Mix ‘n’ Match

Rulebreaker | CS55

pairing: fem brat!reader x brat tamer!carlos sainz jr

genre: smut, 18+ MINORS DNI, language, dom!carlos x brat!reader, spanking (mostly with hands, briefly with a belt), sir kink, degradation, a wee bit of praise, names used for reader (princesa, cariño, slut, good girl), fingering, unprotected p in v (use protection irl!!!), mention of safeword but no use of it, aftercare

requested: sort of based on an ask I got for another driver that I couldn't make it work for

word count: 5.3k

author's note: i hope y'all like this one! i've been working on this for ages now and it got really really long so as always feedback of any kind is much appreciated!

You knew you weren't supposed to.

You knew you really weren't supposed to.

But it had been weeks without seeing Carlos and at this point you felt like you were losing your mind, so you muster the strength to drag yourself upstairs to your bedroom.

Really it was Carlos' bedroom, since you were housesitting for him while he was gone. You weren't sure if that was making it better or worse - constantly being surrounded by his things, sleeping in his sheets, wearing his shirts because they smelled like him.

At least for right now, those last two were about to be very helpful, as you dropped yourself onto the still messy sheets you'd been sleeping in, inhaling the scent of him as you grabbed your vibe from your bedside table where you'd stashed it. You knew you weren't supposed to touch yourself, so you really didn't even know why you'd brought it in the first place, but you just needed some kind of relief - even without Carlos here to give it to you.

The fluffy pillows and sheets seemed to envelop you as you sank further in them, sighing with contentment as you started to trail your hands along your inner thighs, briefly teasing yourself through your panties before quickly discarding them, leaving you clothed only in an old t-shirt of Carlos'. His name left your lips in a breath as the vibrator made contact with your clit, tracing light circles around the bud before slowly applying more and more pressure.

You felt yourself getting wetter as you went, the shirt so oversized that it rested below your butt, meaning that when a drop of your arousal trailed down from your cunt, it landed on Carlos' shirt. It was so filthy that a moan tore out of you, harsh and unexpected, at the thought of your arousal mixing with the smell of him on the shirt, digging your face deeper into the pillow next to your head to inhale him as much as you could. Your back had started to bow off the bed, legs twitching around your hand as you fought to keep them open. Forcing your other hand to leave its spot latched onto the sheets at your side, you slowly sank a finger into yourself, just barely brushing that spot as you -

Heard your ringtone go off.

Huffing in frustration, you instinctively went to turn your phone off when you stopped to actually read the name on the screen. You dropped everything else you'd been doing, picking up the phone before it finished the third ring.

"Carlos!"

His chuckle came through the speaker first, deeper than usual, and a little bit scratchy, telling you that wherever he was (you'd lost track at this point), he'd just woken up. "Hi, cariño, how're you doing?"

"I'm fine, I miss you though," you inhaled deeper than you normally would've, the effort to catch your breath reminding you of what you'd just been doing, and just how much you were not supposed to be doing it. "A lot," you added belatedly, swallowing hard to try not to show your actions in your voice.

"I know, I miss you too. Are you taking care of yourself while I'm gone? Your voice sounds a little hoarse." He was only being sweet, but your mouth went dry at the question, mind racing to try and come up with a convincing enough excuse that- "Cariño? Are you still there?"

Shit. "Oh, um - yes! Sorry, I think the call cut out or something," you mumbled, hoping if you said it quickly enough he wouldn't think too hard about what you'd said. "But yeah, I think I might have a little cold. Nothing too bad, but my throat's been a little," you cleared your throat with a small (and hopefully convincing) cough, "sore for most of the day."

"Oh, well I'm sorry to hear that, princesa," Carlos cooed sympathetically, but there was a slight edge to his voice that you found a little odd, almost mocking. "You know how I hate it when you lie to me." Confused at how he'd found you out, you freeze, your lack of a response prompting him to explain, "I can hear your vibrator buzzing through the phone. Not that I needed that to tell what you've been doing, but that makes it pretty obvious, no?"

Your eyes went wide, darting to the vibe where it sat, abandoned and still buzzing away, where you'd thrown it down on the sheets. Shutting it off quickly, you shoved it away under the sheets, like that would make any sort of difference when he'd already heard it and knew what it was.

"Carlos, I-"

"Honestly, cariño, did you really think I wouldn't notice?" His voice had gone hard, still gruff and deep from having slept, and that ache in your core that you'd temporarily forgotten about returned tenfold at the sound of it. "Did you forget how much time I've spent memorizing all the little noises you make? The way your breathing changes when you're close? The way you either talk too slow or too fast because you can't think straight? The scratch in your voice when you've had your mouth hanging open while you moan?"

You could only clench your thighs in response, inhaling shakily at his filthy words. The idea of him being so occupied with thoughts of you and the ways you sounded when he touched you these past few weeks made you flush with heat, feeling it spread down your neck and chest, under the fabric of his shirt.

"You only had to wait a few more days, and you couldn't even manage that, could you? So disobedient, princesa," his breathing had deepened, and you realized with a start that your hand had returned to the apex of your thighs, trailing along the hem of the shirt laying atop your bare legs where they were tucked under you.

"I - I'm sorry," you finally breathed out. "I couldn't help it. You've just been gone for so long, and your rules are so unfair." Your voice took on a whine as you spoke, flopping down onto your back dramatically as you sighed. You'd been caught, so there was no real point in trying to behave anymore.

Carlos chuckled again, this time much darker than the last, "I know you think they're unfair, princesa. I can tell from how much you complain about them, and from how often you break them," voice tightening, like he was restraining himself. The sound of it sent your hand beneath the fabric of his t-shirt, creeping back towards your still exposed, still weeping cunt.

"Then maybe those rules should change," your fingers, still damp with your arousal, grazed your clit. "Since they don't seem to be working too well," the words rushed out of just a little too fast as you began to circle the bud again.

"Watch it, cariño. There's a reason you're not in charge," he warned, the exercise of authority making you whimper. "Now, be a good girl and get those fingers out of your tight little pussy."

You took a breath.

"Or what?"

Carlos' end of the call fell silent for a moment longer than you expected.

"You are playing with fire here, princesa."

The phone line clicked, and the call ended.

You tossed your phone to the end of the bed, frustrated in every way imaginable. If he was going to be such an asshole, the least he could do was let you get off to the sound of his voice while he was gone. Now, you were even more desperate than before, and in a few days' time when he returned, you knew he'd punish you.

A devilish thought occurred to you. If you were already in trouble, you might as well enjoy it then, right? Get as much out of the time before he came home as you possibly could.

You fell asleep right there later that night, satisfied (for now) and surrounded by the smell of Carlos and you mingling on his sheets. When the sun woke you, you'd slept so hard that for a brief moment the emptiness of the bed surprised you, before remembering that you still had four more days to go. And just like that, the frustration returned.

Completely undaunted by the disobedience now, you reached right down between your thighs, touching yourself to the thoughts of Carlos that had swum through your mind last night. You were so desperate.

So absorbed by the feeling of it.

So blind to anything but chasing that pleasure.

You didn't even hear the front door unlock.

Or the drop of a bag inside the doorway.

The sound of shoes walking through the living room.

Padding up the stairs.

Stopping in the threshold of the room.

Of his room.

"Dios, you are such a fucking brat."

The sound ripped you away from your fantasies, gasping as you sat straight up and nearly screaming out of shock. Carlos stood at the foot of your bed - his bed - watching you, dark eyes contrasting with the stark white shirt he wore, the first few buttons undone, and the sleeves rolled up his forearms. His hair was mussed (though probably not as badly as yours), like he'd barely slept on the plane, and his hands, hidden by the pockets of his dress pants, were undoubtedly clenched, judging by the bulging veins in his forearms. He looked furious.

