adjust it in between his locks, but the very next second he pulled back aggressively from the kiss, leaving you perplexed as he shook off his head to the right, letting his specs fly across the room as your eyes widened. He wasted no time in letting you mumble as his hands seized your tiny waist, pushing you up on the table whilst he had his guard in between your legs, pulling you close by the nape in another kiss once again, this one being more passionate than the earlier one.

Pulling apart after your hands tapped his shoulder at the shortage of breath, a string of saliva had your lips connected, leaving you both panting for air. “Oh you do hate me. Hate me enough just to kiss me.” He smirked, knowing very well how much of the impact he had on you. You were beyond flustered at his words. This side of him was definitely unexpected and you were enjoying it. His fingers played with your pants, eye contact never breaking as he continued with his verbal declaration. “You hate me just enough to let me slide past the barrier.” He pulled down your pants, leaving you in your lacy underwear as he pulled them down, his other hand crept under your shirt, rubbing circles on your back as the contact of his cold hand with your warm skin made you hiss. “Just enough to undress you.” His hands made way to pull off your shirt, as you helped him up, too drunk in his words as you simply obliged to his unheard commands. “Just enough to finger you.” He muttered his fingers skillfully diving into your cunt, running waves of pleasure through your body as you clutched onto his biceps. “S-Sunghoon please.” You mumbled, suppressing your voice to the lowest as you whimpered, your face scrunching as his fingers continued to waver like magic around your walls. You didn’t even pay enough attention to how and when he unzipped his own, holding his shaft as he almost rode you to your high, a familiar knot forming in your stomach as he pulled out just before you could feel the relief, earning a groan from you. Your eyes shot open at his actions, brimming orbs meeting his mischievous ones as he leaned closer to your ear, whispering the last words before he devoured you. “You hate me just enough to let me fuck.you.raw.” He let those words sink in your ears, pushing his shaft right in you as your back arched. “Let me give this pretty little cunt of yours all the attention it needs. Since my woman can’t pleasure herself enough, can’t she?”

note: Hi!! MY HANDS WERE ITCHING TO POST SOMETHING ABOUT HOON IN SPECS AND I A CHUNK OF IT EVEN BEFORE THE PICS WERE DROPPED. I tried to mingle the plot that I wrote earlier with a few good ideas. If there are any grammartical errors, feel free to ignore cause english ain't my first language! Reblogs and likes would be appreciated!

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kissitbttr · 4 months

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RANDOMMM SCENARIO BUT… famous athlete(soccer player) comes up to Wife and flirts with her (???) while her and miggy are at a club or something. 🫨

ooo this gon be a one jealous miggy🤤🤤

miguel is fucking furious,

he and his wife had planned to have a date night. a nice drink at a cocktail bar would do the two of them good. in which he refused at first. he offered a dinner and gentle walks with ice cream but it seems that his wife managed to make him agree with her instead . thanks to her gorgeous puppy dog eyes and seduction, he actually complied. under one condition, that she has to stay by his side the entire night.

‘aw baby, you know i wouldn’t stray too far away from you. I wouldn’t like to dance alone anyway’

that’s not why miguel wanted her to leave his side for more than five minutes,

if she did, then miguel has to look at some twenty something year old mother fucker trying to hit on her like this exact moment,

it’s because he knows how gorgeous his wife is. her presence alone could make people’s head turns and men to fall to their knees. let alone if she opens her mouth and speak, they could easily be entranced and fall in love,

how would he know, you ask? because that’s what she did to him the first time he met her,

he brings his glass of whiskey to his lips, taking a slow sips as his eyes settled on another brunette man trying to entertain his wife by the bar,

five minutes. miguel fucking left for five minutes to go to the bathroom and some pubescent fucker already is trying his ways to woo her,

it’s not like she’s actually interested with the guy. he could sense the boredom radiating from her, and he doesn’t even have to stand close to her,

it makes him laugh.

her ears perk at the sound of a familiar sound that she loves, turning around and flashes a smile before reaching a hand to his waist making him mirror her expression,

“miguel, darling. this is christian. christian king. he’s a—“

“number 07. football league. nice to meet you” on the contrary, miguel’s tone doesn’t sound inviting at all, in which she’s quick to notice but doesn’t say anything,

the guy however, is appalled. eyes wide at the size of the man before him who looks like he could snap his neck in half.

miguel’s impossibly large physique has never failed to intimidate people. how could it not? he’s one of the strongest spider-man for crying out loud! not to mention the amount of hours he put in during the workouts. especially when he’s in during the bulking season to put on more muscles,

lord have mercy whomever tries to cross him or disrespect his wife

“oh.. I didn’t know she came with someone” the guy gulps nervously but try to at least smile. “miguel o’hara? a friend of bruce wayne’s right?”

he scoffs, “hardly” he twirls the glass softly in his hand as the other snakes around her waist, showing him that she’s taken. “acquaintance is more suited”

christian lets out a hum, nodding along as he awkwardly tries to avert his gaze. miguel’s wife however is enjoying this weird interaction, her eyes flickers between them before smirking,

“christian here just asked me out on a date. to go watch him play”

hearing that makes christian choke, while miguel raises his one eyebrow at the bold question the man had the nerve to ask,

“that so?” miguel heaves a small humorless laugh, sounding pissed. he watches christian struggle to put some words as he shakes his head,

“t-that was before i knew she came with someone, i swear! sorry i mean no disrespect” he puts his hands up in defense, feeling scared that her words will affect his life. because the way miguel is staring him down hard,

there’s 99% chance that christian would walk out of here with broken arms,

“saw you kept touching her too, compá. you interested in my wife?” miguel steps in closer while she remains quiet, biting back a smile,

“no! oh my god, no! of course not i was—“

“how old are you?”

“21”

“shit” miguel chuckles as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “look, you got to find one your age, kid. she’s taken. beat it”

christian nods fast, grabbing his drink off the table and mutter a soft sorry before scrambling off and away from the two,

his wife has her legs crossed, exposing the soft and delicate thighs between the slits of her dress while eyeing her husband who refuses to leave his gaze off the poor guy,

she smirks widely, elbow on the counter before chuckling causing miguel to look at his woman. which then his brows dip into a frown,

“you were enjoying that”

“i did” she confirms, moving to graze his cheek and down to the collar of his shirt. “you handled that better than i did”

“you complaining, cariño?”

“kind of. I should’ve prompted a fight”

“jesus, you’re crazy”

she leans closer, breath ghosting over his mouth as he looks down at her, mind going fuzzy. “you love it.”

“ay. si lo tengo, bonita” he sighs dreamily, planting a quick kiss on her ruby lips. “i still don’t like how they keep trying to take my woman away from me. first, it was at the cake test for our wedding and now that fucking kid—jesus is really testing me”

“what? you know i’m hot. some people just can’t help themselves” she shrugs innocently, giving him her best doe gaze while sipping on her cocktail,

with a groan, he pulls her in. “you’re pushing it, querida” eyes jumping between her eyes and mouth. “but you’re not wrong”

her lips stretch into a smile, pressing a finger on his chin to keep his eyes locked in his,

“you’re my husband. and i’m your wife. we’re tied, baby. you are stuck with me”

the nickname and the reminder puts him at ease for a bit, softly unclenching his jaw, head nodding at the thought of his wife being his forever,

his beautiful, beautiful wife,

“i mean, unless you want us to—“

“don’t even think about it” he grunts, giving her butt a spank with a glare. the gesture makes her giggle,

“you’re fucking mine”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara blurbs #miguel o’hara drabbles

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thegettingbyp2 · 1 month

Note

maybe something like feyd x fremen reader.

Maybe she captured him he is just like strong women marry me.

Impressive

A/N: So I have changed the request slightly simply so it was a bit easier for me to write but I have kept the strong woman, I hope that's okay!

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You could feel the blood dripping down your face from the cut just above your eye and your hands instinctively moved to try to wipe it away, only to be snagged by the cuffs that were keeping them behind your back. You had been a part of Paul’s plan to defeat the Harkonnens and it was your job to plant a trap for them. You’d almost managed it until one of the soldiers found you, overpowering your quickly and calling for the Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha.

You’d heard many things about Feyd-Rautha, heard about the way he would fight in the arena and how skilled he was with a knife. His reputation made fear fill your body at the idea of coming face to face with him but you were determined to stay strong and not let him see that fear.

When he walked into the room where they had been holding you, you were surprised to find yourself attracted to him with his broad shoulders and ridiculously pretty eyes and you felt yourself shake yourself out of it before you let him see any weakness in you. You were so preoccupied in your own thoughts, you failed to notice his eyes light up slightly when he looked at you.

‘Leave us,’ Feyd commanded in a strangely seductive voice, not once taking his eyes off of you. As soon as the door closed and it was just you and Feyd in the room, he stepped closer, tilting his head as he looked at you. ‘When they told me that a Fremen had made it through our defences, I can’t lie, I was expecting a man.’

‘Sorry to disappoint,’ you replied sarcastically, causing Feyd to raise his brow at you.

‘I didn’t say I was disappointed,’ Feyd replied, pretty much cutting you off, a smirk beginning to play on his lips. ‘Tell me,’ he said, crouching down in front of you and running a finger down your cheek, making you shiver violently, ‘why are you following Paul Atredies?’

‘He’s the chosen one,’ you replied simply, meeting his gaze and refusing to be the first one to look away. Feyd seemed to like your attitude as he smiled at you, showing you a glimpse of his black teeth. You knew that you shouldn’t find him attractive, but there was something about him that drew you in. However, all for the strong front you’d been putting on in front of him, you couldn’t stop the gasp from escaping your lips when, in a flash, you felt the sharp edge of a knife pressing against your throat, but still, you refused to look away.

Feyd made a sound of approval in the back of his throat, keeping the blade against your skin as he leaned in further, completely invading your space as he looked at you. ‘You’re impressive,’ he said, sounding amused, ‘most Fremen I encounter end up begging me to spare their life but I have a feeling you’re not the type of person to do that, are you?’

‘Why would I do that when you’ll just kill me anyway? You might as well just get on with it.’

‘I’m not going to kill you,’ he replied, much to your surprise, ‘I think I’d rather keep you around a bit longer.’

‘Then do you mind taking the knife away from my neck?’ The bluntness of your tone had a laugh escaping Feyd’s lips and you struggled to hide the surprised expression on your face. Feyd slowly lowered the blade before discarding it on the floor and pulling you to your feet, keeping his hands on your arms to keep you balanced before one of his hands slid up to cup your face, his thumb brushing your bottom lip gently.

