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runningfrom2am · 4 months

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the death of a doctor // LTPF

summary: with the snow heir on the way, your first son, your father wants to meet with you for the first time in years. your husband is not going to let that happen.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 1.4k

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tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. use of poison with intent to kill, murder. also this takes place ten years after they returned to the capitol!

series masterlist // playlist

Your father is led through the extensive halls of the Presidential Mansion and out to the back gardens, into the rose garden where he is set to meet with you. Finally.

He's not met with you, and he should have anticipated that. His daughter, pregnant with her first child- a little boy, who should one day be heir to the President's fortune, born into a life of success and indulgences beyond imagination. Instead, he only sees his son-in-law.

"Please, take a seat." Coriolanus offers to him, a welcoming smile on his face as he gestures to the small tea table in the middle of the space. It was a fake smile, of course. Your father has seen it on the television or at events hundreds of times, but Coriolanus Snow would always try to be a good host- regardless of how much he loathed the guest in question.

"Thank you." Your father matches his polite grin, nodding to him before taking a seat. His eyes scan the greenhouse, taking in the abundance of roses and the patches of raspberry bushes that line the walls.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Coryo says proudly, carefully plucking one of the white roses from its stem to place in the centre of the tea table. "My wife takes good care of this garden, it's in honour of my Grandmother. They both love roses." He explains, not giving your father any chance to answer.

"It's lovely." He nods in agreement, watching as his son-in-law places the blooming flower in a vase on the table, sitting down himself and looking at your father expectantly. "Where is she?" Your father decides to get right to the point- no use dancing around it anymore.

"She's out." Coriolanus answers. "She's with Tigris. They're picking out colours for the nursery today."

"I was told I would be able to speak to her."

"I am capable of passing on a message."

Your father sighs, looking down and shaking his head. "Coriolanus, I appreciate everything you have done for my daughter over the years, I do, but that girl needs her family. Her parents. Especially right now. We just want to be able to support her during such an exciting and scary time."

"She has a family." Coryo defends quickly. He had never thought the situation to be scary, before. It was all excitement and parties and baby clothes and being together and enjoying the moments in which she carried his child. Suddenly, he's seeing it differently. His mother. His sister who was never even given a name. You were not free from that fate. He clears his throat. "And I assure you, she is well taken care of here. We have the best medical care the country offers available at the snap of my fingers." He says it more to remind himself.

"No, she doesn't." Your father argues, a smug smile tugging on his lips. She doesn't have him. The most renowned and desired doctor in the Capitol, in the country.

"She does." Coryo insists. "I know what you are implying, and I promise you are mistaken."

"I just want to make things right, Coriolanus." Your father adds. "I want to apologize so my wife can be there for the birth of her grandchild, so I can take good care of my daughter and ensure she is safe."

"She is safe."

Your father clocks the tenseness in your husbands jaw very quickly. "I know about your mother." His tone drops to make space for a fake form of empathy. "I knew her. She was an amazing woman and a wonderful mother. It's such a shame, what happened..." He ticks his head. "So easily preventable."

"Then where were you?" Coriolanus allows himself to lean into something more personal with the bitter question.

"I wasn't called. I wish I had been." Your father answers honestly. "Both of us know your family was in no position to pay for a doctor at the time, even with your father away working himself to death in Twelve."

Coryo chews on the inside of his cheek, looking down at the untouched drinks in between them.

"Maybe things would have ended differently for all of us."

"You speak as if you are some kind of angel." Coryo scoffs. "You still would have gone home from saving my mother and sister and beat your own daughter for being up past her bedtime, but you didn't come because my mother's life was worth nothing to you if you weren't going to be paid to save it." He picks up the teacup in front of him, taking a sip before removing it from his lips and looking down at the liquid. "My apologies, this one is yours. I asked for milk in mine." He says casually, carefully switching the cups. He can see it in your father's eyes he wants to fight with him on this.

"The war made it impossible to do any unpaid work, and like I said, I wasn't made aware of your mother's state. Besides, Y/N is my child, and you know nothing of what goes into being a parent. It is hard. You'll have moments of poor judgement and do things you will regret. You will make mistakes. That is all it was to me." Your father explains. "But I know better now. All I want is to help her."

"You don't want to help her." Coryo shakes his head. "I am telling you she has all the help she needs, and you are not needed. Your wife and son will be allowed in the mansion during the birth. It is my wife's choice when and if they will be allowed to see the child." He knew you would allow it, you occasionally had lunch with your mother and your brother found himself at the mansion quite often to use their library. They were welcome, he was not.

Your father takes a sip of his tea while he processes the information. "Is that her decision, or yours?"

"Like I said, I can pass on a message to her." Your husband replies, ignoring his question and popping one of the raspberries from the plate into his mouth and sitting back, hands placed patiently on his lap while he ignores the pain starting to bloom in his chest.

"Tell her..." Your father sighs. "That we love her, and we miss her dearly. And if she needs anything or feels unsafe, she can always come home."

"Unsafe?" Coryo asks, tilting his head with a slight, humourless laugh. "I know you don't care for me, sir, but I am the last person on this planet who would do anything to harm her. It seems you're not understanding that."

"I just want her to survive." Your father spits. "If you love her the way you say you do, don't you want her to be the one to successfully produce your heir? You would hate to have to find someone else, I know you would. Especially if the love of your life died in the same way as your mother, this time taking your child with her."

Coriolanus stands up abruptly, anger coursing through his veins alongside the poison as the chair slides back behind him. "You've never believed in her. Ever. Even now you assume that at the most natural struggle she will die. This is not about my doctors, it is about your ego and how little you respect your own child because of how you raised her. She has more fight in her than any woman I have ever met. You don't even know the extent of it."

"It's because I know her, Coriolanus. I..." Your father's voice trails off and he looks down at his shaking hands. He knows what Coriolanus has done, but there's nothing he can do to save himself now.

"You don't know her. You never have." Coryo argues. "You have never once reached out except to try and leach off of her success and my name. You couldn't care less if she lives or dies- you just want to be the one to deliver a royal baby. If you knew her, you would know that the last thing in the world she wants is to ever see you again."

He watches as your father's face goes ashen, the sentience behind his eyes disappearing. It brings a smile to his face. "You are a monster." He adds, and it's the last thing your father hears before he dies right there in your garden.

Coriolanus smiles in satisfaction, raising his hand and snapping for his security and his nurse to enter. Quickly, she reaches for his arm as he already rolled up his sleeve and she can inject the antidote.

"Dispose of him." He urges the security team, quickly pulling his red coat sleeve back over the injection site in his arm. "My wife will be home soon, this would be distressing for her. I need her as calm and comfortable as possible."

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey , @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

#tbosas #tbosas fic #president snow #hunger games #tbosas x reader #coriolanus snow #thg #thg series #thg fanfiction #the hunger games #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coryo x reader #coryo snow #snow lands on top

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vivwritesfics · 2 months

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Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter Thirteen - The Funfair

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

1.8K

Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

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"The fair," she said over the phone as she walked around the park with Milo. "We take the kids to the fair and we'll call it a second date."

Although she couldn't see it, Daniel smiled down the phone. He couldn't stop himself from grinning, even if his eyes were only half open. "Milo and I are walking past it now," he heard her say.

"How does it look, is it huge?" He asked as he laid back, his head against the headboard.

Suddenly Y/N wasn't speaking to him anymore. "Hi Mr Ricciardo!" Came Milo's excited voice. "The fair is massive! They've got lots and lots and lots of rides and mamma said they're setting up food trucks!" He said quickly, more evidence of his excitement.

But then Y/N was speaking again. "Sorry about that," she said. "But yeah, the fair looks great. They've got four rides, by the looks of things. Different booths and games and, like Milo said, food trucks."

"Olivia will love it," he said and yawned.

A yawn that Y/N apparently heard down the phone. "What's the time where you are?" She asked rather softly.

Daniel checked his watch. "Just gone midnight," he said. It was hard being half way across the world and trying to keep in contact with Y/N. She was asleep when he was awake, and she was awake when he was racing or asleep. Most of all, though? He missed Olivia. She was with her mother for the week and the updates he got were from Y/N.

"Good luck tomorrow," she said. "I'll be watching."

That brought a smile to his tired face. "I'll give you a wave," he said. Again, he yawned.

She was starting to feel guilty about it, about keeping Daniel awake when he needed his rest. "Uh, we've just gotten to the swings," she said. "Can I call you again after your race?"

"Sure," Daniel said quickly, his tiredness seemly disappearing. He didn't want her to go, and he didn't want to be the reason she did. "I'll see you when I'm home, okay?"

"Goodbye, Daniel," she said. As soon as he said his goodbyes in return, Y/N slipped her phone into her pocket and opened the gates to the playpark for Milo.

Immediately he ran over to the swings. "Mamma!" He called and she walked after him. "How about we get an ice cream after this?" She offered and Milo set out a cheer. She began pushing him on the swings.

As much as she could, Y/N tried to avoid Daniel's ex. But she was constantly looking out for Olivia, and that meant running into the woman.

Whether she'd seen them on the television, as much of the world had, it wasn't clear. But she hated Milo's momma, that was for sure. Their run ins were almost daily. Every day that Olivia was in daycare, she immediately ran to Y/N first. That meant that Y/N had to go over to Daniels ex, to hand Olivia off to her (even if it was somewhat painful).

On this day, though, Daniel was meant to return. "Miss L/N!" She called as she followed Milo.

"Hi Livvy," she called back as she took Milo's bag from him.

"My daddy comes home today," Olivia said, beaming with pride.

Just as she said she would, Y/N had watched the race the night before. Daniel had driven exceptionally well, finishing within the top ten and scoring points for his team. He was so fucking happy when he climbed out of the car and waved at the camera.

Y/N couldn't stop smiling at that. She knew just who that wave was for, and it made her so fucking happy. Not getting a full eight hours was worth it to watch Daniel drive. She taped it, ensuring that Milo could watch it the next day after daycare.

"I know, Livvy," Y/N said with a smile. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she didn't check it. "Is he picking you up, or are your grandparents here?"

Olivia shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know," she said and Y/N looked around for any sign of her family. Until one of them turned up, she and Milo were going to stay there with her.

The 2006 Toyota Hilux pulled up outside of the daycare gates. Before Y/N could get a better hold of her, Olivia went running towards the car. "Livvy!" Y/N shouted as she went to chase after her, with Milo following close behind.

But it wasn't a dangerous stranger that climbed out of the car. Mr Daniel Ricciardo, wearing shorts that showed off his thigh tattoo, stepped out of his car and scooped his daughter into his arms. For once he had no hat on his head, revealing his mess of curls.

"I missed you, Badger," he said, but nobody but Olivia could hear it. She squealed as her father picked her up and placed her on his hip.

He looked past Olivia, looked straight at Y/N. "Hi," she said as she walked towards him, holding out Olivia's bag for him to take.

"Hi," Daniel replied as he took the bag from her and swung it over his shoulder.

Was it too early to tell him that she missed him? Daniel wanted to say it too, but neither of them did. They held back, just smiling at each other, trying to work out what too say as the other parents filed out of the car park.

"It suits you," she said, nodding to the bag.

Daniel grinned as he turned it towards her, showing it off like a teenaged girl. "It's the latest fashion."

"Hi Mr Ricciardo!" Milo called as he waved at him.

"Hi Milo." Daniel waved back at him and turned his attention to Y/N. "If you're not doing anything this evening, do you wanna go to the fair?" He asked.

Y/N looked down at her clothes, at her work outfit. But then she looked at Milo, at the way he was using his eyes to beg her. "Sure," she said. "We'll follow you there."

As Daniel took Olivia to his car, Y/N took Milo back to her car. She strapped him in and climbed into the front. She pulled her car up behind Daniel and he started driving, the two of them heading towards the fair.

The funfair in the park was quiet on a Monday evening. There were a few school kids with their parents, and several high school kids running around. Y/N and Daniel walked side by side as the kids ran ahead in front of them. They never strayed too far, though, not unless they wanted to be called back by their parents.

"I watched your race," Y/N said as they walked around. "Very impressive driving, Mr Ricciardo."

"I got you something," he said suddenly and Y/N quickly turned her head towards him, eyes wide.

Daniel fished through the pockets of his shorts and pulled something out. Thank God they were walking side by side, or she wouldn't have been able to stop staring at his thigh tattoo. "Danny," she said as he held the brown package towards her. "You shouldn't have."

"Just open it."

She pulled the tiny brown package open. It was so small it easily fit in the palm of her hand. She opened the small piece of tape holding the brown paper bag closed and let the item fall into her hand.

It was a fridge magnet in the shape of a Formula One track. She wasn't yet familiar enough with Formula One to know which track it was, but Silverstone was printed across it. "From my race," Daniel said, shrugging like it was nothing.

But to Y/N it was everything.

"Thank you," she said and placed the magnet into her bag. "It means the world."

Daniel walked around, the widest grin on his face after that. And Y/N? Well she was holding his hand.

Milo and Olivia went running towards the spinning teacups. Daniel paid for the kids to ride the ride, the two of them squealing as the teacups spun.

They stood, leaning against each other as they watched their kids on the ride. "Does this count as our second date?" Asked Daniel as he stood with his arm around Y/N.

She touched over his 3 tattoo on his finger. "I think so," she said, as she watched the yellow teacup spin. "What're we gonna do for our third date?"

"I think I have an idea," he said as the ride came to a stop.

Milo and Olivia led the way around the funfair. Y/N bought them all greasy, unhealthy food from a food truck, but only because Daniel insisted on paying for all of the rides and games.

While Milo and Olivia were on one ride, Daniel disappeared, leaving Y/N to watch the kids. His muttered excuse fell on deaf ears as Y/N watched them.

By the time he returned the ride had ended and Milo, Olivia and Y/N were looking around for him. Y/N held both of the kids as they desperately searched for him.

When they saw Daniel, he was walking towards the three of them, grinning with his hands held behind his back. It was a sight he could get used to, walking towards Y/N as she held his daughter.

"Where did you go?" Y/N asked as she let Olivia run towards her father.

Daniel didn't take Olivia's hand as he held towards them. He kept them held behind his back. As soon as he and Olivia were once again with Y/N and Milo, he held out one hand towards Milo.

In that hand was a dinosaur teddy bear. Milo grabbed and held it tight. "Thank you, Mr Ricciardo!" He cried as he squeezed the teddy against his body.

Daniel reached behind himself and brought forward another teddy in his left hand. His right was still held behind his back. This time he pulled out a dog teddy and handed it to Olivia. "Thank you, daddy," Olivia said as she looked at her spotty dog teddy. She loved it.

He turned his attention to Y/N. She never expected that he'd have something for her, but he did. He brought forward a pink teddy bear that had a plush bouquet of roses stitched into the hand.

"Danny," Y/N said as she took the bear. "You really shouldn't have."

He just shrugged, his hands in his pockets.

