Someone Has To Leave First.

você e Enzo, fazia tempão que não escrevia sobre ele fazia tempo que não escrevia no geral hihihi

Daddy's Friend

Verão.

Férias.

Duas semanas.

Duas semanas numa casa de praia grande luxuosa lotada com os amigos do trabalho do "papai". Seria legal, sem contar os velhos com as piadinhas prontas e sem graça, praticamente caindo de bêbados.

Sem contar suas esposas tediosas e botoxadas.

Sem contar as crianças birrentas e mal-criadas que corriam pra lá e pra cá - uma delas inclusive, derrubou seu celular na piscina no primeiro dia, ou seja, só o teria de volta em duas semanas e olhe lá.

Sem contar que teria que dormir em um dos sofás grandes na sala de estar pois não havia mais quarto, nem cama, para você.

Mas não era de todo mal... pelo menos, havia Enzo Vogrincic.

Ele era o mais jovem da empresa e foi uma surpresa para você quando ele aceitou o convite de seu pai para participar da viagem. Você nem sabia que ele ia, afinal todo mundo já havia chegado entre o primeiro e segundo dia, mas ele não.

O moreno chegou no litoral no terceiro dia de manhã cedinho.

O som do motor da moto dele fez com que todo mundo fosse animado até a porta de entrada para recebê-lo. As crianças o rodeavam gritando, os homens levantavam suas cervejas em cumprimento e as mulheres ajeitavam os peitos siliconados nos biquínes com um sorriso indiscreto.

E sinceramente? Foda-se toda aquela palhaçada, pois antes de tirar o capacete preto num estilo bem hollywoodiano, ele caçava você com olhar, se perguntando porque você não estava no meio da maçaroca de gente ansiosa para vê-lo. E sabendo que você -  e só você - era o verdadeiro motivo da vinda dele para aquela casa de praia.

Ele não é bobo, nem inocente.

Vogrincic sabia muito bem o que estava fazendo, ao se inclinar sobre você - que estava com as mãos ocupadas descascando batatas cozidas para a maionese do churrasco do almoço, de costas para a porta - e depositar um beijo em sua bochecha como cumprimento assim que chegou.

Vogrincic sabia muito bem o que estava fazendo quando estavam na praia naquela tarde, e ele comprou o conjunto de biquíne que você mais gostou do moço que passou com um carrinho vendendo itens superfaturados. Depois meteu um "vai ficar linda" ao te entregar a sacolinha.

Vogrincic sabia muito bem o que estava fazendo, quando disse para o seu pai que "Não se preocupe, senhor, juro que não tem problema dormir na sala também", pois não haviam mais quartos disponíveis. O sofá dele era em outra sala, apenas a alguns passos da sua e da cozinha.

...

- Acordada a essa hora? - Enzo perguntou invadindo a cozinha em conceito aberto.

Você tomou um susto e se virou para ele terminando de engolir a água geladinha que tomava.

- Que susto, porra!

Uma risadinha foi ouvida... e não foi dos seus lábios.

A porta da geladeira atrás de você ainda se mantinha aberta, sem que você se desse conta,  o que deu a oportunidade para o moreno se aproximar com passos lentos e se posicionar bem a sua frente.

Seu coração acelerou em expectativa. 

Ele estava tão perto, tão cheiroso, tão bonito, tão sombrio.

Seus olhos arregalados eram as jóias mais raras para ele.

- Licença?

- Ah, sim, claro! - respondeu saindo da frente da porta e dando espaço para que ele pegasse uma garrafinha de água também.

Você se encostou na ilha de mármore no meio da cozinha, e aproveitou para observar a cena cinematográfica em que o protagonista gostoso se delicia com uma bebida gelada em câmera lenta. Sorte sua que ele não viu sua boca levemente aberta e olhos gigantes carregados de tesão, pois se tivesse visto... quem sabe o que poderia acontecer naquela cozinha.

- Não sabia que você vinha - Enzo disse se aproximando ao mesmo tempo em que fechava a garrafinha. AH, MAS ELE SABIA SIM! Era algo que seu pai orgulhoso falava. A filhotinha perfeita dele voltou da cidade em que fazia faculdade para visitá-lo.

- Não sabia que você vinha. - respondeu virando de lado para encará-lo.

- E gostou quando descobriu? - disse baixinho, com a voz rouca e seduzente.

Você soltou um sorrisinho irônico e saiu da cozinha, sendo seguida pelo moreno.

Ele era mestre na arte do flerte. 

Vocês dois sempre se cozinhavam nas festas da empresa em que iam. Conversavam um pouquinho, se olhavam demais da conta, mas não faziam nada. Ali era a chance, ali era o lugar.

- Como vai a faculdade? - insistiu em outro assunto, sentando ao seu lado no sofá grande (sua caminha pelos próximos dias) de frente para a sacada aberta e iluminada pela lua.

Você respondeu colocando as duas pernas sobre o estofado, ficando mais confortavel para olhar para ele.

- Hm. E aquele seu namoradinho?

- Qual?

- Seu pai que contou - o moreno mentiu, jogou um blefe para levar ao assunto que ele realmente queria.

- Papai mentiu então.

- Não está namorando?

- Não, Enzo. E você?

- Não namoro, gatinha.

Você revirou os olhos. Tinha que ser.

- É claro que não.