‘Pretty and strong-willed,’ Feyd mused, tugging on your bottom lip slightly as he looked at you. ‘You’ll make the perfect Na-Baroness.’

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha imagine #dune part two #austin butler

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linnienin · 11 months

Text

🦋 A s t e r o i d ⁕ S i r e n e ⁕(1009) 🦋 i n ⁕ t h e ⁕ h o u s e s

How they seduce you, and how you can make them FAIL THEIR PLAN 😈

Hello gorgeous mermaids ✨🧜‍♀️🧜‍♂️

I hope you're doing well 🌸

I finally wrote the "Sirene in the houses" post! And added a little treat to reward you for your patience 👀

Enjoy 🦋

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

Disclaimer: These are my PERSONAL THOUGHTS on an asteroid we know very little about, i am researching it and trying to understand it to the best of my abilities. Take what resonates

Disclaimer 2: This post is for entertainment purposes mostly, don't use these methods at home kids 💖

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ I n t e r p r e t a t i o n ⁕ g u i d e :

The "How to make them fail their plan" paragraphs were formed using the theory "opposites attracts".

I tried to decipher every Sirene in the houses's possible behaviour and how to strike back using the unknown (to them) force of the energy from the opposite house.

Remember, this is MY THEORY and this post is meant to entertain and add some useful infos, like the Celebs examples for each house...yep, curious of knowing who they are? 👀

Keep reading 🦋

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ 1ST HOUSE : Masters at knowing how to use their body. Naturally mesmerizing, they'll use their mannerism, their seductive and entrancing aura and expressions to get you do what they want. Usually these natives don't even need to speak a word to capture you, their confidence and self-assurance makes them appear as the ultimate trophy everyone wants. This placement can trigger other people's deepest insecurities... "do i have what it takes to win them?". Needless to say, Sirene in 1H individuals have seen it all, all the clownery and the ludicrous attempts from others to get them, while they stand in their confidence, looking at them making them think they catched their attention. But these natives, they're not as impossible to break as them make it seems... (they have been over-sexualised and judged on their appeareance for a long time, and want someone that goes beyond their looks, a partner in crime, someone that is serious in their approach and know how to share, instead of keeping everything for themselves)

⁕ 💥 HOW TO MAKE THEM FAIL THEIR PLAN: Show them you notice them (i mean, it's impossible not to) but you consider them as normal people like everyone else in the room. They'll wonder why you don't get showy and greedy over them, and you'll spark their curiosity, they'll feel a sense of tranquility in looking at you being social with others and treat people with good manners. Because they've seen extremes, your balanced persona will make them feel it safe to approach you.

⁕ Celebrities examples of Sirene in 1H: Eva Green, Debra Paget, Bella Hadid, Angelina Jolie, Grace Kelly, Selena Gomez, Anne Hathaway, Zoe Kravitz, Grace Jones, Elvis Presley, Jennifer Lawrence

Click HERE to see an exclusive post on Sirene in 1H

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ 2ND HOUSE: Expensive lovers of sensations. They will attract them using bad or good ways, and because they know these sensations way too well, they also will set a trap for others making those people fall for them with their sensational methods. They will seduce you with their looks, touch, smell, voice and the taste of their kiss (or well, they could prepare you a sensational meal too hehhe). As soon as your 5 senses are triggered you'll only want more. These people use the human's carnal sin as their bait, they know perfectly how much to give to receive 10x more from their prey. They could even seduce you by showing how much money they have or their expensive possessions. Or could seduce to gain those material needs. (can have self-worth insecurities, so they'll persuade people sometimes only to get validation from them and to feel a sense of victory from winning their prey, so they can feel better about themselves)

⁕ 💥 HOW TO MAKE THEM FAIL THEIR PLAN: Show them control of yourself, especially control of your vulnerable side. They will not know how to get you if you show no problem in resisting their seductive attempts, they will instead be confused by you and take them back to avoid looking stupid (again, they can suffer from self-worth image so they'll feel riddiculous and they'll go find another prey to fill their self-esteem with), but if you want to reverse the situation, open up to them and make them feel like they're the only one worthy of knowing your vulnerable side, they'll love it and they'll fall for it.

⁕ Celebrities examples of Sirene in 2H: Beyonce, Lily Rose Depp, Michelle Pfeiffer, Naomi Campbell, Princess Diana

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ 3RD HOUSE: "Welcome tributes to the 29372992 edition of Mind Games" ,and may the odds be in your favour because 3H Sirene natives have always won it. Sneaky, Clever, smart asses, these natives knows how to get to It quickly: a little smirk, the right word, a playful touch, and they've already hijacked your brain circuit. They love to confuse you with their double face game, looking at your pathetic and obvious reactions. You're going to feel like you're their partner in crime, their special someone, but all their pretty words, their quotes from your favourite poetry book, they ain't for nothing...their eyes are stuck on that prize, and you're just in their way. These natives love cars and driving. Could seduce you to buy them a car, give them a ride, or ride them on it 🙊. They could manipulate your siblings to get to you (and even get them both sistah and brothah). Spread rumors like it's nothing and be so good at hiding their face behind an innocent persona.They're quick and witty, it's extremely difficult to caught them slip unless...

⁕ 💥 HOW TO MAKE THEM FAIL THEIR PLAN: ...you observe their game from a higher perspective. They're very detailed individuals, so their weak point lays in the bigger picture. They can't be everywhere at the same time, if you show them you got the higher ground they can't reach you with simple words. Show them you are worthy of completing their game, show them your spiritual side, your deeper knowledge, words they've never heard about, they're extremely curious beings , and if they consider you interesting enough, they'll respect you and listen to what you can bring to their table of knowledge, if you pass their test, soon you'll hear the engine of their car and them approaching you saying "get it loser, we're going to play with people's minds"

⁕ Celebrities examples of Sirene in 3H: Elizabeth Taylor, Emma Watson, Halle Berry, Honor Blackman, Johnny Depp

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ 4TH HOUSE: Cuddles that cage you. Such a sweet cutie pie right? Well, check your cholesterol levels because a too darn nice gesture from these natives can reveal itself as a fatal dose. They know the strings to pull to get your heart, and believe me my friends, if they get you to feel a nice comfy cozy presence that makes you feel at home, don't get too comfortable because they're about to cut that heart of yours in slices of cake to satisfy their bitter palate. Masters at emotional manipulation, they get your heart, they get your favours. And you'll feel so good about it won't you? They're giving all those nice smiles, warm hugs, puppy eyes, how could such a lovely little thing has shady thoughts right? Oh dear, you already fell into that trap didn't you...ohhh they're sobbing... nono, listen to me, don't rush to them, there's something more you need to know...(these natives actually never felt a sense of belonging, they didn't receive affection from their family, they don't really know what it truly means to have a home to return to)

⁕ 💥 HOW TO MAKE THEM FAIL THEIR PLAN: Show them you're a mature person, and that you won't play with childish people. Show them you get the job done, and you have earned and built a place with seriousness and competence, you serve people you are loyal to, and their loyalty awaits for you every single time you get to them, back to the place you call home. They will fall for your confidence and devotion, they'll want to become one of those loyal people you care for so much, they'll want to experience your genuine feelings and learn how it must be to feel them personally too.

⁕ Celebrities examples of Sirene in 4H: Marilyn Monroe, Rihanna, Jane Russel, Barbara Bach

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ 5TH HOUSE: "I'll paint you like one of my french girls". Artistic, creative and smokey hot individuals. Their acting is flawlessly on point, they will dramatically impersonate the character you have a crush on. They'll show you their beautiful sketches and suddenly you're wearing the Heart of the Ocean, laying 💃au naturel💃 on an expensive sofa. Charming like the sun, they're the reincarnation of Apollo, they give you attention and seduce you by playing a hot chase. Beware of your position, the push and pull is not so cool if you're on the top of the Titanic with your arms wide open: one push, no pull and you're gone. But if you wanna catch their heart and not be catched by the ocean you'll need to resist their bright blind sunny aura by putting on sunglasses ,we're about getting✨ extra✨ too 🕶 (and don't forget the sunscreen!)

⁕ 💥 HOW TO MAKE THEM FAIL THEIR PLAN: Show them your rebellious side. Break their mirror into pieces, and the Gaston in them will go crazy. While they play with their ego to get attention, you play with your individuality and eccentricity not to get it. They'd wonder how such an introverted individual can arouse so many eyes without even trying! They'd get so jealous of you being unbothered of it, until you make them realize they're not embracing their true self, and you'll make them wonder how it should feel like to break free without caring about all those mirror scars...

⁕ Celebrities examples of Sirene in 5H: Margot Robbie, Diana Rigg

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ 6TH HOUSE: The sexy competent librarians 👀. Details makes the difference, and these natives know it way too well. "Ohhh that book fell on the ground could you please hand it to me?" *proceed to put a little note in your hand* "ohh thank you, i guess this must be a book i'll have to read, the universe has spoken 👀". Skilled individuals and humble about it. They work hard behind the scenes to create a perfect plan to seduce you, it even shows on their face, like did you sleep? But well, those dark circles look so hot on them it's crazy, you can't resist their appeal. Naturally good at picking up what people needs. They make even the everyday tasks so worth it when it comes to spend time with them. They could seduce you by giving you a pet as a meaningful gift. You'll feel special because they started playing their plan by showing you they have high standards. And who wouldn't want to be picked by someone picky?

⁕ 💥 HOW TO MAKE THEM FAIL THEIR PLAN: Show them it's ok to be imperfect. Show them that their plan don't need to be so detailed, they already got you by showing their efforts. They attach their worth to how capable they are, and refuse to believe they're worthy as only human being. If you let them know with empathy that value is only a matter of perspectives and that in your perspective they're already genuinely perfect in all their imperfections they'll feel so appreciated that the detailed plan they built can only unfold further without it making them even feel like they're putting efforts.

⁕ Celebrities examples of Sirene in 6H: Lana Del Rey, Timothee Chalamet, Michael Jackson, Natalia Dyer, Chelo Alonso, Claudia Cardinale

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ 7TH HOUSE: *sweet wedding music playing*... oh shoot, why are you wearing that suit/wedding dress?... ohh right, they seduced you to get married to them right away to steal your fourtune 😏. No but really, these natives makes people want to put a ring on their finger just after a singe conversation. The favourite of the masses. They're liked by everyone, because they are impeccable at the art of changing masks during conversations. Could even easily grasp the heart of their enemies. Their poise, their composure and their balance in themselves makes people think they're the perfect wife/husband material. Flawless fashion and perfect taste in clothing added to a, now rare, common sense inspire a sense of lost glamour that invade other people's minds and fantasies. Their gentle movements and nice actions strike to win other people's daydreams to be able to win their own dream life.