Holding the bear by her side, Y/N stepped towards him and kissed his cheek. But that wasn't enough for her. "Fuck it," she whispered ever so quietly in his ear before she kissed him.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @cassie0sstuff @spideybv28 @andydrysdalerogers @aundercover @lou-bean28 @landossainz @purplephantomwolf @ggaslyp1 @layazul @phantomxoxo @minkyungseokie @gills-lounge @hollie911 @annispamz @lillians-world-is-f1 @cixrosie @notyouraveragemochii @charli123456789 @amalialeclerc @teamnovalak @tallrock35 @teenwolf01 @chiliwhore @darleneslane @sava207 @thatsusbitch @formulaal @leptitlu @angiesw0rld @yunakynn @landosgirlxoxo @msolbesg @cherry-piee @catmouseggy @bathedinheat @chanshintien @ilove-tswizzle @woozarts @evie-119 @trouble-sistar @mysticalnightenthusiast @lewisvinga @spilled-coffee-cup @starkeyellow @fxrmuladaydreams @viennakarma @radiator101 @lightdragonrayne @angelxxrose @millinorrizz @xemiefx @ellies-world61 @the-depressed-fellow

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader smut #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 #dr3 #dr3 imainge #dr3 x reader

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neil-gaiman · 4 months

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Hi! I am a huge fan of your work and I was just wondering what inspired you to diversify the Sandman when adapting it for TV? I watched the show when it came out and have since been insufferably obsessed (I literally never shut up about it if I'm honest). I was gifted the first few editions of the comic not long after and noticed differences like Lucienne being a white man as opposed to the female black actress that portrays them in the show. Johanna Constantine obviously also changed to a woman and Desire's pronouns changed from it/its to they/them. Obviously I think its awesome that you're adding diversity to something that was previously not as inclusive, but I just wanted to know at what point between learning the series was being adapted for television to the show being on Netflix were all these decisions made and why.

I think all of the changes you mention were discussed and agreed at the dinner David Goyer, Allan Heinberg and I had on the Friday night before we pitched Sandman as a TV show to Netflix (and Apple and Amazon and co) in June 2019.

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deonsx · 7 months

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Bsd Men How Are They During Your Pregnancy

Feat: Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor, Nikolai

Dazai Osamu

He is really a very worried boyfriend, he cares a lot about you and your future child, but he still feels like he can't find the courage in himself. "My love...you will be a wonderful father" You left kisses on his beautiful skin and caressed the brunette's hair. The brown irises that looked at you with admiration sparkled like gold

While you sleep, he constantly hugs you around your waist and caresses your belly to keep you warm, carries you in his arms most of the time, and of course physical touch is inevitable, he holds your hand everywhere and smothers you with kisses, he becomes very clingy

He is more threatening than usual when it comes to protecting you, too much to let anyone touch you, and if there is someone who is more emotional than you during your pregnancy, it is definitely him, you constantly try to calm him down "Bella..I don't want you to suffer..." you smelled his silky brown hair and kissed it "I will never leave you alone belladonna.." he narrowed his beautiful brown eyes giving you full power "My Beautiful Angels I Will Protect You Until The End"

Chuuya Nakahara

He is truly a perfectionist, he never lets you work and takes care of everything himself and never makes it an issue, he is very excited about the gender of your child and even though he has doubts about being a good father, you don't even doubt that he will be the best, he follows routines every night. He asks for your favorite meal every evening and the next day that meal appears in front of you, he buys you the best of everything and makes it for you

He also always lays his head on your belly as an hourly activity and tries to listen to your child's movements "I Feel It's Gonna Be A Girl..but of course I wish it to be healthy" and yes he was right you found out you are having a girl he was a man with strong feelings. Sometimes he would read you sleep stories, sometimes he actually treated you like a child, all the housework was on him and he would go to the doctor weekly and bring a doctor daily

"I will always be there for you" he spoke giving you a hug "I can't wait to Name our Daughter!" You both laughed and evaluated the last days until the birth, accompanied by the romantic series on television. "Don't Be Afraid, I Will Always Be By Your Side And Hold Your Hand”

Fyodor Dostoyevski

Of course, Fyodor took this situation a little more seriously, not without love, it could never be like this, but in the end, he wanted to have a child with the woman he loved, and now he is doing his best to take care of them seriously and protectively. Every part of your detached house is covered with guards. No matter how serious it looks, he only cares about you. It would be very rare for him to show it, but during pregnancy, his interest in you usually shows in his words rather than his actions

“Are you excited for that, love?” You cooed as you lay happily on Fyodor's lap. "Of course I am, that child will be as smart as me and as...beautiful as you." Even though he says the last parts in a light whisper and with seriousness on his face, you always see the effort in him, he leaves kisses on your forehead

He didn't put you under house arrest during your pregnancy, he took you wherever you wanted with privilege, and the last place you went was a chalet, you watched him while he was trying to light the fireplace, "Food-" "The servants will take care of it, dear" he sent you a quick reply, he didn't make you work in any way, everything was the best in the house. was left in the hands of reliable servants "I Can't Let You Get Tired My Dear, Rest"

Nikolai Gogol

He really is much more excited than you and annoys you around the house by singing stupid songs about it every day, but can you blame him? He will be a father and he is already dreaming: "Imagine braiding her white hair, just like mine!" You giggled at what he said. “Maybe we will have a daughter who will look like me, Nikolai?” this only made him spin around and pull you towards him, holding your hands. “This will be so much better! I'll braid her hair and get her clothes ready!”

He constantly skips his job, postpones his duties and refuses to leave the house without you. He is really a child you already have. "Ahhh what will I do with you...!" You laughed at him as if you were making fun of him, you unraveled your boyfriend's white braided hair and kissed them. During your relationship with him, he was really very kind and loyal to you. Even though he was serious and sneaky at his place of duty, he never showed this side to you, especially during pregnancy

He didn't make you do any work and he already designed your child's future room. While he was doing this, he also took ideas from you. Of course, he was much more excited than you. He was very excited about your daughter to be born. "You, me and our daughter. “I will give the necessary value to our family, my love"

Enjoy!

We Are 300!

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addisonnie · 1 year

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hinge and uhaul

summary: college!au. when all else fails…one must look for love on hinge!

an: hi! back from hiatus and of course it would be for a clump of pixels because i am down astronomically bad! this is the first part of a possible series! so let me know if a part 2 is warranted.

warnings: cursing, reader has 0 rizz shes literally a mess, reader also rambles and lots of this is just her inner dialogue because why not. also not very edited and possible tense shifts because im the worst!

part 2 ———————————

Tinder is a soul-sucking vortex.

A nightmarish flurry of shirtless mirror selfies, conservatives, and men that look like they’d hit on your mom after walking you to the door. Switching your profile settings from ‘men’ to ‘everyone’ seemed like the best option; It wasn’t. The best option would’ve been to delete your account and light your phone on fire after receiving the fourth “you send?” message in a row.

Hinge is a smaller soul-sucking vortex. At least you can deny their comments before you embarrass yourself by matching with a douche like that. Your account is set to ‘show me everyone’ and you can only hope that ‘everyone’ includes at least some good ones. Swiping and clicking on dating apps seems to be more of a game than it is actual match-making, a time-passer of sorts.

Your roommate, Dina, huffs loudly from her lofted bed across the room, “would you get your sorry ass off of that app? It’s sad listening to you moan and groan about all the losers!”

You roll your eyes, “my soulmate could be the next person!”

No. No. No, again. Oooh…yes?

You swipe through the girl’s page before deciding not to match with her, because who’s Hinge bio states that they’re still in love with their ex? Dina cheers while you huff and slam your phone onto your desk, spinning idly in your chair. The television on top of Dina’s purple mini fridge is playing a random episode of Bob’s Burgers and, for a moment, you forget about your ever-growing dating app addiction.

It’s not that you’re addicted per say. You just spend most of your downtime sitting in your bed and judging people’s profiles, when yours surely isn’t up to par either. Hey, at least you don’t have a picture of you holding a fish.

The rhythmic buzz of your phone quickly draws your eyes away from the cartoon on screen, your hand dramatically reaching for your phone.

Hinge: Ellie liked you! Tap to see the comment she left.

Ellie. That’s a cute name…fairly normal too! Surely she didn’t leave some weirdo comment about how your hair looks like it smells good. Your fingers fumble to tap on the notification and you feel a blush rising to your cheeks as you click on Ellie’s like.

She left her comment under a picture of you taken at a local museum. A big cheesy grin is painted across your face and there’s skeletal remains of some random dinosaur behind you, Dina is crouched under the jaw of the creature pretending to scream while she gets eaten. Hopefully this isn’t one of those situations where Ellie asks ‘if your friend is single.’

Nope. She left a simple comment. I love dinosaurs!!!

You smile as you quickly click on Ellie’s profile to see her. There are a couple pictures of her, and good god is she hot. Flushed, you quickly match with her.

But what do you say? This is life or death. You need this woman.

Hey!

You’re hot

Do you want to have vicious lesbian sex with me?

Okay. Jesus, you are not good at this. While you mull over the keyboard attempting to decide what to say to the ever-attractive Ellie, another message comes in.

Hey, pretty girl!

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Your fingers are fumbling over the keyboard, your heart is beating, you’re planning you and Ellie’s wedding. You wonder if she likes lace or prefers the classic look?

Hey! What’s up?

Nothing really. Just playing some guitar!

Guitar? She just gets hotter. Did she also save puppies from a burning building? You wonder if she would want roses at the wedding. Hopefully not, too basic.

Ooooh guitar you say? Whatcha playing?

It’s a few moments before she responds and you’re biting the nail on your thumb awaiting her reply.

Whatever your favorite song is.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you smile and rest your head in your hand.

Why don’t I tell you that over dinner?

It takes Ellie a few minutes to respond this time and you’re sure you’ve managed to scare her off at the mention of an actual date. Her reply comes just as you go to turn your phone off,

How about you give me your number and we can talk more about this date?

————

Giving your number to Ellie was perhaps the best decision made in your life thus far. She constantly sends text messages of whatever she’s doing, wearing, eating, or strumming on her guitar. It’s been about a week since you first exchanged information and you’re slightly worried that Ellie no longer wishes to go out on a date. You’ve tried to ‘accidentally’ bump into her on campus multiple times, but she manages to just barely slip away each time.

You’re sitting at your desk attempting to finish an essay when your phone rings in your lap. Ellie’s contact appears lit up on the screen and you just about scream when you grasp the phone between your fingers.

“Hello?” You’re already blushing.

“Hey, you! What’re you up to?” Ellie’s voice is loud into the microphone and you can make out multiple different voices on her end of the line.

“Nothing important,” you close your computer quickly, “why, what’s up?”

She takes a moment to answer as you hear her yell something to whoever else is in the room with her, “me and some friends are at a bar…will you come? Live music and stuff. Plus, I still haven’t taken you on that date!”

“Yes!” Okay, you probably should’ve tried to sound less excited. “Ehem…yes. Text me the address?”

You hear Ellie laugh before she happily responds, “will do! Text me when you get here and I’ll come out front to meet you.”

—————

Dina and her friends surely shop at Hookers R Us because where else would anybody find a skirt so goddamn short.

“D. Dina. My cheeks are hanging out the bottom.” Dina rolls her eyes and tugs on the hem of the mini denim skirt.

“Well if you wore it down here,” she tugs the denim again, “instead of up to your tits like a grandma would…maybe it would be longer.”

Several shirts are thrown toward your perch on Dina’s desk chair, “what’s wrong with the shirt I have on?”

Dina’s boyfriend. Jesse, interjects, “because I don’t like it.”

“Okay, fashion police. How about this one?” You hold up a form fitting black top and Dina nods vigorously, “yes. But no bra. Show off them ladies!”

��———

The Uber barely comes to a full stop as you clamber out of the backseat. Grasping for your phone, you text Ellie.

Here! :)

Was the smiley face overkill? Too much?

Cominh!!!!!

*Coming. Not drunk, I swear.

You think you’re the one doing the coming as you watch Ellie stroll towards you in the parking lot. If she was hot on Hinge, she’s ten-thousand times hotter in the dingy lighting that casts a magical glow upon her. She’s wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a white wife-beater, an old worn out flannel is unbuttoned over the top and rolled up just above her elbows. Her raggedy jeans are cuffed to the top of her converse and— wow is she a walking wet dream.

“Hey! I’m glad you came.” She doesn’t wait for an answer as she pulls you straight in for a hug, her calloused hands resting on your hips. You feel her finger tips touching the uncovered skin below your top, the contact makes you shiver.

Ellie squeezes you a little tighter before pulling away, leaving her arm draped over your shoulder, “c’mon, warmer inside.”

You let her lead you into the bar and through the slight crowd congregated near the entrance. A small group of people stand huddled next to the bar and Ellie leads you straight to them as she leans down to speak in your ear, “those are my friends.”

You nod and shamelessly nudge your body to be tucked further into her side, blushing profusely when you feel her arm tighten around your shoulders.

“Guys, this is the girl I was telling you about! And these are my friends I mentioned on the phone.” Ellie smiles while she introduces you to everyone and as much as you enjoy the domesticity of hanging out with her friends, you much prefer the nook you’ve found nestled under Ellie’s toned arm.

———

Her face leans down by your ear again, “wanna drink? I’ll get you one.”

You smile up at her, “would you shoot me if I said I want an espresso martini instead of the beer you’ve been nursing all night?”

She giggles into your ear and her breath fans across your face, “one espresso martini, coming up!”

She pulls away and salutes you before turning around and marching to the other end of the bar, waving her arm to grab the bartender’s attention.

“So you’re the lucky lady? I’m Abby, Ellie’s friend.” Damn, she is buff as hell. Her toned arm stretches across a barstool to shake your hand.

You stare at her open palm, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that. Who still shakes hands? I’m done drinking for the night.”

She cracks a smile when you laugh and shake her hand anyways, “nothing wrong with a good ol’ handshake.”

You speak with Abby while you wait for Ellie to return with your martini. She’s leaning up against the wood and speaking to the bartender as he pours the concoction into a glass. How she manages to look so appealing at all times is an enigma. Her short hair is pulled half-up into a bun while the rest barely skims the top of her shoulders, the botanical tattoo on her forearm sticks out from under her rolled-up sleeve and—fuck. You’re drooling.

Double-fuck. She caught you staring.

You blush when she throws a wink your way, turning back toward the bar to grab your drink.

And then she’s in front of you once more, “malady.”

She slides in between your legs while you sit atop the cushioned barstool (which you’re pretty sure makes a fart noise any time you move) and rests both of her hands on your hips.

Lifting the drink to your mouth, you hum happily when the flavor covers your tongue, “good?”

“Really good. Superb.” Ellie chuckles and leans in toward you, placing a kiss in the hollow of your collarbone, “c’mon, there’s some more people I want you to meet.”

————

You’re not exactly sure how you ended up in this position but good god do you wish you could die right here and right now. Ellie is leaning up against the poster-covered wall of the bar with you pulled tightly to her chest. Your back is pressed against her front and one of her arms is wrapped around you, long fingers splayed across your lower stomach. She’s talking animatedly to the guy standing in front of you two and in all honestly you can’t focus on what they’re talking about while you feel the tips of Ellie’s fingers rest upon the skin under your skirt.

It’s innocent. She doesn’t realize her fingers have traveled just south of the top of your skirt, but you’d be lying if you said the feeling of her calloused fingertips below the belt didn’t make you squirm. Her auburn hair tickles the side of your face as your head rests back in the crook between her neck and shoulder. And even better—her cheek presses to the top of your head when there’s a lull in her current conversation.

Hearing the man she was speaking to bid his goodbyes, you turn in her arms. The one that was previously grasping a beer bottle quickly swaps to rest in the back pocket of your skirt instead, her other hand squeezes your hip.

“Hi.” She smiles at you.

“Hi.” You press a kiss to her cheek.

The feeling leaves Ellie warm and she squeezes you a few times before ultimately deciding to cut to the chase and lean in. It’s a sweet peck, a little tipsy kiss that leaves you buzzing and floating outside of your body. The bright, crooked smile she gives you after pulling away punches the air from your lungs and Jesus Christ— now you understand the U-Haul lesbians because in this moment you are well and truly fucked. If this woman, this stranger, asked you to pack your shit and move in, you would.

And the look she gives you as she brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear tells you she might just feel the same.