He was furious. Had been ever since that phone call with you, after hearing your voice, breathy and full of attitude. He kept being furious during the pointless meetings he had to sit through for hours about god knows what, during the entire plane ride where his head swam with thoughts of you and what he would do to you when he got his hands on you, and during his drive back to his house where his knuckles went white from his grip on the wheel. And now, looking at you, sprawled in his bed, clad only in one of his shirts, moaning his name, he couldn't hold back the intense, primal feelings of possession that flooded him. With your face hot and breaths coming fast, eyes hazy with sleep and lust, and legs spread wide in front of him, leaving your pussy on display, glistening like you were welcoming him home, he knew he would've ruined you anyways, even without your constant disobedience. You couldn't follow his rules because you needed him that badly. Needed to feel his presence even when he wasn't there. He certainly had no issue with reminding you just how much he owned you.

"Carlos... you're... home early," you mumbled, out of breath from the shock of his arrival and the buildup of pleasure it ruined.

"Is that all you have to say for yourself?" He prowled closer to the end of the bed, and you subconsciously drew yourself closer to the headboard. You swallowed hard, clamping your jaw shut and refusing to give him any sort of answer. That would only make it worse for you. But you'd long since given up on staying out of trouble with Carlos.

That certainly wasn't new information to Carlos, either, but it still grated against him when you remained silent, the stubborn set of your brows as you tried your damnedest to stare him down only stoking his need to put you in your place. Glancing down to your still spread legs, Carlos allowed his eyes to trail hungrily over you once more, before reaching forward and grasping your ankle, tugging harshly. The force of it surprised a yelp out of you, bringing a grin to Carlos' face as he situated you at the end of the bed, legs spread to make room for him between them as he stood over you.

"Oh, princesa... you do know you're in trouble, no?" Fingertips grazed over your cheek, trailing down the column of your neck. When you remained silent, the light touch of fingertips became his full palm, hand wrapping around your throat, slowly applying the tiniest bit of pressure. "It's cute, this little act of defiance you put on. Makes me want to fuck the fight right out of you." The grip tightens briefly, before disappearing altogether.

Then your face presses into the bedsheets, Carlos flipping you onto your front. He does it so easily, manhandling you with such minimal effort that it sends a thrum of heat through you. Strong, large hands roughly grope your ass cheeks, spreading them apart so he can see your cunt clearly.

"Such a needy little slut," he tsks, laughing wryly as your pussy clenches from the cold of the air and the pure filth of his words. And then, the heat of his hands and body are gone. You whine, knowing that with the mood he was in, he would make you wait and wait and wait before he followed through on his promise and actually fucked the defiance out of you (or at least tried to).

Turning your head to the side, you watch as Carlos settles himself on the side of the bed, cock already visibly hard through his trousers. "Get up," he tells, not asks, you, voice stern. The doting, adoring Carlos that you loved had taken a backseat to this almost predatory side of him, and you had to admit you loved it just as much. Opting to listen (for once) you stand up from the bed. "Good girl," he hums, pleased, "now strip for me." It's an easy enough task, shedding his shirt and letting it drop carelessly to the floor. His eyes don't leave your body for a moment, raking over your naked figure as if he'd never seen you before. Wordlessly, he patted his thigh, beckoning you to him, and you went willingly. You knew what he was telling you to do, but you still optimistically went to straddle him, earning you a swift smack to the thigh you had raised up onto the bed. "You know exactly what you're supposed to do right now, cariño. Don't make me tell you."

The contact had ratcheted up your awareness, feeling his every breath as you laid yourself across Carlos' lap, ass in the air and hands already gripping onto the bedsheets in front of you, knowing what was coming. "There, was that really so hard? Always wanting to cause trouble," he mused, hands caressing your ass again. "Always so big and brave in the beginning," his left hand traveled up your spine, tracing its path to the base of your neck. "But by the time I'm done with you, when I have you begging and shaking and crying for me, you always remember who's in charge."

The hand at the base of your neck grasped the hair there, yanking your head up and back so he could whisper into your ear. "You remember your safeword, mi amor?" he asked, checking in on you before actually starting anything.

"Yes, sir" you managed, speaking for the first time since you'd first seen him at the foot of the bed. He nodded, placing a kiss to your temple before shoving your head back down into the sheets.

Returning his left hand to the small of your back, while his right groped your ass, Carlos' voice resumed its darker timbre. "I spent a lot of time thinking about what kind of punishment you deserve for your little stunt over the phone." The thought of Carlos stewing in anger and lust for hours and hours making you shiver. "But that was before I came home to find you, knuckles deep in this needy little hole," he lets his fingers brush just barely against your entrance before retreating. "Same rules as usual, princesa: you count out loud for me, and if you miss one, we start over. You tell me when you're close, and if you come without my permission, we start over. Understood?"

Your nod earned you a sharp pinch on your cheek from where his hand had been tracing circles. "Yes, sir," you breathed out quickly, knowing by now what he was looking for.

"Good." With one final, gentle swipe of his hand, you feel his right hand leave your body, tensing in its absence. You feel its impact land, firmly, but not too harshly - yet.

"One," you breathe out, head tilted to the side to ensure he hears you clearly. He lands another spank. "Two." Harsher this time. "Three." Despite bracing yourself, you still flinch with every smack, body jolting as the sound echoes in the otherwise silent room. "Four." Your voice has already grown weaker, breathier. Heat rises where the blood has rushed to your stinging skin, already sensitive. "Five," he lands the next slap as you're inhaling to brace yourself, speeding up suddenly. "S-six, ah." Without meaning to, you squirm in his lap, earning you another quick slap that shocks a gasp out of you.

"Stop moving, princesa, or I will tie you down and make you take everything I give you," he grits out. "Got it?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"And what number was that?"

For a brief moment, your mind scrambles, distracted and overwhelmed. "S-seven?" It comes out as more of a question than an answer, and you cringe at the uncertainty of your own voice.

"You sure?" his hand stills on your ass, making your panic grow. But you can hear the lilt of his voice, can tell that he's trying to throw you off.

"Yes, sir," you answer, more confident this time.

"Good girl," he praises, but it's short lived, as another smack lands.

"Eight." The spanks are harder than they initially were, building in intensity, your skin aflame from his rough touch. "Nine." You're doing your best not to wriggle, hands clenched in the sheets like you're fighting yourself to stay put, but that doesn't stop the shakes wracking through your body. "Ten." Relief floods your body, knowing that, on a normal day, this is where Carlos stops. At this point he's gotten you drenched, arousal slicking your thighs, and part of you wonders if you've left a damp spot on his trousers. That little relief goes out the window when you feel his hand against you again, landing two harsh spanks in quick succession. "Eleven," you heave, "twelve."

The sound of Carlos' belt clinking as he removes it makes you freeze. "Carlos?" you question, voice small and unsure.

"I told you, cariño, the punishment I had planned for you at first was before I found you touching yourself, again." His left hand wraps around the front of your throat, bringing your torso up so he can speak directly into your ear once again. "The punishment needs to fit the crime, and you've been very, very bad," he coos, grazing your ass ever so slightly with the belt in his right hand. You shiver. "I'm gonna give you two with this, and then we're done with the spanking, alright, cariño?"

After a moment, you nod, and the slight tick of a pressure increase on your throat reminds you to speak your answer. "O-okay."

The leather of his belt drags against your inflamed flesh, before he pulls his hand back. He allows your head to return to the bed, resting it back against the sheets, and you hear him wrapping the belt around his right hand.

When the belt cracks against your ass, you cry out, body lurching forward, nearly leaping out of Carlos' lap before he grabs you by the hip, holding you in place. "Thirteen," you whimper out, voice breaking. Carlos' free hand rubs soothing circles against your hip, calming you down from the jolt of the impact. "Fuck, fourteen." Your breathing has gone ragged, chest heaving in an uneven, staccato pattern. You feel Carlos throwing your body around again, tossing you onto your back on the bed as you try to catch your breath.