⁕ 💥 HOW TO MAKE THEM FAIL THEIR PLAN: Show them you catch the real them in between changing masks. They'd vacillate and lose that control a bit, if you show that you also are confident in your skin and you aren't afraid to show your authentic self in public,even if this means having haters, you'd make them want to lose their kept and to just break themselves free from any expectations to live life discovering who they truly are inside and not who they should be to respect society's standards.

⁕ Celebrities examples of Sirene in 7H: Audrey Hepburn, Greta Garbo, Zendaya, Demi Moore, Kristen Stewart

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ 8TH HOUSE: Intoxicating nymphs with a soft spot for inheritance. They're black widows standing at the funeral of their poor husband number "i lost the count" (well, they could easily marry a Count and "lose" him from death to "natural causes" 🥺). These natives will seduce you privately, they'll wrap you up in their fog and you won't be able to see anything else but them with no way to escape their bubble. They'll get you obsessed and addicted, poisoning you with their charisma and their deep meaningful words, making you feel special. They know how to use human psychology to their advantage, some of them might even seduce you with sex, or might seduce you to get sex with them.(These people feel extremely lonely even if they hide it under a mask of perfect self control , they crave that intimate deep connection that they never or rarely experience where they can show their vulnerabilities without getting judged.)

⁕ 💥 HOW TO MAKE THEM FAIL THEIR PLAN: Show them stability in yourself and your element to create a space that will make them feel safe to open up. Let them feel all the sensations they closed themselves up to, and once you see them getting comfortable,make them feel themselves in all their power by triggering their senses. Make them feel heard by sharing your insecurities and listen to theirs with compassion and genuine understanding. They'll be yours forever.

⁕ Celebrities examples of Sirene in 8H: Shakira, Uma Thurman, Ursula Andress, Priyanka Chopra, Billie Eilish, Cate Blanchett

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ 9TH HOUSE: Exotic and ethereal beings that will seduce you with their spirituality and higher knowledge. They like to present themselves as gods/goddesses (put on that white shapeless drape and make it looks expensive and like they've been living in it for ages *sexy wise*🔮). They'll make you fall for their trap by triggering your mind and sense of self, trip you by making you believe there's something greater than you, let you believe they are IT. They'll use their personal philosophies to brainwash you. Could seduce you by challenging/changing your faith/religion. Their foreign appeal attracts people in, and with that contagious laugh...you won't feel any symptoms, instead it'll feel like you're being transported to the Temple of the Gods, enjoying your wine, letting yourself be cradled in the arms of Bacchus. Enjoy the voyage of the mind, but not by too much or you'll never find your way back home...

⁕ 💥 HOW TO MAKE THEM FAIL THEIR PLAN: Show them you can't see what they want you to see. Make them doubt their blind faith by picking up details they've forgot about, important details that would break the higher purpose and sense of their plan. If you give them even a little existential crisis, they'll feel lost and will follow you to have a little bit of certainty to bear the huge uncertainty.

⁕ Celebrities examples of Sirene in 9H: Sharon Stone, Elle Fanning, Gina Lollobrigida

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ 10TH HOUSE: Bosses of sensuality. Their intensely demanding and confident aura traps everyone in making them wanting to crawl at these natives feet to receive just a pinch of their attention. They take responsibility, they inspire everyone around them with their work ethic and their serious approach. No mistakes allowed, they're the epitome of a perfectly stable and successful individual. Bearer of way too much attention, they try to focus on their path, and this only drives people crazier. They're not particularly flirty natives, but their availability to others makes them irresistible beings people feel entitled to project their insecurities onto. In case of highly sexual beings, people with this placement could seduce you at work, or by showing their work and how good they are at it.

⁕ 💥 HOW TO MAKE THEM FAIL THEIR PLAN: Show them how to embrace their emotional side. They only open the doors to hear other's problems, forgetting they have emotions that scream the needs to be expressed too . They're always cold and composed to mantain their public persona, feeding the weight of that outer burden with mature temper, forgetting their inner joyful child.

⁕ Celebrities examples of Sirene 10H: Monica Bellucci, Sophia Loren, Dakota Johnson, Winona Ryder

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ 11TH HOUSE: Driiiiing!...Hello?... *speaks in native alien language*...yeah, i didn't understand either. What's on these natives minds? Their unpredictable actions catch everyone off guard. But then they get on your mind and you wonder why. I told you, they called it. They have so many connections they'd get to you in 0.0001 seconds, yeah, 3H natives are fast, but these natives's brain technology is faster. They strike alone, anonimously, and ironically they take the hard and impossible route even when they could easily use their crowd of submissive sheeps. But they're the black sheep, like Batman, they don't fit in, Bruce Wayne is just another insignificant rock in the pile of the universe. But Batman, he can make a difference, he's dark, he's hot and he won't listen to your boss. Their rebellious aura is irresistible. But i know more, so take my call: 🎵 <Hello from the other siiiiiiide... ⬇

⁕ 💥 HOW TO MAKE THEM FAIL THEIR PLAN: ... at least i can say that i've trieeed>🎵 . No but seriously, these natives aren't so easy to get. They don't care about the fact they're seducing people most of the times, they let them be and focus on the bigger reason on why they're doing the stuff they do. You'll have to remind them they're a special person in their normal boring everyday clothes too. Bruce Wayne isn't just a simple sheep in the crowd, he is a phenomenal individual that can have as much power as Batman. Tell them they need to live for themselves, not for others.

⁕ Celebrities examples of Sirene 11H: Scarlett Johansson, Penelope Cruz, Nicole Kidman, Meryl Streep, Brigitte Bardot

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ 12TH HOUSE: If dreams could kill, then you'd meet a Sirene in 12H. They're the enigma, the fantasy everyone want to get lost into. They understand life can be boring and monotonous, and people are so stressed out by It that they seduce their prey offering them a ticket to the Land of wonders. But their prey doesn't know that this ticket has a hidden price, much like in Squid Game, the premise of the game is too good to be true. Lies, unknown truths, a harsher reality these people will soon face if they ever wake up after falling in their trap. Sirene in 12H natives could play with their prey abusing substances on them, making them drinking way too much to the point of not realizing who they are anymore. They make you wander in your confusion. Most of their preys will come back or even never leave that deadly sweet arena because the thrill feels heavenly and once you see you can't forget.

⁕ 💥 HOW TO MAKE THEM FAIL THEIR PLAN: Show them reality is not that bad. Beauty is found in the mundane, because life is meaningful but only if you make it so. Choices are important and can forge one's path, and by not making choices you inevitably set youself up for failure and delusions. Dreams don't last forever and are not sustainable to have in the long run, besides, the most vivid dreams you remember are often your worst nightmares.

⁕ Celebrities examples of Sirene 12H: Aishwarya Rai, Megan Fox, Ingrid Bergman, Charlize Theron, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Kate Winslet

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

Congrats! You've reached the end of the post! 🌸

✨ Did you like it? ✨

I hope it kept you entartained, added a pinch of knowledge and maybe even made you smile a bit 🥰

Let me know in the comments if you resonated with your placement ✨

If you're curious to know how Sirene in the signs would manifest in your chart i made an entire post on it, click here to read it!

Wish you a fantastic day!

(like the one the mermaids from Neverland are having ⬇)

Yours,

Linnie 🦋

#sirene in the houses #asteroid sirene #astro notes #astro observations #asteroid astrology #astro community

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 4 months

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Pt VIII good omens a spoiler-free trailer

*walks into church, ignoring the gasps of the congregation* *holds mic to a terrified gentleman's face*

Have you ever wondered, what if the flaming sword at the Garden of Eden was insufferably in love with the Serpent?

*doesn't wait for response, shoves mic in shaking lady's face*

What if I told you, your bible studies are incomplete, because they are missing the most important story of all?

*cut to me in front of a white screen, walking seductively toward camera in a suit*

Worry not, for your prayers have been answered. Presenting, Good Omens, a kind-of biblically accurate story by Sir Terry Pratchett and Tumblr's own @neil-gaiman, now a TV show and queerer than ever. All you AO3 slow-burn hoes, we see you. You asked for it, you got it. Childhood friends is so last millennium, we give you instead, six thousand years of mutual pining.

*hard cut to David Tennant, whom I have stuck to a chair with Elmer's glitter glue* *he struggles, in vain*

Starring David Tennant and his signature slutty walk as Crowley, now in a ginger Barbie edition that comes with demonic eyes, every hairstyle and gender you could ever dream of, and instant outfit changes. It really is a miracle!

*camera swivels to focus on Michael Sheen, who is bound in blankets and looking deeply concerned*

Starring Michael Sheen the fae shapeshifter as Aziraphale, the sweetest, most cherubic murderous bitchy angel you've ever seen. Special features include automatic heart-eyes the moment he is faced with Crowley, a charming disregard for casual massacre in the name of God, and the instant outfit changes. Watch him melt your heart before breaking it! Bonus tip: try giving him sushi!

*cut back to the white screen, I am now sitting uncomfortably close to the camera*

Follow Aziraphale and Crowley as they alternatively try to follow and thwart God's ineffable plan, managing to spectacularly fail at both tasks with a consistency that amazes as it befuddles. Featuring alcohol, a bookstore, and metaphorical and literal fire as things get a little... heated in the Bible fandom.

*crossfade to Soho, I walk along the street as the camera follows me*

If that isn't enough to convince you, presenting also, idiot lesbians giving an ancient demon love advice, sexy horsepersons of the apocalypse, an unofficial wedding combined with burning Nazis alive where the most important part is the handing over of a suitcase, and the sexiest MILF witch Agnes Nutter, a literal bombshell.

*cut to disturbing close up of Neil Gaiman's face* *he tries to step away, and is met with my camerapersons*

Watch Neil Gaiman give you hope and shatter it again repeatedly, in a show where the literal apocalypse is only the background to a forbidden idiots who are lovers-to-lovers who are idiots story that is older than Time itself. Armageddon takes a backseat as Crowley serves gender, and if you thought the Antichrist was adorable, wait till you see him in Good Omens, where his evil powers are directed towards being the cutest kid he can possibly be.

*cut back to white screen, I smile ominously while twirling a human bone*

Good Omens, at your nearest Amazon Prime, with free UST, fluff, Queen, and plenty of tears. Don't miss it!