- Ei - ele ergueu os braços em sinal de rendição - Não me deixou terminar.

- Hm.

- Não namoro, gatinha, estou esperando a pessoa ideal - disse de uma forma engraçada que você não conseguiu evitar a gargalhada altíssima, tapando a boca logo em seguida para não fazer barulho. Acontece que ele fez exatamente a mesma coisa que você.

Numa velocidade assustadora, Vogrincic meteu a mão dele sobre a sua e estava com o corpo coladinho ao seu no sofá.

- Shhh, não quer que eles venham ver se ta tudo bem, não é? - sussurrou e porra, ficou molhada e arrepiada. Mal conseguiu responder, só fez um não com a cabeça. - O gato comeu a língua, foi?

Poderia ter sido ele o gato.

Você colocou sua mão delicadamente sobre a dele e a abaixou, sem quebrar contato visual.

A cena era mais que erótica.

Tirando a mão grande dele da sua boca... para por em seu peito.

- O quê é isso? - ele questionou baixinho e um tanto desacreditado, mas você não queria perder tempo e o beijou.

Entre os beijos intensos, mãos bobas e pausas para respirar, sentiu a boca dele erguer em um sorriso convencido... afinal, a mão que apalpava seu peito tinha deixado os mamilos excitados.

Só que ele não estava muito diferente... quando montou no colo do mais velho, sentiu o membro rijo e latejante, ansioso parar estar dentro de você. Aproveitou para rebolar para frente e para trás, a boca dele escapou para seu pescoço.

- Gostosa.  - sussurrou.

As mãos dele em sua cintura, as suas percorriam o peitoral forte, subiam para o pescoço e brincavam com a parte de trás, onde o cabelo sedoso estava crescidinho.

E então as bocas estavam unidas novamente.

Não demorou muito para que o shortinho do seu pijama ficasse encharcado do seu tesão, afinal estava sendo movimentado para frente e para trás no volume dele. Era inconsiente. Só... precisava fazer aquilo. Se esfregar nele como uma...

- Putinha - ele sussurrou contra seus lábios. Você afastou sua boca da dele, deixando levemente aberta para soltar um gemido.  - Gostou do que eu disse, é?

- Aham - gemeu manhosa - Quiero que me folles, por favor.

Enzo parou os movimentos, segurando bem forte em sua cintura e então no seu pescoço. O pau dele latejou ao ouvir sua vozinha implorando para ser fodida. O sorriso sacana que ele te deu em seguida foi impagável. Você desejou ter uma câmera ali e agora para capturar aquele segundo.

As bocas se conectaram novamente, só que dessa vez, mudaram de posição. Vogrincic estava sobre você e as veias nos braços ficaram proeminentes, pois ele não deixava o peso todo sobre seu corpo.

Da boca para o pescoço.

Do pescoço para os mamilos durinhos.

Dos mamilos durinhos para a barriga à mostra.

E da barriga, cheirou, beijou e lambeu por cima do shorts.

Você se contorcia querendo e precisando de mais.

Enzo tirou os shorts com as mãos e a calcinha com a boca. E então, chegou ao alvo principal. A língua quente e macia entrou em contato com sua entrada quente e molhada. O moreno deu um tapa no clitóris inchado, depois começou a chupar enquanto metia apenas um dedo.

Aí dois.

Você colocou a mão na boca para gemer e a outra segurava o cabelo dele.

O som das ondas era fraquinho, comparado à da sua bucetinha molhada. E ela parecia um banquete exclusivo dele. Enzo se esbaldava, levou uma mão ao pau. Tocava você, tocava ele. Até que você atingiu seu ápice e se derreteu na boca dele.

O gemido saiu alto demais, com tesão demais, depois que percebeu levou a mão aos lábios e arregalou os olhos. O moreno sorriu.

- Shhh, não grita, se não a casa toda vai saber a putinha louca por pica que você é. E eu não to afim de dividir essa bucetinha gostosa com mais ninguém. - depositando um tapinha no clitóris sensível.

Em poucos segundos algumas luzes acenderam no andar de cima, portas se abriram e passos foram ouvidos.  As vozes sussurravam "O que aconteceu?" "O que houve?".

Você teve poucos segundos para raciocinar:  colocou o shorts novamente e foi correndo para o seu sofá. Deitou. Se cobriu com um lençol levinho a medida que os passos se tornavam mais altos. Três? Quatro pessoas? Não saberia dizer.

Quando percebeu que haviam mais pessoas no cômodo gritou novamente, com mais medo do que dá primeira vez.

- Ela está tendo um pesadêlo! - disse seu pai com um toque de humor, ele estava aliviado que a filhotinha dele estava bem. O coro de vozes atrás dele suspirou aliviado, pelo menos não era um invasor.

Enzo riu.

- É... deve estar.

Vogrincic estava voltando para sua sala, os outros adultos subindo as escadas quando seu pai virou para trás e o chamou.

- Ahm... Enzo, se importa de dormir nesse outro sofá mais próximo dela? Achei que alguém tivesse invadido a casa, desse modo, ficaria mais seguro de deixar minha filhinha aqui embaixo.