#here she is #i told u #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #tlou #tlou part 2 #the last of us #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie x reader

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obessedwithfictionalmen · 2 months

Text

Co-Stars pt.8

Callum Turner X Actress! Reader

Summary: A bad joke is made about Y/n and Callum won't stand for it.

Warning: Joe Koy/ Swearing/ use of Y/n/ mention of being naked

Word count: 1.1k

Yn's outfit:

Award season was going well, she won an Emmy and now she was nominated for a Golden Globes for Best Performance by a Female Action in a Drama series. Unlike the Emmy’s, she was now nominated as if she was a main character, and it was amazing. The cast walked on the red carpet, again, getting yelled at by photographers. ‘’Good luck tonight, Y/n, I hope you win!’’ one yelled. It made the woman smile. ‘’Boys how does it feel to work with this amazing woman’’ without saying a word, they all start to kneel, to pay their respect to her. ‘’Oh my god’’ Y/n laughs. She takes a pose for the photographers and the boys get up. ‘’I love you guys’’ she says to her co-stars.

They didn’t know who the presenter was, so Y/n had to google him, but at the same time, Florence Pugh came to the table and asked for a photo with her. Her phone was towards the camera, her google research was exposed. But the ceremony started, Y/n was nervous, she was against really good actress, like Emma Stone and Bella Ramsey. ‘’Now Master of the Air was amazing! But I didn’t get why each time we saw Y/n on screen, we saw her naked, I mean, was the only purpose of her character, being naked? You’re playing in a series about WW2, not Sex Education’’ that was supposed to be a joke, but no one laughed. Y/n was looking at the presenter with a death stare before taking a sip of his drink. Joe nervously laughed. ‘’Sorry about that’’ he continued his speech but when he ‘apologized’ the camera went on Y/n and Callum. ‘’You better be sorry, asshole’’ Callum mumbled. He hid his mouth when he insulted him, but he didn’t understand why he thought making this joke was supposed to be fun. ‘’He clearly didn’t watch the hole show’’ Austin said to Y/n, which made her smile.

‘’And the winner is…’’ her heart was going to burst out of her chest. ‘’Y/n Y/l/n for her role in Master of the Air’’ She got up her chair, kissed Callum, hugged Austin and Antony, took off her shoes and made her way to the stage. She hugged Meryl Streep, she was presenting the award, when Y/n got to Joe, she didn’t hug him. She took the statue and came closer to the mic. ‘’Oh my god, wow, thank you so much. That’s amazing!’’ her voice cracked from the emotions. The crowd cheered for her. ‘’This series means so much to me, my wonderful co-stars, I love you so much. I don’t want to say the same thing as my other speech, because I did more than being naked in every scene, so I won awards, and people actually know who I am.’’ The crowd laughed at the comeback for the woman. Joe faked laugh and looked at the ground. ‘’To all the people out there, that are scared to pursue their dreams, don’t give up. You can do it, dreams come true! I got men kneeling for me, I won awards, and I got made fun of on national television! Thank you and good night!’’ she said, making the crowd laugh again. Callum was so proud of his girl; she stood up for herself and she did it the funniest way possible.

‘’The Golden Globe for the best drama Television Series goes to…’’ Drew Barrymore opened the envelope, the cast all held hands, silently praying. ‘’Master of the Air!’’ she exclaimed, stomping around in excitement. The cast got up, followed by Tom Hanks, Steven Spielberg and Gary Goetzman. When they all got on stage, the trophy was handed to Gary. Callum and Y/n held hands; it was special to be on stage together. ‘’Wow! Thank you so much, this is amazing! This T.V show is, I think, really important to understand history and its darker parts. I’m going to stop talking or I’ll take all the time’’ Gary laughed. The mic was given to Tom Hanks. ‘’Like Gary said, this series is the third, we did Band of Brothers and The Pacific, but Master of the Air is the last and to see it getting so much recognition fills my heart with joy’’ he said, tears in his eyes. Steven stepped forward to talk. ‘’Thank you to everyone that made this project happen, to our beautiful cast, thank you for accepting to follow our crazy idea, love you all’’ he blew kiss to us. Austin stepped forward. ‘’Thank you so much. This type of series, uh, I think, needs to be done so the next generation can understand what really went down. Thank you so much!’’ Y/n smiled; Callum stepped forward. ‘’And finally, thank you to everyone that really watched the show and saw that Y/n wasn’t always naked!’’ that made the cast laugh. A Y/n face palmed, but she was happy to see that the joke wasn’t forgotten and that the guys didn’t like it. ‘’Yeah! Y/n is amazing!’’ Barry quickly said. The woman laughed as they all left stage. Backstage, they all hugged, even the directors joined in. ‘’I’m so proud of all of you.’’ Tom Hanks said.

‘’So, Y/n, a picture came out, can you explain what you were googling’’ the journalist asked, making the woman laugh. ‘’Uh, I didn’t know who Joe Koy was, so I looked him up’’ she simply said. ‘’About the joke he made, your co-stars became protective, what does it mean for you?’’ she was tired of this question, each interview station, they asked that question. ‘’Personally, I thought it was low, I mean, it wasn’t the fact that she was naked that made her win an Emmy and a Golden Globe, so yeah. But I think he learned his lesson’’ Callum answered. Y/n smiled and leaned her head against him. ‘’Thank you, good night’’ the journalist said. They could finally leave this place. Y/n has her statue in her hand, it was really beautiful. ‘’It’s going to fit perfectly beside my Emmy award’’ she said in the limousine. Making her co-star giggle. ‘’Like we told you before, we got your back, we weren’t going to let him disrespect you like that’’ Anthony said. Y/n thanked him as they made their way to the after party.

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #callum turner imagine #master of the air #golden globes

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fahye · 5 months

Text

book recs: oct/nov 2023

I read an obscene number of books during my weeks travelling in the USA, so here are some highlights!

A GENTLEMAN UNDONE by cecilia grant - I actually read all three in this excellent series, but this is the highlight. a tense, engrossing regency romance between a gentleman desperate to make money in gambling halls and the woman who teaches him to count cards, who unfortunately happens to be someone else's mistress. extremely horny and very smart.

SHADOW MAGIC by jaida jones & danielle bennett - after HAVEMERCY I desperately needed the rest of the series, and happily I had dinner with jaida and dani and was given them! this one is classic political fantasy: assassins, ambassadors, a devoted bodyguard and his beautiful prince, and a flamboyant little chaos magician who wonders why nobody else in his delegation is enjoying the beautiful local Fashion Robes. this book has never had a heterosexual thought in its entire life.

AMERICAN QUEEN by sierra simone - okay, this is a rec for the entire series (AMERICAN PRINCE & AMERICAN KING follow), a modern arthur-lancelot-guinevere retelling where they're american politicians and they're all in love and kinky and fucked up about it. mostly smut, lots of angst, occasional plot. maybe the hottest thing I've ever read in my life?? damn, sierra simone knows what she's doing.

THE MOON IS A HARSH MISTRESS by robert a. heinlein - what if we were a moon colony and we decided to stage a revolutionary war and we asked a bored AI computer to run the logistics for us? I'm such a sucker for logistics, and heinlein delivers in spades. very funny, great worldbuilding, fun characters. has aged surprisingly well, I think.

10 THINGS THAT NEVER HAPPENED by alexis hall - a pure shot of gay grumpy/sunshine delivered via FAKE AMNESIA TROPE and a plot lovingly and lampshadily borrowed from the classic sandra bullock vehicle while you were sleeping. alexis hall's protagonists and glorious supporting casts always grab me, and this was no exception.

THE FALL THAT SAVED US by tamara jerée - do you like the good omens setup of bookshop angel vs. snarky demon, destined to be enemies but oh no we're in love, and you'd like to add some recovery from family trauma + sex scenes + also they're sapphic? yes. good. enjoy.

CHAIN-GANG ALL-STARS by nana kwame adjei-brenyah - holy shit!! finished this one yesterday and will be thinking about it for a long time. premise: criminals can choose to compete in deadly televised gladiator matches instead of remaining in prison. this is an absolutely brutal examination of the prison industrial complex and the violent commodification of bodies (especially bodies of colour) under our capitalist hellscape. lyrical, wonderful, cutting. very queer and very angry. I flew through it. what a fantastic book.

#book recs

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suzdin · 4 months

Text

Two for One: Chapter Four

Neighbor!Dave York x F!Reader x Human!Max Phillips

Series Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-vampire Max, pre-Equalizer 2 Dave, familial drama and angst, mentions of drug use/abuse, alcoholism!, stalking (don’t do it), voyeurism (so so much), invasions of privacy, mutual masturbation, sexting, oral (m receiving), dom!Dave, soft!Dave, dom!Max, softish!Max, public sex, work sex, some fluff, maybe?, SEA OTTERS!, murder, poison, asphyxiation, let me know if I forgot anything, watch me make up stuff about an aquarium I’ve never been to and also poison.

Word Count: 7,700+

Notes: Sorry this took forever because my brain is dumb. I just want to thank all of you for being so patient. I love you and hope you have a wonderful 2024. 💜 Enjoy and feel free to leave me feedback if you wish! 😊

(Not my gif)

—

You make Max exchange phone numbers as he’s leaving your apartment.

“No more showing up uninvited,” you reprimand him, the heel of your palm planted firmly between his shoulder and sternum as you push him into the corridor of your building, “I mean it.”

He cocks his head to one side, lopsided smirk twisting his lips, forehead wrinkling as he lifts his brows, pausing. He’s staring at your still very much flushed and sweaty face. “You sure about that, doll?”

Your skin heats even more. You hate to admit that his smarmy defiance arouses you in ways that it shouldn’t.

“Max. If we’re going to keep whatever this is ongoing, I’m going to need some compliance here. For my privacy.”

Max’s smirk only grows wider and he beams at you, his gaze sliding down your face to your lips, hands raised in surrender. “You mean so I don’t cross paths with him, is that it?” he asks, quirking one of his brows to the side, knowing you’re fully cognizant who he’s talking about. “Fine.”

“Tell me you’re not bullshitting,” you retort.

“Woman,“ Max begins, wagging a finger at you, “I assure you that I am in no way being deceitful.”

He hasn’t wiped that shit eating grin off his face the entire time he’s been standing in front of you, either.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Scout’s honor?” you press.

“Scout’s honor,” he replies, lifting his hand in a mocking salute.

You sigh and shove him back another step, his back almost flush with your neighbor’s door.

“Goodbye, Max,” you snip, turning to go back to the comfort of your apartment, when that gnawing southern upbringing decides to make a re-emergence once more, and you remember your manners.

With a sigh, you turn to give him one last glance, your visage softening in its regard. “Thank you, by the way. For the drink.” And you mean it, even if it’s likely all melted and weeping on the table by now.

You almost think you see his own features grow a shade softer, and before you can dwell on it, he’s suddenly shifting back into your space.

Your initial instinct is to flinch, to shove him away, because after Dave and him in a single day, your poor fucked out pussy can’t handle anymore punishment.

But he doesn’t grope or manhandle you. Max’s arms grapple you into a snug embrace, his hot breath fanning over your neck. It’s uncharacteristically soft for Max to show this level of affection and you would hug him back if he wasn’t clamping your arms to your sides.

“Thank you,” he whispers, keeping you ensnared for a few lingering moments before releasing you and taking a step back.

“Yeah… no problem,” you offer awkwardly, because what else do you say to that? “I’ll see you around. I work tomorrow, opening to two.”

Max nods, his usual crooked smirk making a reappearance. “See you then.”

“And hey?”

“Yeah?”

“Be nice to my coworkers. It’s the least you could do,” you remind him.

His smirk doesn’t fade, tongue swabbing the inside of his cheek. “I’ll do my best.”

You snort and shake your head, watching as he disappears down the stairwell.

——

After Max leaves, you spend the remainder of the afternoon and evening wallowing around your apartment, watching bad reality television and trying not to think about… well, anything, pouring yourself some vodka with whatever mixers you can scrounge up until your brain mellows to a welcome numbness.

You order take out for dinner because, fuck saving money at this point. Proceeding the earlier conversation with your mom, you aren’t even sure why you’re trying to get back to Texas anymore.

It’s far easier having several states between you, even if you do miss your grandmother and have a wicked hankering for some barbecue right about now.

You check Facebook periodically anyway, not at all surprised to see your mother asking for prayers and attention from all the faceless online entities because she did not receive the validation she sought from you.

You grumble and toss your phone down every time you read a new ‘woe is me’ comment from your mother and you wonder why you’re even torturing yourself like this.

Belly full of chow mein, you settle down into your bed for the remainder of the evening to distract yourself with some mind numbing television to go along with the buzz you’re feeling.

When your phone lights up, you sigh in indignation, expecting a text from your mother as you swipe open to the notifications.

Much to your delight, it isn’t your mother, and you let out the breath you realize you’ve been holding in.

Dave: Hey, you.

You smile. Relief washes over you as heat simultaneously slithers its way up your spine.

Dave decides to change to split screen, one side with the recorded footage and the other side with the current feed, and he watches as you smile at your phone, steadily stroking himself, his phone vibrating your response a few seconds later.

You: Hey, you. 😜

You: I was beginning to wonder if you’d made it to VA

Dave: Yeah. Long day.

Dave: You made it worth it, though.

You: Doubt that

That makes him chuckle. He knows you know that to not be true.

He continues to stare at you, your gaze glued to your phone as you await his reply. You’re sitting up in bed now, back against the wall, wearing a different but equally revealing top than the thin camisole you had on earlier, blanket pooling in your lap.

The veins in his dick pulse when he ponders if you’re wearing any pants under the covers, and his eyes flick back to the recording of Max eating you out, a soft, breathy moan escaping his lips. The pleasure on your face is telling.

Dave: You do, huh?

Dave: Maybe I should show you, then.

You bite your lip at his response, quickly punching in your reply and hitting send.

You: Aren’t you supposed to be spending time with your kids?

Dave: they’re in bed. It’s late.

His head lifts from the monitor momentarily—only as long as necessary—taking his headphones off to listen for any sounds of wakefulness from the bedroom. When he finds there is none, he turns his attention back to you, freeing himself from his sweats, tugging them down to his knees.

He quickly snaps and sends a photo of his rigid cock, colored a deep shade of mauve at the head, hand fisted at the base, dark curls peeking out from underneath his palm.

You swallow, your walls tightening and mouth watering at the mere sight of it, breath puffing softly past your lips. And you’re almost surprised how turned on you still are, despite the events of the past two days.

Max is just a phone call away, you tell yourself, quickly squashing that thought right out of your brain just as quickly as it arrives. You’d hate to risk having him spend the night with you. Besides, you should probably give yourself a break.

You: Jesus, Dave.

Dave: All for you, baby

Dave: This is what you do to me. I was hard almost the entire way here.

Dave: What are you doing?

You snicker through your nose at the sudden shift in conversation, deciding to play along anyway. Going back to the picture every so often to admire it.

You: Watching TV

Dave: Anything good?

You: Just reruns of 1,000 Lb. Sisters. It’s a good show, you should watch it

Dave: I would watch it with you if I was there.

Dave: if I could keep my hands off of you

Dave: Touch yourself.

You laugh when the conversation takes yet another rapid turn, but you barely give it a second thought the moment you feel your clit throb with need, firing off a response to Dave before breaching the band of your panties with your fingers.

You: Yes sir

Dave: good girl

Dave drags his tongue along his plump lower lip when he sees your hand disappear beneath the covers, his eyes darkening with lust.

Dave: show me

You throw the blanket back and he’s pleased as punch to see you’re only wearing panties. He watches intently as you shuck them off and toss them to the floor.