*text rapidly rolls across screen*

[Imagery has been used for representative purposes. No David Tennant, Michael Sheen or Neil Gaiman was harmed in the process of creating this advertisement. Good Omens will have expected side-effects, including unprompted sobbing, a Pavlovian reaction to bandstands, nightingales, holy water and 'the final fifteen', heartache for the foreseeable future, and intense lust for Crowley's elusive gender. Asmi is not responsible for any consequences resulting from the advertised product. Some features have been excluded from the advertisement due to space and time constraints.]

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benoitblanc · 4 months

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#this woman is a menace i love her so much #arwen does polls #the x files #dana scully

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writingsbychlo · 1 year

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how we survive | azriel

summary; you and rhysand keep one another sane under the mountain, until you can return to your mate, at long last. word count; 5143 notes; yeah, listen, this is rough. obvious trigger warnings for UTM stuff, not just for rhys but reader too. it's hard going. this is pretty much pure angst. also, it's not romantically rhys, but there's honestly more rhys than az, I think. it's just an angsty little piece, so, roll with it. please take caution when reading though, there are quite a few sensitive triggers in it.

If there was one thing Rhysand had both hated and loved in his time Under the Mountain, it had been your presence. He'd been reluctant to take you to the party at all; the party he'd prepared to go to and never leave, the party at which he'd planned to commit his biggest sin of all. And yet, he hadn't been able to stop you, when he'd banned all of his friends from attending in his company, and you'd laid your own invitation on the dinner table before him. Amarantha had wanted you both, and not bringing you would have risen suspicions from the start. And so, the Night Court's favourite courtier, the infamous star in the dark, the woman known to bring kingdoms to her knees with a well-placed smile, had bowed with mock politeness before the red-haired Queen at his side.

For ten years after that fateful night, Rhysand had told you how he hated himself every day for allowing you to come with him, let his chin wobble in rare moments alone as he apologised profusely. In the eleventh year, even that small part of his restraint had broken. He'd clung to you, sobbing endlessly until his knees had given way, until the two of you had been slumped against the wall in one of your hidden nooks, crying in one another's arms. He'd confessed his pain, that over that last couple of years he'd stopped feeling guilty at all, he'd stopped wishing he could go back and change that day, change the way it all happened.

You'd watched his face crumble as he confessed he wasn't sorry at all anymore, that he thought himself selfish and heartless, for thanking the Mother you had come, that he had someone, a friend he cared for so much, a friend he loved so dearly, just one person who knew he wasn't truly a monster, even on the days he thought he was slowly becoming one. You'd cried too, and told him he was your only remaining tether to your heart, that as everything else was slowly becoming stone as cold and hard as the walls confining you both, he was your star in the dark.

For forty years after that day, you had shared Rhysand's bed. Every night he wasn't held by Amarantha until morning, he'd crawl back into his bed, into your arms, and cry silently into your neck until he fell asleep. Every night you weren't expected to play the seductive courtier, the role Amarantha had carved for you, a prize she'd reward for loyalty, the only thing keeping you safe, you crawled back to him. And he held you, soothing your hiccuping sobs with soft murmurs, playing with your hair until you dozed off. Every night, you held one another, tethered one another, found new ways, every way possible to stop the other's soul from shattering entirely.

He would use those lingering pieces of his powers to show you memories of Azriel, when so many decades had passed you'd both begun to forget what their faces looked like, the emotions held in every snapshot warmed you both through. Every story you whispered in the dark, the same ones over and over of your family back home, never failed to bring either of you back from the brink. Jokes from Cassian that you both knew word for word, tales Azriel would tell of all the wonderful places he'd see on his travels, stories from Mor of her parties, myths from Amren, everything that stitched the broken pieces of you both together, holding tight, as long as you could.

You'd whisper to him, as his head lay on your chest and your fingers combed through dark hair, what it felt like to have a mate. And somehow, despite all the darkness, the smile that would paint his lips let you know that he believed it when you told him he'd have that one day. When you were overwhelmed, when the façade became too much, Rhysand would sweep you up into dances to keep away the filthy hands of those males that always slipped too far, and he'd waltz you across the floor until you could no longer stand. He'd make sure to stay sober on the nights you drank, to keep an eye on you as you sent yourself into oblivion to simply forget it, and you'd do the same for him on the nights he could no longer bare it. He kept you warm, he kept you whole, he kept you sane, as you did for him.

The day he had woken up, gasping for breath and jerking so violently in your arms that it stirred you too, he spilt all about that first dream; when he'd first seen that woman. He told you every morning, as you shared a pillow, with soft smiles before the day truly started, he'd recount every detail of what he'd seen the mysterious woman in his dreams do. He told you about the flowers on the table, the scenes of a forest he didn't recognise, a human town and what it was like. He told you of the night he sent something back, the night sky image he'd pushed to her, the glint in his eyes that had been missing for almost half a century was finally back.

That night, when the two of you recalled one of the many well-worn tales Cassian would tell when drunk, instead of merely smiling fondly, the two of you had laughed. Laughed so hard and loud that tears spilled from your eyes, you'd been clutching one another, gasping for breath at the amusement of old memories. And you'd stayed awake all night, talking and sharing jokes, until the silent halls outside the doors had filled with sound once again.

He'd come back shaking from his trip to Calanmai, wound up in such a frenzy that when he fell into bed that night you'd had to spread your entire body across the top of his to hold his shaking down. The night after, when he'd returned looking stricken and pale from his visit to Spring Court, he'd thrown up every bite of dinner the two of you had shared, he’d cried his way through three bottles of wine as he told you about how he just knew that woman, the woman from his dreams, the one he'd met, was his mate. How he'd never see her again, but was so grateful for such a gift. You were sure it was breaking the final parts of your heart, as he clung to you that night so tightly, in a way he hadn't done since the first few years of seeking comfort in one another.

When you'd watched his face fall apart as Feyre, her name finally known to you both, had been dragged into the main hall, you'd done what you do best, what you'd done for months-shy of fifty years. You gave your everything to hold Rhys together. When you watched the last threads begin to fray, you'd pressed a drink into his hand, and stood behind his chair, running your fingers through his hair and crooned mocking words at his mate that only made Amarantha laugh; you'd felt Rhys jerk away from your touch in anger at you for saying such wicked things, but you knew it was best. His fear turned to anger, his emotions were directed at you and not his mate, and it saved his life.

You let him be angry, that night you had let him seethe, you had let him turn away from you in your shared bed, let him sleep so far from your body that not even his wings touched you, even if it broke your heart. The following morning, you did the same, you grinned and giggled as Amarantha practically tortured Feyre, and Rhysand wore his usual mask, the anger broiling at you fuelling all of it. You saved his life, again. He did not come to bed at all that night. In the morning, his smell was in the bathroom, the door locked, as he scrubbed away the scent of Amarantha that lingered in the air.

And upon the day of Feyre's first trial, you sowed the seeds as he fretted over his mate. You lounged, and gambled on her success to incite others against the Queen, you danced with any male bold enough to try and get his hands on you only to whisper into his ear your own misgivings. When murmurings of Feyre possibly breaking the curse reached Rhysand's ears from the crowd by the end of the night, you watched something spark in his eyes.

When he came to bed that night, he smelt of the dampness of the mountain dungeons, of blood and of humans, and he collapsed down tiredly with his cheek pressed to your shoulder, whispering his apologies, begging for forgiveness. And you held him, you answered by wrapping your arms so tightly around him he shuddered with suppressed sobs, because you'd felt that craze, that pain, that longing, with your own mate. The one you were so desperate to see once again someday, and you hoped Feyre was the key.

She was. You watched her die to break the curse, you watched Rhysand prepare to give his life with her, and you prepared to give your own to stop him. It took every shred of strength that you'd had to hold him back, everything you had when he'd clawed and fought at you to let him go when he'd watched Amarantha snap her neck, and he'd collapsed to the floor in shock, staring at you in agony and betrayal as the breaking sound of her neck echoed the cavernous room.

You'd cupped his face, fingers smoothing over the tears on his cheeks to clear them, the sounds of Tamlin tearing Amarantha to shreds falling away as background noise. "Hold the bond, Rhysand. Grip it tight, use that power that's coming back, and hold on. Do not let her go, you can keep her with you." And so he had, he hadn't blinked, hadn't flinched, while you'd held his eye and wiped away every tear, until he'd gasped on a hoarse throat, lips flickering at the edges. "I've got her." He had whispered.

Everything had been a blur after that, watching all of the high Lords bring her back, Rhys' fingers had never left your own for even a second once he'd taken your hand. Everything was changing, too much, too fast from the way it had sat stagnant and rotting for fifty years, and you were both afraid to let the other go. Afraid that if you did, the other would disappear. On the balcony, as he called to her, to make sure she was alright and that everything would begin to fall as it should, he finally let you go, but only when you felt his mind wrap around yours wholly; no walls, nothing between you both now as it had been for so long. With his power back, he dared to, he dared to let his hand leave yours just to step a few metres away onto the balcony, to take a breath of fresh air, as he clung to your mind with his own. A safety net, a reassurance.

He'd panicked, you'd felt the snapping of his mate bond in his chest, felt it ricochet through his connection to you, and before you’d known it, the two of you were gone. His hands were gripping your shoulders as pure night unfurled around you both, and when you could see again, you were home.

Walls you thought you'd never lay eyes on again, paintings you'd forgotten the colours of, people whose faces you'd forgotten, smells that had long since faded from your nose, it all came crashing down. Mor had been the first there, and she'd caught Rhysand as he collapsed, mumbling about his mate, the utterly numbing feeling that washed over your whole body when that bond snapped, you'd felt it yourself. And for the first time in fifty years, you felt your bond hum, pulse, and jump-start within your chest. A dead thread as heavy as chains that had been wrapped around your heart with the suppression of that mountain, that curse, it finally came back to life. You felt the pull, so hard and fast you stumbled forward, knees hitting the ground so harshly you winced, your palms shooting out to catch yourself before you hit the tiles.

You never reached them, though, your shoulders jerked as you were caught, cold shadows whipping as space and time were wrenched open, and then a warm body was holding you. You gasped, a heaving breath, nails scraping over thick leather as you tried to haul heavy breaths into lungs that refused to open. Your head was spinning, you couldn't breathe, you couldn't think. The smells, that same comforting smell you'd forgotten so long ago were now washing over you in waves, every taut muscle went loose as you collapsed into his chest.

Your mate, your husband, your love.

