Kse22chili - Katerinapetrova

God is a woman | MS47

― Pairing: Mick Schumacher x fem!reader (she/her) ― Word count: 1k ― Warnings: +18; not proofread; suggestive content and mentions of sex; Minors DNI! ― Summary: Making out in bed never felt this deep and heart-stopping, but dating Mick and having him love you is a full experience of being a goddess. Your hips were his altar, and he would swear to everyone that God is a woman because you're it to him. ― A/n: I hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know your thoughts by reblogging and/or leaving me an ask (anons are on) *mwah* 🤍

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The candles were lit by the bedside table and the furniture by the closed window casting a warm glow in the whole room. It was early in the evening, but Mick and Yn were already in bed. In fact, they haven’t left it since the early hours of the day, just soaking up each other’s company and enjoying a lazy and free day. She was wearing one of his shirts and panties, while Mick settled for sweatpants that were hanging low on his hips, showing Yn the perfect amount of skin and trimmed hair that trailed into his boxers, but she was engrossed in one of her poetry books, while Mick tried to gather his thoughts after waking up from a nap. His fingers were tracing shapes on one of her thighs that were on top of his, he would squeeze and massage, and then with the tip of his fingers write his own poems. 

“It’s so interesting how Rupi Kaur portrays the feminine as divine, the creator, the goddess…” Yn observes out loud catching Mick’s attention. 

“That’s because it is.” His short answer makes her close the book, searching for his face.

“Huh?” 

Mick shakes his head and takes the opportunity to hover over her figure, eager for some of her love and light. Yn smiles, forgetting about whatever question she had on the tip of her tongue, the only thing her mouth wants now is him. 

When he dips his face and kills the space between them Yn whimpers widening her legs to shape it around his narrow waist, and lacing her arms around his broad shoulders. Mick coos when Yn drags her hips up to grind against his crotch. He trails wet kisses around her collarbone and neck while whispering praises and Yn enjoys it all with her eyes closed. She feels his fingers on her waist, he grips and squeezes, and then his fingers are tracing shapes on her tummy, and just a few seconds after they’re holding her ass softly, bringing her close to him. 

Yn moans.

Mick mumbles something in German.

Yn moans louder.

He smiles against her skin before chasing her lips again and kissing the air out of her lungs.

“Even your skin tastes good,” Mick whispers in a jovial tone before dragging his tongue on her neck, and Yn giggles hugging him close and looking for his neck to hide her face onto.

“Micky…”

“And your lips, they have the perfect shape, Schatzi,” the point of his index finger and middle finger trace around the shape of her lips, and Yn bites it lightly. 

He feels his heart skip a beat when she mouths an “I love you” to which he answers by pressing their foreheads together and staring into her eyes. The room is silent, but Yn can almost hear all the words his blue orbs are screaming. 

When his back hit the mattress and her body is on top there’s a glow on his smirk, and they enjoy the hazy and the push and pull of the frantic kisses exchanged. The blonde is the one who pauses for a second, taking a deep pull of air into his lungs, and carefully watching his girlfriend on top of him. Mick’s fingers trace the outline of Yn’s nipples, her belly, collarbone, shoulders, jaw, and chin, before finally answering the question she threw at him minutes ago. 

“The feminine. You’re living proof that God is probably a woman.” He grips her waist and Yn moans with the contact. “I’m your follower, your hips are my altar,” he whispers into her ear before biting and nipping her earlobe. 

And then he dips to say something else Yn can’t catch because it’s certainly German and it’s whispered against her skin in such a low tone she can only concentrate on the vibrations between her breasts.

“You always make me feel so good,” it’s a confession, but it's nothing new to Yn. It’s his prayer to her. “I can’t get enough of you, Yn. I could never. Ich werde dich ewig lieben.”

“Micky,” Yn can only meow his name too entranced by his touches and words. 

“Does that feel good, Schatzi?” Mick asks and Yn nods, “Use your words.” It’s his soft demand to which she obliges. 

“It feels perfect, please- just- kiss me, touch me, Mick.” 

“You know I’ll do whatever you want me to.” 

The German keeps muttering praisings to her while kissing his way up to her lips. One of his hands is inside her shirt, caressing and playing with her boobs and nipples. He’s eager to nip and kiss it the way he’s doing with the exposed skin of her collarbone and neck, that’s why his smile gets bigger when Yn makes a move to take off the piece of clothing and throws it somewhere in the room. She lies fully on top of him and he sighs in contentment with her warmth against him.

“You’re so pretty, honey.” He kisses the side of her head and almost melts when he feels Yn’s smile against his skin, he wants to engrave it there, to always feel it, to always know that she’s happy and taken care of. “Your body takes me so well all the time,” and this time she hides her face in the crook of his neck, though her body seems unaware of how shy Yn is feeling because her lower half ruts against Mick’s hardening cock. “You’re a goddess.” He takes her hands and kisses each finger, opening her palm and dragging it softly against his cheeks. “I love you so so much.” 

And then Yn is smiling against his skin again. Feeling warm and fuzzy. Feeling loved, adored, worshipped, chosen. Knowing that indeed whatever she wanted the man under her would give. Sun, stars, the world, Mick would try for her.

“There’s a spot for you in my heart, only for you.” She nips on his white skin and kisses her way back to his lips, but before their lips touch their eyes met, talking, confessing what no idiom can translate: how transcending loving each other can be. 

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: I didn't quite like this piece, but I hope the anon that sent the request and you guys enjoyed it at least a bit <3 Don’t forget to water a plant and water this account too (you water this account by reblogging and leaving me a message if you’re comfortable, it means a lot to me, and makes my imagination bloom just like a flower would) *forehead kiss*

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hes latino i meannnnnn

According to the experts, men are very fragile. They can get crushed down if you assert yourself in any way.

THE LOVE WITCH (2016) dir. Anna Biller

Mexican GP '24 // Over-the-line radio (1/?)

Ricky: "Yes, this is masterclass, Carlos. Dominant weekend. Un mastino." Carlos: *emotional* Ricky: (emotion in his voice) "Good job." Carlos: "Yes! Yes!"

LANDO NORRIS HAS WON THE SINGAPORE GP

Who I am?

"I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please, don't ask me who i am."

This reminds me of a particular scene in my life; my Spanish teacher had always been really strict and weirdly relentless into educating us (my class and I), believing that behaving so, she was doing a great job. Instead, she was doing quite the opposite of what she intended to; inflicting her personal beliefs and faiths into our culture, she destroyed our own authenticity or better said, identity.

Now personally talking, I remember that in first year of high school, she said something really interesting to a girl in my class meanwhile scolding her in a, dare I say, cruel way; "How can you expect me to understand what kind of teaching you deserve when you don't even know yourself?".

It's weird because at that time those words weren't surely directed at me, but I flinched so hard that had me speechless.

Didn't that girl really know herself?

Didn't that girl really know who she was?

Does she know who she is right now?

Since those words were pronounced by that ascetic woman, have already been three long years. And I still think of those religiously.

Did I know who I was at that time?

Do I know who I am now?

I certainly can't answer this question. As Sylvia Plath said, I know what I like and what I dislike. I'm 24/7 thinking about how I want to be meanwhile not knowing who I am.

Now my faith is probably this; finding out who I am. And how do I find this out? I don't know.