- Sem problemas, Sr. S/S. - com um sorriso malicioso que não pode ser avistado na penumbra do corredor.

big guy ✮ jschlatt x fem!reader hcs

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a/n: what up! i wrote this for my gorgeous loml best friend @plantring who definitely wasn’t holding me at gunpoint, and i’ve been meaning to write a schlatt fic for ages! so, here you go. big guy. maybe charlie next 👀 also the song was just the song i’ve been repeating and had in mind while i wrote this fic ! i hope you guys like it :)

notes: jambo, other unnamed cat referred to as ‘burnt soup’, swearing, cuddles, nicknames, twitch, wii games series, tucker keane & Ted nivison, chuckle sandwich mention, romantic, drinking, hobbies, singing, SFW, NSFW UNDER THE CUT!! , grabby schlatt /pos

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

sfw hcs ˚⟡˖ ࣪

☼ toots. he calls you toots, all the time, every day. it’s either a cheesy nickname, sweets, toots, baby, sweetheart, or sugar. he’s new yorkian yk.

☾ he’ll call you them before you even start dating, just to watch your cheeks flush pink and lips fall agape. the image ingrained in his mind permanently.

☼ such a flirt, before you start dating. he’ll make a wild joke to nobody in particular when you’re with friends, noticing how everybody will laugh but yours is hoarse. watching you squirm in your seat as he lets out a little chuckle, is how he gathers you like him.

☾ you’re the flirtiest friends, and everyone can see it but you two.

☼ maybe your mutual point of realisation is at his house, when he complains about shaving and you offer to shave his chops. “y’better not fuck this up, lady. these are the money bags.” he’d tease, making you laugh. you sit on his lap, claiming it’s for ‘better access’ as you clean up his face.

☾ like i said with ted, schlatt’s also a romantic. maybe a little more old school, but definitely romantic. he’d ask you out on a date first, with pretty flowers and that charming fucking smile. then ask you to be his girlfriend. what? he isn’t a pussy.

☼ if you two don’t live together, he likes seeing you in his space more. he can’t quite describe why, maybe it’s just waking up with you tangled in his sheets in his bed in his room with his cats cuddling up next to you like you’ve been there forever.

☾ speaking of the cats, they’ve picked you over him. if you both call their names at the same time, both the cats will come running to you as if schlatt isn’t even there.

☼ “what the fuck?” he mutters, picking up jambo. “i pay for your food, house you, give you love and attention. and this is how you repay me, shithead? huh? by picking her over me? fuck you!” he frowns, holding jambo up as the orange cat simply meows in response. jambo’s paw finds his nose, and schlatt’s eyes glance at you. seeing you giggling as you cuddled burnt soup like a baby. “you too, you fuckin’ traitor.” he proclaims, pointing at the purring black cat in your hands who’s giving him the cutest stare ever.

☾ huh, kind of reminds him of you.

☼ if you have a pet too, even better.

☾ got a cat? he’ll try and make your cat love him more then you. it doesn’t work, but if you comment he’ll say it’s a work in progress. insists on feeding it every time he’s at your house, probably figures out some sort of nickname for your kitty. cuddles it every chance he gets.

☼ got a dog? he’ll pretend he doesn’t like it, call it dopey since he’s always proclaiming he doesn’t like dogs. but you catch him babying and cuddling your dog when he thinks you’re not around too often to believe him.

☾ best believe jambo and burnt soup will get mad at him when he comes home with another animal’s smell on him, but never get mad at you. he’s such a softie for pets.

☼ schlatt was quite the private man, not a very big fan of making things public on the internet. he knew how people could be. he wouldn’t want to expose you to that, at least not until he was sure you’d be okay with it and you’d been in a relationship for a while.

☾ didn’t mean he couldn’t leave a few subtle messages for his chat, though. maybe a pair of pink slippers on his floor or some jewellery. when chat would notice and spam, he’d smirk.

☼ “what, chat? th’re obviously mine.” he chuckled. gaslighting his twitch as much as he could. if you asked, he’d say it was an accident and he didn’t notice. he’s a good liar to everyone but you.

☾ after a while, he’d open the idea up to you. whether it be a stream, or a youtube video where he can blur your face. but he has one rule.

☼ wii games. he wants to bring back wii games.

☾ and of course since you’re both equally competitive fucks, it turns into a laughing, yelling and tackling match as you both play every wii game imaginable. spewing insults at each other when the other misses in wii tennis, bickering like an elderly couple, screaming and cheering in victory. him claiming he let you win.

☼ “if you win anythin’, that is.” he’d murmur with that dumb grin.

☾ which you reply to with a string of curses and insults

☼ he couldn’t imagine anything more hilarious. plus click bait.

☾ he brings you to chuckle week (RIP CHUCKLE FOREVER IN OUR HEARTS </3) and you all decide to play some of the board games that look like they’re collecting dust in the airBNB you all are staying in.

☼ scrabble? you and schlatt team, ted and tucker team, and you practically knock them off the fucking board. guess who? they’re cooked. uno? reverse. chess? checkmate. you’re winning every time, together for once, and giggling about it too.

☾ “connect 4!” schlatt bellowed, as you two won at yet another game. you sat at the dining table of the airbnb, sitting opposite each other in pairs playing another dusty game. “what the fuck? you two are cheating or some shit.” ted huffs and tucker shakes his head and laughs, with you and schlatt cuddled up with your manic grins and wins in every game under your belt.

☼ turns out putting two competitive (crazy, as tucker calls you) people on a team works.

