#--A Southern thing that hides their accent

[jungwnies]

f1 grid | southern drawl

୨ৎ : featuring : all drivers on the grid ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by @itscalledastrategyfred) : how the grid reacts to a texan!driver!reader and her southern accent — from flustered blushing to terrible cowboy impressions and a whole lotta “yes, ma’am.” 🤠💬

୨ৎ : genre : comedy ୨ৎ : word count : 2116

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : yall i missed the race cus i fell asleep... am i cooked?

ʚ・red bull

max verstappen

gives you so much shit for your drawl at first.

“did you really just say y’all while threatening me?”

can’t stop smirking whenever you get riled up... especially when you say something like “i swear to god, i’ll whup your ass.”

fully imitates your accent when teasing you... and it’s terrible.

lowkey loves it though. it reminds him of daniel, in a way that’s nostalgic and soft.

once heard you say “darlin’” to someone and just froze for a second like okay, maybe this is the hottest thing alive.

pretends not to care but definitely perks up every time you say something country-coded.

yuki tsunoda

is very confused at first. “why do you sound like a cowboy?”

teases you constantly but in a very you’re my favorite person to annoy way.

starts mimicking your phrases just to make you laugh — “howdy” becomes part of his vocabulary purely to irritate you.

calls you “cowgirl” when you beat him in anything and grumbles when you call him “city boy” back.

secretly adores how unapologetic you are about it. says it makes you sound confident.

would 100% ask you to translate slang and then say it in his best impression just to see you roll your eyes.

ʚ・mercedes

george russell

first time he hears you say “bless your heart,” he panics. “wait… is that… a good thing or not?”

tries to keep it professional but gets flustered when you throw a “yes, sir” his way with that southern sweetness.

definitely raises an eyebrow every time you drop a “y’all” during press, but secretly thinks it’s endearing.

once tried to imitate your accent on live tv and it came out as australian. never lived it down.

thinks it’s hilarious how you say things like “fixin’ to win this race” — quotes it back to you every chance he gets.

might tease you gently, but 100% defends your accent if anyone else makes fun of it. “it’s not weird, it’s hers.”

kimi antonelli

very confused at first but listens so intently whenever you speak — your accent is like a whole new language to him.

starts asking what everything means. “what is… ‘rode hard and put up wet?’”

tries to mimic you saying “howdy” once and instantly turned red when you burst out laughing.

quietly loves the way you talk. it’s soft and warm to him, even if you’re smack-talking.

calls you "texas" like it’s your nickname. “hey, texas. need help with your helmet?”

100% memorizes your slang and starts slipping it into conversations to make you smile.

ʚ・ferrari

charles leclerc

confused the entire first week. just stands there smiling while you say things like “i’m fixin’ to head out” and later quietly asks carlos what it meant.

blushes furiously the first time you call him “darlin’” — tries to play it cool but is visibly short-circuiting.

imitates your accent once during an interview and gets roasted online for how bad it was. “i wasn’t even that bad, right?” you nod slowly, hiding laughter.

starts calling you “cowgirl” in private, just to see you roll your eyes and smile.

says your voice sounds like “sunlight on hot pavement.” he’s a romantic.

lowkey tries to learn country music just to bond with you — gets too into kacey musgraves and now you catch him humming “slow burn” on race days.

lewis hamilton

absolutely obsessed. tells you it’s “the sexiest accent” he’s ever heard.

constantly asking you to say things again, slower this time — just so he can hear it twice.

you say “yes, sir” once and his whole soul leaves his body.

teases you when you get heated and slip into full-blown southern mode, but with the softest grin. “there she goes, my wild southern girl.”

absolutely convinced you two need to do a cowboy-themed photo shoot. insists on wearing the hat too.

ʚ・mclaren

lando norris

the second he hears your accent, he’s already planning impressions.

“well howdy y’all, ah’m fixin’ to win me a lil ol’ race today!” — said in the worst cowboy voice imaginable.

you threaten to fight him. he grins harder.

calls you “ma’am” dramatically and tips invisible hats at you in the paddock. you once slapped him with your water bottle.

has no idea that it’s kind of hot until you call him “sweetheart” mid-argument and he just shuts up entirely.

you catch him watching country tiktoks so he can learn phrases to throw back at you. he says it’s “research.”

may joke nonstop, but the second someone else mocks you? “nah, only i get to call her cowgirl.”

oscar piastri

didn’t expect to fall in love with your accent, but here we are.

says nothing when you speak, just blinks slowly and listens like it’s music.

every now and then you catch him smiling to himself after you say something super southern like “he ain’t got the sense god gave a goose.”

finds your little quirks adorable. “you just said ‘buggy’ instead of shopping cart,” he says softly, grinning.

doesn’t mimic your accent. not even once. too respectful.

will 100% ask you to teach him how to say certain phrases, then casually use them later to make you laugh.

you say “c’mere, sugar” once and he actually blushes. he’s so gone.

ʚ・aston martin

fernando alonso

pretends like he doesn’t care but he’s obsessed with your accent.

the first time you say something like “sugar, that was a rough quali,” he just stares for a second before going, “say it again.”

tries to mimic you with his own spanish accent and ends up sounding like a cowboy in a telenovela.

“how do you say it? y’all? yuhhhll?”

laughs at himself when you make fun of it but still keeps doing it because your eyes light up every time.

secretly loves how fiery you get when you're mad — especially when you let the accent fly. “you gonna kill me, cariño?” he teases.

absolutely calls you "cowgirl" in the most smug voice imaginable.

lance stroll

immediately thinks your accent is the cutest thing alive.

“you sound like a character from a movie. it’s awesome.”

gets super flustered when you call him anything sweet — “baby,” “darlin’,” “honeybun.” it kills him every time.

has a weird little canadian twang himself so when he tries to imitate you, it comes out like “howd-eh y’all.”

you cry laughing. he commits to it anyway.

lowkey loves how different you sound from everyone else — thinks it makes you magnetic.

tries to “cowboy up” next to you in interviews and fails miserably. “we’re a dynamic duo,” he says. “city boy and the wild west.”

ʚ・williams

alex albon

thinks your accent is the best thing ever, and won’t shut up about it.

constantly repeats your phrases back to you in a horrendous mock accent just to make you laugh.

“well shoot, sugar! i reckon we got ourselves a pole!” — said at full volume in the paddock.

you threaten to hit him with your boot. he tells everyone “she threatened me in southern again. it was so hot.”

teases you with names like “rodeo queen” and “yee-haw y/n” but goes feral the first time you call him “sweetheart” on comms.

100% starts saying “y’all” unironically. refuses to admit it.

tells his PR team you’re his “emotional support cowboy.”

carlos sainz

tries to act unfazed like “it’s just an accent” but his eyes go all soft when you call him “darlin’.”

loves hearing you talk — especially when you ramble. just nods along and smiles like he understands every word even when you say things like “that boy ain’t right.”

calls you mi vaquera under his breath when you walk away.

one time you called him “baby” and he blinked twice, turned red, and muttered “mi vida...” like a reflex.

doesn’t tease, but subtly flirts back in spanish until you’re the one blushing.

quietly practices a southern phrase or two just so he can surprise you later. you catch him whispering “fixin’ to win” before a race and nearly crash your scooter laughing.

ʚ・haas

ollie bearman

absolutely thrilled the first time he hears you speak. grins like a little menace and goes “wait, say that again.”

becomes obsessed with getting you to say weird southern phrases. “wait wait, what’s the one about biscuits and gravy again?”

mimics your accent constantly but in that annoying younger brother way. you threaten him with a tire gun. he laughs harder.

teases you with a fake lasso motion every time you walk into the garage. “woah there, cowgirl.”

once called you “ma’am” in a joking tone and you shot back with “watch your mouth, sugar.” he shut up immediately.

genuinely adores it though. thinks you’re the coolest person alive.

starts picking up your slang accidentally. pr catches him saying “fixin’ to” in an interview. he panics.

esteban ocon

acts completely unbothered at first. nods politely while you talk, no visible reaction.

but he’s so internally flustered.

one day you say “yes, sir” in that sweet, drawling tone and he just stands there blinking like you short-circuited his brain.

asks pierre what certain things mean later in private. “what’s a ‘hoot and a half’?”

doesn’t tease, but is very intrigued. tells people he likes how “unique” you sound.

once tried to say “howdy” as a joke but it came out awkward and overly French. he never attempted it again.

secretly loves when you call him something soft in that accent. might not say much, but his smile says everything.