He stands over you again, a predatory glint in his eyes, not giving you time to recover before sliding a finger straight inside of you. It punches the air out of you, your moan silent without air in your lungs to put any sound into it. Carlos chooses a rapid pace, aided by how wet you've become, and the squelch of him pressing a second digit into you is the most obscene sound you've ever heard.

"God, you look so fucking good like this, princesa. Shaking around my fingers," he curls them, hard, to make his point, grinning at the way your body reacts to the touch. "Such a desperate little slut, aren't you? My desperate little slut."

The sting of his palm landing on your inner thigh forces your eyes open. "Yes, sir - oh, fuck- only for you," you squeak out. You realize with a start that there are tears forming in your eyes, most likely from your punishment, though the way your building pleasure mixes with the pain only intensifies the feeling. The tension in your belly goes taught as Carlos' thumb begins drawing circles on your clit, arching into his touch. Everything you're feeling is so overwhelming, you almost forget yourself. "C-close, sir, I'm - ah - close."

"Yeah? You wanna come, cariño?" His eyes glint at the sound of your pleas, incoherent as they may be. "Too bad," he growls, pulling his fingers out of you as you whine at the loss of contact, earning you another light smack to your inner thigh. "Don't be greedy, amor."

"I - I'm sorry, sir," you sob out, chest heaving for breath.

Rough hands grip you by the waist and harshly yank you to the edge of the bed, flipping you onto your stomach and letting your legs hang off the bed, toes just barely skimming the ground. Carlos traces patterns on the red, raw skin of your ass, and you flinch away from the feeling without meaning to. In response, Carlos digs his hand into the hair at the base of your neck, tugging you up to speak directly into your ear.

"I'm going to fuck you now, cariño, and you're going to take everything I give you, or you don't get to come, got it?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"You going to take it like a good girl, princesa?"

"Yes, sir, yes, whatever you want, I'll be good," you fought to keep the needy edge out of your voice, not wanting to sound too demanding of him.

"Good girl," Carlos left a series of searing kisses down your neck, trailing onto your shoulder and down your back as he let you fall back down onto the bed. He hadn't even fucked you yet and you had already gone completely limp, unable to hold up your own body weight.

A large, warm hand splays across your lower back as his lips reach it, touch gentle but firm as he holds you to the bed, standing to his full height again as he yanks his trousers and boxers down just enough to pull himself out.

"Look so beautiful like this, princesa, such a pretty little slut for me," Carlos rasps out, voice low and gravelly, and you can tell just from the sound of it that he's stroking himself. Trying to make you squirm, testing to see if you'll whine at the lack of attention, or do that thing where you wiggle your ass at him to try to get him inside you. But at least for the time being, you're done misbehaving. You need him too badly to risk it being taken away again.

"Just for you, sir. Only you," you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear so he doesn't think you're demanding anything, throwing a glance over your shoulder that you hope strikes the right balance between obedience and seduction.

Based on the way his eyes darken and the hand spread on your back presses done just the tiniest bit more firmly, you're pretty sure you succeeded.

You know you did when he starts to slide into you, eyes staying on yours as both of his hands land on your waist. The feeling of him pushing into you, on top of the thought of just how much of you his hands manage to cover, has your head dropping back down onto the bed with a moan.

Carlos' mouth tilts up in a grin at how quickly you fold, how immediately you become pliant once his dick is in you. Hell, he hasn't even bottomed out yet, and you're already squirming and whining and clawing at the sheets. "Taking me so well, princesa," he coos, just as he snaps his hips flush with yours, filling you up the last few inches suddenly. The combination of him completely filling you, and the praise makes your head spin, and he knows it. It's why he knows to hold back the praise, to mix it in with the degradation, because that makes it all the more potent when he finally gives it. When you finally earn it. Plus, you get off on disobeying him too much for him to not make you work for it - otherwise, you'd have turned into a little monster by now. The thought makes him grin further to himself, thinking that at least you're his little monster.

He knows your body too well. Carlos can tell from the way you're squirming that you're beyond desperate for him to move, but that you're trying even more desperately to be good for him, to hold still, to take what he gives you and not demand anything more. Kisses trail down your back and shoulders, and even though you can feel the smile on his lips, you don't have the mental strength to process what it means right now. Carlos likes it when you have to try like this, likes that he can do this to you, can make you this needy for him, and that despite all of that, your need to please him, to be good for him, overrides your own desire for pleasure. For all of your talk and pretended disobedience, the moment he's in you, you submit to him completely. When he thinks about it too hard, it makes his cock throb inside you.

The sound of your whimpers draws Carlos back out of his thoughts, the noises escaping despite your best efforts. "Being a good little slut now that you're full of my cock, huh? Fuck, princesa, I love those pathetic little noises you make." He bends over you again to speak directly into your ear, and you whine at the way it makes him shift inside you. "I want you to let me hear every single one, cariño. Don't hold back on me, no?"

"I w-won't, sir. I won't, promise," you babble. At this point, you were willing to say damn near anything as long as it meant he would start moving.

"Good girl," he purrs, staying bent over you as he slowly pulls out until just the head of his cock remains inside you. Again, he pauses there for a moment, relishing the way you whimpered as he moved. Then, after he's had his fill of making you squirm in need, he thrusts back in, hard. It knocks the breath out of you, forcing a sharp cry from your mouth at the sudden and harsh way he fills you back up. He continues the pace like that, pulling out slow and thrusting back in with as much force as he can, hips slapping your already raw and sensitive ass when they meet yours.

You keep your promise to Carlos, letting every little sound he elicits from you out unabashedly, your small ah-ah's turning almost into shouts each time his hips are flush with yours. His hot breath on your neck and his broad, firm chest pressed to your back make it impossible to think about anything other than Carlos, Carlos, Carlos. The way his body cages yours in while he manhandles you, pulling your hips to where he wants them, has your moans ripping out of your chest with even more force. As Carlos starts to snap his hips faster, not pulling out all the way in favor of increasing his pace, each thrust punches noises out of you, becoming increasingly embarrassing the more worked up he gets you.

"Fuuuck, that's it, cariño, let me hear you, let me hear how good I make you feel," he encourages, one hand snaking into the hair at the base of your skull to force your face out from its hiding place in the bedsheets. "Wanna hear how much you like it when I fuck you like this. You like this, princesa? You like taking my cock like a good little slut?"

You can only whine desperately, nodding as best you can with Carlos' grip on your hair tightening. "Yeah? Say it, then, princesa. Tell me how much you love taking my cock."

It takes you a moment to process his words, mind feeling hazy from the lust and from returning to the brink of your orgasm, and the delay has Carlos fucking into you just the slightest bit harsher. "Fuck! I - I like it! I love t-taking your cock, sir, love b-being your s-slut, please," you gasp out the last word, the air forced from your lungs by the combination of the force of his thrusts and his other hand landing on your clit.

"Please what? Use your words, princesa." At first, the only response he gets is your high-pitched squeal as his fingers press harsh circles into your clit. "Come on, cariño, you can do it, use your words and tell me what my little slut wants."

"P-please, sir, please let me come, please sir, please," you babble, words becoming incoherent shortly after, devolving into whimpers and keens that resemble words like please and sir over and over again.

"Aw, look at you, cariño, using your words and asking so sweetly," he coos, causing your face to flush with heat even further at the mixture of praising and teasing words. "Alright, princesa, you can come. Come all over my cock for me, yeah? Come all over me so I can fill you up, wanna feel you clenching around me when I come in you," Carlos begins to ramble. Getting closer and closer, he tips over the edge as you come around him, walls squeezing tight around his pulsating cock as it throbs in you, marking you from the inside out.

Carlos doesn't pull out right away, basking in the feel of you wrapped around him, head resting between your shoulder blades as he gropes your ass. Occasionally, he squeezes particularly hard, and you whimper from the sensitivity, drawing a deep chuckle out of him that reverberates against the bare skin of your back. Carlos begins leaving kisses down the line of your spine, slowly drawing out of you.