You open the camera app on your phone and begin recording, doing your best to get the shot right but it’s difficult to see much from your perspective. You take the video anyway.

Breathing softly, you slide two fingers between your folds and sink them into your entrance as far as you can manage, which isn’t enough and will never be enough compared to Dave or Max, before dragging them back out again to display the shiny coating of arousal on your digits for the camera.

You save the video and send it to Dave immediately.

Dave: Fuck

Dave: Can you get a different angle? I need to see it

He almost tells you to prop your phone up on the window sill by the bed, but he doesn’t want to risk you somehow finding out he’s watching you. It’s possible you would think nothing of it, since he has seen the inside of your apartment now, but he’d prefer not to take the chance.

You frown and stop touching yourself, looking around the room in consideration before scooting on your knees over to the window to prop the phone against the pane of glass.

You hit record and maneuver into position, spreading, lifting your eyes to make sure everything is in frame. Shockingly, it is, and this new angle is so visual and obscene that even your OB/GYN would be impressed.

You record a short video of your fingers circling your clit, letting out a soft, salacious moan.

You still feel very much used from Dave and Max in a single day, but you make sure to keep your own touches as light as possible.

You record about ten seconds of yourself and send it to Dave.

Dave: Fuck

Dave: Need to fuck that little pussy full of me

Dave: We’re getting you an IUD and I’m paying for it

Dave: Fuck

His eyes move back to the side with you and Max, at which point you’re cumming on Max’s face, and Dave’s balls tighten with longing. He remembers exactly how you taste when you hit your high, and his mouth waters in remembrance.

Any jealousy he feels is immediately snuffed out by how much he wants you. How much he needs you.

You: I can pay for it

You: [video]

He’s so distracted by watching Max making you cum, his hand pumping himself more rapidly, that he doesn’t realize you were recording again. Your fingers swirl your bud faster, your hips twitching and coming up from the mattress.

Dave: Jesus

Dave: It will be well worth the money to see my cum dripping out of that tight little hole

You: such things you say, Dave

He smirks.

Dave: use a toy

You: How do you know I have one?

Dave: dirty fucking sluts like you always have toys

Dave: do what I say

Arousal floods your core when Dave’s true colors bleed through, even over text. You can practically see his brow pulling into a hard, dark line; see the way his lips curve ever so slightly into a sadistic and hungry smirk.

You don’t dawdle, leaning crossways over your bed to retrieve your favorite toy from your bedside drawer — you have a few accumulated from your time with Jonathan, since he never got you off — a vibrator with a curve at the end for optimal g-spot stimulation.

You: yes sir

You: [video]

You: is this sufficient

Dave receives a video of you clicking on the toy and sliding it teasingly along your slick and swollen labia, pausing periodically at your clit, your moans quiet yet lewd. All for him.

Dave: fuck. Gonna have to fuck you with the toy in you like that

You: I look forward to it sir

Your words send a rush of heat through Dave as his vision subconsciously slips back over to the side with you and Max, who’s now railing into you from behind like a jack hammer, and he damn near cums on that image alone.

He wanted to kill Max for how he had treated you. But now, watching Max bring you pleasure, and how much you appear to be enjoying it, he can’t stop his thoughts from wandering. Would you let both men inside you at the same time? Would you like it?

Would Max take orders from him like a good boy?

That last thought admittedly gives Dave pause and he shakes it from his mind. He had done things in the military, sure, most of the men had, missing their wives and girlfriends. But that was a side of him he hadn’t acknowledged in years, and he shoves it down to the furthest recesses of his brain, returning his focus to you.

Dave: good girl. Now put in and make yourself cum for me

You slide the toy past your opening with little effort, and you’re so worked up it takes almost no time at all before you’re chanting his name. Dave watches, transfixed, pupils dilated and jaw slack, eyes drifting back and forth between the two images on the screen, a cry departing your lips as you reach peak.

You: [video]

You: Mmm wish it was you making me cum though

Almost like serendipity, you cum on the recorded footage at almost the exact same moment as he witnesses it in real time. He can’t hold himself back any longer, and he barely has time to pull his phone back out to record before he’s shooting like a geyser all over his hand and lower abdomen, thick and milky spend dribbling down the backs of his knuckles.

Dave: Fuck

Dave: [video]

Dave: wish this was all over your fucking face instead

You sigh and fall back, panting, opening the last text with a satisfied grin painting your lips as you watch Dave spill down his hand.

You: Rather it inside of me

You place the phone down and crawl off the bed to go clean yourself and your toy in the bathroom, smiling to yourself.

Several states away, Dave heads to the bathroom in his hotel suite to do the same.

But as the high starts to dissipate, your trepidation inexplicably returns, twisting like a knife in your gut. You like Dave. Probably a little too much. And you shouldn’t. Because the day will come when he hurts you, just like Jonathan did.

You do your best to swallow down your doubt and finish cleaning yourself up, traipsing back into the main room to retrieve your panties and slip them back on.

A new text message lights up your phone.

Dave: Soon.

Dave: Can I call you?

Dave sees you sigh and chew at your lip, one of your hands coming up to the back of your neck. You seem unsure.

Your anxiety triggers his own, making him worry if he’s moving too quickly for you.

You: Sure

Now clad only in his sweats, Dave takes in a prolonged breath, hitting the call button. It rings twice before you answer.

“Hi,” you answer quietly.

“Hi,” Dave returns and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Thank you for that. I needed it after today…”

He switches off the recorded footage and goes back to watching just you. You.

You’ve already moved back under the covers, snuggling up with your back facing the window, one arm drawn up under your chin.

“You’re welcome,” you reply after a beat. “I needed it too.”

Oddly enough, you did, despite how many times you’ve already cum today, which was a welcome end to a stressful day.

That makes Dave grin, and he feels a pang of want as he wishes he were there to hold you in his arms, to feel your back pressed up against his chest.

“I miss you,” he confesses with a soft, nervous chuckle. His change in demeanor doesn’t go unnoticed by you — a man of dual natures, an enigma. “Wish you were here.”

He chastises himself silently for saying too much, but it’s true.

You swallow down the coiling anxiety you feel.

“Yeah. That would be great,” you proffer gently. You change the subject as seamlessly as you can. “What are your plans for tomorrow?”

He notices, but doesn’t point it out. “Taking the girls to the aquarium.”

You actually do soften at that. You always loved visiting the aquarium as a kid.

“Oh, how fun! I love aquariums. I know there’s one here… I’ve never been.”

“I’ll take you sometime,” Dave suggests. “We’ll make it a date.”

Your skin heats and you take your welling emotions and stamp them down as deep as you can. “Yeah.”

“What is your favorite marine animal?” Dave randomly asks.

“What, why?”

“Curious.”

You think it over for a moment. “Sharks,” you reply, “I like sharks.”

You hear him chuckle. “Figured you for more of a sea otter type.”

“Sea otters? Do explain, Dave.”

Although you can’t see it, he shrugs. He’s still watching you, fixated on the way your fingers fidget with the covers.

“Women usually like the cute sea animals. And sea otters are cute,” he says.

“Because I’m a woman, I’m not allowed to like things that aren’t, by your definition, ‘cute’? That’s sort of sexist, don’t you think?”

He lets out a quiet laugh. “You’re right. My bad.”

“Your bad? Well, what is your favorite sea animal, then?” you press.

“… Sea otters,” Dave answers without any additional thought, and you can’t control the burst of laughter that erupts from you. It makes his heart vibrate with affection hearing the joy in your voice and watching the way your nose crinkles when you smile.

“Oh, fuck off!” you tease, and he can’t help but laugh along with you.

“You need to go to bed,” you tell him as soon as the laughter dies down.

“What if I’d rather stay up all night talking to you?” he counters.

“Then I imagine tomorrow will really suck,” you quip back.

“It will be worth it.”

“Dave,” you begin in a more earnest tone, “I have work in the morning. Early. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

Talk…masturbate mutually. Either way.

Your buzz is starting to wear off. Dave sees you rub at your eyes as you reach for your cigarette pack with the other, lighting it up and taking a long drag.

He knows you’re guarded and he supposes he understands why. He hopes you’ll let your walls down sooner than later.

“Okay,” he sighs in resignation. “But I’ll be thinking about you all day tomorrow.”

You tap the growing head of ash against the edge of the empty plant tray you’ve been using as a makeshift ash tray.

“Me too. Goodnight. Have fun tomorrow, alright?”

“Yeah. I’ll try,” Dave replies honestly, and you exchange your goodbyes before hanging up.

He continues to watch you. And not just until you’ve finished your cigarette or gotten out of bed to — presumably — have one final pee.

He watches you plug up your phone and set your alarm. He even watches you as you curl into a fetal position, clutching one of your extra pillows against your torso, and he wishes it was him instead.

Soon, he reminds himself.

He doesn’t stop watching until he’s sure you’re completely asleep. And even then he lingers, only stopping when one of the girls — his youngest, Alice — rouses from sleep in absolute hysterics, loud enough to wake the dead. Something she had started doing around the start of the divorce process.

He sighs, slipping back into dad mode, swiping a hand over his sleep weary face as he shuts his laptop down and heads to the bedroom.

——

Like clockwork, Max is at The Beanery around 7:30 AM for his morning caffeine fix.

You’re grateful that it’s slow and that Audrey and Vincent are in the back room folding boxes and chattering away about god only knows what. Almost like you’d planned it that way. Like you gave them each monotonous side work on purpose.

You knew Audrey was working today and you wanted to stave off the inevitability of admission that you don’t really have the power to ban Max as long as you could. Or resist him, for that matter.

You’re also grateful that Audrey was able to hide your hickies and bruises using the expensive foundation she brought to work just for you, at your insistence, with the incentive that she could leave two hours early with pay today. A decision that would probably bite you in the ass later.

You didn’t tell her who or what they were from and she didn’t ask.

You receive a text from Dave mere moments before the chimes hanging over the door signal Max’s arrival, causing your blood to heat and your skin to pebble.

It’s an image of Dave in a steamy bathroom, fully nude, hand curled around the base of his stiffened cock, with the caption: Wish you were here

You respond with a very underwhelming selfie in your work cap and apron, to which he replies almost immediately: You’re fucking adorable

You can’t help the heat that crawls up your cheeks.

You slip your phone back into your apron and start cleaning the espresso machine when Max traipses in, strolling up to the counter like he owns the place.

Or like he owns you, more like it.

“Morning,” you greet, and the remaining traces of your flustered state swell once again the moment you see Max in his primped and tailored three piece, donning a flashy paisley red tie. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him not adorned in a suit, aside from when he’s naked.

“Your usual?” you query, starting on his Americano before he even has a chance to respond.

“Morning,” Max parrots, smirking as his eyes bore into you. “And add whatever you want for yourself, sweetheart.”

He’s certainly starting off early today, isn’t he?

“That isn’t necessary,” you say.

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” he tuts and slams his card down in front of you. When you go to retrieve it, he reaches out to grip your wrist gently, and your eyes snap up to meet his.

He can see the affect he’s already having on you just by proximity alone, his cock already growing rigid in his pants.

“Thanks,” you squeak out and ring up Max’s drink and yours with your free hand, running the card and handing it back to him.

“Good girl,” he purrs in a rich timbre. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you last night.”

And he really couldn’t. He doesn’t oft have a habit of bringing women to his place, opting for theirs or someplace else instead, but he couldn’t stop thinking about you in his bed, waking up next to him that morning so he could make you sing his praises first thing.

“Let me get your drink…” you tell him, attempting to take a step away, but his grip on your wrist holds true, tightening infinitesimally, thumb circling your pulse point.

Max leans forward, a single elbow rested on the countertop. “Or,” he suggests, his voice low and barely an octave above a whisper, “you can meet me in the bathroom in two minutes.”

His eyes flash and he releases you, shooting you a stilted grin before heading to the small bathroom in the corner.

At first, all you can do is gape in disbelief, your jaw slack. Did Max Phillips really just come into your place of business and ask you to meet him in the bathroom?

You turn to listen to the sounds coming from the back room; Audrey and Vincent seem to be prattling on about something, oblivious.

You sigh and resign yourself to curiosity, to self torture, checking to see that the coast is clear.

“Hey, Vince, listen for the front, please. I… I’ll be right back,” you call out and take in another prolonged breath.

“10-4, dinosaur!” Vince chimes back and you roll your eyes, rounding the corner of the counter and heading over to the bathroom.

As you approach, the door swings open and Max pulls you inside before you can even reach for the handle.

He barely gives you time to react before he’s locking the door and crowding into you, pushing you back against the wall and pinning you as his hips grind your thigh hard. He starts to grab at you, everywhere, pawing at your clothes, your body. His mouth finds your neck and when his teeth start to bear down, you protest weakly.

He doesn’t listen; or maybe he’s just so overwhelmed with his desire to be inside of you that he’s lost any semblance of composure.

It doesn’t take you long to realize you don’t want to do this here. Not at work and not when your body needs a break, still so sore and overwrought from the last couple of days, and you attempt to push him away. He only pushes right back, unwilling to hear your pleas, because he thinks it’s what you would want.

“Max,” you groan and you feel your resolve slipping although you shouldn’t, “not here.”

“Come on baby,” Max growls, gently nipping at your earlobe, “let me inside of you.”

He pins your arms above your head at the wrists with one of his hands while the other begins to undo your belt, moving swiftly, his breathing desperate and heady.

He hasn’t been able to get you out of his mind for two whole days and pining over a woman isn’t something Max Phillips does.

Your resolve is rapidly waning and just about gone, arousal welling up within you. But with your last remaining shred of dignity, you’re able to shove him away and grit out, “Max, lavender,” your safe word.

Part of you expects to be ignored regardless, as Max has a habit of doing whatever the fuck he wants, and what you suspect to be very few morals. To your surprise, however, he does stop.

He releases you and takes a tentative step back, lips parted, hurt and uncertainty twisting his features. With nothing to say, at least for a few brief seconds.

His eyes meet yours and he lifts his hands in surrender, a frown creasing his brows. “Fine. That’s fine. I just figured since you came in here…”

“Max, shut up,” you say as you step towards him and you’re the one undoing his belt this time, positioning him with his back to the sink. “I just didn’t wanna— I mean, I want a break, but let me just… do this instead,” you further explain as you successfully get everything undone, sinking to your knees in front of him.

Understanding settles over Max and he nods, eyes growing a shade darker as he watches you finagle his slacks and boxers down, hardening cock springing free after a moment.

Of course none of the tile on the floor is even, so you have to adjust slightly to prevent the edges from digging into your knees and make yourself more comfortable, your hands sliding down Max’s thighs as you look up at him through your lashes.

He gently places a palm atop your head, fingers curling into your hair. “That’s it, doll. Be my good girl, now.”

He has to stifle the loud moan that reverberates from his lungs as you spit directly onto his shaft and grip him in your fist to begin slowly jacking him off, swiping the flat of your tongue up his length, his entire body vibrating.

You pause at the head, circling it, lapping at the pearl of precum that collects at the slit. He grasps your hair with a firmer hold, tugging at the roots.

“Don’t be a… fucking tease… or I’ll fuck you anyway,” he warns and in spite of yourself, you moan, and almost break.

You grin to yourself and take him deeper into your mouth, still holding him steady with one hand at the base as you adjust to his size, slowly pistoning your head forward and back.

“That’s it. Ohhh yes, good girl, sweetheart, good girl,” Max pants softly.

You slide your tongue along the underside of his dick, pausing at the fold of skin at the head as you rock forward, causing his hips to shudder and you eventually bottom out.

He grunts and grips the back of your neck, holding you flush against his groin, the dark and manicured thatch of hair tickling at your nose.