☾ let’s just say no matter who you’re playing with, you two always win game night.

☼ schlatt will pretend that he doesn’t like whatever hobby you have, playfully rolling his eyes, but if you catch him marvelling at you doing said hobby? no you didn’t.

☾ he’ll let you drag him wherever, but not without complaints. he’ll hold your hand wherever, never let you pay whenever you go out.

☼ “that’s silly.” he’d argue, pushing your card away. “christ, woman. ’m gonna have to fuckin’ confiscate your card ‘n replace it with my own soon.”

☾ he’ll hold you whenever, especially if you like it. whether it be his arm around your shoulders, on your waist, or maybe even a hand in your back pocket

☼ especially in crowds, he’s got you close so you can get through it to where you need to go. he’d hate to lose you in a crowd, not a chance.

☾ he’d get drunk, you’d try and kiss him and he’d be like “fuck off. i have a loving girlfriend.”

☼ and you’d be like “j i’m ur girlfriend.”

☾ “oh! hi girlfriend :)” and then kisses you.

☼ tries to act tough but he’s such a big softie at heart.

☾ he also gets jealous if he catches anyone simply just glancing at you, big 6”4 boy just gives them a simple look

☼ “achlatt! that guy was literally just doing his job.” “don’t give a fuck, y’re my girlfriend. no need for him t’be so cheery to ya.” but he’d also be annoyed if they weren’t nice to you.

☾ sometimes, you’ll catch him cooking and singing to himself as he plays music on a speaker. some glen campbell, maybe arctic monkeys. but he gets embarrassed, despite literally having a christmas album and a real good voice.

☼ “i don’t sing, sugar.” schlatt would argue, food cooking and arms wrapped around your waist as you two gently swayed to the music playing in his kitchen.

☾ a lie that was, you called bullshit

☼ and you’d both sing to whatever was on the speaker, laughing and just holding each other close as you two danced properly. spinning you, dipping you. his hair messy, a look of admiration on his face. no matter how uncoordinated you two were, it was right in your eyes.

☾ same thing i said about ted goes, big broad tall man mmmmm

☼ gives the best cuddles

☾ got plushies in your room? he’ll buy you more, and have fake beef with them. rolling his eyes if you argue that they’re your children.

☼ deep down he knows he loves them

☾ and you

☼ mostly you

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nsfw hcs ˚⟡˖ ࣪

☼ he’s such a sweetheart in bed

☾ bitey bitey man. he can’t sit still for long

☼ as long as you’re in the privacy of your own home, whatever you’re doing, bet that his lips will be finding your neck.

☾ “can’t help it. taste too good.” he’d complain if you’d whine, that stupid shit eating grin on his gorgeous face. his hands on your hips, and his mouth leaving pinks, purples and reds that he knew you’d have to cover up tomorrow for work.

☼ he’s whipped. absolutely fucking whipped. pussy whipped.

☾ he’d do anything you asked, especially if you were promising to let him fuck you the minute you got through the door of either of your houses.

☼ horny motherfucker.

☾ in terms of oral, he loves giving and receiving equally

☼ watching you tremble underneath him as he hooks your thighs onto his shoulders and messily eats your pussy, sucking on your clit like it’s his last meal and he’s a starving man. his hands squeezing said thighs as you writhe, eyes watching your every reaction. impossibly harder at your every noise.

☾ and then also, “i didn’t say hover, sweetheart, i said sit.” making you sit on his face, pulling your hips down with his arms tucked under your thighs. devouring you and your perfect fucking cunt.

☼ pulling away later, lips and chops covered in your cum. licking his lips. “light as a fuckin’ feather, baby. don’t know what’cha talkin about.” if you were to ask if you were too heavy.

☾ but then also

☼ running his fingers through your hair as he looked down at you, on your knees so prettily for him. soft groans and sighs coming from his lips, eyes lidded, as you sucked his cock and looked up at him with lust. watching you wrap your lips around it inbetween his legs. tracing your tongue along the veins. pulling your hair, but never too hard: god, he was absolutely feral.

☾ he’s definitely dominant, but he isn’t harsh. he couldn’t stand seeing you hurt. like i said, he’s a softie.

☼ prefers to be face to face, but i feel like he’d really like back shots. simply to grab at your ass, watch the curve of your back arch as he fucked you good. leaving bites along your back as well, leaning over and leaving some on your shoulder.

☾ classic missionary, or you on his lap, are also his favourites. but he’s open to try other things with you, most definitely.

☼ he loves his woman, he really does. and he’d do anything to make sure you’re happy, always give you good loving. he’d hate to ever leave you without.

☾ him getting tipsy makes him even more desperate to please. even more desperate for you. but even sober, he always is

☼ rutting his hips into you, a little drunk as you combed your fingers through his hair “mmm. mine, sweets. god.” he’d grunt, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as he fucked you perfectly. “need y’so f’ckin bad.”

☾ you flash him during an argument? it’s over as quick as it started. you were right, obviously. he’s following you like a dumb puppy again.

☼ would definitely turn around your plushies during sex. and also lock out the cats.

☾ when you two would unlock the door and come back out to the cats whining, your legs a bit wobbly, or maybe even unable to walk on your own at all, he’d pat the cats and smirk.

☼ “sorry, little shits. y’r mom needed some lovin instead.” he’d coo as you playfully shove him. a chuckle coming from his lips.