ʚ・racing bulls

liam lawson

pretends to be unbothered but he’s fully gone the first time you say “darlin’.”

literally pauses mid-sentence when you call him “sweetheart” like… yeah. that’s it. you’ve got him.

teases you gently, but it’s always with heart eyes. “you really gonna charm everyone with that voice, huh?”

obsessed with how passionate you sound when you’re fired up. just lets you rant and watches, smiling like an idiot.

tells everyone “i don’t get the hype” and then immediately melts when you rest your boots on his lap.

absolutely wants you to teach him how to two-step. “for educational reasons.”

isack hadjar

chaos incarnate. tries to mimic your accent constantly and fails in the funniest ways.

“whatchu doin’, sugarplum?” he says. you throw a wrench at him. he ducks and cackles.

you start mimicking his french accent right back. “ohhh la la, baguette!”

you two are just rude to each other and completely in love about it.

insists on calling you “sheriff” like it’s your job title. even salutes you sometimes.

if you ever call him “baby” or “mon cœur” in your accent, he shuts up immediately.

secretly thinks your voice is the most comforting sound on earth, even when you’re yelling.

ʚ・alpine

pierre gasly

absolutely loses it the first time you call him something soft like “sugar.” full flirty grin, immediately flirting back.

“you keep talkin’ like that and i’m gonna start fallin’ in love, mon amour.”

mimics your accent way too often and does it so dramatically it’s offensive.

“well HAW-DEE Y’ALL,” he says, strutting into the motorhome in your cowboy boots. you throw a towel at him.

turns every southern phrase you say into something scandalous.

“i’m fixin’ to fight you, pierre.”

“please do.”

but when you’re soft? when you call him “darlin’” and it’s not a joke? he’s quiet. maybe even a little breathless.

“don’t stop,” he mumbles. “say it again.”

jack doohan

acts cool at first but the second you hit him with a “yes, sir,” he’s toast.

blinks. stares at the floor. full body flush.

“you alright?”

“yep. yeah. mmhm.”

loves your voice but doesn’t tease. just listens. takes in every word.

gets kind of protective when people joke about your accent. “don’t be weird. it’s just how she talks.”

one time you called him “honeybun” in the middle of a race debrief and he messed up a tire strategy.

definitely the type to lowkey start picking up your phrasing — you catch him saying “reckon” once and he immediately denies it.

“i didn’t say that. you imagined it.”

he 100% said that.

ʚ・kick sauber

nico hulkenberg

pretends he’s unfazed but absolutely notices every time you say something country-coded.

raises an eyebrow and goes “what does that even mean?” but secretly writes it down for later.

makes sarcastic comments like “you gonna ride a horse to the race next?” while absolutely staring when you wear boots to media.

calls you “cowgirl” in the driest voice imaginable but it makes you grin every time.

once heard you say “lord have mercy” under your breath and now repeats it back in a bad drawl just to mess with you.

claims he’s above it, but the second you call him “baby” in a sweet voice, he forgets how to speak.

accidentally got flustered once when you offered to teach him how to line dance. “oh. uh. yeah. maybe.”

gabriel bortoleto

fully enchanted from day one. like… heart-eyes level enchanted.

asks you a million questions. “wait, say that again? what does it mean when you say ‘bless his heart’?”

doesn’t mock, just listens with a little awe in his expression.

is super respectful, always like “you sound really cool” instead of teasing.

lowkey tries to learn southern slang so he can flirt back better.

once called you “sugar” in a heavy brazilian accent and you nearly fainted.

gives you that boyish grin and shrugs like “you started it.”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

OMFG AGHHHH

GRAVES X READER MY BELOVEDDDDDDD

Graves is either the most dominant, rough man EVER in bed, or he's a fucking sub boy.

He either has you riding him on his lap, pulling your hair, kissing you so hard that you would be worried that you'd bruise except you're so brainless from his destruction of your cunt that you can't do anything but warble out thank yous and pleases and "harder sir~!"s, or he's laid down on the bed and you're on top of him and he can't think of anything because it feels so good and he's just staring at your tits like a twelve year old boy seeing porn for the first time.

Like the SECOND you're on top of him he's either guiding your hips and pulling your hair, or he's calling you mommy/daddy and there is NO in-between.

Like ESPECIALLY if he's had a bad day, you're sitting on his lap and you're spitting in his mouth and gently praising him for taking it like a good boy and that's the ONLY thing making his evening good.

Literally if you're one of his Shadows he'll spar with you and it'll end up with the side of your face firmly on the ground, he has your hands behind your back, and he's telling you "C'mon, darlin'... You know you lost now," with SUCH a thick accent.

Ahdusnd foaming at the mouth I love my southern men

[purposefully-lost]

The fact that Charlie kind of thinks of himself as stupid and slow when he's not at all </3

[orphicsun]

𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 (𝐄.𝐖)

pairing: office siren ellie + mean boss reader

word count: 4k

warnings & content: androgynous office siren ellie, mean fem reader, assistant & boss (power dynamic), southern-to-city trope, degradation kink, praising and degrading names (whore, good girl), masturbation w/ fantasies, semi-public sex, spanking, hair-pulling, bondage (handcuffs), fingering (e! receiving), overstimulation, plot twist at the end.

"From the lenses of aesthetics, we see a persona in the populus. We see what we want to see of visuals displayed before us in a self-preserving act of courtship. We want others to understand us, even if just by a hair. These labels are not us. You must peel back the layers of the office siren and unravel her, and then she will feel seen."

She wears her face with a stoicism rather than the grimace hiding underneath the vessel, but it'll never do. It's a poker face, it's just what the people want to see.

It's the appearance that so unfairly contributes to the entirety of her presence. It isn't what she feels or the sensations in her body, but the way her strands of hair cling in union. It’s about blurring out the flaws like a filter, but it extends to her dialect, mannerisms, and individuality. So, she doesn't raise complaints when her polished, black Zappos leave blisters on the back of her feet. Her heels are always veiled by the study material; nobody will perceive the struggle; still, the struggle is great.

The world Ellie was thrown into was simply harsh, to put it in professional terms. When you grow up in a small town in which your bills aren't always paid and breakfast is pop tarts (off brand, may I add) over the five-course meal your peers perceive as simple, you don't understand much. Really, Ellie was used to her childhood of popsicles out of flimsy plastic packaging because she was so rural the ice-cream truck didn't stop by, a childhood consisting of the creek with the occasional snake rather than an inground pool and mud pies with ground-up locust shells as frosting on top.

The move from Mississippi to New York was originally to study astronomy at Wagner, a university with a modernized planetarium. Ellie took out loans with stars in her eyes and a dream to study beyond planet Earth, but things don't always work out. Apartments in New York are expensive, and bills pile up. So do papers and due dates.

Indeed.com proved useless, but a flyer with "hiring!" printed across it, a couple blocks from her unfurnished apartment, landed her a desk, a name-tag with "Ellie Williams" engraved onto it, and a bitchy boss whom she was the assistant to.

(-)

It's not like the nights she spent writing and studying useless information when all she wanted to be doing was getting hands-on with her major transferred into something valuable. Instead, she is simply a part of a system, and she is a meaningless employee in a five-floor building.

It raises the question of why she stays. Joel calls her often, and she picks up every time to hear it: "why don't you come back home?"

It's because Ellie is craving to be seen.

She doesn't quite know who she is. She knows attributes of herself that piece together a person to few and another person to many. Each part of her, from her hobbies to the color socks she wears, differentiates between who she is talking to.

Joel knows about the socks with the ugly green and tan print, her favorite pair that she used to lose almost every day. It's the pair that resides in her scratchy wooden drawer back in a nameless town she still holds in her heart, though she veils her southern accent in favor of what is nearly a monotone when clocked in.

To any coworker who is brave enough to ask, though none never will, her socks are plain white and at an appropriate length. Always the same, every single day.

That bitchy boss is the reason she stays and deals with it, though.

It's not exactly the tights that cling to your thighs in a picture screaming proactive, but you get away with it because you've got privileges in that five-floor building. It isn't the curve of your ass or the thought of your cleavage spilling out of your blazer that keeps her awake at night. She really wishes it was how you like to bend over on a random Tuesday and flash your black, lacy panties. They do hug your pussy lips nicely, though.

It's how insufferable you are.

Ellie should hate it, but it turns her on. Ironically, you put her in focus. Any time you near her desk, she adjusts her horrible posture and her foggy glasses, and she gets to typing out that summary you asked for an hour ago.

She is truly terrified of you. It would be prompt to say she fantasizes about you in the comfort of her own bedroom, but she is a leaking faucet in intimate white cotton fabric throughout the day, mind steamy at the most inconvenient times. It’s tortuous, but the filthiest parts of Ellie’s soul crave it, needs it. It seeps into her dreams and runs her ragged. 

That same bitchiness that can ruin her day is what provokes the feeling within Ellie, though; you’re unlike any of those other corporate assholes. You don’t care about things that cease to exist to Ellie once she enters her apartment. You don’t care about anything that has to do with Ellie in any sense, shape, or form. Even if your eyes were physically forced in her direction, you’d still refuse to acknowledge her existence. 