You can smell and taste the soap he uses; woodsy and light, nothing over the top nor underwhelming, but he’s as clean and well groomed as you would expect a pretentious man like Max to be.

He releases you when your eyes start to water and you murmur a noise of protest, allowing you to take a short break for air.

“Come now, darling, you can do better than that,” he notes with a small pout.

You nod in agreement and wet your lips, placing your hands on his hips as you take him back into your mouth and his head rolls back with a sigh, hands going to either side of your face.

You bottom out again and manage to hold better this time, hollowing out your cheek bones and breathing through your nostrils, relaxing your jaw and throat as you do so.

“Good girl… good… fucking girl,” he praises, nary louder than a whisper, running his fingertips along your scalp.

You tremble at the attention, moaning as you taste more precum dribbling onto your tongue, bobbing your head faster—as fast as you can—to get the job done as expeditiously as possible.

He groans and grasps your cheeks tighter, stilling your movements, holding you exactly where he wants you, and without any prior warning, starts rutting into your mouth.

“That’s right, that’s right… you can take it, can’t you? You can take it,” he growls, and there’s little else you can do but let him use your body as he wishes.

You can get the job done quickly but Max can get it done faster, knowing you’re on a time crunch.

You slacken your muscles as much as you can, as much as your body will allow, breathing through your nose and trying not to gag, especially considering you can feel and hear him nearing his release.

He starts to sputter what mostly sounds like nonsense words to you, gripping your cheeks and neck tightly in his large hands, rutting into your mouth with wreckless abandon and all you can do is sit there with the uneven tile digging into your tender knees and take it, letting go of his thighs to find purchase on the vanity behind him.

Finally, his hips begin to catch and then eventually seize, and with a low, guttural growl he spills hot and thick into your mouth, and you accept everything he has to offer you, swallowing it all with ease.

“Good girl… good girl…” he puffs, chanting your name softly on his tongue.

You milk him of every last feasible drop and a line of spittle connects you as you pull away, bringing your hand up to swipe at your mouth and breaking the string in the process.

He’s still panting as he helps you to your feet; you move to step to the sink so you can clean your face and rinse out your mouth. Without warning, Max grabs you once more, different than only a moment ago, ensnaring you in another tight hug and pushing you against the wall.

“Max… hey—“

He hasn’t even pulled his pants up yet. He squeezes you, lips ghosting over your skin as he presses his nose to the soft space between your neck and skull, inhaling your scent. And just… holds you like that, in an embrace, not at all dissimilar to yesterday.

“Thank you,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, and you’re once again struck with his sporadic shift in demeanor.

“Uhh… you’re welcome,” you reply and he breaks the hug, a single hand coming up to cradle your jaw, thumb dragging your bottom lip as he stares at it, contemplative and fixated.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to return the favor?” Max asks.

“Um… no… I need to clean up and get back out there,” you explain, causing his hand to drop from your face.

“Yeah. Yeah, right,” he says, almost appearing crestfallen — almost — as he tucks himself and his shirt back into his work slacks, buckling his belt and giving himself a cursory once over in the mirror.

You turn away and ignore him as you smooth down your clothes, splash some water over your face and rinse out your mouth and when you’ve determined you don’t look super fucked out, you confirm with Max that you’re each composed enough, giving him one last glance as you step out.

You feel fingertips against the small of your back, almost like he wants one last point of contact with you before you have to go back to the real world.

And what you both step into is a sea of chaos, the lobby now bustling with people needing their various morning addictions, and you cast Audrey and Vincent an apologetic glance as you rush over to assist them.

God, you really need a cigarette and a stiff drink.

They pass each other a look when they see you and Max coming out of the bathroom together and you inwardly sigh because you had hoped you could keep all of this on the down low. Well, that plan was pretty much out the window now. And there was no saving it.

Max stands to one side and waits patiently as you rush through making his drink, passing it to him when you’re done and your skin burning as you feel his gaze dwelling on you one last time before he dips out for the day.

The rush stays steady for about an hour and you’re actually kind of thankful for it, as it helps to keep your focus off of everything that’s happened recently.

——

You’re walking home when your phone buzzes with a new text.

You take in a breath and fish your phone from your purse, hoping it isn’t your mother. Wishing it isn’t her. She had already texted you earlier that day to let you know Garrett was out of jail, no thanks to you, and you made a point of ignoring it.

You expect another dramatic text from your mother as you’re opening your phone, but you’re relieved to see it’s from Dave this time, thank god.

You open the text to see an image of Dave crouched down in front of the jaws of a rather large shark, Alice perched on his knee and Mollie standing to one side, all three of them smiling for the camera. You try not to let the sweetness and normalcy of it affect you, and you can hardly believe that this is the same man who had practically broke you and stitched you back together multiple times.

You: looks fun

A few minutes later you receive more texts, popping up as you get close to your apartment’s wifi. The first is a video of the girls in front of a shark tank, babbling at a nurse shark, and then a second video of a reef shark swimming overhead in a tunnel, with the caption: sharks for you

You: Cool. I love them! See any sea otters?

Dave: no 🙁 But we saw penguins! 😍

You cover your mouth with your hand as you snicker at his reply, typing in a quick response.

You: Penguins? How feminine.

Dave: Okay smartass

You: Just dishing out some of what you were serving last night, Dave

Dave: Watch it, sweetheart, or you’ll really see what I can dish out when I get home

You: Promise? 😜

As you enter your apartment building and Dave texts back with I would love nothing more, you try to keep reminding yourself you aren’t falling for him.

——

With the girls dropped off safely with Carol, at the house which is still in his name, that he still pays for, Dave shoots you a quick text before pulling away.

Dave: I’ll be back in town in a day or two. I have a work thing

He fishes out a burner phone and punches in the address for your ex, Jonathan, who lives on Long Island. Which is good — perfect, really — as it’s en route back to Boston. A quick rendezvous there to take him out and then straight home. Or what he could consider his home, nowadays.

You make it feel like home to him.

The hit shouldn’t take long. It was an ideal situation, if he was being honest. The woman Jonathan had left you for had pulled the same trick on him as he had on you, leaving him high and dry after he had up and moved states, and now he lived alone in a small garage apartment at the back of a property that was flanked on all sides by woods.

Perfect.

He would be arriving long after nightfall, and he would bide his time in the woods until it was late enough to slip in and out undetected.

Dave did not care that Jonathan really wasn’t a bad person, aside from being the asshole who broke your heart. He couldn’t give two shits, really. He only wanted to take retribution for Jonathan’s slights against you, on your behalf, because you were too kind and gentle to do it yourself.

As he pulls onto the highway to begin his journey north, he can’t get your beautiful face out of his mind.

——

It turns out Jonathan is a night owl.

Dave has been in the trees at the perimeter of the property for hours. A single window at the back of the apartment shines a pale yellow, denoting lingering wakefulness from his mark. It’s the only available illumination aside from a lone street lamp near the front of the property.

And aside from his phone. He’s been watching you off and on all night, to pass the time. You’re alone, and have been for days now. You haven’t had Max — or anyone else for that matter — in your bed since the last encounter, which means you stopped seeing Max entirely or you had simply taken to fucking elsewhere. Max’s apartment?

He isn’t sure which, yet.

Currently, Jonathan is getting stoned and painting. Dave is far from being an art expert, but even from his vantage he can see the strokes on the canvas are broad and messy; calling it abstract would be a stretch. Infantile, maybe. He couldn’t have been the artist of the painting you have hanging in your apartment—the style and technique just wasn’t right.

He wonders, not for the first time, if you were a gifted artist as well as being a gifted writer.

Jonathan orders a pizza at 9:09 PM and it’s delivered at exactly 10:00 PM. He spends an hour eating, his motor skills slowed due to being so fried, attempting to masturbate after that — much to Dave’s abject disgust — gives up, and goes back to painting.

Dave can feel his patience growing thinner by the second. You’ve already retired to bed so he no longer has anything to occupy his mind as he waits. He would prefer to strike while Jonathan is sleeping, but it’s either now or never; anything close to daybreak would be too risky.

Given up on being discreet, he slinks like a cat out of the woods at around 12:30 AM, head on a constant swivel, gun holstered at his hip in case he needs it. He’s hoping he doesn’t.

He’s opted for the more difficult to trace route as the actual means of execution — a syringe with 100mg of potassium chloride, the same drug used in prisons — tucked away neatly in the pocket of his black hoodie.

The nearer Dave draws to the apartment, the louder the indie rock music Jonathan is blaring becomes, a band Dave doesn’t recognize. That’s a good thing, though, it will work in his favor when he picks the lock at the front of the building, arguably the riskiest part of this entire mission, due to its proximity to the street.

He reaches the second story landing and pulls his lock picking kit from said hoodie, adjusting the black beanie away from his eyes as he finds the right tools. He manipulates them into the lock, ear pressed to the thin door so he can better hear what he’s doing.

The music continues, and so far as Dave can tell, he hasn’t been detected.

He pops the lock within minutes and the door slowly shimmies open, his hand going to his hip on instinct as he pushes the door the rest of the way with the toe of his boot.

He’s met with a short entryway that veers off to a dimly lit living room. So far, Jonathan hasn’t noticed him. He’s on another planet entirely—exactly where Dave wants him. Thank god for brain altering substances.

Dave stalks forward and soon arrives at the opening of the main living space which is littered with various articles of trash and other clutter, skillfully dodging as much as he can so as to not alert his presence, or give detectives anything to go on.

What he finds is Jonathan hunched in front of a canvas, paintbrush perched between nimble fingers, painting god knows what, because Dave sure can’t tell, his back facing him. The sheer abundance of luck at his mark being in such a vulnerable and unawares position is so goddamn sexy Dave can hardly keep his dick in check at the presentation.

But even with Jonathan being as preoccupied as he is, it would be imprudent to dawdle, so he doesn’t.

He quickly closes the space between the two of them, one arm coiling like a large python around Jonathan’s throat and the other disabling his limbs.

Jonathan looses a low bellow, most of which is drowned out by the music and the reduced flow of oxygen to his lungs, nearly knocking over the easel the canvas sits on in his rush of panic, but thankfully does not. In Dave’s experience working cases for the CIA, signs of struggle are often harder to hide than one would think.

He attempts to fight back, body trying to twist away, but Dave is larger, stronger and more experienced in disarming than Jonathan is in fighting…well, anything…so it isn’t as difficult as Dave had feared it would be.

It isn’t exactly a cake walk either, and Dave knows he needs to get him to the ground as soon as possible to fully disable him, arm tightening around Jonathan’s throat as he wrestles the smaller man to the floor. He puts Jonathan in a sleeper hold, adding a second arm for leverage and bringing a leg up to ensnare his lower half.

“Just let it happen. Let it happen and it will be easier,” Dave grits against the shell of his ear. “Don’t fight me.”

He doesn’t listen, of course, hellbent on breaking the grapple, and failing. That pesky self preservation always did aggravate Dave as much as it excited him.

Jonathan’s vision starts to blot away, music fading to a low and persistent hum, his body finally giving in to the asphyxiation now that the adrenaline was a fleeting thing.

This is exactly what Dave needed to happen, and as he feels Jonathan’s body growing slack in his clutches, he removes the syringe from his pocket, biting the lid off and grasping it between his teeth as he readies the needle.

It isn’t hard to find a vein due to Jonathan’s heightened sense of agitation and panic, inserting the needle into the soft flesh of his neck and sinking the plunger before he can struggle away, flooding his bloodstream with the full dose of potassium chloride.

Within moments, attempts to free himself devolve to little more than faint body tremors, and Dave doesn’t release him until his body has fallen completely motionless and limp in his arms.

He checks Jonathan’s pulse a moment later and when he’s satisfied he’s gone, he drags the corpse to the recliner on the opposite end of the room, manipulating him into a position that makes it appear as if Jonathan succumbed to cardiac arrest.

Once done, he finds Jonathan’s cellphone and begins to thumb through the recent calls and text messages.

He finds you in there, as well as a string of messages to you begging your forgiveness and for your return, which have gone wholly unanswered by you. Dave smiles to himself. You must have blocked him after the breakup. Good.

He knows there’s a very real chance cops will question you regardless. But Dave decides to delete the messages and any other snippet of information he can find about you in Jonathan’s phone anyway, just to be safe.

As he repockets the empty syringe, he gives the room a final comb to ensure that not even a hair is out of place. When he determines everything is satisfactory, and that he hasn’t left behind any evidence or traces of DNA, he turns to make a hasty retreat.

He leaves the apartment exactly as he found it, making sure to lock the door behind him, leaving nothing out of place, no loose ends unraveled.

He jogs down the stairs and makes the mile long trek through the woods to return to where his car is parked, working up a sweat even with the cooler air but not at all concerned about it, pulling the beanie off and tossing it to the passenger floorboard when he finally makes it to the car.

Palming himself through his dark jeans, he pulls onto the road, with you being the only thing on his mind as he begins the arduous six hour journey home to see you. You.

And he can barely fucking wait.

——

Taglist: @ohheypedrito @kateispunk @awilderi @survivingandenduring @heavennumber2 @alwaysmicado @oberynslady @kellybelly1978 @cosmic-li @chronically-ghosted @morallyinept @annieispunk @xxjigglynatxx @daddy-dins-girl @onmysluttyknees @guelyury @gwendibleywrites @missladym1981 @anoverwhelmingdin @yorksgirl @shotgun-shelby

Please let me know if I forgot you, it wasn’t intentional 🥺

💜💜💜

#pedro pascal #writing #fanfic #smut #author #romance #pedro fanfic #dark romance #max phillips #dave york

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dailyhistoryposts · 2 years

Text

Eartha Kitt

An American actress, singer, and activist, Eartha Kitt (1927-2008) remains an incredibly influential and controversial figure in American culture.

Born on a cotton plantation to a single mother of Cherokee and African descent (and almost certainly a White father) and raised in Harlem, New York City, Kitt studied performing arts from a young age. Her distinctive voice made her stand out in the Katherine Dunham Company, the first African-American dance company.

In 1950, Kitt starred as Helen of Troy in Dr. Faustus (a role given by Orson Welles, who called her "the most exciting woman in the world"). Her fame grew, until she was featured as Catwoman in the Batman television series in the late 1960s.

Her professional life took a massive hit when she made anti-Vietnam war statements during a White House luncheon, making First Lady Johnson burst into tears. In response, the CIA defamed her, and Kitt focused on her work abroad in Europe and Asia for a time. Kitt could speak in four languages (English, German, Dutch, French) and sing in eleven.

In the late 1970s and the 1980s, Kitt returned to work on Broadway, where she received widespread acclaim, and continued to perform for years.

Kitt was a widespread social and political activist. In addition to her anti-war stance, she established the Kittsville Youth Foundation, was a support of Rebels with a Cause (a D.C. based group focused on beautifying the city). Kitt publically supports LGBT rights and considers same-sex marriage a civil right.

Notable songs by Eartha Kitt include: 1. "C'est si bon" (composed 1947 by Henri Betti, performed 1953) 2. "Santa Baby" (1953) 3. "I Want to Be Evil" (1954)

Notable roles by Eartha Kitt include: 1. Catwoman (Batman 1967) 2. Shaleem-La-Lume (Timbuktu! 1978. Tony nomination) 3. Dolores (The Wild Party 2000. Tony nomination) 4. Yzma (The Emperor's New Groove 2000. Kronk's New Groove 2005. The Emperor's New School 2006-2008. Two Daytime Emmy Awards.) 5. The Cool Cat (Wonder Pets! Guest performance. 2010. Daytime Emmy Award).