☾ he’s a very touchy grabby guy, whether it be your tits, thighs, your ass. he loves it.

☼ he’d get needy, and make it clear. it would never take him long to tell you if he was feeling needy, or he’d show it simply by picking you up or being close to you. it wasn’t hard to tell, and you’d be fucking within minutes.

☾ and if you’re needy? god, he relishes in it. teasing you, maybe even leaving you on the edge of orgasm over and over until your eventually sweet release. depends on how cruel he’s feeling. or maybe touching you, but not enough, just enough to make your hips jerk but not enough to build up anything. he loved the sound of your whiny frustration.

☼ yeah. he wants you. so bad. all the time.

₍ᵔ·͈༝·͈ᵔ₎ ♡̸ᵎᵎ 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒘𝒏 𝑯𝑪𝒔  ˖ ࣪ . ִֶָ

⠀⠀⊹ . : 𖥔˖࣪   ˖ ࣪ . ִֶָ𓂅 *  ˖ 𓏲࣪ ⊹ . : 𖥔˖࣪   ˖ ࣪ . ִֶָ𓂅 *  ˖ 𓏲࣪⠀

well. this was a trip to write. deadass had to take breaks and scream into my pillow, dying from embarrassment. anyways, enjoy my little funky monkes

forewarning: smut (duh), some language

[ exhibitionism and degradation ]

dark hallways, parked cars, unlocked doors, and hotel balconies. the idea of being caught while he's deep inside you ignites something within Shawn. and he tries to chase that feeling every chance he gets. you often find yourself pinned against the large window of your shared hotel room, his fingers in your mouth as the occasional sound of footsteps behind the door make your heart stutter. he would lean close to your ear and call you a slut, his slut. wrap his arms around you and pull you to his chest. he gets a thrill when he's thrusting into you and a knock on the door would push you two to a sudden halt. that doesn't stop Shawn though. his thrusts would go faster, enjoying how tears would fall down your cheeks as he goes deeper, his hips snapping harder than it did before. he does his best to make you moan, to let whoever was at your hotel door to know that you belong to him. "god, you're so needy" "nothing but a slut for my cock" "so pretty with my cum in you"

[ hair pulling and marking ]

shawn's mouth would explore every surface on your body, his teeth grazing against your flesh. he's addicted to leaving bite marks on your thighs and hand prints on your waist. In turn, you'd leave claw marks running down his back and hickeys on his neck. he's rough. his hands don't shy away from you and they'll eventually find themselves in your hair, tugging your head back as he licks down your chest. he'd pay extra attention to your breasts, taking the time to make your nipples red and sensitive with his fingers and tongue until you're mewling and shuddering. shawn would hold your hair back with one hand as his other hand would trace his cock along your lips. he loves the way you moan when he pulls on your hair, pulling even harder to get you to tighten your legs around his hips. he doesn't hide the love marks you give him. as much as he enjoys letting people know you're his, he also loves to let them know that he's yours.

[ edging and teasing ]

shawn likes the control he has on you. to see you cry and lose your breath because of him and to have the power to make you beg for more. he'll fuck you just right, thrust into you and abruptly stop just before you climax. the way you cry out and how your jaw drops is just enough for him to thrust into you again. the whole process repeats itself until both of you are breathless and overstimulated. he won't let you cum until you're sobbing. he loves cumming on your stomach and the small of your back the most.

Sobre os meninos com a leitora plus size tenho coisas a adicionar ☝️🤓

Primeiro de tudo q esse cenário do Fernando todo com aquele porte american bully de baixo peso(famoso bombado magrelo) é saboroso dms

Segundo: não podemos esquecer da nossa geladeira Eletrolux 2 portas com reservatório de água na porta vulgo Jerônimo Bosia. O homem é gigante e reza a lenda que homens gigantes adoram uma menina garota gordinha

FERNANDO PORTE AMERICAN BULLY DE BAIXO PESO KKKKKKKKKKKKK VEY NÃO DA C VCS

e ai sim, ele c o bíceps não tão grandes mas definidinho e a leitora toda gordinha peitudinha metida hmmm mim de 🫴

olha eu não escrevo c jeronimo pq p ser sincera nem sinto taaanto tesão nele, mas homens gigantes + meninas mulheres gordinhas = combinação dos deuses ent eu super concordo contigo!!!!! e ele tem mt vibe "i like my women how i like my meat. juicy." ent eu simplesmente SEI q ele se amarra numa gordinha

Another f1 text au! This one was actually quite fun, it's f1 drivers reacting to you using memes of them in your chats.

BY THE WAY NO SLANDER TO PEOPLE WHO COMMENT FREAKY STUFF ON THE DRIVERS POSTS LIKE YOU DO WHAT YOU WANT NOT MY PROBLEM YOU DO YOU 😭

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LOOKING AT HER| S.VETTEL

Author’s note; fuck off Amy.

Pairing; Sebastian Vettel x shy!girlfriend!reader

Summary; Reader has grown to love the feeling of Sebastian’s eyes on her but not everyone understands.

Warnings; fluff, suggestive towards the end, Amy’s a bitch.

F1 Master List

Sebastian always had a habit of looking at her, he just couldn't help himself, he found her so beautiful that it was impossible not to admire her. He didn't understand how he was so lucky to have someone so special as his girlfriend.