His arms circled you, strong and warm and safe, so much like the way Rhysand had held you but never enough, never the same, he hadn't been Azriel. No, now you had him, and he shushed you, his entire body trembling almost as much as yours did, crying as hard and as loudly as you did, gripping with the same fierceness. You were shrouded with darkness, his wings wrapping around you, a warmth that no fire or blanket could ever bring, shadows swirling faster and faster until you were practically concealed inside of a bubble only for the two of you.

Nothing was said, not as the bond between you both finally sang, a feeling you'd once worried would never come back, a feeling you'd accepted was lost to you years ago, it was back. You felt every burst of Azriel's emotions, crashing in vicious collisions with yours, both of you left breathless to finally be able to feel one another again. That bond was pulling tight, strumming between your two hearts in absolute ecstasy.

When you'd finally been able to pull away, you'd had no strength at all. You'd remained slumped on the floor, surrounded by his wings and a thick wall of shadows, but you mustered enough strength. Enough to cup his face, to run your thumbs over his cheeks, to memorise the way he looked once again, to commit every single piece of him to heart, to promise never again to forget the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he finally smiled, to never forget the shine in those amber eyes, to never forget the curl of his lips as he whispered your name.

It was hours before his shadows finally calmed enough to free the two of you, to let the light of the home slip back in. Hours of whispered conversations, hours of confessions and tears, hours of long stretches of silence that consisted of merely holding one another, drowning in one another once again.

When the light started to leak in, conversation from outside of that bubble was returned, and your chest swelled full of emotions you thought you'd cried out. It was back, great tidal waves of it as you set your eyes on Cassian, who'd dropped to his knees so fast you thought they'd crack, and swept you into a hug so crushing you'd feel it for days. You cried with him, and held him, with Azriel's fingers never quite leaving you, always there, always touching.

When Mor had taken Cassian's place, Azriel had hovered, finally standing, stretching out legs that had lost sensation, flexing tight wings, his hand resting in your hair as he rubbed soothingly at your scalp. No matter how long passed, he'd never forgotten just how to give you exactly what you needed. Then Amren, she had always been cold, always composed, and yet even she had offered a smile, a thick swallow with a nod of her head, and a hug that lasted barely a few seconds but held everything you needed to know. Even Amren had missed you both.

Dinner that night was quiet, and tense, with everyone waiting for you or Rhys to say something, everyone waiting for someone else to break the silence. You'd taken a seat next to your friend, your best friend, on instinct. Azriel had a hand resting over your knee, on the back of your chair, always touching you in some way. Yet those skittish touches had paused when Rhysand had reached out, instinctively, taking your hand during one of Cassian's stories and lacing your fingers together, hidden under the table to sit on his thigh. You'd felt confusion, and hurt, echo down the bond, as shadows swirled possessively of their own accord around your wrist, tugging at Rhysand’s impatiently.

You squeezed your friend’s hand tighter, and sent nothing but love down the bond to your mate. It was hard, to snap out of a mentality that you'd grown so used to over fifty years. You were lost, sinking in it all, you couldn't breathe, like you were being pulled down through the thick lakes in Oorid. No matter how much you loved your friends, no matter how much you had missed them, it was too much, all at once.

Your breathing got shallower and shallower, and you could feel Rhysand's pulse beating faster and faster against your own as he felt the same. The night was running on, but the food was tasting like ash in your mouth and the wine was bitter and made you cringe, and you were gripping one another's hands so tightly that each of your knuckles were white.

Rhysand had snapped first, standing abruptly and taking your hand with him, everyone's gaze closing in on it, and he dropped it a second too late. He said he needed his quiet, he needed some space, needed to think. They understood, and you could have cried when they bid you a soft farewell, before Azriel had winnowed you both home. Home to a bedroom you barely recognised anymore, to unfamiliar smells. A bedroom with windows, the light of the night pouring in, the sounds of happiness in the streets buzzing in your ears.

Silence, was all that was left after Azriel drew the curtains, and prepared to change for bed. You were frozen, in the middle of the room, because you couldn't remember. You couldn't remember your own home now, you couldn't remember where your pyjamas were, or which side of the bed was yours, or even what your address was.

And something broke. Tears streamed wordlessly, soundlessly, down your cheeks as you stared at the bed, a bed you hardly remembered. The longer you looked, the harder your chest heaved. It was made of pale wood, covered by thick blue sheets made of cotton and pillows that were fresh and crisp and white. But, dark silk taunted you behind your eyes, mountains of maroon pillows on a black frame, the wicked curve of red lips as you recalled the room Amarantha had given to you, given to both you and Rhysand, a sick gift as she promised you that you could 'have her dripping leftovers' back each night. A game, just another one she'd played with you, as she tested how far she could push you and Rhys, to see if you'd ever both truly snap.

Azriel approached, slowly and cautiously, one hand looping loosely around your waist, the other coming up to weave into your hair, moving until your face was pressed to his neck. "It's okay."

"It's not okay," There was so much wrong, so much you couldn't remember, couldn't shake away, so much you hated about yourself and what had happened that you would never be able to leave behind. Things you may never be able to voice.

"I-I could smell it - him - on you as soon as I held you." His voice cracked, and confusion filled you, sadness of his own meeting yours in a twist between your hearts. Worst of all, came the crushing guilt, because you'd always imagined that coming home to Azriel would be nothing short of perfection, and yet the routine you'd formed with Rhysand was jarring in its absence now. "It's okay, it was so long. He was all you had, and it's okay. I can feel that you still love me, as I still love you. It's okay if you love him too."

"Azriel. Az, my love. Rhysand, he held me together when I missed you so much I thought I'd never-" You choked on a sob, and he only nodded, head moving as it lay atop yours to tell you he understood, you didn't have to say it. "I love him, I love him more than anything, and he gave me everything he had under that mountain, as I gave him everything I had, to keep one another whole. But please, believe me, trust me, and rest assured when I say that I have never been in love with anyone other than you."

He pressed a kiss to your temple, head dipping to kiss your cheeks, your nose, everywhere he could reach, before he was pausing with his lips brushing your own. He believed you, you knew, you felt it, and when his lips closed softly over your own, a fresh batch of tears poured from both of you. It was soft, and delicate, learning the taste of one another once again, and when he pulled back, it was like he was taking all of your thoughts with him. "It's okay. We can learn it all again, everything, I'll show you it all. You are home, you are back with me, and I will not let you go again."

"I was worried this was a dream," you whispered, voice thick as he guided you slowly towards the bed, and you tried to blink back any more tears. Your throat was raw, your eyes burned and your skin was stinging from how much you cried today. You didn't want anymore. you couldn't. "But I know that it's not a dream. I know, because I had forgotten the smallest details of your face, the way you smelled, and how it felt to be held by you. I know it's not a dream, because my mind had lost the ability to conjure you like this for comfort so long ago."

You sat nervously on the side of the bed that he directed you to, and it felt familiar. It felt reassuring, your fingers brushing over the bedside table on this side as it all started to come back to you. You watched as he silently moved to the dresser against the wall. One with a vase full of fresh flowers, you did remember that, you loved those fresh flowers, it had been your pride to get new ones for the bedroom every week, and you'd missed flowers so much when you'd been where none would grow. He opened a drawer, pulling out a set of pyjamas you didn't remember owning, but the fact he'd never packed your things away, they'd always sat here waiting for you, made you settle so much you felt weightless.

"I want to-" You didn't know, didn't know how to say that you couldn't wear those, that they no longer belonged to you, they weren't what you wanted, or needed. Some kind of base need thrummed down the bond, instinctive and subconscious, but the flare of his wings told you that Azriel understood. Slowly, he reached behind himself, unbuttoning the clasps of his leathers, stripping off that top layer and discarding it to the floor. A soft but worn t-shirt sat underneath, stuck to his skin and falling loose with every heavy breath. He undid that too, but rather than throwing it, he held it out.

It was warm, the heat of his body keeping it so as it fell into your hands, and you clutched the bundle up to your nose, taking a deep breath, and feeling the last of the tension drip from your body. Standing on weak and shaky legs, you stripped off your clothes, uncaring of the eyes that never left your form. Your body hadn't been your own for a long time now, simply another possession of Amarantha's, and you were too tired to care about his stare. Even as he took in every new bruise or scar, even as he took in every fresh new whorl of ink on your skin, and itched to know what kind of bargains you'd had to make that branded you.

When you tugged his shirt over your head, feeling the brush of the warm cotton, drenched in his scent, your head spun. And for the first time in the whole night, you finally felt truly at home. You could breathe, lungs filling all the way up, a rush through your blood. Seconds later, Azriel's knuckles were brushing your back, quietly doing up the clasps to hold the material closed, despite the gaping patches from your lack of wings. When he finished, you fell into bed, puffing up the pillows and watching tiredly as he changed himself. He did not bother with a shirt, despite the chill in the air, and you both knew why.

He plunged the room into darkness before joining you in bed, and the second he was within reach under the covers, you plastered your body to his. He chuckled lightly, though no humour filled it, and his hands gripped you just as tightly as you held him.

It was within that same tight embrace that you fell asleep. It was soundless sleep, one of exhaustion and weariness that not even nightmares could find you, but the second your subconscious felt Azriel moving, you were snapped from it so violently your stomach churned.

Your hand flew out to his side of the bed, warm still, fingers grasping the sheets as panic rose. It was dark, so dark, you couldn't see a thing and for a second you were sure you had dreamt it all. You were alone again, wrapped in taunting silk in a horrid shade of red as Rhys was detained by Amarantha again, and it was as you were gulping in harsh breaths that you heard it. Knocking, loud and reverberating through your home from the wooden front door. Shadows whispered across your cheeks as your hand flung out, illuminating the faelight on the bedside table. Your hand crashed into the lamp, knocking it into the wall.

Swirls of darkness remained around you even as the room was lit, and you took a deep breath. They were comforting, weaving through your hair and nudging across your cheeks to wipe away tears, a sure sign that your mate hadn't been ripped from you once again, but it didn't stop the fear. Nothing stopped it, until he returned, the banging stopped, and he reappeared sleepily in the open bedroom doorway, slipping inside. As you set your eyes on him, you could finally breathe again, and he rubbed tiredly at his face, but rigidly alert the second he took in the tear tracks on your cheeks in the faint glow of the room.

"What happened, my love?"

"You- you can't-" Your heart stammered, chest aching at the tightness, and you held hard onto his hands to tug him closer as soon as his knees hit the bed. "You can't leave me. You can't go. Anywhere. I thought- I was alone again, don't leave me, Azriel, don't go, don't-"

He shook his head, closing in enough to press a shaky kiss to your lips, and when you calmed enough to twist back to your pillows, you realised he hadn't returned alone. Lingering in the doorway was Rhysand, dried tear stains on his own cheeks, feet bare as he stood in the doorway of your bedroom.