It drove her crazy at first. Ellie grew up with her elbows on the table and paper plates, not without proper decorum. Even your boss would be expected to treat you like a person, but you don’t. The only time you notice your assistant is when she fucks up, like the instance in which Ellie printed out the wrong stack of 20 papers. You truly did notice her presence that day.

You go against what New York has taught her–to be perceived, even if within a persona. A polite, grayscale persona within the likes of the people who call salt a seasoning.

It’s not to say all corporate jobs are so boring, but this office with these people? It’s maddening to want to be liked and understood all the same. It’s impossible.

Ellie hated you a year ago. The first week of her new job was hell because of you, loading her up on tasks she wasn’t acclimated to. She was sore from a desk job; it was pathetic.

You grew on her, though. The type of conditioning you pressed into her was entirely unintentional, but any natural human would fall for it. You ignored her for 99% of the time. It drove her insane. So, she began fucking up entirely on purpose. 

And she had some shame to begin with, that little amount in her gut that made her want to hurl after opening the wrong excel sheet and printing it off. It went against what she had been forcefully trained for. Still, it became addicting. The days in which you had lectured Ellie for her behavior, she’d gone home and fucked herself silly to sleep. It was an adrenaline boost in her boring life. 

It’s not all shameful, though. You remind her of home, the paint chipped off of the wooden house she was practically born and raised in. Ellie would go crazy surrounded by the same grey-hued people, but she has you. A sun, scorching her skin if she gets too close. Everyone else may as well be flecks of dust floating through space. 

It’s a guilty pleasure of hers she shouldn’t indulge in, but she does it anyway.

(-) 

“Boss?” Ellie tentatively calls from the doorway. 

The sight alone is almost enough to make her drop to her knees with a foam cup still in her hands–lip liner overlines every corner she wants to kiss, and it makes her jealous to think that a simple cosmetic product gets to have you so intimately. The line of your cleavage from the way you lean forward slightly gives Ellie a small flashback to inside her apartment, her face buried in her pillows and ass up as she rubbed her clit for hours at the thought of your tits jammed in her face. 

“Leave it on my desk.” You don’t look up to even acknowledge her. You always confuse Ellie’s head, heart, and cunt. It’s not the imaginable type of affection she craves, but she wants you to look up from your desk and at her. Today, she messed with her bangs for nearly 30 minutes and wore a new suit she had forgotten about in the back of her tiny little closet. She wants you to notice her. Fantasizes about what you’d say if you did look up. 

“Get the fuck out of my office, you whore.” You’d scoff, “and don’t wear that again.” Ellie knows she’s in over her head; way too much of a masochist, but she can’t help it. You bring it out in her in the way you already talk to her. It wouldn’t be too much of an exaggeration, would it? 

Ellie carefully places the cup on your desk and awkwardly turns around, slightly stalling as she walks out. Her cunt catches a heart beat when she hears your voice. Just the tone, too. 

“I asked for a caramel latte, Ellie. Hot. This is freezing cold..is this a tea?” You sigh, extremely exasperated. 

“Sorry, ma’am. I must’ve forgotten.” 

“Of course. You did this last week, too. I’m telling you, I really am about to write you up.” You still don’t glance up from your laptop. It’s impressive, really. 

“No!–I mean, that won’t be necessary, ma’am. I apologize for the mix-up.” 

When you finally look up, your eyes meet hers. Your eyes are sharp enough to slice into the part of Ellie that is already soft and weak for you. Her hands shake no matter how tightly she grasps the bottom of her vest. 

“Sorry isn’t enough. Lock the door and strip.” You glance right back down at your bright screen and begin typing again. 

“Wha–Excuse me?!” Ellie sputters, jaw on the floor. That is the last thing Ellie expected to come out of your mouth.

“Now. Unless you want that write-up? I’m sure you can’t afford it.” You smile, and it’s not toothy or cute. You’re a cold, heinous bitch. Your gaze is flat and uncaring, assuring Ellie that you don’t have an ounce of shame in you.

Ellie strips before you, though. She pulls off each layer of clothing until she is exposed, the light from the windows behind you leaving a vulnerable pit in her stomach. 

You take her in from the front–chocolate-kissed hair brushing against her collarable as she frees it from its usual low bun; soft, delicate skin dotted and kissed with visible flecks of melanin; soothing, green eyes that intimidate most. You see right through them, though. There in her eyes lay pupils, enlarged and absorbent for you and only you. There she is, like your own lap dog. You’d be dumb to shoo her off. 

“Good. Now, I want you on the ground. Be a good girl and bow down, I know you want to.”

She drops to the floor, her legs folded underneath her thighs. She descends until she meets the carpet, until it’ll form a strawberry splotch on the focal point of her forehead. Her body is folded up like origami, the curve of her butt resting against the back of her feet. She feels as though she is the process of an artist’s work. This is your design–she is simply the work in progress that you’ll turn inside out, brand her neatly as your masterpiece. 

When her glasses fall from her face, she shivers. She does not move, though. Something within her needs to trust you.

(-)

Ellie doesn’t know how long it has been since you gave your first instruction. It could be minutes, could be an hour or two. All she knows is that she knows she is being watched by you, and it’s one of the most inexplicable feelings Ellie has stumbled upon. 

The persona of a girl with auburn hair neatly slicked back save for the swoop of her bangs, freckles dotted across her cheeks but unmentioned in their character, a girl who carries herself high rather than as slumped as she feels and opts for sleek eye-wear instead of the bulky square lense, is slowly being unraveled. 

The sudden heel in her back is a stab she recognizes, as she stares at the shiny red louboutins throughout the day when possible. Still, it’s an entirely different sensation to experience the very imprint upon her skin. 

“You’re too stiff.” You press further despite your comment. 

She doesn’t mean to be stiff; in fact, Ellie has dreamt of this moment, fantasized it in her mind for years. She should embrace it, but your words ring true. Her hands are balled up into tense fists, and she trembles. 

The pressure on her spine leaves, but she still remains tense. Then, a soft palm climbs up her back from behind. Her heart-beat races close to her chest, wanting to keep to itself. 

“Why?” The softness in the word is so intimate, Ellie would guess that such an utterance would be whispered into her ear. It was still loud and public, though. 

“I..” She swallows, shivering slightly from both the temperature of your office; it’s as cold as you. “I’m not used to being naked in front of anyone like this.” 

You spread your fingers upon her upper back until the webbed feature of your hand threatens to strain. “Are you a virgin?” 

That raises a small scoff from Ellie, but you don’t use the response against her. It’s a moment of vulnerability and trust as opposed to pure sexual lust and the promise of consequence that awaits. “No.” She adds in the form of a mumble, “it just feels weird. I’m used to being.. err, professional.” 

“You don’t need to be, not in here.” Your hand leaves her back, but she is pried from her lowered position when you cup her face, pulling it up until her eyes meet yours. “I want to see you for what you really are.” You patiently swipe your thumb across her bottom lip. “Take you apart and see what you are beyond this little act I know rely on.” 

Ellie easily relaxes with you now. Her eyes don’t simply look into yours, rather absorbing the stare you offer to her from above. 

“I know you think about me. Tell me what you fantasize about.” 

She holds a moan in her throat, just barely keeping it beyond her tongue. When she hesitates with her answer, you squeeze her cheeks together. “I’m not touching you properly until you do.”

When you step back, Ellie scrambles with her feelings. All of those fantasies she so passionately lived in now feel pathetic, yet it’s a guilty thrill.

“I have dreams about you. Well, about you and I.” She admits, eyes moving from a diversity of objects and decoration in your office before meeting yours. “I have dreams about you–”

“Bending you over my desk?” You interrupt, a casual lilt in your tone that makes her jaw lower. 

“How do you know about that?!” She gawks at you, cheeks as red as a field of strawberries. 

“It doesn’t matter. But it’s true, isn’t it?” She nods, and you grin. “Yeah. Say it for me, then.”

“I..I dream about you bending me over your desk and fucking me.” She mutters underneath her breath, “hard.”

“Go on, then.” You step to the side, leaving her a clear, short path to your desk. The mahogany shines nicely. She can already imagine it–your fist full with her messy hair spilling between your fingers, and the other hand occupied with the dripping mess that is Ellie’s cunt. 

She looks at you like a deer caught in headlights, clumsily trying to figure out if you mean it. You don’t falter in your gaze. 

She unskillfully rises to her feet and approaches your desk. When the wood is just below her gaze, her head turns back to look at you. “You want me to just.. bend over?” She asks, slightly uncertain. 

You only nod. 

As if being naked isn’t exposing enough, she can feel your gaze on her. It’s not hard to imagine where you’re staring, either. Her fingers find the opposite side of the desk and fold to hold onto it tightly, a small distraction.