It had taken a while for Y/N to get used to his gaze, at first it had made her self conscious, she thought there was something about her appearance or her outfit which had caught his attention but every time she asked he always responded the same way.

"I’m just admiring how beautiful my girl is"

She eventually found herself being used to having his eyes on her, in fact she had grown to like it. It made her feel safe and secure knowing he was there and keeping an eye on her. It was like a comfort blanket to her now.

She did feel nervous under his gaze though, the good kind of nervous. Sebastian was always one for eye contact and his gaze was... intense. It was constantly making her flustered, she'd end up forgetting everything, her words, what she was meant to be doing, everything vanished for her when he was around, all she could think about was him.

Sebastian and Y/N were currently out for dinner with some of Y/N's friends, although the pair of them had been official for over 2 years now Seb hadn't really had the chance to meet her friends properly due to him travelling all the time and when he wasn't they were too caught up in making up for lost time to make plans.

Her friends had been shocked when Y/N who was known to be extremely shy and famous for keeping to herself announced that she had a boyfriend, they had already been dating for nearly a year when she had finally told them.

Imagine their surprise when their incredibly private friend revealed just who her boyfriend was; an extremely famous, successful and rich formula one racing driver.

Y/N was currently in the middle of a conversation with her 'best-friend' Amy when she felt her boyfriends beautiful eyes tracing over her body.

Sebastian thought she looked so beautiful, she has dressed up tonight into a long dress and heels. Obviously she looked beautiful all the time but that dress was really doing something.

It didn't take long for Y/N to get flustered, her cheeks had turned a blush pink and she looked down at the table as she tried to remember her words.

Sebastian smiled, he loved the effect he had on her, knowing that he could get her all riled up just from a simple glance was a huge ego booster.

"Why do you keep looking at her like that? Can't you see it's making her uncomfortable" The table went silent as everyone turned to look at Amy who had purposely made sure everyone heard her.

Sebastian was speechless when he saw that she was staring him down. Making her uncomfortable? He looked at Y/N who was in just as much disbelief as he was, staring at her friend, wide-eyed because she hadn't been uncomfortable at all and she really didn't appreciate her rude tone towards the man she loved.

"Excuse me?" Sebastian almost laughed at the ridiculousness of her accusation.

"You've been staring her down for the past 10 minutes and it's creepy, can you not see how awkward she feels? She's literally shifting around in her seat"

"Amy-" Y/N tried to protest, she usually wasn't one to speak up, preferring to keep out of drama but the way the girl in front of her was looking at Sebastian like he was a piece of shit wasn't sitting right with her at all, especially because he was quite literally the sweetest human she had ever met.

The table watched in tense silence as Amy continued to run her loud mouth which was making everyone feel uncomfortable.

"...Just because you're some rich bloke that drives around in fancy cars doesn't mean you have the right to stare at a woman like she's a piece of meat" Seb couldn't believe the audacity of the woman, she knew absolutely nothing about him.

It seemed Y/N was thinking the same thing because she slammed her hand down on the table "Shut up! You know absolutely nothing about Seb or me, clearly, so stop acting like you have the right to comment on him, his job or his actions"

She then turned to her boyfriend who's eyes were filled with pride "Can we go? I don't want to stay here with someone who had no respect for others"

Sebastian nodded, immediately standing from his seat,  placing a couple bank notes down on the table to pay for their meal before grabbing his jacket and holding out his hand for her to take.

He ignored Amy's muttering of "Oh so you need to ask his permission to do what you want as well"

He said a polite goodbye to the rest of the table before the pair of them walked out of the restaurant.

Sebastian briefly glanced away from the the road and over to the passenger seat for the fifth time since they had gotten into the car, Y/N hadn't said anything since leaving the restaurant and it was starting to worry him.

She had sort of curled herself up into a ball, her knees pulled up to her chest with her feet resting on the edge of the seat as she stared blankly out of the window.

Sebastian wanted to tell her to sit up straight for her own safety but his worry for what she was thinking was a bigger priority to him at the moment.

"Liebling?" She only hummed in response which increased the worry he initially felt, she always responded properly to show he had her full attention, believing it was rude otherwise.

He hadn't been too bothered about Amy's words in the restaurant but with how quiet his girlfriend was being, he was starting to think that maybe Y/N agreed with her and maybe he did make her feel uncomfortable.

"Are you okay, schatz?" He asked. Y/N heaved out a heavy sigh as she sat up properly before turning to face him.

"I just hate how rude she was to you, she had no reason to speak to you like that and to do it in front of everyone in a public was just wrong, I'm sorry"

"Why are you apologising to me? You didn't do anything wrong, you handled it brilliantly" Sebastian reached over to grab her hand and link their fingers together, his thumb stroking along her hand hoping to provide some comfort.

"I know you went through the trouble to make sure you were free so we could go to dinner with them and now it's just wasted"

Sebastian shook his head "I didn't make sure I was free for the dinner, Y/N. I made sure I was free for you, you're more important to me than any interview or meeting"

Y/N smiled at his words, tightening her hold on his hand, he really was the perfect man.

"Can I ask you a question though?" He asked, seeing Y/N nodding her head out of the corner of his eye "Was she right?"