"I'm sorry for coming here." He whispered, shrugging helplessly as a laugh so hollow and self-deprecating left him your own heart ached. You could feel the agony washing down the bond from Azriel, as he took in his long-lost brother. "I... I can't sleep without you. I can't sleep alone. I'm too scared to get in my bed. It's too big, and cold, and-"

You shifted further into the large bed toward the middle, toward Azriel's side, then lifted the covers, and Rhysand cut himself off with a sniffle, holding back his tears like you were trying to do. He shuffled across the room, stumbling in a way so un-lordlike you committed it to memory, until one day, maybe, you'd be healed enough to tease him for it. He settled into the bed, and you tucked the blankets around his body as he settled into the mattress, finally losing a sigh, that carried away everything he'd been holding onto.

"I'm sorry, Azriel."

Your mate settled in behind you, one arm curling under your body to pull you flush to his back, the other reaching over you, beyond you, to settle a comforting weight on Rhysand's shoulder. The lord's eyes lined with silver, and he squeezed them shut. "You have nothing to be sorry for, brother. You kept my mate alive, you stopped her from breaking, and you brought her home to me. I am happy that you found solace in one another, and that you are both home. If it had to happen, I would not wish it to have happened any other way. If this is what you need, then this is what you shall have."

You settled one hand over Azriel's where it held you tightly to his body, and the other reached out, settling over Rhys' and weaving your friend's fingers through your own from where it sat on his pillow. He gripped back tightly, sniffing back tears once again. "Thank you." He whispered, voice unable to go any louder.

He winked out the lamp once again, three sets of breaths harmonising in the room as true peace fell over you all. "Thank you, for taking care of her, Rhysand. One day, when you find your mate, I hope I'll somehow be able to repay that debt. But this? You can have this for as long as you need. We are yours for as long as you need us."

Rhys whispered his thanks, the words hanging in the air, and he tapped at your mental shields. You squeezed, knowing what he wanted, and he gave a soft scrape in silent thanks. He wasn't ready to tell them yet, to tell the rest of your family that he had met his mate, that he knew her and lost her, but he would one day. Until then, you'd keep his secret, and you'd slowly heal, together, now that you were home.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel/reader #azriel/you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar/reader #acotar/you #rhysand

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𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝟑: 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: your boyfriend has to make an appearance at some sponsor event. he's gone ahead and bought you an alluring outfit, but he failed to mention how seductive he looks in the new fitted suit his team got him. you two won't be staying long, but you increase the pace by riling him up, mostly unintentionally. so it's your fault that he makes you ruin his loaned mclaren. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. squirting. car sex. semi-public sex. ooc (out-of-character) oscar. overstimulation. mild possessive behavior. mild jealousy. vaginal fingering. vaginal sex. condom usage. the audacity of men. lando norris’ savior complex /jk. author’s overuse of italics and run-on sentences. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: water • tyla

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: what can i say, y'all. back at it with the unhinged thirst. every time i do one of these, they've been getting shorter and shorter. don't be afraid, for #4 (dr/mv) i'll be back on my game, they deserve it. yes gremlin lando appearance. also, i cannot imagine oscar ever acting this way, that's why i put the ooc tag? it's definitely a fun read tho (i think), along with the smut! thank you, loves, for the support on this event!

want to be added to my general taglist? or my f1 kinktober taglist? send me an ask!

thank you to my betas! @biancathecool for helping with my grammer and @barnestatic for her wonderful spoiled brat idea :))))

cross-posted on my ao3, httpsss

if you want to look at what i'm planning for ktober, or catch up on previous uploads here's my f1 kinktober masterlist and my general masterlist for all of my works!

oscar is known for his unfazed, composed and collected demeanor. he’s aware that some people say he has no personality–but, he’s just an introvert at the end of the day. oscar’s a man of few words: that’s what people who aren’t well acquainted with him would say. if you’ve had the pleasure of sticking around oscar long enough for him to become comfortable with you, you’ll learn that oscar has an incredibly complex personality. he’s overly sarcastic, has a niche sense of humor, and can ramble endlessly at you. but, he’s still a fairly calm and quiet individual. which is why the way oscar is about to scream at the top of his lungs in the middle of this mclaren event, would be considered uncharacteristic of him.

he originally invited you to join him tonight thinking that having you by his side would eliminate the social exhaustion he experiences at these types of sponsor events. however, the aussie failed to realize that you may introduce a…different problem, to tonight’s business party. when oscar asked you to join him two weeks ago, he was prepared for all of your objections–you’re both chronic homebodies, and you both hate partaking in small talk with balding, later-aged, cologne-drenched, white men who don’t know when to let a conversation die. he chose the perfect time to ask you (after you emerged from the bathroom post-self-care bath), and addressed all of your grievances.

oh, you don’t have anything to wear? he already bought you an outfit, had it altered to perfectly fit your measurements, and bought you a pair of heels and a purse to match. oh, you won’t be able to get your hair done in time? he already scheduled an appointment with your usual hairstylist the day before the event, paid all of her fees, and tipped her very nicely. oh, your nails aren’t done? he booked you a spot at your preferred nail salon for a premium mani-pedi, and has a few nail inspiration photos picked out if you can’t decide. if you need your lashes done or need to get waxed, he can make the call right now; he has them on standby to fit you in.

knowing the amount of phone calls oscar had to partake in to arrange all of this causes you to fold and agree to join him. there’s nothing more the two of you hate than making phone calls–well, besides the pr events.

oscar had chosen an alluring burnt-orange mesh corset and matching ruched ankle-length skirt that looks beautiful against your warm, soft and shining brown skin. your hair is silk-pressed, length reaching your mid-back and your edges are laid in a minimal manner, matching the simplicity of your makeup look. simple gold rings are spread across a few fingers, ears accessorized with a pair of small good hoops oscar gifted you, and his initials rest in the dip between your clavicles attached to a thin gold chain. objectively, you're considerably modestly dressed, the only skin you're showing is on your arms, shoulders, a smidge of your decolletage, and the tops of your feet in the low-heeled strappy sandals.

this is the start of what oscar failed to account for. he didn’t expect the outfit to hug your curves like plastic wrap. the whole night he’s had to forcefully deny himself the opportunity to stare at your ass, but that doesn’t mean the other men at the event have the same courtesy. he’s taken to burning holes with his eyes into anybody who lets their gaze linger over your form for a second too long. on a regular day, oscar is generally unaffected by anyone who appreciates your body (they can look, but the second they try to touch–you let them know exactly how they had you fucked up), but if he catches one more mclaren engineer undressing you with their eyes–he will make zac fire all of them; he’ll plan his own race strategy and do his goddamn pitstop by himself.

oscar also didn’t account for how your timid and sweet attitude would have everyone enamored with you; at first, watching everyone eagerly attune to your shy words was amusing to him, but it quickly became a nuisance. he was originally leading you around the room, doing his rounds at any important figures’ tables, and everything was fine. and then, oscar had made the obvious mistake of making you laugh–a pleasant stream of giggles spilling from your lips, dimples deepening, and smile widening at whatever small joke he made. he’s always thrilled to see how you throw your head back in amusement, how your hands clap together gleefully, and how your eyes squint in from the force of your laughter. as he shakes himself out of your dazzling trance, he attempts to rejoin the conversation–but every single person at the table remains entranced and wide-eyed at you.

this would be completely fine, of course, if it was a one-off occasion; but it’s not.

suddenly, every person oscar tries to thank for supporting mclaren, starts ignoring him and paying more attention to you. he’s literally the pilot of the car that these people are spending an absurd amount of money on, but they can’t even bother to try and pretend to listen to him. men and women alike are finding any excuse to prolong conversations with you, and even lean within your personal space with the excuse that ‘they can’t hear you very well because you’re so soft spoken.’ nobody can invade your personal space, but oscar. he has no choice but to do the very thing he hates–pda. you continue to circle around the room, his hand constantly resting on the small of your back or the dip of your waist. when you’re in the middle of listening to some completely unnecessary story a man is telling you, oscar constantly adjusts your hair, plays with your rings, and smooths down your skirt if he feels like they’re trying too hard. you banish oscar to getting you a glass of water when he begins to interject in conversations in a passive-aggressive manner.

his third strike off the night, might actually be an overall win in his books. when you saw oscar in his new fitted suit, you stared him dead in the eye and told him to ‘get naked and rail you’. it’s this beautiful deep cream color that pairs perfectly with the dark orange tone of your outfit, but the vest underneath the suit jacket highlights his tiny waist so clearly that it makes you want to scream. in between socializing, you overwhelm oscar with compliments, unable to stop telling him how handsome he looks. you surgically attach yourself to his side and hug his arm; taking an occasional squeeze of his bicep, playing with his cufflinks, and tracing the veins on the back of his hand. oscar practically runs to get you a refill of water because he’d be unable to stop himself from getting fully hard if you touched him any longer–the trousers hide nothing.

he can feel your burning gaze from across the room, and turns back to watch you after asking a waiter for water, and catches your eyes roaming the length of his body. in high-definition, he sees your tongue wetting your lips before you bite at your bottom lip–and then, your attention is stolen away from some random man who’s introducing himself to you and the group of ladies you found yourself accosted by as soon as oscar left your side.

and, that’s it for oscar. he thinks he may have heard his last-fucking-button being pressed inside his head, and seethes. he goes to push off from his leaned stance against the counter and makes to start his warpath, but a hand grasps at his shoulder. oscar turns around snappily, biting out an irritated and sarcastic, “can i help you?”

“woah! calm down now, mate. thought you were going to bite my head off for a second,” it’s lando, “if i were anybody else i’m sure there would be an unfortunate tabloid of ‘how oscar piastri is the most rude f1 driver on the grid’” lando jokes teasingly, yet a hint of seriousness leaks into his tone.

oscar nods, understanding the underlying warning within the brit’s teasing. he apologizes softly to lando, before glancing back over at you, and can infer that you charmingly informed the man that you have a boyfriend—based on the way you point in his direction. oscar watches the polite smile fade from your face as the man continues to bother you, and the murderous look rises to his face again.

“OKAY”, lando claps abruptly, startling not only oscar, but everyone in a 10 foot radius. lando waves everyone else’s eyes away, smiling like he didn’t do anything, and speaks underneath his breath, “go. i’ll cover for you.”

oscar’s mouth drops open, baffled, “what?”