“There’s a pair of handcuffs in the drawer just below you. Take them out for me.” 

That causes the girl to shiver slightly, but she obliges, loosening her vice-grip on your desk and retrieving a pair of fuzzy hand-cuffs from your drawer. She wants to ask why they’re in your office, but refrains. 

Ellie quickly conjoins her wrists behind her back and feels the cold metal clink against them, a clicking noise when they’re firmly binding her wrists. She is now helpless to you. 

And the sight she is–soles of her feet on the carpet, the harsh, bright light directly above casting over her ass to display every blemish and freckle. Exaggerated arousal seeps from between her folds, majora slightly hidden with dark, thick hair. The joining of her wrists causes her face to press further into the desk. She still trembles, though you can look right into her pussy and see her true feelings on the entire predicament. She craves your approval, but more, much more than that, she wants to be like the extra copy on your desk: to be shredded up and completely destroyed by you. 

“Say what you want.” You trail your hand up her ass, wine-red manicured nails sinking lightly into the skin. 

It’s all she can ask for, so she lets herself fall apart for you. Her hips shift, wiggling upwards. “Fingers.” Ellie mumbles, though a slight whine is clear in her voice. 

But instead, all she gets is a light slap on her right ass cheek. She gasps and slightly lifts her head to look back at you. “What was that for?!”

“I know you’re not that stupid, you slut. I want a full sentence from you.” 

A whimper leaves her lips when you spread the globes of her butt, leaving her feeling somehow more exposed than before. She knows you’ve completely unraveled her when she can hear every noise coming from outside the room, but doesn’t care. There should be something inside her twitching to do her job, to be a responsible assistant who doesn’t get fucked on her desk by her boss, but whatever it is left her the moment you told her to get naked. 

“Hah–” your hands find purchase on both hips, pulling her ass back against you. The silky fabric of your skirt grazes her clit, making her involuntarily shiver. “I want your fingers. I want your fingers inside me.” 

“Ask again.” 

She huffs in indignation. “I did what you said!” 

When you wrench back her head with a fistful of her auburn hair, the attitude in her disappears. “W-Wait, okay. I want your fingers inside me, please. I want to cum.”

You release her head and card your fingers through her hair. “Yeah?”

She bobs her head reverently. “Yeah. Please.”

(-) 

Ellie knows that some things are to be regretted in life. There are choices made that she just has to learn to live with. Regret can be temporary: that break-up from high school, procrastinating a research paper for the 12th time a semester, moving far from Mississippi. A better term for those temporary regrets is doubt. 

The uniform life she lives doesn’t have room for doubts, though they fill her mind. She has great doubt in whether some of her coworkers actually like her, or if it’s simply courtesy. There are plenty of doubts about her skills in her position; she never had to sit and answer emails, organize, and run errands all day in the South. Her job from the age of 16 was at a rest stop, the only rest stop in the dinky town. She was used to being on her feet and having short conversations with tired travellers in the dead of the night. The office is like a maze to navigate, and she is a mouse blindlessly chasing cheese. It raises doubts. 

Being bent over your desk and finger-fucked leaves her head empty for once. If her skull wasn’t currently emptied out onto your nice desk, she would want to feel regret upon begging so fervently for this. You’ve made her cum three times already, and she isn’t sure how much more her quaking body can handle. She can’t think about anything but the pleasure stinging deep inside of her body, though. 

Three fingers plunge in and out of her pussy, the office once as uneasily silent and cold as ever now humid and echoing with the noise of her dripping hole being stuffed full to the brim with your digits, her moans still loud even with her face pressed against the desk. 

“You’ve got one more in you, baby. I can feel it.” Only a whorishly loud whine in response. “This greedy pussy swallows my fingers up whole, doesn’t it?” You coo, but the tone is less maternal and completely condescending. 

“Fuck,” Ellie cried, more strained as she raised her hips to take you deeper. The past ten minutes of being brought to her fourth orgasm has been an alternation of squirming away from your overwhelming touch and backing herself further into it for more. 

“Is that all you have to say?” You tease, twisting your fingers up into her until you feel the ribbed section of her walls, the most sensitive spot. She just melts into the desk and takes it, moaning little incoherent phrases. Drool trickles down the corner of her lips and onto the wood, but you don’t worry much of it. It’s cute.

“More. Fuck me harder, please. Wanna cum, need to cum around your fingers–” she rants on aimlessly, wrists shifting against the cuffs. 

“Yeah? Go on, then. I’m not stopping you, baby. Cum for me one last time.” 

Just as suddenly as it happens, it ends. Ellie jolts forward, no longer in your standard office, but in her bed. Her wrists are not tied, but simply on either side of her.

“Jesus christ,” she rubs at her eyes before glancing over to her bed-side alarm clock. There, it reads 1 a.m in bright red. “When the hell did I fall asleep?” 

She rolls back into her sheets on her stomach and closes her eyes, sleep surrounding her from each side; but as the invisible clock ticks, she feels wetness pool in larger amounts in her boxers. She groans, reaching for the half-dead vibrator on her nightstand, already knowing from experience that she will be up for the next hour. 

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[shewasverynice]

Cow *space* Boy - Part 1

@baobei-bu made this fucking INCREDIBLE art and I cannot stop looking at it. SO here's the result of that.

((It's also a three parter with Suguru and Nanami next))

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Rating: Explicit

Content: Cosplay, Overstim, Established Relationship, Fingering, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, Eating Out, SATORU GOJO HIMSELF <3

Sarah stood with her fingers pinching between her eyes and her other hand on her hip. This was not it. This was not it at all.

"What?" Satoru shrugged, the cow bell attached to his pink bow tie clanging as he stepped closer, "Cow boys right? You said cow boy, didn't you?"

"Yeehaw cowboys," Sarah sighed, opening one eye, then looking away again, "As in, not the cow himself, Satoru."

"Ah," Satoru looked down at his outfit. A tiny little crop top that barely covered his pecs. Some straps that probably could have gone around some tits or something but were around his waist just hanging decoratively. The thong holding on for dear life. All of it was covered in pink cow spots. That's not to forget the headband of course. Very important. Cute fluffy cow ears and pink horns. He was so sure she'd be into it!

"You like it though, right?" He asked. That notorious cocky grin appeared on his pretty pink lips when he reached forward to lift her chin and make her look him in the eyes.

"I dunno, man! Of course I do- I don't- I just- I-" she stammered, struggling to keep eye contact.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice dropping low and husky, "Yeah, I know you do. Just admit it."

Before she could say anything else he leaned closer to her ear and let his lips brush just enough so that when he asked, "So, little farm girl, are you gonna milk this cow dry," she shuddered.

"Why is that hot," she muttered, pushing him back, "Why is everything you do so fucking hot?"

"You like it, don't lie," he laughed, and his wife surprised him suddenly with his favorite thing.

Her eyes met his with a certain defiance, a devilish smirk as well. The kind of look that defined the very reason he was willing to put on any kind of stupid costume she wanted. It didn't matter what she wanted. He'd do it. He'd do it enthusiastically just to see that look on her face.

"What?" Satoru asked, unable to hide the obvious excitement in his voice. As if he didn't know what she was about to do.

She tilted her head, shifting so she was hovered above him, balancing on her forearms. “I've never milked a cow like this before,” she murmured playfully, "She seems a bit odd, but what do I know? I'm new to farming after all.”

He bit his lip, reaching up to trace along her jawline. “Moo?”

"Don't do that," she huffed, then shoved him back onto the bed. He allowed himself to land on the comforter, his tongue swiping across his lips as she crawled over him.

"Sorry," he chuckled, "But what are you going to do to me, Miss Farmer?" He fluttered his long white eyelashes, making his best innocent eyes up at her.

There was a hot flush on Sarah's cheeks, and it was seeping steadily down her neck to the pale skin on her chest. Her eyes were positively wicked when she purred, "You want to find out?"

"Fuck yes, I want to," Satoru murmured. He tilted his head down, his sunglasses sliding down his nose, and got real close to Sarah's pretty lips. They had all the time in the world today. They could take all the time they wanted to play this little "cow boy" game. 

Apparently she knew that too because Sarah shifted, attempting to pin his wrists in her small hands over his head on the pillows. Satoru chuckled at her, but a groan rumbled in his chest as her palm slipped between their bodies and across the strap around his exposed middle. Her fingers tugged and teased at the pink leather and it took more restraint than he expected to hold still for her.

Sarah let up a little to look down at him underneath her, catching her thumb in his belly button. "Want me to do a southern accent too?" She mumbled with a grin, and Satoru made an undignified snort. He shook his head at her, barely biting back his own grin.