"What!?" Y/N couldn't believe the absurdity of his question "Not at all"

Sebastian bit his lip, not quite sure if she was just saying that so she wouldn't hurt his feeling "Are you sure? I'd hate to make you feel uncomfortable"

She couldn't help but giggle, nothing he did could ever make her uncomfortable, he was perfect. "You have never made me feel uncomfortable, Seb. I like feeling your eyes on me" she admitted.

Sebastian looked at her with a small smirk "yeah?"

Y/N nodded "Makes me feel sexy" she sheepishly said, turning back to the window to try and hide the blush on her cheeks.

"Oh, really?" She heard to teasing tone in his voice and internally rolled her eyes knowing he wouldn't let her live this down.

His ego had just grown about three times the size from her confession. It felt great knowing that he was able to make her feel so good without really doing anything. "Don't go all shy on me now, come on" he told her, tugging on her hand slightly.

"You're just going to hold it over my head now" she groaned but turned back to him as he wished.

"I promise I won't, I like that I make you feel good by something so simple" he said. The last part was true but he was totally going to hold it over her head.

"You always make me feel good" she whispered, tracing a finger over the veins on the back of his hand.

Sebastian heard her even though she spoke so quietly and felt like he could melt. What man didn't like hearing those words?

"How about I make you feel good when we get back home?" He asked, his tone suggesting anything but innocence.

Y/N's breath hitched knowing exactly what he was talking about. "Absolutely"

Sebastian smirked, turning his attention back to the road but he subtly pressed down on the accelerator.

He couldn't wait to get home.

WHOOOO MADE THIS HAHAHAHA

† 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — charlie mayhew x f!reader. | mdni

tags: mature content・mentions of religion・angst・flashbacks of smut・fem!reader・self-inflicted flagellation・blood・not proofread / wc: 1158

⟡ a/n: sorry if there are any grammatical errors or mistakes. english is not my first language

father charlie mayhew sat on the edge of his narrow bed, the white walls of his private chamber closing in around him. the small space was sparse, almost ascetic, with only a few religious artifacts cluttering the windowsill. the emptiness mirrored the discipline he tried to embody—from the polished metal sink in the corner to the stiff, neatly made bed beneath him. everything in his life was governed by order, by control—everything except you.

he glanced toward the tiny window where rain trickled down the glass, his chest tightening with a dull throb. leaning forward, he buried his face in his hands, fingers pressing into his temples as if he could will you away like a migraine.

but you were always there.

your fingers clawed at the buttons on his collar, desperate and needy—tugging him closer as he struggled to cling to any vestige of control he possessed. plushy lips brushed the edge of his neck, and he could hear the slight tremor in your breathing. “charlie,” you pleaded. not “father” this time. you had stripped him of that sacred title, and reduced him to a man in your arms—a sinner. your body pressed against him, warmth seeped through the fabric of his robes into his bones, hands traveling down the line of his chest, and it was at that point when he realised… he didn’t give a damn about sin or salvation.

rising to his feet, he stripped off his cassock, letting it slip past his shoulders before pooling on the floor. cool air bit against his skin, the bruises and scars on his back crisscrossed the pale skin in a web of guilt. charlie didn’t dare look in the mirror, couldn’t stand to see the evidence of his weakness. instead he knelt down and stared at the cat o’ nine tails resting on the bed before him, its nine strands splayed like serpents awaiting to strike. the handle was a rough wooden club, and as he gripped it tightly, his fingers brushed the frayed ends of the ropes, already darkened with blood and sweat from last night’s penance. he rearranged the nine strands carefully, spreading them out methodically before each lash.

he began to ease himself inside you, the tightness and warmth making him groan into the crook of your neck. he paused briefly, allowing you to place your hands on his shoulders, before fully sheathing himself, dragging out a broken moan from your lips. then he curled an arm around your waist, slowly withdrawing his hips, before thrusting inside you again.

he slammed the whip across his back, the sharp crack echoing through the small room. the nine strands bit into his skin like the nails that had once driven into his saviour’s flesh. pain was instantaneous, cutting through the haze of memory. he sucked in a breath as the second strike followed, then a third.

the heat of your skin burned under his fingertips, the sheets had tangled around your legs in a twisted mess of linen and heat, as you arched beneath him, crying out his name—charlie—over and over, like a prayer. his hand tightened on your waist, guiding your hips against his, guilt warring with the heady pleasure that coursed through him with every deep thrust. he pressed you into the mattress, lips tracing the column of your throat as your thighs clenched around his waist.

charlie’s grip faltered, his body hunching forward as he gasped for air. he could feel blood dripping down his back, onto the floor, but he didn’t care. he deserved this. he needed this.

the punishment was supposed to cleanse him. it was supposed to scourge away the sin. (it never worked, not really.)

he laid the whip down, trembling as he reached out to rearrange the strands, spreading them evenly across the bed before lifting it again. his hands shook as he braced himself for the next blow, muscles tensing as if to ward off the pain he knew was coming.

“don’t stop,” you begged, voice cracking as his body moved against yours, the sudden clench of your walls leaving him dizzy. the sheets were a tangled mess, your hands clutching at them. but it hadn’t been the sheets you clung to in the end—it had been him.

with a swift motion, he brought the whip down again. the impact sent a shockwave of agony through his body, his knees buckling slightly under the force. a guttural sob tore through his chest. fresh welts overlapped the scars from the previous nights, the pain melding together into one throbbing, pulsing reminder of his weakness.