Your body sags even further into the bed, completely spent, and you jolt away from him when you feel two large fingers at your entrance. With his other hand, Carlos grips your hip, holding you in place, as he watches his cum drip out of you, slowly pushing it back in with his fingers. "Can't let this go to waste, cariño. Got to make sure you remember who's in charge, no?"

You nod weakly, no energy or desire left to fight him (for now). Once Carlos is satisfied with his reminder to you, he rises, gently pulling you off of the bed and into his arms. He scoops you up easily, cradling you as he walks to the bathroom and gets the water running, kissing your head softly and murmuring praise as he sits on the edge of the tub, holding you to him tightly. Your body curls into the warmth of him, allowing yourself to be cared for since you're not even sure you could stand on your own right now. He says something about not falling sleep just yet, and then he's lifting you into the bath, smiling fondly at the pout you throw his way when he stops holding you. "Don't worry, cariño, I'm not going anywhere," Carlos hums, slipping in behind you and pulling you to his chest. "I'm staying right here."

sex on fire | masterlist

ceo!joel miller x f!reader | ao3 | playlist

you've worked for joel miller for three years now, as his personal assistant. answering calls, organizing his schedule, fulfilling every request he could dream of. it pays well, you know you're good at it, and you get along with all of your coworkers. there's just one you get along with...a little too well.

please check out individual chapter content warnings before reading!!! this series features adult content.

series warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel is late 40s), inappropriate work relationship, cursing, alcohol + dr*g use, displays of wealth, daddy kink, sugardaddy!joel, themes of abandonment, mentions of pregnancy & periods, smut, angst, fluff.

main series

chapter 1: you shook me all night long

chapter 2: state-of-the-art

chapter 3: mile high

chapter 4: la petite mort

chapter 5: faire l'amour

chapter 6: ace

chapter 7: 1691 maple

chapter 8: you'll hurt me if you don't trust me

chapter 9: little aphrodite

✨ chapter 10: champagne problems ✨

chapter 11: coming soon!

chapter 12

epilogue

bonus

➵ hanging on the telephone

drabbles

➵ joel taking reader on his sailboat

features ➵ sex on fire wallpapers by @dundienominee

➵ sex on fire moodboard by @5oh5

Poly Pairings

Key: ♤angst ♡fluff ◇hurt/comfort ♧spicy ☆smut ○crack

Lestappen

Stop Thirsting♡ Mr. Blue Sky ♤♡ Baby Daddy☆ Attitude☆ Sad Boy Hours♤ Joint Coping♤◇ Hidden In Plain Sight♤♡ One for me and One for you◇ Ma Belle♡ Don't leave us♤◇

Landoscar

Sharing Is Caring ☆ Still have you♤ Ride ☆ Wish come true◇ Possesive☆ The responsible one♡○ Hold Me♡◇ Viva Las Vegas♡♧ Breathe For Me♤◇ Breaking point♤ Flowers in your throat♤◇ So Powerful, So Vulnerable◇○ Medication Mishap♡

Maxiel

Caught in a Lie☆

Carlando

Mentor Them☆○ The Wolf, the Bunny, and the Muppet☆

Charlos

Collapse◇

Dando

My love, my life, and my nerodivergent partners in crime♡○ Saftey In Your Arms◇

Loscar

Celebratory Kissing☆

Max and Oscar

Not your fault♤◇

Norlestappen

What you Deserve♤♡◇ Rest♡◇ Music Notes♤◇ Unrequited Understanding♤

2019 Rookies

Anfractuosity♤

Max, Lando, and Daniel

Cutting Tensions☆

Oscar, Logan, and Liam

Fair Play♡○ Panicking! In Your Arms♡◇ A Little Lost♡◇

Every Step of the Way◇

PLEASE can we get more HOAF ?? Maybe their wedding with absolutely adorable Milo and Olivia OR their wedding night 👀👀👀 ~nurse-sainz

as two of you know, I've been seriously thinking about the hoaf second series. It has a title, but, because I don't want to start ANOTHER series until I finish a current one, it's something I'm going to be working on behind the scenes

1.7K

Warnings: Pregnancy, pregnancy hormones

Series Masterlist

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She'd never expected to be pregnant on her wedding day. It was nobody's dream, to be round and swollen while stuffed into a pretty white dress that you just know would look so much better if you weren't pregnant, on your feet all day, unable to partake in any of the drinking.

Her bachelorette party wasn't all that. But she didn't want it to be. The only people she would have invited were the other wags, girls she didn't know all that well. No, her bachelorette party was her and Olivia getting their hair and nails done.

They ended the day getting dinner, just the two of them. They sat there, sharing a too big pizza while Olivia went over her details plans of the wedding.

It was the best bachelorette party ever.

Daniel had two bachelor parties. One that was organised by Max and Lando to be the wildest night of his life, with almost all of the grid accompanying them. And one where he could invite Milo.

The party with Milo was mini golf. Carlos was happy to carry Milo around on his shoulders, teach him all that he knew. The boys had all agreed to let Milo win, but he didn't have to know that. After the golf they had dinner and drinks.

One thing about Milo was he couldn't keep his mouth shut about the baby. Maybe Daniel should have reminded him that Baby Ricciardo was a secret, but he didn't expect Milo to just blurt it out, either.

But none of the drivers were surprised. They couldn't be surprised about baby Ricciardo, not when the couple hadn't exactly been good at hiding it. Daniel's hand on her stomach, the little list of baby names they'd all seen on his phone.

The party without Milo, when Milo was at home with Olivia and his momma, it really was a party. Loud music, drinks, dancing, it had everything. But, the moment Daniel got more than three drinks in his system, he was talking about her.

Arm over Max's shoulder as he slurred out his name and how much he loved her. "I want to have another girl," he said to Max, but it was barely audible. "A little girl that looks just like her."

When she had her first dress fitting, there wasn't a bump. Or, at least, the bump did little to change her frame. Her dream dress fit like a glove and Daniel's mother was crying.

It was naïve to think that the dress would still fit by the time the wedding rolled around. Her bump had gotten exponentially bigger, to the point where she couldn't hit it anymore. Now that the drivers knew, it was only time that the rest of the world knew.

They didn't announce it in any way. No, Daniel's Instagram usually had a picture of her in his photo dumps and this was no exception. Just, this time, her bump was visible in the picture.

If the world of F1 was losing its collective shit, neither of them noticed. The Ricciardo family was wrapped up in their own little bubble, just the way they liked it.

A week before the wedding, her dream dress wasn't fitting. Why the fuck wasn't it fitting? Well, she knew why. It was stupid to think anything would fit over her bump.

"I hate this baby," she said through tears as she rubbed her bump. No, she didn't hate baby Ricciardo, not in the slightest. Actually, she loved baby Ricciardo more than anything. But still, she couldn't help but wish she wasn't pregnant.

The dress she wore on her wedding day wasn't her dream dress. She couldn't wear those cute white heels she wanted to wear, couldn't even see her feet.

As she stared at herself in the mirror, just an hour away from being walked down the aisle, an hour away from marrying the love of her life, she was ready to cry. She held it back, though, couldn't afford to ruin her makeup. "What're we gonna do with you?" She whispered as she cradled her bump.

"Momma?"

She looked at Milo in the mirror before she turned towards him. "C'mere, baby," she said and held her hands out towards him. Fuck, how was he almost seven?

As her son wrapped his arms around her, she wanted time to stop. Just stop, let her live in this moment forever. He was growing up so damn fast, he was going to be a big brother soon. "You look beautiful, momma," he said.

This time, she couldn't help the tears. Stupid pregnancy hormones. "Thank you, Miley," she said through a shaky breath as she stood up and grabbed a tissue. Gently she dabbed at her eyes, trying to save her makeup.