"Damn, baby, I do actually love this," Sarah breathed out, snapping the band of his cow spotted thong. Satoru's skin was already warm, flushed just a little pink from his impatient needs. It turned just a shade darker when he watched her eyes rake over him. They were tight enough for her to see the exact outline of his cock as it throbbed and thickened. The damn thing would probably tear off if he was all the way hard, and wasn't that a hell of a thought.

Sarah let her grip on his wrists go, sliding down his body and shoving up his crop top. She sunk her teeth in gently, just between his pecs where the skin was thin and especially pale, sucking a little. Satoru made a little huffing sound and lifted them both up on his hips invitingly. But because Sarah loves to tease him, and because Satoru's skin tasted good and just a little salty from sweat, she bit and suckled all across his chest. Pulling the blood up to the surface long enough to leave dark red patches that would be purple soon enough. Biting at him until he hissed for relief. 

"Oh?" She chuckled. Sure enough, Satoru's cock was threatening to tear the cheap fabric. They never made these slutty little costumes for more than one use clearly. That or he just bought the first thing he saw without accounting for size. That was probably more likely.

Satoru raised an eyebrow to where Sarah's panties were visibly soaked, which Sarah pointedly ignored. Instead she hooked her thumbs in the tiny thong and started to tug them off. "Well let's take a look at this cow, hmm?" Sarah purred when they were gone. All that was left in front of her were miles of Satoru's big toned body, still pale even with the cute splotches of pink.

“Yeah,” Satoru hummed, pushing up her t-shirt, “I definitely have a lot of milk for you little farmer... Better make sure to get it all out, yeah?” 

Sarah’s shirt hit the ground before she tilted her head, "Oh don't worry. You'll be bone dry when I'm done with you, big guy."

“Get in here,” Satoru said impatiently, pulling Sarah up with his hand on the back of her neck. And suddenly Sarah couldn't believe she hadn't kissed him properly yet; that definitely had to have violated some law somewhere, taking so long to do that!

“Yeah,” breathed Sarah, between the presses of Satoru’s hot wet mouth into hers, "Satoru..."

Satoru let out one of his long lusty sighs, his voice low and breathy in that way that always made her body ache for him. Sarah pulled back to look at him, meeting that hot blue stare, his pretty mouth parted and wet and soft. She reached up, tracing his lower lip with her thumb and grinning lazily when Satoru whimpered. 

She couldn't wait any longer, her thumb resting on his lower lip. She leaned in to kiss him, her tongue snaking against his and his meeting hers with his usual ferocity.

The leather of the strap bit into his skin and hers as she plastered herself to his body, but neither of them happened to give a shit. Satoru gasped, the sweetest sound in the fucking world, when their hips pressed together. Sarah could feel his cock pressed up close along through her panties. It throbbed desperately, and because he was panting and flushed and desperate as always, she rocked nice and slow until he broke the seal on their kiss to moan loudly into her mouth.

"Ooh, that's it," Sarah mumbled, "Let me hear you, pretty cow."

Satoru laughed, but the sound quickly melted into a sweet little gasp and low groans while she rolled her hips into his. She ducked her head down, sucking just behind his ear. His damp snowy hair dripped onto her nose. 

Into her ear, Satoru breathed, "You're so sweet, baby -- I just want to touch you all over. I'll make you feel so good."

Sarah's breathing hitched, "Who's in charge here? The cow or the farmer?"

Satoru grabbed her, hooking his arms around her and suddenly she was beneath him. The cowbell around his neck clanged. He spread her legs, draping them around his waist and leaned down to scratch his teeth along the underside of her jaw, gripping hard at her thighs. His slid his hands up and over her soft skin, pressing into the muscle beneath. He cupped her breasts in two hands, brushing his thumbs over her nipples. The second they started to peak and harden under his touch, he groaned. 

She whimpered a little, still caught off guard by the sudden switch. Her mouth had fallen open as he teased her and he couldn't help himself. He kissed her again, his tongue taking up the space in her mouth that no other man would dare to invade.

"Let me fuck you, Miss Farmer, please," Satoru rasped. He grazed his teeth along the outer shell of her ear, rubbing his nose into the smell of her. "C'mon, sweetheart. I'll make you feel so fucking good. I'll make it last all afternoon. I'll fuck you until the sun goes down. Empty all this milk in you... On you... wherever you want. C'mon..."

Sarah moaned, biting her lip. "I'm supposed to milk you, not the other way around."

"Ohh, fuck, you're gonna milk me alright," Satoru said, grinning into her neck. He stopped rubbing his cock on her heat and she stubbornly twisted her hips against him, trying to get that sweet friction back. 

His chest rumbled as he continued, "Do you even understand how excited I was for this? I've been thinking about this since I ordered this cow thing." He grinded his cock hard against her, breathing in her ear, "All you gotta do is ask and I'll fuck you just how you want it. I'll make you feel so damn good, just how you know I can. All I wanna do is make you come, baby doll. It's all I can think about, sweetheart… Fuck, please, don’t leave me hangin’. I just wanna see you make a mess. I gotta see it, gotta feel how hot you are inside. C’mon, Sarah, oh fuck, baby! Let me get you off, please!” 

“Holy shit, Satoru,” Sarah hissed, clenching her fingers into his hair. 

He laughed, then started kissing her. Softly. Making her chase after it. "Mm, that a yes? It is right? Yeah? You gonna let me, right?"

“Yes!” Sarah whimpered, breathing hard. “Satoru! Yeah. C'mon!” 

When Satoru pulled back there were hectic splotches of color high on Sarah's cheeks, a deep blush heating up the skin on her chest and abs. He sat back on his heels, admiring the view for a moment, and raised an eyebrow, his own cheeks flushed red.

Satoru finally tore himself away, backing up to the edge of the bed with a few more soft clangs from the bell on his neck. Reaching up, he shucked down her panties in half a second and threw them across the room. Crawling back up the bed and hovering over her on his hands and knees, he licked his lips. She was spread out so pretty underneath him that he thought he might have a heart attack.

"Goddamn I love you," he mumbled, cupping her breasts again and rubbing his thumbs over her nipples. He dipped his head down and scraped his teeth gently over the hard point of one. She slid her hand over the back of his head and into his fuzzy undercut. He could feel the breath in her chest hitching under his mouth.

He squeezed once again, feeling her muscles flex beneath her breast and swapped to the other side. This time he had a different plan of attack. With his tongue pointed, he flicked a few times then finally gave in and sucked. Sarah squirmed, and Satoru groaned against her skin.

“Satoru, I thought you were desperate to get in me,” she complained, but clearly loved it anyway. 

Satoru kissed up the long pretty pale line of her neck. “Not my fault that you’ve got the prettiest tits, baby.” 

“Shut up,” Sarah huffed, looking away as soon as their eyes met.

"What? You do," Satoru defended with a low chuckle. "You've always been beautiful, Sarah, so fucking pretty, don't you dare think otherwise. And now... Look at these curves, baby, how am I supposed to resist, huh?" 

With his hand, he rolled one of her sensitive nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Her back arched up and she whined. "Look at that... Shit, baby, you want it bad," Satoru mumbled. 

He lapped at the sweat in the hollow of her throat, shamelessly groping her tits with a sucking hiss. "I should have made you be the cow, and I mean that in the most sexy way possible. Someday I'm gonna make you wear it, and then I'll get you off just like this. You'd like that, yeah? I'll suck on these pretty little tits until I make you come."

"Mmn-- Aah!" She gasped, biting down on her lip, "Satoru that's just --"

"It's hot right?" He rasped, his voice husky as his tongue twirled around a nipple again, "You'd be such a mess. Maybe if I do it enough I'd really get some milk." His eyes glazed over for a moment and his lips curled into a smile, "Well... I guess there is an easier way to get that... But we'll save that for later. Maybe when we try the bunny suit, yeah?"

"Who's gonna be the bunny?" Sarah whined, and Satoru chuckled, his finger working it's way inside her. She gasped at the intrusion, and he might as well have too. She was so warm inside -- flushed all the way through. Her voice hitched, "Satoru, just -- please, you can just --"

"Hmm? You were so ready to tease me earlier, what changed?" he murmured, his middle finger slipping out to the tip before he plunged it back inside.

"You're a bastard," Sarah groaned, "A real grade-A -- asshole, Satoru Gojo."

"Mmhmm, how many times do you think I need it today?" Satoru asked casually, because she is absolutely right. Because he can be a grade-A asshole, but she loves it. "Two? Three? Or should I really make sure I'm wrung out, hmm? We got all night. No one is gonna bother us."

For some reason, she lurched up and kissed him deeply. She pulled him down on top of her and trapped him with her legs. As Satoru sat up again she smirked at him, "Whatever we gotta do to make sure we got everything, right?"