(charlie mayhew was a weak, pathetic man.)

“you’re so beautiful,” you murmured as your nails scraped along his back, leaving faint red marks in their wake. his hips rutted into yours with a rhythm that had made him forget who he was. hand slid beneath the sheets, fingers digging into your flesh before he buried himself deep inside you. you let out a strangled moan, biting down on your lip as your eyes fluttered shut in pleasure, and it took everything in him not to cry out in response, to keep his own sinful need locked behind his clenched teeth.

the pain was nearly unbearable now, his skin raw and bleeding from the repeated lashes. but still, he struck again, his eyes squeezing shut against the images of you.

(the memory of you writhing beneath him, the sheets twisted around your bodies as his hips rolled into yours, was burned into his soul.)

agony built to a crescendo, the sharp sting of the rope tearing at his flesh, but it still wasn’t enough. it was never enough. chest heaving, he let the whip fall from his hands and clutched the edge of the bed for support. his back was a mess of blood, bruises and torn skin, but the pain in his back was a dull throb compared to the ache in his chest.

you had told him, in the quiet of your shared sin, that you loved him. he hadn’t responded. he couldn’t. because if he had said it back, it would have made everything worse. he couldn’t love you—not the way you wanted him to. not the way he already did.

charlie ran a hand through his hair, slick with sweat, staring blankly at the white walls that had seen too many nights like this one.

he didn’t know how many more nights like this he could endure. how many more times he could sit on the edge of his bed, flogging himself for the pleasure he found in your arms. how many more lashes it would take to absolve him of the sin of loving you.

you were worth every drop of blood, every sting of the rope. you were his temptation, his punishment, and his salvation all at once. he would willingly suffer for you, again and again.

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thinking about pervert!clark kent and my brain is allll fuzzy 😵‍💫😵‍💫

pervert!clark . . . would definitely use his x-ray vision to peek under your clothes and see your lingerie, he can’t help himself, you always have the cutest lace sets, it’s like you do it on purpose just for him. delicate lace hugging your soft skin, sheer fabrics barely covering you, tiny little bows and intricate details that he knows you chose carefully. he’s memorized every lace pattern, every bow, every strap placement. that he could sketch them blindfolded, that he knows which sets are your favorites, which ones you wear when you’re feeling confident, playful, soft.

pervert!clark . . . would use his heightened senses to smell everything about you. from the soap you use, perfume, even your natural scent. it’s addicting to him and he can’t get enough of you. he’d always be standing just a bit too close, savoring it all. he might even smell areas you were just sitting or standing just to inhale the vanilla warmth of your lotion, the floral sweetness of your perfume, the fresh, clean scent of your shampoo.

pervert!clark . . . would listen in on your private conversations or alone time. he’d overhear you sharing secrets to your friends, possibly about him. your voice dropping into a hush, playful, teasing, as you talk about him. about how he’s so tall, broad, strong. about how his voice does something to you, how his hands are so big, how you can’t stop thinking about him, how you wonder what it would feel like to be touched by him—

pervert!clark . . . he’d overhear your intimate time, listening in on your moans as you touch yourself to thoughts of him. those soft little gasps, the hitch in your breath, the way your sheets rustle, the way your voice catches when you try to stay quiet. the way you whimper his name, the way you sigh, the way your heartbeat spikes. he’s already rock hard, just listening to you fall apart for him—without him even being there. even while you’re in the shower, he’s outside the door—listening, the soft hum of a song you don’t even realize you’re singing, the sighs of relaxation when the heat soaks into your muscles, he’s probably getting off too as he uses his x-ray vision to see through the walls. and he tries not to. he really does. but then you sigh, body shifting under the heat of the water, and he caves. his x-ray vision flickers on. and there you are—completely bare, steam curling around your skin, water tracing paths down every curve. you have no idea. no idea that clark is right outside your door, stroking his dick, his grip tight as he chases his orgasm, biting his lip so hard it nearly bleeds. no idea that he’s watching you, hearing you, soaking in every fucking second. that if you even cracked that door open, you’d see him standing there—flushed, panting, wrecked just from looking at you.

pervert!clark . . . with his super speed could disappear right before your eyes, and you’d never know he was there. he’d be in your room, possibly watching you sleep as he fucks his fist in the dark corners of your room. it’s too easy to be right here, in your space, watching over you while you’re completely unaware. and fuck—you look so soft. so peaceful. so vulnerable. he’d probably open up your closet or drawers needing to feel a piece of your clothing between his hands, even the smell of you, he’d hold the shirt up to his face, palming himself through his sweats as he breathes you in, again and again, inhaling the sweet smell as it conveniently muffles the desperate little moans slipping past his lips.

pervert!clark . . . would sneak into your room while you’re gone, running his hands over your blankets or pillows. the satin sheets feeling like liquid under his fingertips. then he does what he always does—he buries his face in your pillow, inhaling deeply, letting your scent fill his lungs like it’s something he physically needs to survive. would you feel his presence in your sheets when you slide into bed tonight? would you toss and turn, restless, wondering why your skin tingles, why your breath comes just a little quicker?

clark hopes so….

a/n ; i have so many thoughts for this cause our boy ck is already a bit of a freak and i’m alr thinking of a part two 🫣 lmk if you guys like ! show me luvv 😚