She smoothed her dress over her bump and took Milo's hand. "Let's go become Ricciardos."

Daniel had never been this nervous before. Not in his first race back after McLaren had let him go. He was sweating in his suit as Max stood with him. All of their guests were seated, but the most important people were missing.

The door opened and Olivia and one of her friends, one that had been over a few times, walked in. They tossed the petals out of the little white basket as she walked in behind her.

Daniel knew her relationship with her family was... strenuous, at best. That was why they weren't at the wedding. With her father not there to walk her down the aisle, Milo held her hand.

Daniel's breath caught in his throat. He knew she wasn't in her dream dress, not the dress that matched Olivia's, but she still looked amazing. Holy fuck, it was enough to bring tears to her eyes. But that wasn't what actually did it.

Milo was the one walking her down the aisle. Milo in his little suit that near matched Daniels. He stood tall and proud, head held high as he walked his mother towards his step father. 

The kids sat together through the ceremony. Milo couldn’t stop himself from fiddling with the little pieces of petals as his mother got married. They were incredibly well behaved throughout, with Olivia’s grandparents, and Milo’s grandparents now, too, keeping them company. 

This close, Daniel could see the faults in her makeup. He didn’t care about the faults, she looked gorgeous with or without it. But still, Daniel could see the smudges under her eyes as he slipped the ring onto her finger. 

Mrs Ricciardo. She was Mrs Ricciardo now. 

Daniel didn’t say anything about the evidence of her tears as he kissed her. And, once he had his mouth on her, he never wanted to stop kissing her. He couldn’t dip her, like he wanted to, but his hand cradled her bump, cradled baby Ricciardo. His baby. She was his wife and she was carrying his baby. 

This was the best day of his life. 

Their family and friends were cheering as he walked her out of the church and into the car. Even then, even in the car, he couldn’t keep his lips on her. But he had to make sure she was okay, that took precedent. Even knowing that, Daniel couldn’t pull his lips away from her own. So the words were mumbled against her lips. “Were you crying?”

He tried to sound concerned, by her lips against his had his voice coming out as more of a desperate whine. 

But, as soon as he said it, she pulled away. “I’m fine, Danny,” she said and went to rub at her eyes, rub away the evidence of her tears.

Daniel caught her wrists. “You look beautiful,” he whispered and kissed her again. “My wife looks beautiful.”

The way she looked up at him, fuck, he could have kept her in that car forever. “Say it again.”

“My wife.”

When they arrived at the reception venue, their friends and family were there, waiting. As soon as they climbed out of the car, Milo and Olivia were pulling away from their grandparents, racing towards them. Daniel couldn’t help but pick Olivia up and place her on his hip as Milo held his mothers leg.

“Are we a family now?” Olivia asked, her voice coming out almost like a demand. 

But nobody could blame her. She’d been waiting for this moment for a year and a half. 

Daniel rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. “We always were a family, Badger.”

There was no part of her wedding that the new Mrs Ricciardo didn’t enjoy. She wasn’t in her dream dress, but, now she had that ring on her finger, now she was married to the love of her life, she didn’t much care. 

She danced, but she didn’t dance the night away, like she had dreamed. She couldn’t help but be emotional as she sat with Daniel’s parents, her mother and father in law, watching the guests at her wedding. They were dancing more than she was, at her own wedding. 

Holding her bump, speaking softly to baby Ricciardo, she watched as her husband and her children danced. Daniel’s grin was so wide as the three of them were the centre of attention on the dance floor. That was the man she loved. That was the man she married. 

“Your daddy, your siblings and I can’t wait to meet you,” she whispered to baby Ricciardo as her mother and father in law watched on, hearts melting. “You’ve got the best daddy going.”

And, as Daniel put Olivia down after spinning her around, he looked over to his wife. She smiled at him, a smile he’d never forget. As Olivia went to dance with Lando and Max took Milo to get something to drink, Daniel walked over to her. 

“Hi, baby,” he said as his hand met her bump. And then he looked up at his wife, meeting her eyes. “Hi, Mrs Ricciardo.”

“Hi, Mr Ricciardo.”

He kissed her, and she never wanted to let him go.

If you enjoyed this, please feel free to buy me a coffee

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool

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Just A Bite - Carlos Sainz Jr

Summary: Carlos, the foodie who knows no limit to what he'll try with food, and his girlfriend, who only knows limits to what she'll try with food, strike a deal that she has to try at least one bite of new things when he can promise her that they taste good.

Picky eater!reader (especially with tomatoes - shout out to anyone who hates tomatoes)

No part 2 requests please

Carlos comes from a family of foodies and he always imagined he'd go on to have a family of his own who are foodies. Then he fell hard for y/n who almost looks at any new food with genuine fear.

One key thing is she does have a sweet tooth so it's not always so hard to convince her to eat something sweet though if she's not certain about it then it's written all over her face. It is in those moments where she's completely untrusting of whatever food he's trying to get her to try that are fairly entertaining.

Today he decided to go easy on her since a few days ago his family had a meal and the poor woman was trying a lot of things while trying to dodge tomatoes, which in a Spanish family is near impossible. Her one line that is not to be crossed for the one bite rule is that she doesn't have to try anything with tomato unless she decides otherwise (which is never).

To her credit, she did end up liking a few things after he held her to the one bite rule.

"Pancakes?" Carlos offers making y/n perk up brightly.

If there's one thing that Carlos can make to get a smile out of y/n it's pancakes and he prides himself so much on that.

"Please?" Y/n nods looking fairly excited since it's not that often that Carlos makes the pancakes and she always likes to sit and watch him make them.

Y/n smiles climbing on the island counter and recording some moments, mainly for her own memories but she always likes to share her boyfriend's culinary skills since Carlos is a pretty good cook. The same can't be said for a lot of the drivers but he certainly does have that life skill.

"What toppings?" Carlos asks making her smile. "Strawberries?"

"I'll do them." Y/n states jumping down and getting the strawberries from the fridge.

She washes them before standing next to Carlos and beginning to chop them up.

Eventually the pancakes are cooked and piled up with toppings of strawberries, syrup and y/n talks Carlos into letting her add some whipped cream.

"Perfect bite, strawberry, syrup, cream and pancake." Carlos grins as he raises some pancake to her mouth for her. "Good?"

"The best." Y/n confirms before she giggles and leans over kissing him lightly.

-

Going out to eat at competitions is the norm and it means Carlos gets to challenge y/n with a lot of "just one bite"s which he loves even if she looks like she'd happily hit him with a plate.

"You're so pretty." Carlos laughs as y/n pulls a grimace in expression tasting a dip for the tortilla chips and proving that she is not a fan.

"Shut up." Y/n giggles since she doesn't actually think it's that serious.

"Not good?" Carlos asks making her shake her head before he nods. "I'll have it. You can have the humous."

"Thank you." Y/n grins leaning over and kissing him.

"It's only the starter. I'll get you to try more." Carlos smiles making her look at him for a moment.

Y/n hums since his mission is absolutely continuing and it's only just the beginning for it.

"You know I think forcing you to take a bite of a food that you know you're going to hate is my favourite part of our relationship." Carlos comments making her raise her eyebrows in question, a light smirk on her lips as she tilts her head a little. "One of my favourite parts-top 3."

"Oh top 3? What's the other 2?" Y/n asks earning a smile from Spaniard.

"No appropriate for restaurant conversation, y/n. You need to learn to behave." Carlos scolds playfully while she shrugs and smiles innocently at him.

Y/n ends up liking 4 out of 5 dishes, tomatoes striking again which Carlos couldn't bribe her into trying. So he ate most of it and then wasn't handed a few pieces of gum after the meal because she won't even kiss him if there's a chance of tomato flavour exchange.

Carlos does end up also getting a to-go box with a few of the desserts for them to snack on later, though we says it's for both of them, he really just gets them for y/n. But she wouldn't allow get any dessert if he didn't pretend that it was for both of them.