“leave—get your girlfriend and go,” lando says matter-of-factly, his smile becoming genuine, “zac probably won’t like to hear that you looked particularly murderous, and he definitely won’t like hearing that you slaughtered our sponsors, and that i let it happen.”

oscar snorts before he thanks lando sincerely, and the brit dismisses him, “i’m just looking out for my rookie teammate as the senior driver for our team. i can’t let your horny teenage mindset become common knowledge to our esteemed guests.”

“first of all,” oscar says dryly, his grateful mood dissipating at the mocking, “i didn’t even know you knew the word ‘esteemed' existed,” lando scoffs, “and secondly, you are literally only two years older than me.”

lando looks at oscar with a blank stare and deadpans, “do you want to leave or not?”

oscar daps up his teammate in farewell, and makes his way over to you as quickly as he can without seeming desperate, your glass of water left behind on the counter. your back is facing him as he approaches and you're still unwillingly participating in conversation with the man who can’t take no for an answer. as he gets closer, he can piece together the conversation; the dude doesn’t believe you have a boyfriend and you must be lying to him, and you’re adamant that your boyfriend is very real.

“look, bro. even if i was lying about having a boyfriend, why would i give you my number now? like, i’m just supposed to forget how you’ve been harassing me—“

oscar rests his hand on your side, and when you turn your head to see who’s touching you, he leans down and kisses you. it’s a kiss deep enough to let everyone know who you’re leaving with tonight, but not deep enough to be salacious (he can hear lando’s cackle from the other side of the room).

you melt into his kiss before he pulls away, leaving you dazed and disoriented, stumbling into him. oscar drapes his left arm around your shoulder, guiding you to tuck into his side, while he offers his right hand to the offending man for a handshake. “it seems i haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet. i’m oscar, i drive for mclaren,” he introduces himself, sounding overly pleased.

the man angers, ignoring oscar’s extended hand and cockily states, “you should already know who i am. my family nicely lent you the mclaren you drove here tonight!”

“ah,” oscar smiles viciously, “if ‘your family’ kindly lent me the car, that would explain why i only remember your father’s name–and not his arrogant, disrespectful, and narcissistic trust-fund son’s name.”

the man stomps his foot in rage, like a spoiled brat, and questions, “who do you think you’re talking too?!”

oscar smirks, “nobody important, apparently,” (one of the ladies listening whispers a quiet ‘damn, that’s crazy’), oscar continues, “don’t worry, mate–i’ll make sure your father’s car returns home to him safely. should i bill you for any cleaning, in case i make a mess of it?”

the guy stumbles over a response before he scoffs and stomps away. oscar shrugs uncaring, before addressing the group of ladies who were cliqued to the side watching the whole interaction, “well. if you all don’t mind, i’m just going to steal her away from you ladies, if that’s okay?” (like there’s an option). the ladies fawn over oscar’s protectiveness before they let the two of you go, and then he starts herding you towards the exit.

it’s torture. in every five steps the two of you take, you're interrupted by various guests trying to catch you one last time. oscar feels like they’re all intentionally aggravating him; patting you on the arm, commenting on how eye-catching you look, and using the fact that the two of you are leaving to press a kiss to your hand in goodbye. you two burst out of the main doors and sigh in relief, for different reasons–for you, it’s because oscar didn’t give one of his sponsors brain damage, and for oscar, it’s because he’s one step closer to getting you in his bed.

you grasp at oscar’s hand, and he starts to lead you down the steps towards the valet, and as you fall into step at his side, you speak softly under your breath, “i can understand why you kissed me like that inside because the dude was being an asshole–even though you were marking your territory like some kind of dog–but, please; don’t tear this poor man’s throat out for helping me into the car.”

the australian remains quiet, properly chastised and works on releasing the pent up effect of the annoyances from inside the venue. everything is going well; the valet asks oscar for his parking ticket, and he goes to grab the keys, but stops just before he makes to start heading to the car, and turns back to you two and says, “i don’t know if i told you when you walked in but–you look incredibly beautiful tonight, miss. you could be a model, seriously. like, you should feel so lucky to have a woman like her–”

all attempts of oscar finding his peace are thrown out of the window. he interrupts the dude’s rambling, and bites out, “hey man, y’know what. i can just take the keys to the car. we can walk to it.”

the valet stutters, confused, “a-are you sure, i mean it’s like pretty far in the back. i can run and get it no pro–”

“it’s FINE! i mean, it’s cool, we can use the extra steps, y’know. enjoy the breeze and everything,” oscar says, slightly maniacal. there’s no breeze, it’s warm. the valet’s and your eyes meet for a second and a shared thought of “he’s trippin” is passed telepathically.

the valet concedes, not wanting to upset the f1 driver any farther and tosses him the keys. as the two of you are passing by, oscar hands the man a bill that’s probably too big based on the man’s astonished gasp. you call out to the man, continuing to walk further in the lot, “sorry about him! he just gets a little touchy about strangers driving his car, y’know?” oscar grumbles lowly next to you, and you smack him on the arm, “what did you want me to say? ‘oh sorry, my boyfriend just wants to fuck me really badly to soothe his needless jealousy?’”

“as long as he knows who’s the one who gets to take you home and fuck you.”

“oscar!” you squeak, “we both know we’d die of embarrassment if you said that. i can’t even imagine those words coming out of your mouth, in that order.”

you guys eventually puzzle out where the car is after several remote beeps of the car’s horn, and find that it’s literally tucked away in the last row, far corner with no surrounding cars for two rows.

oscar doesn’t open your door like he usually does, and leads you around to the driver's side. he opens the door, pushes the seat back as far as it goes, and sits down. without saying anything, he loosens his tie and goes to unbuckle his belt before you reach down and grab at his hand, bewildered, “oscar jack! what the fuck are you doing?”

he blinks, “i’m fucking you, right now. it’s too long of a drive back—i’m going to crash the car if you keep sitting next to me in that goddamn outfit. i was going to take you to the bathroom inside, but i figured you’d at least prefer the car. you can be a little louder here.”

your mouth dries, “you said they loaned you an incredibly rare, vintage mclaren, babe. i’m not gonna-“

oscar wrestles his way out of his suit jacket, spreads it underneath him on the leather seat, and pats his lap. “problem solved.”

shifting your weight, you glance around nervously. oscar is right, you would prefer the car over the bathroom. all those people inside who could overhear, gossip, and spread the news of how rookie mclaren, f1 driver, oscar piastri, had you yelling his name in the middle of an event. you’d pass.

“oh, c’mon now, babe. you didn’t think i saw the way you were eating me alive with your eyes inside,” your boyfriend teases, “i know you‘ve at least gotten a little wet for me already, haven’t you?”

that’s all it takes; the australian acting possessive and feening to get inside you is more than enough to have you straddling his lap and pulling the car door shut with a slam.

oscar tugs you into dirty make out, and you get lost in his pink lips, tugging teeth, and explorative tongue. the last of your breath tapers out in a reedy moan, and you break the kiss to pant against his lips, and oscar laughs. his laughter spreads through your chest, and it has your hips rolling against the bulge you feel underneath you. his amusement is cut off, and his hands fly to grip at your hips. he starts tugging you against him in a filthy grind, and choked off moans from the two of you start to fill the car.

you press kisses to oscar’s jaw line, paving a path down to his wide strong neck with your tongue. you suck on small patches of skin, not using enough suction to leave a mark, but enough for oscar to become aware of the fantasization that you could. the aussie gasps at every random suckle of your lips as he scrambles to pull the skirt up your legs. you shift your hips up to make it easier for him, as your hands feel down his torso to his belt. it unbuckles fairly easily, and you shove it out of the way, to unzip the slacks and pull his cock out.

oscar moans, throwing his head back at the feel of your hand on his length, and you get entranced in the trap that his pale thick neck is, again. you hum against his neck, introducing teeth alongside the ache of the suction of your mouth, and bully the collar of his shirt out of the way to find a space to leave a few marks. oscar’s breath freezes at the first hickey he feels you leave, but the rapid inhale he takes next clears his mind enough to have his right hand pull your panties to the side, and move to caress your heat.

you shudder on top of him, your breathy sigh amplified within the car. oscar sinks two fingers inside of you, and a much louder moan is tugged out. your hands fly up to grasp onto his shoulder, and your head tilts backward away from his neck in pleasure. his fingers thrust into you gently for a few beats slowly working to open you up for him and once he feels your cunt starting to relax, his thumb reaches to press at your clit. whines fill the air, as you lean all the way back, resting your back on the steering wheel allowing oscar all the space he needs to stretch you out. his fingers start curling as they drag out of you, and you can feel the pads of his fingers rubbing over a soft spot on the front of your walls.

oscar’s eyes were stuck marveling over the overwhelmed expression on your face, but once he starts feeling wetness dripping down his arm he glances down, and curses out a rough, “fuck, baby—you’re dripping all over me.” your cheeks burn hot, and you can’t tell if that’s out of humiliation or the effect of his awe-filled voice. your right hand releases his shoulder, and bats at his arm, before tugging at his wrist to pull his fingers out, “that’s enough, mmm, just get in me already.”

oscar eagerly draws away; he uses his clean hand to tug his wallet out of his back pocket, and tugs a condom out with a smidge of struggle before handing it to you. you snatch it out of his hand, biting it open and rolling it over his cock, and once it’s on, you tease, “jeez, osc. you really were planning on jumping me in the middle of the event tonight—grabbing a condom and everything; you think i’m that easy?”

he chuckles, satisfied, his hand drenched in your wetness rubbing over his cock to get him slick, and teases back, “you’re about to ride my cock in the parking lot of said event, pretending to be worried about ruining the seats of this vintage car. i’m not calling you easy, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, does it?”

your cheeks are definitely burning from humiliation this time around, but you huff, ignoring him checking you. you tug his hand away, raising your hips, and guide him to your entrance with your own hand, before slowly sinking down.

twin sets of moans fill the air as he bottoms out; one of his hands reaches to palm at your ass (it’s sticky, so it must be the one he fingered you with), and the other grips at your waist tightly. you squirm on top of him, knees barely managing to find enough room to prop on the seat to give you a stable base. once you feel stable in your cramped position, you give a testing grind of your hips, and from there, it’s lights out.

oscar lets you set the pace for a few thrusts, suffering in the languid rock of your hips; you’re torturously tight around him, and he can only groan at the feeling of you wrapped around him. his chest heaves, before he brings both hands to halt your hips, and starts fucking up into you rough and quick. a scream jostles out of your throat at the unexpected change of speed, but you just take it with no complaints, allowing yourself to go limp against the wheel of the car to hold your body upright. he moves your body for you, pulling you downwards to meet his upward thrusts; and you feel him constantly applying pressure against that one tender spot right under your navel.