He laughed, low and husky. Damn, what he wouldn't do for this woman, looking at him with her bright happy eyes. He kissed her again and it was everything, the heat of her soft mouth and the heat inside her where his finger was stroking in lazy and slow curls.

Satoru mimicked the rhythm with his tongue and Sarah whimpered, her legs spreading just a bit further. He pressed his mouth to her neck -- she was so sensitive, everywhere, and it's only getting better the more he played -- and fit another finger inside where she was so tight and hot. The pads of his middle and ring fingers targeted her sweet spot and her head tipped back. She moaned so loudly, her jaw falling open and her eyes nearly crossing.

"Mmmn... That's right..." Satoru rumbled.

Her eyes were barely focused, trailing down his body to his cock. It was so red and huge. Fuck, he wanted to be inside her already, but it was so fun to see her like that.

“How many times do YOU need it today?" Satoru asked this time, twirling his fingers harder into her spot and chuckling as her eyes squeezed shut. 

"I-- I don't... Haaah Sa-Satoru I don't know..."

Satoru considered touching her clit, honestly it was difficult to hold back, and instead curled his fingers just right again, rubbing slowly and surely where it counted. "That's not an answer, sweetheart," he breathed, tugging her earlobe between his teeth.

"Sa-Satoru! Aaah," she gasped, "Fuck I dunno... Three? C'mon please..."

When Satoru pulled away Sarah honest to God whimpered. "You asked for it," Satoru reminded her, dragging his slick fingers into his mouth. It's difficult not to dive in for more, especially when she's on her back with her legs spread for him. 

Sarah's eyes were on his cock, marveling at just how hard he was. The pink straps around his middle were already stretched, the cheap leather rubbing through and wearing thin. His little crop top was still pushed up, his chest bruising from her earlier assault. That devilish lustful look in his beautiful eyes made a fresh flush rise on her face.

He grinned, leaning in closer. Sarah's skin was so soft, inside her thighs, right where he was about to take up all the space. His space. He held his breath, pushing the head of his cock through her slick folds and into her soft hairs just above her clit. She squirmed and gripped his forearms. Her head fell back, exposing the line of her throat as she swallowed hard. Satoru repositioned, bracing his left hand beside Sarah's head, and started to push inside.

"Ah," She gasped, chewing at her lip. His cock reached her depths and he didn't even bother to wait. He built a nice steady rock right away, moving perfectly in time. The cow bell clanged with each thrust and it would have been hilarious if it they hadn't been so fucking invested.

"You feel so good," Satoru choked out. It's so hot, scorching inside her, "So fucking sweet, Sarah, shit!" Satoru’s eyebrows were knitted together, his eyes closed, and his mouth dropped open. 

"Ohhh fuck, Satoru... You're so good, baby," Sarah gasped out. Praise gets him the way nothing else does, and Satoru's hips staggered. The bell clanged louder for a moment and his breath came hard through his nose as he calmed himself down.

Sarah's hair was hanging in front of her eyes, damp with sweat. Satoru's abs and chest were slick too, the shitty leather digging into his thigh and the top soaking it up. Sweat trickled down to the curve of her collarbone and he considered biting all over her. Instead he settled for pressing both his thumbs hard into her hips, still moving steadily inside her.

Sarah arched in the hottest way, trying to take him deeper, just the lower dip of her spine pushing away from the bed, her ass and shoulders still down. Satoru gripped there, just at the top of the curve of that ass, all that tight plush skin.

"Damn," Satoru panted, "I wanna bite all over you. I want to show everyone you're mine. No fuckin' mistake."

Sarah's stomach was clenching, her legs tensing and shivering. Satoru recognized that moan, knew those clenched teeth and glazed eyes trained on nothing -- he's known it since he first got her into his bed and would never ever forget.

“That’s right,” Satoru rasped. With his left hand he twirled her clit. Damn, she was beautiful, her shivery needy moans. The bell rang out in time, bouncing hard off his chest as he sped up. “Baby, yeah, that’s right, I wanna see you, I wanna see it, baby doll; Sarah, you’re so fucking good to me —“ 

Easy as anything, she came. Overwhelmed by it, tightening up around Satoru inside, nails raking down his biceps and forearms. He watched those abs clench, the way her hips stutter and her pussy throb. And her face. Fuck! And the sounds she made for him. Blushing everywhere, moaning out loud, high and shocked. 

And Satoru, God help him, he had to do it. It made him crazy to watch her come like that. He pressed Sarah’s hips hard into the bed and pounded into her, jarring her lax exhausted body. He leaned down to bury his face in her neck, to bite, to breathe in. The cow bell muffled finally, pressing between their chests.

"Haaah! Sarah! Oh -- fuck, baby," he gritted out. It hit him hard, his hips jerking hard. He stayed deep inside Sarah as he finished, powerless not to. The last aftershocks rushed through him. Her hands pawed at him like she might drown if her hands weren't on him. Even though he had pure satisfaction settling into his bones, it was so fucking warm and sweet in her arms that he never wanted to move. He could just keep his dick tucked into her until the world ended. That sounded like a good plan, if he was being honest.

"Holy shit, sweetheart," he mumbled, pressing his face up into her hands and kissing her palm. "My baby, my pretty girl. I don't know how I take you anywhere without bending you over anything I can find."

"Pervert," she huffed in a laugh, tugging on his little cow headband with her fingers, "Don't say that dressed like this."

"You should praise me more," Satoru pouted playfully, pulling back, "I deserve an award or something. I don't know how I get anything done with you asking me to do shit like this."

"I definitely didn't ask for this specifically," she laughed, mindlessly massaging his thighs with both hands. 

"This bell is loud as fuck," he commented, flicking it with a loud Ting!

His come was hot and sticky between them, and when he slowly pulled out and got an eyeful of her freshly fucked pussy his dick twitched pitifully. He groaned, swiping his tongue over his lips and unsticking his death grip on her hips. She bruised so quickly and easily like a peach, the marks so dark on her skin. She always liked to wear shorts too so no one would miss his clear hand prints around her thighs. 

Good, he thought to himself with a smug snort.

Satoru kissed her sweetly, lulling her into a false sense of security. He dragged a pillow down the bed, plopping it down beside her and rolling her bodily over onto it. Face down, belly to the mattress and pillow under her hips. 

Sarah groaned, partially because she likes being manhandled, but mostly because, "Satoru, you dick, we're gonna stain the pillow."

"I'll buy you fifty more pillows," he huffed. He smoothed both of his hands up the expanse of her back, watching the muscles shift under her skin. "Besides, I've still got more to give you, little farm girl."

Sarah sighed in agreement and finally Satoru reached down to her ass and took in two perfect handfuls. Sarah had her arms folded under her head, her eyes closed and her cheek resting on her hands. She breathed deeply, unsurprised when Satoru's fingers glided through her folds again. She pushed her ass back and yelped with a laugh when he swatted it and thumbed her lips apart.

His come drooled out of her and Satoru thought he might die. But, his hand was forced. There was nothing left to do. There was only one option to take in this particular situation -- 

He laid down, his shins on the floor off the bed and torso draped over the comforter, and licked all around her pink opening. Kneading her ass with both of his big hands. He couldn't take her like his, all wet and messy and exhausted. The only thing he could think about was holding her down and fucking her again and again.

"You're filthy," she moaned, like she could read his mind -- which honestly he wouldn't be surprised if she could at this point. 

"You're wet," he mumbled through her labia, because really that should explain all his compulsions.

Satoru made no effort whatsoever to lick her clean. He liked her dirty with his mess and saliva. Instead he made it his mission to eat her out until she cried. He was so pushy about it, bullying his tongue into her and shaking his head and slurping. She was wriggling with over stimulation, but once he got her past that and into space she'd go limp and panting she'd give in to it. Just lay there on her belly and claw at the comforter, shifting her hips with her muscles tensing and releasing. Singing a song for only him to hear.

So, he did just that. Building her up slow with just his tongue. Just enough that she wouldn't call for him to stop. But then he buried his face in her. 

It's when he slid down enough to scrape his teeth on her sensitive lips and she really lost it, whining high in her throat. Her breath was turning into gasping sobs, because she wanted to get off but he just wouldn't let her. Instead he got his tongue inside, teasing it around the rim, and even using his teeth and fingers. He slipped in his thumb, licking around it, and when he pulled it out his own come was on it. 

"Mmmnn god you taste good," he moaned into her.

Satoru had patience when it came to this. Real, endless patience. Everything else in the world slipped right away because nothing was as important as her continued, quiet, hitching sounds when he nibbled real light and careful right at her lips. Just making a complete mess of her until she didn't know anything but his name.

Time turned into nothing, stretching on without anything but the sounds of her moans and his breathy grunts and sighs. Finally he pulled back, sinking his teeth into the meat of her ass and easily stuck two fingers inside her. Her muscles clenched immediately and he groaned a long low sound that melted into a laugh.