-

Catering for the team is another hurdle that always has to be tackled but generally the team is pretty accommodating and they do always check if y/n is going to be there to make sure they make y/n something special or catch her and ask if she has any requests.

In fact Carlos thinks they care more about what she wants to eat than either himself or Charles.

"Per te, bellissima." The catering chef states placing a place of carbonara down in front of the young woman.

"Grazie." Y/n smiles before leaning in when the woman touches her chin to kiss her cheek.

"Mangiare. Mangiare."

"How do you manage to charm more people with no effort than anyone else?" Carlos jokes while y/n grins brightly at him picking up her fork and spoon and beginning to eat as he shuffles closers while she takes a bite. "Can I have some?"

"You told me no more fatty food for the weekend." Y/n teases before she twirls her fork then holding some pasta to his mouth for him.

Safe to say food is their bonding point, whether it's because loving it, hating it or sharing it. Carlos is a foodie and y/n is picky but they find the perfect balance in that.

"I need to start asking them to make bigger portions so I can steal more than just a bite."

"You can have more." Y/n smiles offering another bite but he shakes his head since he doesn't actually want to steal that much of her food.

"No. No. You eat. I've got my meal plan for the day." Carlos states shaking his head lightly, instead just wanting to sit with her while she eats and he has the free time. He isn't eating his meal till later, but he spotted her and decided to sit down with her. "Gracias, mi amor."

"Te amo." Y/n mumbles with a smile.

"Yo también te amo." Carlos smiles leaning over and kissing her cheek.

Teaser: Azriel x Reader | The Beauty of Intimacy

request ~ smut ~ 3k words ~ angsty at the beginning ~ gentle love making coming: Jan. 2nd 2023

Nervousness coats your insides, your skin prickling. "I am not sure if I am…capable of having sex. Good sex, I mean. There is not one positive experience I have made and I am over 500, Azriel. It must have something to do with me."

A low chuckle leaves the shadowsinger and he gives his head a tiny shake, silken strands of onyx hair shifting with the movement. "There is nothing wrong with you, I am 100% positive about that."

You love his certainty, but you can’t quite agree with him.

"Why don’t I find it… pleasurable then?"

"Because you maybe have not yet been with the right male," Azriel says, his brow lifting in an almost cocky way. It is this slight arrogance that changes his demeanour, that makes your toes curl and the hair on his body stand. 

Your voice becomes a breathy whisper when you feel a shadow dance over your bare thigh and you lean forward. "And now I am?"

The spymaster’s low chuckle reverberates through you, his lips brushing yours and tingling them with the vibrations of his laugh. Azriel pecks you shortly and then says against your lips, "Now you are."

You change your sitting position, stretching your legs. "So you are going to convince me now that it is something enjoyable?"

The shadowsinger’s scarred hand smoothes up your foot, higher onto your leg and back down again. He lifts his gaze to yours and smirks. "I going to prove to you that sex is one of the most beautiful things in the world," he drawls, his index finger circling your ankle. "Only if you want that, of course."

Royally Fucked Series Masterlist

A Bodyguard!Daniel x Princess!OC story

Series Summary: Princess Juliette Clarendon’s structured life is upended when the charming and unorthodox Daniel Ricciardo replaces her trusted bodyguard. As she tests his abilities and grapples with his unexpected presence, she finds herself drawn to him in ways she never anticipated. Amid political intrigue and hidden dangers, Juliette struggles with her own pent-up desires, seeking solace and release from Daniel, whose dedication to her safety and willingness to go to any lengths for her only deepens their connection. Their evolving relationship faces challenges that test their trust and loyalty as they confront threats that could endanger both the kingdom and their bond.

This story includes mature content. It delves into the complexities of a princess and bodyguard relationship, exploring power imbalances and the dynamics of duty versus personal connection. The narrative features intimate scenes and adult situations that are central to the characters' development and the unfolding plot. Reader discretion is advised.

Status: Ongoing

#royally fkd fic talks -> writing process, answering asks about the story, and pretty much anything related to this fic series.

NO taglist for this story

Table Of Contents:

Meet Juliette Clarendon

1. Guarded Encounter (2.9k words)

2. Rekindled Autonomy (3.2k words)

3. Stirred Secrets (3.5k words)

4. Unexpected Danger (coming soon)

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work.

Amy's Masterlist

Finally got around to make a masterlist! If you notice any links to be wrong, please let me know! (There is more under the cut, it just took up too much space)

Poly!Marauders

Teach us, part one. Part two. No, like this. Mommy & Daddy punish their babies. Remus lets his friends "dom" their mommy.

No cocks in cunts (reader doesn't like penetration – continuation).

Waterfalls.

A good morning.

Reader gets punished for not following the rules.

Drunk reader not getting what she wants, part one. Part two.

Reader doesn't like penetration (blurb).

Subspace/First time.

Reader doesn't like blowjobs (blurb).

Reader is jealous of Lily (fluff), part one. Part two.

Thighfucking.

First time.

Needy reader.

Bukkake.

James Potter

NSFW Alphabet.

Jegulus - Lingere.

Sub!Jamie - Praise.

Unwind - x Reader

Sirius Black

NSFW Alphabet.

Remus Lupin

NSFW Alphabet.

Wolfstar

Frottage.

Rimming.

Kinkmas 2023.

Everyone lives - AU, not x reader.

Chasing Starlight: Chapter 19

Pairing: Poly!Feysand x female!Reader

Summary: After Nyx’s birth, Feyre is seeking to ease her way back into her duties as High Lady and balance her time at the gallery with being a new mother. To ease her mind, she and Rhys have decided to hire a new nanny, who turns out to be far more than either of them had bargained for.

When I wake again, it’s with a steady roaring in my ears and a mind-numbing ache just behind my eyes.

I want to cry, but my stomach immediately rebels against the idea with a wave of nausea so severe I have to clench my teeth against it. I roll onto my side, curling as tightly as I can into a ball to wait for it to pass. A soft, cool hand presses against my forehead, the side of my face, and some of the nausea eases a little, just enough for me to ease my eyes open.

All I can see is the clear, cool blue of Feyre’s eyes. I drag my next breath in through my teeth in an attempt to stifle the ragged sob that tears itself from my throat anyway. The tears leaking down my cheeks are too hot and pitiful in a way that might make me resent them, if only I weren’t so exhausted. I feel like I took a tumble down the side of a mountain, from the way every muscle in my body burns.

“Oh, my dove,” she whispers, running her thumb over my cheek the way she might soothe Nyx after a bad night. “You’ll feel better soon.”

“Hurts,” I whimper, closing my burning eyes once more. Two brief, timid knocks at the bedroom door draw a deep, guttural snarl from my mate I’ve not heard before, and I reach for that unclaimed mating bond on instinct. It feels so thin and fragile, like it might rip if I tug too hard, but I don’t have the time to be gentle with it. I feel her cool, quick hands slipping beneath me, lifting my body like I weigh no more than the bird that’s become my namesake. I sag against her, shuddering with relief at the feeling of her skin on mine.

The contact doesn’t eliminate the pain, but it does help alleviate the ache in my chest. I bury my nose in her neck and inhale her lilac and pear scent, letting it sink in like a balm. She wasn’t here when I woke the first time, neither was Rhys, but I hadn’t truly been able to think of them then, to let myself worry. Not when the instinct to check on the babe was driving me so much harder. But now?

“Where’s Rhys?” I croak, trying to lift my head. It feels like there’s fire coursing through my veins instead of blood, and everything is so heavy. It hurts to move, to breathe.

“He’ll be home soon, love.”

“And you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, everyone else is fine.” There are two more knocks at the door, louder this time before the door swings open, and a sudden burst of raw power shakes the foundation of the house on the heels of Feyre’s furious snarl. The scent of her raw magic is overwhelming, a tempest of icy shadows and seawater and starlight that sets jagged claws into something deep within my mind and pulls, as if to rip it from me. I scream, and I don’t know if it’s from the shock of it or the pain that rolls through my mind like a protective barrier, but it comes with an agony I have not known before.