#history #eartha kitt #catwoman #batman #emperor's new groove #yzma #activism #antiwar #peace #santa baby #icon #black women in history #american history #hollywood #orson welles

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weemssapphic · 1 year

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hiii, I hope you are having a great day!

I was wondering... i know it was hard to write lipstick stain buuut would you consider doing a part 2?

hello, i hope you're having a lovely day as well! a couple people asked if i would write a second part so... here it is! ao3 link is in the title <3

for those who haven't read part one: here's a link (it's also in my masterlist)

content/warnings: Larissa takes reader out on a date - nsfw (dom!larissa), age gap (reader is 21+), sexual shapeshifting, praise kink, alcohol consumption, cunnilingus (reader receiving), corruption kink if you squint?

words: ~4.5k

Lipstick Stains - Pt. 2

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

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Moonlight filtered into the living room of the apartment you shared with your friends, the soft glow a stark contrast to the harsh light coming from the home screen of Netflix that illuminated the television.

You’d somehow managed to field most of your roommate’s questions about your afternoon, wanting to keep the “juicy details”, as Christin put it, to yourself, and soon the topic had moved on to Cassandra’s failing love life, your upcoming midterm exams, and where you would all go for your spring break trip.

Pizza boxes and empty beer bottles were strewn across the coffee table. Christin was nestled in Robin’s arms on the larger of the two couches, Cassandra curled up on the smaller couch, leaving you on a pile of fuzzy blankets on the floor. You didn’t mind - you were wide awake anyway, mind going a mile a minute.

You grabbed your phone from where it layed next to you, beginning to flick through each of your social media apps, hoping for a brief reprieve from the woman that plagued your every thought, from the growing ache between your thighs. The reprieve did not come. Instead, you found your thumb hovering over your contacts app. A quick glance at your roommates told you they were out cold. You scrolled down to the ‘L’s, finding Larissa’s name and opening a new message.

A glance at the time told you it was 1:34 am. There was no way in hell she’d be up. Even if she were… she’d have something better to do, you were sure of it. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, staring at your phone, thumbs hovering over the screen as you debated whether or not to text her.

A snore to your right brought you out of your daze. You locked your phone, groaning and dropping your head to the floor. What had this woman done to you, in such a short amount of time?

You picked yourself up off the floor, switching off the television and heading out of the living room in the hopes that a cold shower and a decent night's sleep would get your mind off the older woman.

Of course, you were sorely mistaken. You couldn’t get your mind off her, no matter how hard you tried, and by the middle of the week, you couldn’t take it anymore.

You found yourself pacing your room on a Wednesday afternoon, finger hovering once again over Larissa’s contact, typing out and deleting a message over and over again. Everything you came up with sounded so stupid - so juvenile. Perhaps she’d appreciate a phone call instead?

Fuck it. You pressed the ‘call’ button and lifted your phone to your ear, heart beating faster with each passing ring, until it pounded against your ribcage, struggling to break free.

“Larissa Weems?” Her tone was cool, professional, put together - while you felt like you were coming apart at the seams.

“Hi,” you breathed out. “It’s Y/N. You know, from the-”

“I know who you are.” You could practically hear the woman smirk at the other end of the line. “I was wondering when you would call.”

At least she remembers your name? That has to count for something?

“Uh, right. Yeah. I was just wondering how you were doing? And, maybe, if you were free sometime?” You stopped your pacing to shuffle from foot to foot, glancing out the window to watch the cars pass by on the street below.

Larissa’s melodic laugh reached your ear and your stomach flipped pleasantly. “I’m doing well, thank you.”

There was a brief pause in which time seemed to stand still as you wondered what she was thinking, whether she was going to try to let you down gently. And then - “What do you say I take you out to dinner on Friday?”

Dinner? Somehow you’d just been expecting a hook-up, you hadn’t dared hope the woman would show any interest in you beyond relieving some sexual frustration.

“Darling?” You realized with a jolt that Larissa was waiting for a reply.

“Y-yes, of course, I’d love to go out to dinner with you.”

“Wonderful. The earliest I can make is 7, I hope that’s alright.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You couldn’t help the victorious grin that was spreading across your face, the butterflies that were erupting in your stomach.

“Where can I pick you up?”