"You're drooling," he whispered, leaning up on his knees to kiss at her shoulders. They shivered like she was cold, but it was clear that she was so close to coming she was just lost in the sauce. "You like it, baby? Hmm? You like it when your man gets you all messed up?"

Sarah made some kind of pathetic mewl. She was far too gone, but Satoru still wanted to hear words. He dug his fingers into her scalp, tugging on her hair and her whole body shuddered hard.

“Say it to me,” Satoru murmured, “Say it to me sweetheart, I wanna hear it. Are you gonna come?” 

She made another sound, a muffled, elongated "ah," and Satoru pressed his knuckles down into her sweet spot. He turned her head to look at her face, sucking through his teeth when he saw how wet her eyelashes were and how red her face was. He wanted that sight burned into his retinas.

“You’re s-so good,” Sarah praised him suddenly, “Satoru... I-- I can’t take it... Aaahnn! you’re so good.” 

Well, that's enough fucking around then.

His fingers pinched her clit and he drove his knuckles hard into her spot, fucking her hard with his fingers. She came immediately, wailing, tearing at the comforter, her body shaking and seizing up hard around Satoru's fingers. Her breaths came like huge heaving sobs and hiccups when she finally started to fall back to Earth.

Satoru hadn't seen anything so beautiful in his life. Which is of course what the thinks every time he makes this happen. Somehow he forgot how hard it gets him and how hot he'd suddenly feel under his skin watching her fall apart. Her forehead rolled against the sheets, catching her breath and smiling lazily.

“You did so good,” Sarah praised, “Baby, that was amazing, I can’t believe —“ 

“Two down,” Satoru said, “One to go.” 

She gasped, then smirked at him. She shifted her hips, a little wiggle and purrs, "Well, c'mon then cow boy."

The grin on his face would probably be permanent after this mess.

He grabbed her, thrusting inside in one quick and sure stroke with a heavy clang of the cow bell. There was absolutely no time to wait. Absolutely not. He held her sturdy hips in both hands and really gave it to her. Really, really fucked her hard and breathless. The cow bell clanged and clanged, almost covering up his loud groaning swears and gasps.

She clawed the bed sheets up under her hands, moaning low in her throat. Satoru reached down, yanking her head up by the hair and she slipped a hand beneath her body to twirl her clit. 

Something snapped. That was it, game over. He pressed her face down hard into the mattress, the other hand gripping her ass hard and fucking her as hard and fast as he wanted. She got off first with a choked-off moan, her hips jarring out of rhythm with his. He saw no other option than to hold her down even harder. That fucking bell was ringing so loud he was sure it was changing his brain chemistry.

It only took a few more strokes while her cunt desperately milked him and he was coming too. Moaning shamelessly loudly and panting. She was twisting and writhing, her feet pressed up into his ass from behind. He was losing his mind in that white-hot goodness.

Finally, she nudged at him to get off and she rolled over onto her back with her legs splayed wide. She was covered in sweat and filled with his come, and he spread out beside her on his stomach, throwing the bell off onto the floor to lay without it digging into him. 

“I think I’m dead,” Satoru mumbled into the sheets, "That was fuckin' amazing."

Sarah sighed, looking over his way and tugging at one of the cute little ears on his head band, "This is pretty cute... I think we'll have to keep it."

He snorted and grinned, "Oh, we're definitely keeping it."

"I liked your little cow panties," she grinned and he laughed, hiding his face in his arms. If he was being honest, it was a little embarrassing, but he wouldn't chicken out for a request for her even if he'd apparently gotten it wrong.

She stretched out her legs, rolling onto her side. “I feel like I got mauled by a bear,” she complained, but when she looked over at him she had a grin on her face.

“More like a bull," Satoru laughed and buried his face as she swatted playfully at his head, just as he expected. 

“I KNEW you were gonna say that!" She laughed, and he rolled over and yanked her into his arms.

“Let’s take a shower,” he suggested, nuzzling his head into her hair.

"I just took one before you defiled me," she teased.

“Yeah, ‘cause you asked for it," he teased, sneering at her.

“Quit talking shit,” Sarah laughed, sitting up to kiss his forehead.

Satoru tilted his head and grinned. “You like it.” 

Suddenly she narrowed her eyes, looking up at the little cow ears. He watched her hand as it reached up, her fingers feeling around for a moment. There was a soft click.

"Moo! 💕"

They looked at each other as the ears let out a robotic, tinny cow sound. There was a full five seconds of silence between them before they cracked up, laughing so hard tears rolled down their cheeks.

If you liked that I also do custom commissions for smut! Check it out if you want your own OC to meet the cow boys or literally anything dudes I'm pretty flexible!

PART 2 ON THE WAY!!

Suguru is next hehehehhee

[rheeblogs]

★ — PIT STOP

★ — pairing: trucker!abby x fem!gas station clerk

★ — your boring job brought old men, homeless people, and little kids maxing out their parents cards on candy. but when she came in, your stomach turned inside out. | fyi, i'm aware most trucks don't have backseats or anything 😭, but let's imagine for the plot period

★ — warnings: southern!abby, strap-on sex, car sex, dirty talk

🔖 — moodboard by me :)

The hum of fluorescent lights overhead buzzed softly as you stood behind the counter, absentmindedly flipping through a magazine. The little gas station was quiet tonight, save for the occasional car rolling in to fill up. You didn't mind the solitude, though--it gave you the chance to enjoy the peaceful hum of the night.

But that peace shattered when the low rumble of a diesel engine filled the air.

You looked up just as a massive, dusty, semi-truck rolled into the parking lot. Its headlight cut through the darkness, and it came to a halt right in front of the store. Moments later, the driver's door creaked open, and down climbed a woman who seemed like she'd stepped right out of a trucker-themed romance novel.

She was tall, built like she spent half her life wrestling grizzly bears, and had a confidence in her swagger that could stop traffic. Blonde hair peeked out from under a well-worn baseball cap, and her Southern accent was thick as molasses when she spoke.

"Evenin''," she drawled, stepping through the glass door. Her blue eyes locked onto you immediately, a slow, crooked grin spreading across her face.

"Good evenin," you said, smiling politely, though you couldn't help the way your heart skipped a beat. She was... gorgeous, in a rugged, intimidating kind of way.

"Damn," she said, stopping in her tracks as she looked you over. Her eyes roamed shamelessly, lingering a second too long on the curve of your hips and the swell of your tits before flicking back up to your face. "Didn't think I'd be gettin' a view like this at sum' gas station inna middle of nowhere."

Your cheeks flushed immediately, and you stammered. "I--I think you're lookin' for the snacks. They're over there." You pointed toward the aisle, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

Abby chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made your stomach flip. "Oh, darlin', I'm not lookin' for snacks. Especially when somethin' as sweet as you is in front of me."

You blinked, your lips parting slightly in surprise. Most of the truckers who rolled through were gruff and standoffish, more interested in their coffee than conversation. But this one? She was relentless.

"I, uh..." you trailed off, not sure how to respond.

Abby stepped closer, leaning an elbow on the counter. The scent of diesel fuel and a faint hint of cologne wafted off of her. "You're a pretty lil' thing, ma'am."

"Thank you," you said, almost too softly.

"It's no problem, honey. You got the kinda face that can make a girl forget she's been drivin' for sixteen hours straight," Abby said, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "And don't even get me started on that body of yours. Lord have mercy."

You couldn't help it--you laughed, a flustered, nervous sound. "Do you always flirt with gas station clerks, or am i just special?"

"Oh, you're special, all right," she said, her grin widening. "Reckon I'd remember a face like yours anywhere."

You shook your head, biting your lip to hide your smile. "What do you want, Abby?"

Her eyebrows rose in mock surprise. "What makes you think my name's Abby?"

"Your truck's got "Anderson's Logistics'' painted on the side, nd' your nametag has an 'Abby' patch in bold letters." You said, gesturing to the embroidery.

"Sharp, too. I like that," Abby said, straightening up. "But if you must know, I came in for a coffee. Black. And maybe your number, if you're feeling generous.

Your face grew hotter at her boldness. "Coffee's over there," you said, pointing to the back.

Abby chuckled again but did you said, sauntering over to the coffee machine with the same easy confidence. She poured herself a cup, took a long sip, and then returned to the counter.

"Not bad," she said, placing a couple crumpled bills on the counter. "But I think this place just became my new favorite spot. Couldn't imagine why."

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. "Whatever, Abby."

"You wanna take a ride?" Abby asks you abruptly, gesturing to the door.

"In your truck?" You asked, a sly smile creeping on your face.

"Sure, that too."

----

"God, honey. Your body fits my lap perfectly, huh?" Abby teases, as you adjust yourself on her muscular thighs, the friction from your jean shorts making you eager.