your boyfriend revels in the sound of the moans he’s punching out of your throat, admiring the way your head is thrown back—mouth open wide, eyes scrunched tight, lips bruised and bitten to hell. it’s a lewd picture, painted by himself. the car rocks along to his frantic rhythm, windows fogging, and sweat begins to form on both of your skin. the aussie’s core tightens; he won’t last much longer, you’ve had him half-hard the whole night.

a frustrated grunt escapes oscar, and you hum questionably about to ask what’s wrong–but his right hand leaves your waist to furiously start circling your clit, and an ear piercing shriek leaves you. “c’mon now, babe. ah-be good and come f’me yeah? im so close, baby–please,” he babbles, the last shred of sanity leaving him. his hips don’t falter once–to you it feels like they’re moving quicker, every sensitive spot receiving attention from the sharp snaps of them.

you cry out, it’s all too much; your hand reaches down to press against his navel in a feeble attempt to stop him from stroking so deep and roughly, and incoherent pleads try and tumble out of your mouth, “mm! osc–no! ah–too much, baby! it’s too much–hngh–feels weird–s-slow down!” it’s like his ears are filled with cotton; he can hear you begging down at him but can’t make out what your saying over the blood rushing in his ears. he’s trapped staring at your pretty cunt, watching the obscene amount of wetness coming out of you–the suit jacket underneath him is completely ruined, and he off-handedly thinks it won’t be saving the leather upholstery.

your legs start quivering and trembling–it damn near looks like you're freezing to death, even though the car has become as humid as a sauna. your own orgasm shocks you, and your eyes roll back erotically–unable to give oscar any warning. and in your last moment of awareness, you realize that something feels different, but it’s too late.

you choke on your scream of, “oscar, fuck!” as fluid gushes out of your cunt, and the first wave is enough to completely drench oscar’s pants, and oscar finally returns to the moment in amazement. he eagerly brushes his hand against your clit, and shortens his strokes to quick little jabs to force more of your juices out, and you can only ride along. you try to slam your legs shut, to jostle oscar’s hand away, but it’s futile with his torso propping you open for him. you’re sobbing messily, as he forces more liquid to spray from your cunt–and he moans out his own orgasm, ripped from him in surprise. the australian halts his stimulation this time around when you frantically tug his wrist away when the pleasure melds to pain, and allows himself to get a few more jerks of his hips in.

you fall forward, collapsing into his chest–the squelch of your thighs meeting his pant-covered ones has him humming and grinding his hips into you as gently as he can. the two of you shake against each other, hearts rabbiting as you catch your breath. oscar’s hands rise to rub at your back, bringing you down from the aftershocks still trembling over your body.

“i-i’ve never squirted before,” you whisper into his neck.

your boyfriend hums softly, “did you like it?”

he feels you nod against him shyly.

“then, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he comforts, knowing if he seems approving of it, you’ll be quicker to accept it as something good, “how i’m going to explain the ruined suit and car seat to mclaren on the other hand…”

a shaky laugh from you causes oscar to smile, “i told you you shouldn’t fuck me in the car.”

“how was i supposed to know that tonight would be the night i’d made you gush all over me?! i was hoping that when the time came we’d at least be on a couch,” he whines.

“shut the fuck up,” you joke, “i want a live play by play when you explain the cleaning bill to zac.”

the aussie pauses, faking thoughtfulness, “maybe i should send the bill to the trust-fund baby. zac would back me up–he’s american, he’d probably find it hilarious.”

oscar gently shifts you over to the passenger seat, and you tug your skirt all the way down, and he fights his way out of his slacks that stuck to his thighs with your wetness. he manages to wrangle them off and kicks them to the side of the car floor along with the soiled suit jacket, after fishing the keys out of them, sitting out in his boxers, and glances over to see you adjusting your appearance as best as you possibly can.

“you want a mcflurry?” the aussie offers.

“as long as we can get a fry with it,” you smile at the random shift in conversation, allowing him to hide his embarrassment.

oscar turns the keys in the ignition, and the engine rolls into life with a deep, vibrating hum. he catches your legs pressing together tightly, and you squirm at the purr of the engine under your seat.

“well,” oscar starts nonchalantly as he reverses out of the spot, “you have the time that it takes to get from the drive-through to the flat to finish eating–because as soon as we get home, i’m taking you to bed and learning how to make you squirt, consistently. i don’t care how long it takes, or how many orgasms you have–i’ll keep going ‘til you come dry, babe.”

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr @nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld @buendiabebeta @butterfly-lover @lana-d3l-rey @dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhajj @miahgonzalez16 @jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @sweetpiccolo-blog @my-ylenia @zaynzierulez @reblog-princess

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0anonnymouslyours0 · 1 year

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spencer's hands are SO hot and veiny, i want to bite them.

the other day i was thinking about having sex for the first time with s2 spencer, and both being so nervous, specially him, so you basically BEG for his hands, saying something like "your hand, please, i want your hand" grabbing his hand and guiding him so he can put his fingers deep inside you, and him being like "😲 you, uhm, you like my hands?"

idk im just a whore for his hands and s2 spencer

warnings; fingering , kissing , references to handjob/blowjob at end , inexperienced spencer

spencer and you had been dating for 6 months now. when you started dating, you knew he wasn't very experienced, but it had been half a year, and all you had done was kiss.

you knew he was attracted to you. after particularly heated kisses he'd always back away, the bulge in his pants obvious, and then leave muttering about having to take care of something.

you knw you were ready, and from a brief conversation you'd had with him, you knew he was too. so when he messaged you, after he'd been away for a couple days, telling you he would be home in the evening you decided to put a plan in motion.

you searched your wardrobe for the most.. revealing piece of clothing you could find, settling on a little black dress, which fit you perfectly. you bit your lip as you pulled out the only pair of mildly seductive panties you own, a light pink lacy set, you were sure he'd appreciate.

candles were lit, sheets were changed, perfume was sprayed and finally a knock sounded at the door.

fixing your dress nervously, you approached the door, opening it to reveal a disheveled spencer. his tie was crooked, and his usual slick back hair was all over the place. somehow, he still managed to look put together.

"hey." he said smiling, and stepping in to wrap you in a hug.

he stood back, eyes running up and down your body. your cheeks flushed red as you watched him, happy to see your efforts were noticed.

"you look.. very nice." he said, swallowing nervously. his hand reached up to pull at his collar, trying but failing to loosen it.

you step forward, swatting his hand away so you can take off his tie, you hold it in your hands, placing a kiss to his neck as you back away. spencer inhales sharply, eyebrows furrowing.

"do you, um.. want to sit down?" spencer said, placing his case on the hallway table.

"yes." you said, nodding and guiding him into the candlelight living room.

his eyes widened as he walked into the room, taking in the decorations you'd put up.

"wow.. is it our anniversary? wait no, that was a couple weeks ago.." spencer questions.

"no, i just wanted to have a nice night. with you."

you take his hand, guiding him down to the couch. you knew spencer was awkward, but right now he looked straight up uncomfortable. he positioned himself on one end of the couch, taking off his shoes and shuffling about.

"something wrong?" you ask, watching his body language.

"no, nothing at all.."

"are you sure?" you ask, rising an eyebrow at his obvious lie.

"you just look really nice, and i'm not sure why. i'm obviously not super experienced with the whole... dating thing and you know. but is there something you- uh want?" his eyes dart around the room, attempting to look anywhere but you.

you chuckle at his rambling, leaning forward a bit to get closer to him.

"well, i've been thinking.. maybe its time that we go a little." you pause, searching for the right word. "further."

spencers eyes widen, and he nods eagerly. you laugh at his reaction, as you crawl across the couch and onto his lap. his hands are held in the air, eyes watching you as you move into him.

"here." you instruct, placing his hands on your hips. you squirm slightly, until your in a comfortable position straddling him. a small smirk appears on your face, as you feel a small bulge poking into your thigh, a result of your movements.

"i'm sorry, i didn't mean to uhh-" spencer says, referring to his little problem. spencer moves to get up, trying to cover himself when you stop him, grabbing his arms and locking your thighs around his. a gasp leaves his lips, as you roll your hips ever so slightly against his.

"jesus-" he mumbles, as you continue your movements.

you lean forward, pausing your grinding briefly, to kiss him. you reach your hands up to cup his cheeks, pulling his face in closer. his hand squeezes your waist, on instinct, and you moan into his mouth. shook covers your body, as you break the kiss, taking in spencers surprised expression. your eyes flit down to his hands noticing, and not for the first time, the veins that you run along them, which you find unexplainably attractive. his eyes follow yours, and he moves his hand from your waist, reaching up to cup your cheek, like you had done before.

he watches as your eyelids flutter at the notion, and you smile softly. to your surprise, spencers thumb moves to press on your bottom lip softly. you part your lips, allowing his thumb to slip through them. your tongues circles around it, sucking slightly. spencer watches you carefully, now painfully aware of the erection thats prodding against your panties, covered by your skirt. he pulls his hand away from you, not missing the soft whine that falls from your lips. you reach out grabbing at his hand and pulling it down to your skirt, flipping it up to reveal your panties.

spencer groans at the sight, and your cheeks heat at his reaction.

"spencer.. can you- touch me?"

"with my hand..?" he questions, a confused expression on his face.

"please, i want your hands."

you pull your panties to the side, grabbing his hand and guiding it down towards your clit. spencers eyes are focused, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, as you begin to guide his finger to circle your clit. you take your hand back, and spencer continues the motion. a moan falls from your lips, your head lolling back slightly.

"now just.." you reach to guide his hand down to your entrance.

his brows raise, as if to confirm what your asking, and you nod. his finger slips into your entrance, and your eyes roll back into your head at the feeling, a loud moan leaving your mouth. spencers mouth parts in shock at your reaction.

"you, uhm, like my hands?" he asks, and you nod quickly, affirming his thoughts.

"deeper, please spence." you gasp out.

spencer follows your command, moving his finger in and out of you.

"just rub on my clit, with your thumb.." you say, a moan leaving your mouth when he does so.

"i'm so close- god spencer."

you rest your head against his shoulder as you begin to feel yourself come undone. your thighs shake, moans leaving you as you come. spencers almost transfixed by the sight, hips rutting up against yours without control.

your panting slightly, lifting your head off his shoulder to kiss him.

"thank you."

"your, uhm, welcome?" he says, unsure what to say.

he gasps, as your hand comes down to his thigh, trailing to the bulge.

"your turn?" you say, tilting your head.

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