You recited your address and said goodbye to Larissa, barely having hung up the phone before falling back onto your bed and squealing in delight. The panic would set in soon enough when you realized you had no idea where you were going or what you should be wearing.

~~~

Friday came both far too quickly and far too slowly for your liking. Your roommates teased you relentlessly, though they thankfully had the mercy to make themselves scarce when the afternoon of your date with Larissa came upon you.

Robin and Christin excused themselves early to go on a date of their own while Cassandra helped you with your makeup, distracting you with some horror stories of hook-ups with frat boys from her freshman year.

When it was time for you to get dressed, she gave you a quick hug and shut herself in her room, turning Spotify all the way up to give you your space.

6:57 pm. You gave yourself a once-over in the mirror. You’d opted for a long black skirt and a baby blue silk blouse with just the top button undone. Cassandra had done a great job with your makeup - you didn’t usually wear eyeliner, but you had to admit it suited you, drawing attention to your eyes. You hoped Larissa would like it.

Your phone buzzed and you reached for it automatically. Larissa.

“Hi, are you here?”

“I believe so, though the parking here is a little confusing.”

It was your turn to laugh - she was right, the set-up of the student apartment buildings wasn’t very visitor-friendly. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ll be right down.”

You grabbed your keys and your wallet, stuffing them into a little clutch that you’d dug out of the back of your closet, praying you were dressed fancy enough for wherever Larissa was taking you. She dressed rather expensively and you were sure her taste was no different.

You took the steps two at a time, somehow managing not to twist an ankle in your heeled boots, and scoured the parking lot for your date, finally spotting the woman leaned against a deep blue Rolls Royce at the other end of the lot, busy typing away on her phone.

Your cheeks warmed as you drank in her form. Her dress was silver, off-the shoulder, cinched at the waist. The fabric rippled off her hips like a waterfall, stopping just shy of her ankles. Her hands were gloved and she wore a long coat and heels that added a few inches to her already impressive height. She was stunning - and you were definitely underdressed.

You waved to her as you approached, finally getting her attention. A warm smile spread across her face and she opened the passenger door for you, gesturing for you to get in.

“Chivalrous,” you remarked, a shy smile playing on your lips.

“I can be.” Her hand brushed your shoulder and she threw you a wink before closing your door and heading over to the driver’s side.

Larissa put the car in drive and pulled onto the street, her right hand coming to rest on your thigh. “I’ve taken the liberty of making a reservation at my favorite restaurant, I do hope you’ll enjoy it.”

You swallowed hard as her thumb began to draw slow, lazy circles over the fabric of your skirt. “I’m sure I’ll love it, Larissa.”

The drive was short, less than 10 minutes, and most of it was spent humming along absentmindedly to the radio as Larissa continued her ministrations on your thigh, shooting you a glance every so often.

She pulled into the parking lot of one of the most expensive restaurants in Burlington. You moved to open your own door but Larissa was faster, having maneuvered swiftly around the car and pulled the door open for you. She placed a hand on the small of your back as she led you into the restaurant and a shiver ran up your spine, your skin burning from the contact despite the layers of fabric between the two of you.

You were led to a booth at the back of the restaurant, away from prying eyes. The waiter brought you a pair of menus as well as the wine list, before tilting his head towards you, an apology already formed in his eyes.

“Miss, I apologize but I will have to see your ID.”

Your cheeks burned as you rifled through your purse, while Larissa busied herself with the wine list to hide the smirk forming on her lips.

The waiter checked your ID and, once satisfied, apologized again and left you to peruse the menu.

You looked at the woman across from you and saw her shoulders begin to shake with laughter.

“Hey,” you pouted, searching the table for something you could possibly toss at her to get her to stop giggling. “I’m of age, you know.”

“I never doubted that you were,” Larissa suppressed another giggle and, finally, met your gaze. “Has anyone ever told you how adorable you look when you pout like that?”

“I don’t look adorable,” you grumbled, crossing your arms and furrowing your brow, before realizing Larissa had you exactly where she wanted you. “This really isn’t fair, you know that, right?”

“Darling, I never said I played fair.” Her eyes darkened and her voice dropped an octave as she leaned across the table, her hand coming to cup your cheek. Her thumb grazed your bottom lip and you sucked in a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.

“You’re a tease,” you whined.

“I have a feeling you’ll come to enjoy it,” Larissa shot you a playful wink before settling back in her seat. “Now, let me spoil you.”

If the wetness pooling between the apex of your thighs was anything to go by, this was going to be a long night.

Larissa ordered a bottle of her favorite red for the table and insisted, with a pointed glare, that you don’t pay attention to the prices on the menu. The two of you spoke about art and culture as you waited for your food, and you chattered on about your art history courses. She seemed genuinely interested in your life as she rested her chin on her hand, fully captivated as she watched you with a glint in her sapphire eyes.

“So, what is it that you do?” you asked. The woman opposite you intrigued you so - by the time your food arrived, you felt you’d been blabbering at her all evening, and you didn’t know a single thing about her yet.

“I’m the principal of a school.”

“Oh? Sounds intense. Which school?”

“Nevermore Academy.” Larissa seemed to tense slightly, eyes carefully searching every inch of your face.

Your brows furrowed as you thought, carefully chewing a piece of your food. “Oh - that school for… uh, Outcasts?” You tried to recall if you were using the correct term - your roommate, Robin, had grown up in the area and told you stories of some local kids in the area who’d gone to Nevermore, vampires and werewolves and the like, though you knew she tended to over-dramatize things.

Larissa’s lips pulled into a thin line and she nodded, knuckles turning white as her fingers flexed around her silverware.

“That sounds so cool! I’m not really from this area so I don’t know much about it, but isn’t that like everyone’s dream? To have some kind of magical superpower?”

Larissa seemed to visibly relax, a hesitant smile gracing her lips. “I don’t quite think that’s what everyone thinks, though I’m certainly doing my best to rectify Nevermore’s reputation.”

“That’s a shame,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your wine and smiling at Larissa, trying to ease any remnants of tension that the conversation seemed to bring up - you could tell she wasn’t used to people being accepting about her profession or her status as an Outcast. Was she an Outcast?

“I don’t know if this is rude to ask but… are you… do you have any… you know? ‘Superpowers’?” You immediately cringed at yourself for sounding so stupid, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

Larissa laughed, the sound like music to your ears. “I do, if you want to call it that.” She looked down into her wine glass, swirling the stem gently between the tips of her manicured fingers.

You raised an eyebrow and cocked your head, waiting for her to continue. She seemed to deliberate for a moment as a long silence stretched between the two of you.

“I’m a shapeshifter.” Her words rolled off her tongue as if she weighed every syllable with great care. She raised her eyes to meet yours, her expression giving away nothing except perhaps a hint of challenge.

You racked your brain for an appropriate reaction to the admission, sensing your next words would be terribly important to the older woman.

“Oh…” You let out a deep breath. “That seems like it would come in handy. Thank you for telling me.” You placed your hand on the table between the two of you, palm facing up, wiggling your fingers.

Larissa looked between your eyes and your hand and, after a moment’s hesitation, placed her own hand in yours, a brilliant, toothy smile lighting up her face. Your skin tingled where hers met your own, lighting up all the nerves in your body.

You were pleased to find that you hadn’t made a complete fool of yourself, and conversation flowed even easier after that point. Larissa opened up about the trials and tribulations that came with running an entire school, all while your hands were intertwined on the table.

You’d long finished your meals, the bottle of wine you’d shared was nearly empty when you felt something brush against your ankle and you yelped, nearly jumping out of your seat.

Larissa suppressed a giggle, giving your hand a squeeze as the tip of her heel grazed against the muscle of your calf.

“How did you like the food?” Her voice was low and sultry and as she leaned across the table, you caught a strong whiff of her perfume, dowsing you in a steep wave of arousal.

“I-I loved it.” You clenched your thighs together, trying to ignore the building tension in your abdomen and focus on the present moment with your date. “It was so, so good. Really, thank you so much for taking me here.”

“Darling, the pleasure was all mine. But now I think I’d really like to have some dessert, if that’s alright with you?” Larissa’s gaze was intense, all-consuming, hungry - you felt yourself drowning in her eyes, your stomach fluttering at the prospect of what she was proposing.

You swallowed back a whimper and nodded, unable to concentrate as the pad of Larissa’s thumb traced over your knuckles.

Larissa paid your bill, tipping generously and leading you back to her car. Her hand rested on your thigh again during the drive, inching slowly and tantalizingly higher every few minutes as the pads of her fingers began gentle ministrations against your skirt. You wished in that moment you’d worn something more revealing, feeling desperate for her touch on your skin.

As the car pulled up a long, winding drive towards a massive, castle-like building, Larissa’s fingers finally brushed against the fabric covering your core, drawing a strangled hiss from your throat.

“We’re here,” Larissa smirked, removing her hand from your skirt and parking the car.

“So is this Nevermore?” You bit the inside of your cheek in a vain attempt to regain control of yourself, staring up at the imposing building through the car window with interest.

“It is, I have my apartment at the school. It’s easier that way.”

Larissa led you inside the school. You rushed after her, struggling to keep up with her long strides as she navigated her way through the dark, looming halls, completely empty at this time of night. She stopped in front of a pair of wood-paneled double doors, fishing her keys out of her purse and letting you into the apartment.

Within seconds of the door shutting behind you, Larissa’s lips were on yours. You let out a groan as she pressed you into the door, simultaneously shrugging off her coat and tossing it to the floor. Her hands trailed down your sides, cupping your ass and lifting you off the floor to pin you against the door.

Larissa’s tongue slid against the seam of your lips, coaxing a moan from your throat as you granted her access to explore your mouth. Your entire body was ablaze as she began to pepper your jaw and throat with kisses, moving her lips to your pulse point and grazing her teeth over your sensitive skin.

“Larissa, please,” you whined, the ache between your legs becoming too much. You needed her, you’d needed her since you’d first had her nearly a week ago, and the ache was finally becoming too much to bear.

“So eager.” You could feel the ghost of a smirk against your throat as Larissa carried you effortlessly back through an open doorway, nipping and sucking at the column of your throat. Larissa placed you on her bed and hovered over you, lips connecting with every inch of bare skin she could reach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake.

Her fingers worked at the buttons of your blouse, expertly ridding you of the garment within seconds. Your bra came next and then her mouth was on your breasts, tongue working your nipples into hard peaks as she drew breathy moans from your throat.

Your skirt joined the rest of your clothes on the floor and Larissa trailed open-mouthed kisses down your torso, biting little marks to remember the night by. You yelped when she bit down on the inside of your thigh, arousal leaking out of your core.

Finally, Larissa’s tongue made contact with your cunt, licking a path up your folds to your clit, circling it once, twice. The scent of your arousal hung heavy in the air, spurring her on as she lapped at your pussy.

“Does this feel good, Y/N?” You could only whimper in response, fingers tangled in the sheets behind you to steady yourself. You were embarrassingly close already, simply from the effect of the woman’s intoxicating presence.

“You taste absolutely divine, my darling,” Larissa hummed, sucking your clit as her fingers teased your entrance.

“P-please,” you whimpered, thighs twitching as you brought your hands to Larissa’s hair, fingers tangling in her blonde tresses.

“Please what?” The vibrations of Larissa’s lips against your pussy were driving you wild with need.

“I’m so close…” Larissa plunged her fingers into your cunt and you bucked your hips up in time to meet her thrusts. Your walls began to clench around her fingers as you reached your first orgasm, your moans increasing in volume.

Your gaze wandered down, eyes meeting Larissa’s, and the sight was what made the coil behind your navel snap. Her pupils were blown so wide there was not a sliver of sapphire visible, her cheeks were dusted pink, her hair was coming out of its elegant updo, curls falling messily across her forehead.

Larissa lapped up the juices leaking out of your core as you rode out your high, planting soothing kisses along the insides of your thighs and cleaning you up while you steadied your breathing.

She moved up your body, connecting your lips in a bruising kiss so that you could taste yourself on her tongue, swallowing your moan.

Larissa pulled back to look at you, the insatiable hunger in her eyes setting a fire ablaze inside of you.

“Y/N, can you be a good girl for me?” Your thighs clenched together with want and you nodded fervently. There it was again - good girl - of course you would be, you would be anything for her.

Larissa slid off to the side of the bed and tugged at the zipper of her dress, revealing the smooth expanse of her back, dotted with pale freckles. She slid the dress farther down, until it reached the swell of her ass, then allowed it to fall to the floor.

To your absolute delight she’d forgone a bra, and as she turned to face you your breath hitched in your chest, struck by the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen. The peaks of her nipples, hardened by a chill in the air; the slight swell of her stomach, disappearing into red lacy panties; the freckles on her shoulders, sprawled out like constellations.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, secretly a bit pleased at yourself with the hint of a blush you were able to produce on the apple’s of Larissa’s cheeks.

“My darling girl,” she cooed sweetly, a contrast to the devious smirk playing upon her lips. “Do you remember what I was telling you earlier? About me being a shapeshifter?”

You nodded slowly, brows furrowing, unsure where the woman was going with this.

“I am able to shift… certain parts of myself.” Your mind, still a bit hazy from your first orgasm, raced in an attempt to compute what she was saying. Larissa towered over you, waiting patiently until - finally - your eyes widened as comprehension dawned on your face.

“I would so like to take you tonight, my dear,” Larissa’s voice was low and sultry and you could only nod eagerly. You felt your heart begin to race, heat pooling between your legs at her proposal. She smirked down at you with kiss-swollen lips, lipstick smudged, and you knew you were done for.

Larissa crawled on top of you, planting sloppy, heated kisses along your jaw. It was then that you felt it - an unfamiliar bulge, pressing insistently against your leg through the lace of Larissa’s underwear.

“You make me so hard,” she groaned. You moaned involuntarily as the older woman began to grind against your thigh, rubbing her bulge against your sensitive skin. Your skin buzzed with electricity, all the blood in your body seemingly rushing straight to your cunt. You needed her inside you.

Larissa pushed herself up to discard her panties, her full length now on display, standing to attention. Your pupils dilated as you stared at her, transfixed, drool pooling in your mouth. You dropped your thighs open, revealing your dripping sex, and Larissa chuckled at your neediness.

“My beautiful girl, so ready for me.” Larissa gazed down at you fondly, cupping your cheek with her hand. She traced your lower lip with her thumb, letting out a moan as you sucked it into your mouth.

“Lay back,” she instructed, and you did as you were told, chest heaving as Larissa crawled on top of you, pressing her body into yours, her skin hot to the touch. She reached a hand between the two of you to grasp her cock and drag the tip up your slit, whimpering at the sensation.

You bucked your hips up, whining needily and fisting at the sheets.

“Darling,” Larissa whispered, her breath hot on the shell of your ear. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll forget your own name.”

Your own breath hitched in your chest as she finally pushed inside of you, letting out a guttural moan as your warm pussy clenched around her length.

She paused for a moment to allow you to get used to the sensation of being filled. “Is this alright?”

“Mhmm. It’s good.” You shifted your hips, watching carefully as Larissa’s eyelids fluttered shut, eyelashes brushing against flushed cheekbones. “How does it feel for you?”

Larissa smiled sweetly, opening her eyes and gazing down at you as a light blush spread across her cheeks. “It feels amazing.” Her expression turned wistful. “No one’s ever asked me that.”

It was something you couldn’t fathom, and with some effort due to your height difference and the position, you reached up to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, fingertips brushing lovingly against her jaw as if trying to convey an apology for every idiot who had ever slept with her and not cared for her pleasure.

You rocked your hips a bit, causing Larissa to shift above you. “May I?” You nodded, teeth sinking into your lip as she began to slide out of you, then back in, slowly at first, allowing you to adjust to her.

Larissa found a steady rhythm inside of you, rocking her hips against yours, stretching you out with every thrust. She seemed to hit every nerve-ending inside of you, knowing exactly how to move her hips to have you writhing in pleasure beneath her.

Your hands clung to the sheets beneath you, fingers twisting so hard at the fabric that you might rip it. Larissa’s hands settled on your waist, steadying herself so she could pick up her pace. You stared, enraptured, her tits bouncing as she pounded into you.

Larissa leaned over you so that she could press a searing kiss to your lips as her hands came to rest next to your head.

“Tell me what you want,” Larissa cooed, continuing her brutal pace inside your cunt.

“Oh- fuck, Rissa, use me.”

Larissa’s moans became filthier by the minute and you could tell, somewhere behind the hazy cloud of your impending orgasm, that she must be close too by the way the snapping of her hips was becoming more and more erratic, the way her breath was coming out in short puffs, the way her hand that she used to steady herself next to your head twisted at the sheets with white-knuckled desperation.

“Be a good girl for me and come with me, darling,” Larissa breathed, groaning as she thrusted into you, on the verge of climax.

You came first, your senses flooding with delight as you reached your peak. It was pure ecstasy, feeling your walls clench around Larissa’s cock. You could hear the older woman’s own cry above you and you forced your eyes to stay open so you could watch her, her face contorted with pleasure above you; eyes screwed shut, jaw slack.

Larissa slid out of you carefully, chuckling as you mewled pathetically at the sudden feeling of emptiness. She slumped onto the mattress beside you, completely spent, slipping her arm under your torso to pull you into a soft embrace. With her body pressed against yours, skin to skin, you could feel that she’d shifted back again.

“That was… wow,” you sighed, nuzzling into Larissa’s chest. She laughed, a melodious sound that you immediately committed to memory.

“It was indeed.” She pressed her lips to yours in an affectionate, loving kiss. “You did so well for me, love,” she murmured, fingertips skating across the skin of your back in soothing patterns. You breathed in her scent, allowing it to wash over you and calm your still racing heart.

“I can drive you home but-” Larissa saw the slight pout of your lower lip and grinned, “but I would love it if you’d stay the night. Perhaps I could entice you with breakfast in bed?”

You smiled up at her, wrapping your arms around her neck. “You could entice me with you. I would love to stay the night.”

Larissa settled back against the pillows, pulling you on top of her, relishing the contact with your bare skin. She pressed her lips to your forehead, watching your eyes flutter closed and listening intently as your breathing slowed before allowing herself to succumb to sleep, a peaceful smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

tags: @enchantressb @rainbow-hedgehog

#larissa weems x reader #principal weems x reader #larissa weems #principal weems #larissa x reader #lipstick stains #lipstick stains series

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 9 months

Text

Shut Up and Drive Chapter 1

Roy Kent x F1 Driver! F! Reader

3.4k (!!!!!!!!!!!) words

Warnings: Language, smut smut smut, oral (F receiving), Roy Kent being very horny, also I know nothing about F1

Author's Note: Requested by the lovely @agentstarkid. Part one of two (maybe three??? We'll see!). Still learning to write smut sooooooo not sure how good it is?? Honestly this was the horniest writing I have ever done in my life.

Series Masterlist

Roy knew who you were. He knew exactly who you were. Unbeknownst to everyone in his life, he often watched you race on television, he scrolled through tweets about you, he even pictured you sometimes when he was pleasuring himself in the shower.

He was pretty sure he had a racing suit fetish now, thanks to you.

But fuck, you were something to see in person. Especially in what was probably the shortest, tightest dress he’d ever seen. It was borderline indecent- well, the thoughts in his head sure were. Roy Kent felt like a fucking teenager, hoping he wouldn’t get a boner in front of his friends and the press at this stupid party Keeley’d promised would be fun.

Much to Roy’s embarrassment, Keeley tugged him along to say hello with her and Rebecca. The women gave you quick, warm hugs, but your eyes were on Roy, unabashedly running your gaze down his muscular figure with a coolly raised eyebrow.

“The woman of the hour,” Rebecca praised. “Win number six on Sunday, hmm?”

“We’ll see,” you murmured, smirk on your face, the same smirk Roy’d seen dozens of times on television. The same smirk he wanted to kiss right off your face. You tilted your head at him. “Roy Kent,” you greeted, shaking his strong hand. “Didn’t know you like racing.”

Roy gave a curt nod, squeezing your hand reluctantly before letting go, trying to forget the fantasies he’d had about your hands roaming his body. “A bit,” he admitted, much to Keeley and Rebecca’s surprise. “Been following you a lot this season, actually.”

The coy smile on your lips had his head reeling. “I’m honored.”

You’d caught Roy Kent staring at you several times throughout the evening, an intense, fiery gaze that had electricity coursing through your body. You were pretty sure he was imagining what you looked like out of this dress; you knew you were wondering what his fitted suit would look like on your hotel room floor.

You chatted a bit more with the Richmond group, feeling a surge of pride when Rebecca and Keeley mentioned their idea women’s team, teasing Rebecca about how she should invest in Formula 1 instead. Eventually, Keeley got distracted by a very needy Jamie Tartt, and Rebecca saw some old friend who was dying to talk about Ruper Mannion’s losing West Ham, which left you all alone with a broodingly gorgeous Roy Kent.

“I’m glad Keeley managed to get you all out here,” you hummed. “It’s a fun weekend.”