The roar in my ears swells, its pitch sharpening as my vision bleeds to white, and the last thing I feel is the lip of a cold, glass bottle being shoved between my lips before everything is blissfully blank once more.

I’m lost in that wine-dark sea again, but this time there is no starlight to keep me company. There is only the cold and the darkness threatening to devour me. I twist between the waves, looking everywhere for a source of light, a thread to follow home but there’s nothing. Nothing. I don’t know how I’m supposed to exist in this endless expanse of nothing.

Perhaps this is simply a battle I’m not meant to win.

I allow the current to take me, to pull me down deeper until I come to rest on something soft that folds up around me like a cocoon. Whispers of safe flow around me in a voice so similar to my mother’s that I almost look around for her. Safe, safe, safe. She’d always been trying to protect me, hadn’t she? When I was little, she’d warn me not to run too far or climb too high. In most of my memories, she’s always hovering on the periphery, watching with pursed lips and shaking hands.

I hadn’t understood her fear then, not even when I began work as a nanny did I understand it. Now I think I might.

“You always do once you have babes of your own,” my mother’s voice says, echoing through the darkness around me like a siren’s call. “They show you how vulnerable you are, how fragile life can be. It’s easy to know fear once you are a mother.”

“I am not a mother,” I reply, fighting the rising tide of bitterness I have always refused to allow to overtake me. Images of Nyx come to me in waves, memories of his gummy smile and vibrant twilight blue eyes, but I bat them away with a lump in my throat. It’s true, I don’t believe I would love him more if I’d given birth to him, but I’m not his mother. “I never will be.”

“How definitive that word is,” the voice muses. “Never. It leaves no room for chance or miracles, there’s no possibility in the face of never. Isn’t that lonely, love?”

“Lonely?” The laugh breaks from me before I can swallow it: a cold, hollow thing, a reflection of a wound I’ve nursed in silence for many years. “I am alone, I have been alone for so long that I don’t know how to be anything else. I found my mates, my mates, most High Fae don’t ever dream of meeting their own and I have two that I don’t know how to love.”

“You know how to love, little fox. Your heart has always been much too large to be contained, you spill a little of it everywhere you go-”

“That may have been true once,” I acknowledge, curling in on myself, “then my family burned around me, and someone told me to run so I did. I ran as fast and as far as I could get, and I swore I’d never lose anyone else. And I haven’t. You can’t lose people you don’t love, and I haven’t truly loved anyone until-”

Until now. The darkness bearing my mother’s voice is mercifully silent, leaving me there in the dark and the cold to think and to grieve. I had a family once, I had a father and brothers- no, that had been a lie, hadn’t it? I’d had a mother, though, a mother who had sacrificed everything she had to hide me. If I think about her long enough, I can remember the sense of illness and exhaustion that clung to her like so much sludge, weighing her down in spite of her spirit and her work ethic. It had chased her to her grave, hadn’t it? I’d never questioned the sickness as a child, she’d been a healer, I thought…but the image of her staring at me from Eris’s side burns so clearly before me, of him feeding me the potion that would bind my magic for centuries. How much of her own magic that must have taken, to create a spell- no, a curse that would render me nearly useless for the entirety of my life.

Powerless, docile, a threat to no one.

Who could I possibly have been such a threat to that I needed to be hidden away? With only a trickle of healing magic…a trickle I have not touched in a very long time. Magic poisoning had been one of the first lessons we learned as novice healers; our magic is as intrinsic to us as the blood flowing through our veins, we are taught never to neglect it for a reason. Is this…is this my fault, did I do this? I hold up my hand and try to summon it, to draw even the slightest bead of magic, but all that rushes forward is a burning ache that is quickly smothered by the cold, merciful darkness.

A darkness so unlike the one I’ve been stranded in, one that glimmers with hints of starlight. It floods into the space, too expansive to be contained. Whatever had wrapped itself around me flakes away on a cool, pine-kissed breeze, and the stars burst to life in its absence.

“There you are.” This voice is dark and rich, so lovely I want to weep, and it’s close. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Rhys?” I ask, rising onto my knees as I search for him in the starlight. “Are you here? I can’t see you.”

Please don’t let this be all there is of him, please don’t let this be a cruel trick of my memory, please I…I don’t want to be left alone anymore. I’m tired of the endless darkness and searching. I want to live, I want to be happy, I…I don’t want to die here, cold and alone. I want to live.

“I’m right here,” the voice whispers in my ear, and it comes with strong arms that pull me flush against a warm, familiar body until I’m surrounded by the scents of citrus and lilac and something like an orchard in the rain. “You’re not alone, darling, we’d never leave you alone. We’re right here, you’re safe.”

“Am I? I feel so sick, Rhys, I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”

“We’re figuring it out, dove, I promise. Mor retrieved a healer from Dawn, one of Thesan’s best, and she's working with Madja on a cure. None of us have seen magic poisoning that behaves like this before, it’s hard to treat.”

“What do you mean?”

“Typically, you would want to drain the excess magic off in some way, your body should want to release it. But with yours, there’s a sort of substance coating it, like an oil. Every time there’s an attempt to drain off your magic, it surges forward and creates a barrier-”

“Just as my mother intended,” I muse, running my fingertips along the arm wrapped around my shoulders. Instead of soft skin, I’m surprised to feel smooth scales and downy feathers, something more akin to a beast than the male I’ve been sharing a bed with. But he’s warm and he smells the same, so I suppose the presentation doesn’t matter much.

“What do you mean?” He asks slowly, carefully, like perhaps he might be afraid of where this answer will lead us. Maybe I should be as well. “Dove?”

I deliberate for a moment, weighing the words carefully in my mind, then the back of a cold talon trails down the side of my face and that’s all it takes for me to tell him everything. From falling stars to the dark cabin hidden away in the forests of Autumn, it sounds like little more than a fever dream, but I know what I saw; I even told him about the ball of light that led me there and the vial I drank from that tasted like the heart of a storm. Rhys listens to my story in complete silence, and once it’s done we watch the stars dance around us the way we had that night in the tub. I wish we could do this every night, and when I say as much he simply holds me tighter.

“We can,” he says quietly. “We can, every night, once we get out of here-”

“Can’t we stay?” I ask, resting my heavy head against his arm. “It’s so peaceful here.”

“No, darling, we can’t. No one else can get here, not even Feyre. This place is very deep within your mind, it’s not safe for you to have other people here.”

“But you’re here.”

“I’ve been doing this for a long time, you know. Almost as long as I’ve been alive. The mind has a myriad of ways it can present: some are fortresses, others are more akin to open fields with rabbit warrens to hide their secrets. None of them are impossible to navigate if you know what to look for and where to apply pressure. You’ve been swimming through an ocean into dark chasms designed to swallow you up, little dove, but that’s not what your mind chose to show me.”

“What does it look like to you?”

“Our home, filled with books and portraits of your memories. Everywhere I looked had little traces of you: the faintest whiff of your scent like you just left the room, or a blanket on the couch that was still warm. All good signs that you were still there, if I could figure out where to look. But the further I walked, the colder it got, and it felt like I was walking into rooms you hadn’t touched in years. There were cobwebs and dust covering the books, and all of the portraits were so faded I could barely make sense of them. I thought to go back and start at the beginning, then I heard your voice on the other side of a door I hadn’t noticed, tucked away behind some stairs. Did you have a door like that growing up?”

“I don’t remember,” I croak. My voice is harder to summon than it had been before. “There’s a lot of my life I don’t remember, Rhys, and I don’t even know if forgetting is a choice I made anymore.”

The stars are beginning to wink out one by one, taking whatever warmth they brought with them as they go. It feels like a warning.