“How d’you know Keeley again?”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Did a magazine shoot together. She was supposed to be hanging seductively off these different drivers, all hot in like a bikini thing while they were in their racing suits. But when it came to me, they weren’t going to include her. But Keels, cheeky thing, insisted on posing the exact same way she had with Daniel and Lando and the rest of them.” The wink you shot Roy was nothing short of erotic. “It was pretty hot. Fucking magazine editor didn’t have the guts to run it, though. Scared little twat.”

Roy wasn’t sure if it was your vulgar vocabulary or the image of you with Keeley in some sapphic pose giving him a hardon. Probably both. Or maybe it was the undeniable bedroom eyes you were shooting him as you sipped your drink through the little black cocktail straw, reminding him of the images he’d created in the shower last night.

“I love this hotel,” you mused, interrupting Roy’s filthy thoughts. “They’re quite lovely. Always make sure my favorite things are in my room when I arrive. Sweets, alcohol, that sort of thing.” You raised your glass. “Better than the stuff they’re serving here, actually.”

Doing his best to maintain the bored face he’d perfected long ago, Roy shrugged. “D’you mind sharing?”

He had to be imagining the way you licked your lipstick-stained lips. “I love sharing.” With a boldness that had Roy biting back a groan, you took his hand and guided him through the crowd until the two of you reached the lift; he was grateful for the other people that filled the small space, forcing you to stand close to him, letting him feel the heat radiating off your exposed skin.

You led him off the elevator and to your suite, no signs of awkwardness or bashfulness as you unlocked your door and gestured for him to enter. Roy had stayed at enough hotels to know that your suite was one of the nicer ones this place had to offer; unsurprising, especially with all the attention you were getting this weekend, what with your sixth win on the horizon.

“Scotch?” you offered, holding up the bottle that Roy knew cost almost as much as some people’s rent.

“Perfect.” Roy helped you find a couple of glasses and watched as you poured each drink generously. He wondered if the small brush of your fingers against his was on purpose as you handed him his glass.

You tapped your glass to his with a clink. “Cheers.”

Roy eyed you as he sipped, his mind racing like your car as it finally dawned on him that the two of you were alone in a hotel room with nothing but alcohol and his bad intentions. And you were peering at him like something to be devoured. Fuck.

“Have a seat,” you urged, plopping yourself down on the couch with ease, crossing your legs and causing your already short dress to ride up, displaying even more of your thigh- on purpose, Roy hoped.

He joined you, doing his best to ignore the slightly ajar door that he knew led to the bedroom.

You closed your eyes and tilted your head back, exposing the neck that Roy desperately wanted to mark up. “This is about the only time I’ll get to relax before Sunday,” you sighed.

“Is that your way of telling me to hurry the fuck up and finish my drink so you can be alone?” Roy joked, hoping he was wrong as he let his arm rest behind you on the couch.

“No.” You opened your bright eyes and tilted your head towards him, your lips curved upwards. “It’s my way of saying it’s nice to have some company.”

Before Roy could think of something clever to say, his mobile vibrated in his pocket. With a heaving sigh, he pulled it out and checked the incoming message: Did I see you get on the lift with one of the racers??? Fucking Jamie needed to mind his own damn business.

“That your girlfriend wondering where you’ve gone off to?” you teased.

Roy couldn’t help his eyeroll as he texted Jamie to Fuck off. “Just Jamie Tartt.”

“Boyfriend then?”

The snort that shot out of his mouth was pure reflex. “Watch it, or you’ll be finishing that bottle of scotch all on your own.”

You turned your body towards his, gazing up at him through thick lashes. “Oh no, we can’t have that.”

Roy felt less like Roy Kent, celebrity, professional footballer, dater of models and actresses, and more like a scared teenage boy hoping his first girlfriend would rub his prick through his jeans in a dark movie theatre. Unsure, embarrassed, hopeful, not a trace of confidence. He’d be annoyed at himself if he wasn’t so busy being turned on by you.

“Feel ready for Sunday?” He had to say something, literally anything, before he flat-out asked you for a shag.

A small huff passed your lips. “Mostly. Just trying to make myself relax.”

I could help with that, Roy thought devilishly, forcing himself to sip his drink so the words didn’t slip out. “How d’you usually relax before a race?”

Finally, you looked as tense as he felt. “You’ll need to get me a lot drunker before I tell you that, Roy Kent.”

Roy’s eyebrows flew up, wondering if you were implying what he thought you were implying. “Oi, I’m getting you drunk? You’re the one who invited me up here, remember?”

Your shoulders relaxed at his razzing. “I know. So forward. My mother would be fucking horrified, me having a man in my hotel room.” Your eyes travelled down his body, not an ounce of shame on your face. “Especially one that looks like you.”

Well, any shred of doubt about your intentions was certainly beginning to disappear.

“I won’t fucking tell if you don’t,” Roy quipped, his own smirk finally forming.

You wrinkled your nose playfully. “Dunno if I can trust you. How do I know you’re not going to call my mum and tell her that you were in my room at this indecent hour?”

His confidence was finally beginning to show its face. “Because then you’d call my mum to tell her I’m in your room at this indecent hour.” His eyes were practically glued to your smirk.

“Guess it’s our little secret then,” you purred.

“If I’m keeping this secret,” Roy began, eyebrows raised teasingly, “then maybe you can trust me with telling me how you relax before a race.”

You let out a scoffing laugh, one of the sexiest sounds Roy had ever heard. “Come on, Kent. You’re a big boy. I’m sure you can figure it out.” Your light shove to his shoulder had him growing harder. “You probably do the same thing before a big match.”

Yep. You were implying what he thought you were implying.

His silence worried you for a moment. “Not scandalizing you, am I?”

“No,” he murmured, brushing his fingers along your bare thigh, watching your face carefully to make sure he was reading you correctly. “Just thinking.”

“About?” you hummed, leaning towards him.

He licked his lip and flattened his palm, covering your thigh with his rough hand. “All I can think about… is how good you’re going to taste.” His hand began traveling towards the high hem of your dress. “If you’d like help with relaxing, that is.”

You pretended that his words didn’t have your pussy pulsing. “What a gentleman,” you cooed, bringing one hand up to his bicep and giving a flirty squeeze. “I’d love some help.”

That touch and your words snapped something in Roy’s mind. He leaned forward and captured your mouth in a rough kiss, not bothering to play nice as his tongue pushed its way past your lips. His calloused fingertips dipped under your dress, squeezing the doughy flesh of your thigh, eliciting a soft groan from you.

“Don’t want to mess with your pre-race ritual,” he huffed as his lips travelled down your jaw.

You shook your head and gripped his curly hair. “That’s alright,” you muttered, craning your neck to grant him access to as much skin as possible. “Usually think about you anyways.”

He jerked his head back, eyes wide and full of wonder and lust. “Me?”

“You, Roy Kent,” you confirmed, amused by the sweet tone coming out of his already swollen lips. “What can I say? Football’s sexy.”

“Almost as sexy as racing.” With that, he gripped your hips and pulled you onto his lap; you swallowed a moan when his already considerable bulge rubbed against your clothed core.

Despite your effort to play cool, Roy knew the contact affected you. He pushed his hips up into you, savoring the groan you were unable to hold back this time. So, he jerked upwards again. And again. And again. He bounced you on his lap, getting more pleasure out of the clothed humping than any other hookup he’d ever had. Your head thrown back, eyes shut, bottom lip between your teeth- even with clothes on, you were Roy’s every fantasy come true.

But Roy Kent didn’t come to your room for a clothed fantasy.

“That dress’s been driving me mad all night,” he admitted, giving a particularly rough buck upwards. “Kind of fucked up of you to still be wearing it.”

That cocky smirk returned. “Better do something about it,” you challenged.

He reached behind your back and tugged at the zipper, roughly pulling it down. Between the two of you, he was able to remove the dress without letting you off his lap.

His hands slid down your figure, roughly gripping every inch of skin he could; you were a fucking dream, even more perfect than he’d let himself imagine. It almost hurt to look at you. It actually did kind of hurt, since his pants were painfully tight.

“Let me spoil you,” he huffed, his already firm grip on you tightening. “Let me make you feel really fucking good.”

You nodded, clearly desperate for anything Roy Kent would give you. “Bedroom.”

His arousal stronger than his shitty knees, Roy stood, holding you against himself as you wrapped your legs around him, crossing your ankles behind his back and planting sloppy kisses to his neck. He shouldered the door open and gently laid you on the bed, biting his lip as he gazed down at you, eyes already glassy and face flushed. How could someone he had such dirty thoughts about look so angelic?

He hovered over you and let his hand trail down your body at a painfully slow pace, cherishing your involuntary shiver. He began to tug at your strapless bra, looking at you playfully.

“The fuck are you doing still wearing this?” he hummed.

You sat up on your elbows and let him unhook your bra. You couldn’t resist rolling your eyes and giggling as he tossed it casually over his shoulder.

“Much better.”

Roy’s eyes widened as he let himself marvel at your breasts, groaning when he saw your nipples already beginning to swell. He raised his eyebrows at you, even more turned on when he saw the eager expression on your face. He kept his eyes on yours as he lowered his face to your chest, giving a kitten lick to your nipple. The sigh you let out encouraged him to begin his rough assault on your breasts: biting, licking, sucking. As he swirled your nipple with his tongue, you began bucking up towards him, desperate to feel that friction again.

“Is someone needy?” he teased, winking at you.

“Thought you wanted to help me relax,” you huffed, tangling your hands in his hair.

He removed his face from your breast, resting his chin between them; his soft expression clashed with the hardness you felt below his waist. “This isn’t relaxing?” he crooned.

You stroked the soft hair between your fingers. “I just need some attention somewhere else.” You took one of his hands in yours and guided it down your body towards your panties, a little lacy pair that had Roy melting when his fingers grazed the already soaking material.

Fuck. Roy’d never been with a woman so fucking direct with what she wanted. It was so damn sexy; if he wasn’t careful, he’d end up falling in love with you by the end of the night.

“Silly thing’s in my way,” he mumbled, tugging down the material. He sat up so he could slide them down your legs, his mouth following his hands and pressing kisses to your skin. With your panties out of the way, he gazed up at your core. “Fuck,” he breathed, for once feeling like his favorite word wasn’t strong enough.

He brought his face between your legs, mesmerized by the sight before him.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he cooed, his hot breath making you squirm. He tore his gaze from your pussy to look into your eyes. “Let me have a taste.”

His voice was wrecked, begging. His eyes were wild with desire and hunger. You’d never seen a man look so desperate before; the sight had you spreading your legs for him.

“Always wanted to know what that dirty mouth of yours could do.”

In an instant, his mouth was on your sex, a moan immediately escaping him and vibrating against you. You threw your head back, one hand tangling in his hair while the other came up to grab your breast. You groped yourself, feeling like you’d float away if you didn’t grab tight to something.

Roy was relentless. His tongue flicked your clit, sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body with each rough stroke. His stubble rubbed against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs; you knew the spot would be completely red in the morning, but right now the harsh scratching only added to your pleasure.

His hands gripped your thighs, forcing your legs further apart to give himself deeper access. When his tongue moved away from your clit, you gave a high-pitched whine, not caring if you sounded needy. If anything, it only turned Roy on even more. Your whine turned to a moan when his tongue began lapping at your wetness, devouring you like you were his last meal.

The sounds that filled your hotel room were lewd. His moaning against your core, you beginning to chant his name desperately, and the obscene wet sounds of his tongue exploring your cunt. When his tongue dipped inside your warmth, you saw stars. He swirled his tongue, trying to reach as deep as he could, unable to believe that any part of his body was inside you.

He felt so fucking dirty, eating you out while keeping his own clothes on. He’d never done that before; normally, his clothes would be long gone by now. But, maybe for the first time ever, he didn’t give a shit about his own pleasure. He wanted nothing more than to worship at the altar of your hips, giving you everything he could and lapping up everything you offered him. Right now, in this hotel room, on this bed, Roy Kent existed for the sole purpose of chasing your high.

He was needy, desperate, rutting his hips into the mattress as his tongue continued to explore you. He returned to your throbbing clit and began sucking on it, spurred on by the way you roughly pulled his hair. Your back arched off the bed, as if you were possessed by Roy’s devilish tongue. You sure as hell felt like you were.

“You taste beautiful,” he groaned against your heat. “Want to fucking taste you forever.”

“I’d let you,” you managed to gasp, feeling like something in you was about ready to snap.

Roy chuckled darkly against your sex. “If you’re still talking in complete sentences, I’m not doing my fucking job.”

With that, he dove back in, his mouth brutal and merciless, almost mean in its attack on your sensitive bundle of nerves. He felt a surge of pride as your moans became more ragged, your tugs at his hair became erratic, and your legs began to squeeze the sides of his head.

“Fuck, Roy,” you cried, your eyes suddenly as wet as your core. “Gonna- gonna-”

You didn’t need to say it. Roy felt the throbbing of your clit, his cue to return to your cunt to lap up your juices; some perverse part of him wanted to bottle the stuff and drink nothing else for the rest of his life. Instead, he ravished you, not caring that your body began to writhe from the overstimulation; he wasn’t going to waste a single exquisite drop. Your vision went white, and you swore you were going to pass out. Fuck, if you died right now- which felt like a very real possibility- you weren’t sure where you’d go, because heaven was Roy Kent’s tongue.

Satisfied that he’d gotten every last bit that you’d dripped out, Roy lifted his head to look at you, his ragged breathing filling the now quiet room. His beard was soaked, practically dripping with your wetness. His wild eyes bore into yours as he crawled up your body, hands gripping the sheets as he hovered above you. Without a word, he captured your lips in a deep, fervid kiss, sharing your delicious taste with you.

Finally coming back down to earth, you tugged at the collar of his shirt, a teasing smile forming on your glistening lips. “How the fuck do you still have clothes on?” Roy had thought you moaning his name was his new favorite sound; instead, he now knew that it was your breathless, post-orgasm voice.

“Wanted to focus on you,” he answered, giving your nose a tender kiss.

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Roy Kent. Absolute gentleman in bed. I’ll make sure to write that on the stall in the ladies’ room.” You ground your hips into his, relishing the knowledge that you were leaving a wet stain on his trousers. “Should we fix your clothing situation then?”

To your absolute shock, Roy shook his head. “This was for you to relax before the race, remember?” His tender expression gave way to a look you could only describe as sinful. “You can take my pants off after you win on Sunday.”

#he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent x f1! reader #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #request ❤️

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vivwritesfics · 3 months

Text

Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter Five - The B*tch

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

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Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

ik people have been asking to be added to the taglist, but it is officially closed and has been for maybe two chapters now

Series Masterlist

The last time Y/N saw Daniel was Monday at daycare. She picked up Milo as he picked up Olivia for the last time before she was to stay with her mother.

Y/N and Daniel waited together for Milo and Olivia to walk out of daycare. They were bound to walk out of the gates together, so Daniel and Y/N stood side by side as they chatted.

When they picked up their children, Y/N wished him one more good luck on his race and took Milo home.

Now that they had each other’s numbers, Y/N and Daniel texted a lot. The number was just meant to be for playdates, but the moment he started sending her pictures from the location of the grand prix, it was game over. They spoke every moment, like a pair of teenagers.

For the next week, Olivia was with her mother. Although she was there every afternoon, Y/N never met her. It was Olivias doing. She was five, sure, but she was smart as hell. She was going to do anything in her power to keep the women apart.

But then on Friday, Y/N let the eyes scan the children's face for Olivia. She watched as, with shoulders slumped, she walked over to a tall woman with a stern face. She immediately grabbed a hold of Olivias arm.

"Come on, Milo," Y/N said softly, holding his hand as she walked over to Olivias mother. She weaved around other parents and their kids, giving their teacher a grateful nod.

In just seconds Y/N was standing in front of Olivias mother. "Hey," she said, offering her a kind smile and a wave. When Olivias mum just stared at her, she continued. "I'm Milo's mum and a friend of Daniels."

"Okay," replied Olivias mother, her voice flat.

Y/N sucked in a deep breath. This was going to be a hard conversation. "So, my son and your daughter are good friends, and he was wondering whether Olivia would like to come over on Sunday to watch the F1 race?" She offered.

Still, Olivias mother stared. And then she laughed. Well, more like cackled. "Piss off and leave my daughter alone," she said and began dragging Olivia away.

With a gasp, Y/N covered Milo's ears. "Please don't swear in front of my son!"

Olivias mother waved her off and dragged her daughter away. Y/N just watched, still holding Milo's hand, as they walked away. When Olivias mother turned around and saw her staring, she held up her middle finger and flipper her off. Y/N quickly covered Milo's ears and walked with him back to their car.

They got home and Milo instantly set about playing with his toys. His mother set about finishing the work she had brought home with her while he watched television.

As she typed away at her work laptop, her phone vibrated against the kitchen table, ringing. The face that appeared on the screen was familiar, the face she had been hoping would appear for the last few days. Daniel grinned at her, the picture being the one he had taken in the park.

She slid her finger across the bottom of the screen and held the phone up to her ear. “Sup, Mr race car driver,” she said, continuing to type.

But she slowed down as Daniel began talking. “Sup, Miss Milo’s momma,” he responded, with equal enthusiasm.

Y/N let out a laugh. “Is that all I am to you? Just Milo’s momma?” She asked, but it wasn’t serious. The inflection in her voice said that much.

Daniel brushed it off. Well, he more laughed at it and moved on, instead of ignoring her completely. “Did you see Olivia today? I’m supposed to call her mother in a minute.”

Scratching the back of her neck, Y/N sucked in a breath. “Uh yeah. Yes, I did. And I met your ex. Daniel, I say this with the utmost respect, but she’s the-“ she looked towards the door and dropped her voice to a whisper “-fucking worst.”

Daniel let out a sigh. He knew. He knew how fucking terrible his ex was. If he could take Olivia away from it all, he would. But he couldn’t. “I know,” he said. “Trust me, I know. But how was Olivia?”

“She seemed… okay,” Y/N answered. “Milo and I tried to ask her mum if she could come to ours to watch the race on Sunday, but she immediately shut us down.”

It didn’t surprise Daniel. As soon as he was mentioned, his ex had probably made us her mind about Y/N, and there was no way she was going to let Olivia go to her house. She was a threat now, at least in his ex’s eyes. “I’ll talk to her, don’t worry,” he said. “I should get going.”

“Wait!” Y/N called suddenly. “Have you raced yet today?”

Daniel couldn’t stop himself from laughing. She really knew nothing about F1 (it was adorable). Daniel quickly ran her through the Friday free practice. He explained that he wasn’t in the fastest car on the grid, but he was still performing well, better than the previous year. He even described to her what car to look out for when they watched the race on Sunday.

Finally, they said their goodbyes. Y/N went back to her work while Daniel called his ex.

***

It was Olivia who picked up her mother’s phone. She was going to get into trouble for that, but it was a chance to speak to her daddy. She wasn’t going to miss out on that.

“Daddy!” Olivia shouted as she pressed the phone against her ear.

“Hi Badger!” Daniel cheered. “Listen, kiddo, I need to speak to your mum for a minute, but I’ll talk to you after, okay? Do you think you can pass me over to her?”

Although her father couldn’t see it, Olivia nodded. She hopped down from the sofa and went up the stairs, searching for her mother. “Mum!” She called.

Her mother appeared from her dressing room, in a skintight black dress, hair done, and makeup almost finished. “What?” She snapped at Olivia. As soon as she saw the phone in her hands, she snatched it from her and looked at the caller ID.

Sending Olivia away, she pressed her phone to her ear. “Hey Danny,” she said in a sultry sweet voice, but Daniel knew better than to fall for it. “What can I do for you?”

“You’re not letting Olivia go to Milo’s house to watch me race?”

The fake smile she had been wearing dropped from her face. “So what? She can watch the race here if she can figure out how to use the television,” she said and sat back at her vanity to continue with her makeup.

“Oh, come on.” It wasn’t normal for Daniel to get angry, but his ex just brought it out in him. “Milo is the first friend she’s ever made. Don’t fuck this up for her and let her go to his house, please!”

“It’s my week with her, I can do what I want.”

“She’s not some sort of pet! She’s a human being, and she deserves to be treated like one!” He yelled (thank god he was alone in his hotel room).

“She’s my kid too, Danny!”

“Don’t call me that.” His voice was suddenly low.

She grinned, realising she had gotten to him. “Or what, Danny? What’re you going to do about it?”

But Daniel didn’t let it get to him. He sucked in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. She wasn’t going to get to him, not if it meant screwing things up for Olivia. “Look, you do this for me, and I’ll owe you one, okay?”

It was a risky proposal. She could have asked for anything, and he would have said yes, if it meant Olivia having fun with her friend. “Fine,” his ex said. “Fine, she can go, but I’m not picking her up.”

“Great, thank you,” he said. “Can I speak to Olivia now?”

Instead of answering, his ex ended the call and put the phone into her bag. That was fine; he got her another playdate, he could call her another time.

With the confirmation from his ex that the playdate would happen, Daniel sat about texting Y/N.

daniel riiiiiciaaaardoooo

good news, she's happy for Olivia to come over

y/n (milo's momma)

great! I'll get them some snacks

daniel riiiiiciaaaardoooo

olivia's gonna love it one problem though, you're gonna have to pick her up from her mothers house I don't want her having your address

y/n (milo's momma)

that's more than fine, danny

daniel riiiiiciaaaardoooo

are you okay if I say milo's name on television? i wanna say hello to the kids when i'm getting interviewed

y/n (milo's momma)

that's fine, danny just keep it to his first name pls he's so excited

daniel riiiiiciaaaardoooo

i know olivia is gonna be excited too i'll see you monday, okay?

y/n (milo's momma)

see you monday, danny

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