“I don’t know, love, we can try to find out. You have to come with me, though. We need to leave.”

“I’m too tired. Just go, I’ll come later-”

“If you stay here, you will die. This place is the deepest part of your mind, but it isn’t safe for you to stay for long, and it sounds like you’ve spent quite a bit of time here already.” His words are gentle, but the urgency in them feels like a shock to something vital within me, and I lift my head from his arm. It feels too heavy to hold up, but I fight the urge to lay it back down. “Let me take you back with me, love, let me take you home. Feyre and Nyx are there, they miss you. Don’t you want to see them?”

“I do,” I mumble, and he lifts me into his arms like it’s as easy as breathing. Perhaps for him it is, I don’t know, but when he carries me through the door he’d described, I feel the weight of my body crashing into me again. The pain is absolutely unbearable. I don’t know when I begin screaming, but it tells me that I’m still alive. Another bottle is poised at my lips and I suck the contents down willingly, hoping it will put an end to the fire coursing through my veins.

The burning goes on and on until the potion works through my bloodstream, cooling everything it touches like a minty kiss. The moment my tight, aching muscles relax and I can take a true breath, I become aware of the cool rag against my brow, delicately dabbing away the sweat with the care one might give a precious crystal vase. Lilac and pear carried on a night breeze, those are the scents that flood my senses. My mates, both of them, are here with me. I’m not alone.

You will not be alone, sweetheart. Feyre’s voice wraps around my mind like a blanket of thin silk, and I hum, gingerly shifting onto my side, making sure I’m comfortably settled before I allow my eyes to flutter open. There’s no light beyond the open windows, another day gone. How many days have I missed? The sheets beneath me are cool and clean, and the linen nightgown is new. The air filtering into the room is cold and refreshing, tinged with the first brush of winter’s chill. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” I mumble, focusing first on the pale, tattooed hand smoothing my hair back.

“How are you feeling?”

“Mmhh,” I groan, shaking my head. “Not…not great, but better.”

“Better is good,” Feyre says weakly and I follow the line of her arm to gaze up at her lovely, angular face. Her pursed lips are pale and bitten, the slope of her shoulders seem to bear the weight of the world on them. I wriggle and flail until she realizes what I’m doing and helps me to sit up, reclined against a pile of pillows. Even this small shift feels like it was a great effort, but I think I’ve slept enough. I run my hand along Feyre’s arm until it rests on the curve of her neck. I can feel her pulse beneath my fingers, strong and steady.

“What did the healer say?”

“Don’t worry about it now.” Her words are gentle, intended to ease my anxiety, but I shake my head slowly. I need to know. “We sent word to Helion, he’s coming in a few days to see if he can help Rhys break the spell binding your magic, from there…from there, we can see how much of the internal damage is permanent. For now, you will rest and drink the potions the healers bring.”

“I don’t think it’s going to work,” I murmur as my hand falls back to my lap. “You may want to reach out to Eris, he was there when it happened.”

“Eris?” she asks slowly, her nose wrinkling as she turns the information over in her mind. “I didn’t think he was capable of magic like that.”

“He’s not, my mother was. I don’t know the nature of their relationship, not really, but I saw…I don’t know what I saw. I’d like the opportunity to ask him about it, though. He should have some of the answers we’ll need and, more than that, there are things I think I…I think I need to know.” What their relationship was, what they saw in me as a newborn that was so dangerous it needed to be hidden so thoroughly, who my…who my father truly is. I think of the male who raised me, the brothers who had not truly been my brothers, and my heart aches at the elaborate lie they’d all agreed to tell.

I need to know why.

“Will you tell me about it when you’re ready?” Feyre’s fingers trail down the side of my face and I look back to her, nodding slowly. Vague wisps of memories of the night this mess began floated through my mind, and I think of the cold, terrible fog that had flooded over the house and pressed against the glass like it was searching for a way in.

“Feyre?”

“Yes, love?”

“That fog…” I stop speaking when her face darkens and reach for her hand instead.

“It was terrible, dove, but Rhysand and Azriel have the matter in hand. It took us a while to pinpoint the source, but the protective shield around the city activated to keep it contained, so there weren’t…issues beyond the city walls. It was an old magic that hasn’t been seen since the disappearance of the Dusk Court being wielded by someone it was never meant to come to. Admittedly, I don’t know much about it, Rhys has been overseeing the interrogation while I’ve been here with you. We’ll discuss it later, love. We’re all safe now.”

“I suppose that’s all that matters,” I tell her with a shrug. Honestly, I’m happy to leave ruling the territory to those who are far more suited to it. When I open my mouth to inquire about our missing mate, the handle on the bedroom door turns with a click and we both turn to see him slipping through it. It’s a relief to see Rhys dressed comfortably in loose linen pants and an open wool cardigan, broadcasting his intentions to spend the night in. It’s the sight of the babe curled in the crook of his arm, pressed snugly against his father’s chest that eases something deep within me, a knot of anxiety I hadn’t really been conscious of.

The three people I love most are safe.

Feyre moves to sit with her side flush against mine, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. I lean into her side- sag into it, really. I’m already so tired. Rhys settles on the edge of the bed beside us, his knees brushing against Feyre’s as he leans in to wordlessly place Nyx in my arms. There’s something unsettled in his expression I’ll ask about later, but the babe sniffling against my collarbone steals my attention. His fluffy, dark hair smells freshly washed, like the soap Mor always picks up for him during her shopping trips, and I can’t help but nuzzle my nose into it. Feyre’s free hand slips beneath his little wings to rub his back in slow, soothing circles, and Rhys rests his hands on our legs, giving us all a moment to connect.

To breathe each other in.

“I love you,” I murmur against the crown of Nyx’s head between featherlight kisses. I lift my burning eyes to look at his parents, my mates, and take a deep breath before I continue. “All three of you. I love you, I…I’m sorry I haven’t really said it before, not the way I’ve wanted to, but I do. I love you and I want you and this…and I’m so sorry-”

Rhysand leans in to kiss me then: slow and chaste and full of promise. The moment he pulls back, Feyre ducks down to take a kiss of her own, one that leaves me floating and more than a little breathless as she nuzzles her nose against my cheek. No words flow between us, but there's no doubt in my mind that the moment I'm well enough to do so, we'll be consummating this mating bond. I don't ever want to let them go.

ᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ ɪꜱ ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟᴇ

: ̗̀➛ dom!wandanat x sub!fem!reader

summary: desperate times call for desperate measures. after you lose your job and your roommate in the same month, you find yourself scrambling to find a new job to continue paying your bills. you apply for anything—even positions you most definitely are not qualified for. you’re surprised when you get a scheduled interview at the M.R. law. it was easily the most popular, well-known law firm in all of new york city. little did you know that interview would change the course of your life and open up a whole new world you never knew you wanted to experience.

au/background: wandanat who are two pretentious, successful and domineering women in between submissives. you, being the innocent little thing you are, have only heard the term “bdsm” once or twice and never really understood what that world consisted of. however, you’re curious, eager and always open to trying new things. you are somehow, something wandanat have always been looking for…they just didn’t know it.

a/n: i’ve been dying to write a wandanat series for awhile, i just wasn’t sure what i wanted it to be! now i know there are a few very popular wandanat fics out there (which i love), so i hope you all can understand that some themes/attitudes/characterizations may be similar to those other series’s. please note: i’m not purposely trying to copy or replicate anybody else’s work!

! ! parts ! !

☻ ↴

one: mrs. romanoff will see you now

two: a whole new world; a kinky place you never knew

three: is it too much, detka?

four: when life gives you dominants

five: when life gives you dominants pt. 2

six: the world we’ve charted before

seven: a different kind of attitude

eight: happy accidents

! ! one shots ! !

— uncharted territory

! ! au thoughts/reqs ! !

one || two || three || four || five || six || seven || eight || nine || ten