"You do this every pit stop?" You ask, your hands placed on her shoulders to hold your balance.

"No ma'am. I told you, you're special, darlin'." She tells you, looking you deep into your eyes, hers a piercing blue. "But enough talkin'. I got sumthin' in my back seat, if you're down for that kinda thing."

And with that, you climb out of her lap and into the backseat, your cheetah print thong peeking out, following a smack to your ass from Abby.

She damn near tears your tanktop off, leaving your chest clad in your matching cheetah print bra, and the shoulder tattoo with words 'Angel' black and bold, close to your collarbone.

"Angel, huh?" Abby says, biting her lip.

You nod, tilting your head, giving her access to you neck. She starts to kiss it slowly, taking in your scent of woody vanilla, getting sweeter everytime she works her way up or down.

"You smell s'good, honey." Abby says, easily lifting you back onto her lap. Her hands fly to the back of your bra, unclasping it with ease.

"Fuck, Abby. You're s'strong." Her hands are on your hips, forcing you to grind on her lap, making your pussy wetter by the second.

"Lay back, honey."

----

Abby's kisses are tender, yet demanding. She kisses with so much passion, like you were the only girl she needed in her life. Who knew a pit stop would make her this crazy?

You're laying in her backseat, leg propped up over her shoulder, as she grips your thighs and sloppily eats you out.

"Pussy's sweeter than honey, darlin'." She says, her voice sending chills into your clit, the vibrations stimulating you more than she was alone.

"Mmm..--just like that, Abby, fuck." Your manicured hands scratch her scalp, the semi-neat braid coming undone in the process. Abby makes eye contact with you, gripping your thighs tighter.

It's almost as if Abby learns your body quickly, the way her tongue thrusts in and out of your pussy, leaving your legs quivering after every movement.

She stops, leaving you confused.

"Under the seat, that box. Grab it." You look around for a second, spotting a black box covered by a jean jacket under her seat. You move the jacket and open the box--revealing a seven-inch clear strap.

"It's new, I promise. Haven't gotten a chance to use it yet."

You look at the strap and back at Abby, who has a very convincing look on her face.

"Then, fuck me with it, Abby."

----

Abby secured the harness around her waist, trying to make sure not to hit her head on the roof of the truck in the process. It was veiny, girthy, and looked like it could absolutely ruin you.

She grabs your hips, letting you hover over her lap, watching you let your panties that originally were pooling at your ankles, fall to the truck's surprisingly clean floor.

"You wanna' ride this shit, honey?" She says, still holding your hips steady.

You nod your head up and down, and slowly sink onto her strap.

"Yeaaaah... sink on it, darlin'. Just like that." Her praises were making your head spin, and the way her strap felt so deep inside of you almost felt like it was attached to her.

Abby jerks up, letting the rest of her inches sink of inside you.

You grind against her, the pleasure almost bringing you to tears. Your rhythm steadies, the rocking of your hips sending Abby into orbit. The base of the strap is hitting her clit, causing her hands to grow tighter around your ass.

"Fuckin' me like you mean it, huh baby?" Her voice. Her accent. Her everything. You were so close, beginning to go from grinding to practically jumping on her dick, feeling your stomach start to heat up.

"Mmmph.., I'm--fuck, Abby.. close." That's all Abby needed to hear. She takes a firm grip on your hips, and roughly fucks her strap inside of you.

"Yeah, angel. Take this fuckin'.. dick," Abby starts, throwing her head back as the base of the strap hits her pussy just right.

"I'm--Abby.." You manage to moan out.

"All over me, honey. Fuckin' cum on my shit." She pounds into you, the both of you gushing, all over her lap.

"You truly are an angel, miss." Abby says, holding you close as you catch your breath.

You put your clothes back on, checking your phone's time. Twenty minutes. Not too bad.

"I really gotta get back on the clock." You say, giving Abby your phone to insert her number in.

"I understand, darlin', so do I. I had a great time." She smiles, fixing her tight white tee to put her jacket back on.

"I did too, Anderson." Abby leans in to kiss you, almost as if she could get used to doing this more often. You climb out of her truck and make way back into the gas station.

"Drive safe, Abby."

"Oh, don't you worry about bout' me, honey," she said, tipping her hat slightly as she started the engine. "I'll be back here soon enough. Just don't go breakin' hearts in the meantime, alright?"

"I'll call you after my shift, Anderson."

"Perfect."

And as the roar of her truck faded into the distance, you realized you were already looking forward to her next pit stop.

🏷️ — @rosemariiaa, @d3arapril

[dcxdpdabbles]

#holiday request Hi, I love your writing! Could you please update either "Danny's grill", "Congratulations! It's Triplets!" or "Phantom's number 1 fan"? Please and thank you

Jason is once again reviewing the map of potential areas Alvin could have been operating in when his burner phone rings. He snatches it up before it can pass the fourth ring, pressing it gently against his ear.

He offers no greeting. It's a tactic he uses to ensure that whoever is calling him has permission to do so. If someone attempts to conform his informants' and allies connection with him, Jason is not about to give them away by speaking first.

"Hey Boss," Honeycomb's voice filters through, edged by that familiar overdramatic southern draw she did when working. Apparently, the clients like listening to her use her accent. "I got eyes on that doll you've been searching for."

Jason sits up straighter. "Where and when?"

Honeycomb is one of the working girls who's been with him since his return to Gotham. She was the first to sign up for his protection, long before he did the whole heads in a duffle bag thing, and was one of his best eyes and ears on the street in exchange.

He didn't know her real name or age- but he was sure she wasn't underage. He made it clear he wouldn't allow it. All Jason knew about Honeycomb was that she had run away from her home in the southern states with nothing but her pretty face, blond curls, hazel eyes, and the clothes on her back.

She was feisty and could charm her way out of most problems with her silver tongue. Her manipulation of her clients was almost an art form, and she could get any information out of anyone with a well-placed hand on the air and a sweet little "darling" on her grubby lips. He often thought she would have been a lawyer if life had been fair to her.

"Just now, on Ruby Street. He was with a man in his late teenage to early twenties. About six feet five inches, black hair, blue eyes, and Caucasian. Alvin was wearing black tights and a red hoodie. The man is in jeans and a white zip-up." Honeycomb rattles in one smooth report, the huskiness of her accent making her articulation more pleasant to the ear. "Seems they were doing a photo shoot."

Jason is already moving towards his bike, switching her call to his helmet. His stomach turns slightly as he grunts, "What kind of photoshoot?"

"Not that kind, Darling. Seemed more like a scavenger hunt, according to Alvin. They are finding specific landscapes and making posses that are answers to some riddles." Honeycomb responds. Distantly, her heels clicking against the concrete echo a little louder, letting Jason know she has wandered into an alley. "I approached Alvin when the man with him went up a fire escape to take a picture with a gargoyle. I offered him my service to him as a cover. Once he confirmed his name was Alvin and he was already with a client, I left before he could get the idea I was attempting to steal his work."

"Good job." Jason boots up his bike, flying out of his hideout without hesitation. He was still twenty minutes away from Ruby Street, but if the pair was going to be a moment, he could close the distance between them and find a trail to follow once on scene.

He questions as he flies through two lanes, ignoring the honking of angry divers. "How did Alvin look? He's supposed to be with one of my contacts, so if he's with someone, it might be a John roughing him up."

I'll deal with Victorian later. He mentally swears How dare he not tell me, Alvin went back to the field after hiding out for so long without a ounce of protection.

"The sweetheart doesn't seem hurt, but I can tell his client is one of those problematic kinds." Honeycombs sighs, the edges of unease slipping into her voice. "He looks at Alvin like he's in love."

Shit. It's never suitable for working folks to meet someone who "loves" them. Nine out of ten times, it was just a wacko who became violent the moment the prostitute so much as hinted that this was only a job to them. Jason had pulled out three women's bodies from the Brown River the last time one of those clients fell in love.

Jason pressed harder on the accelerator. "Are they still there?"

Honeycomb hums "The John is on the roof now, but Alvin is waiting for him under the street pole-Oh shit!"

Jason nearly slams into a nearby car at her sudden yell. "What happened?"

She doesn't answer, but he can pick up the sound of her running and her fast breathing. He knows she is getting out of danger because if there is one thing Honeycomb is as a person, she's a survivor. He wants answers but would rather she focus on getting herself safe first.

He meanwhile, concentrates on the phone calls and the vehicles he's flying between.

It's a few minutes before she gasps. "Sorry, Darling, I had to run. Batman was on the roof with the John."

What.

"Batman just appeared out of nowhere and threw a bucket of mud at the john. Alvin didn't seem to notice, but I did. Batman made eye contact with me, so I ran." She concludes, pushing through her uneven breathing. "I have to go, Darling. Hideout before the Bats lock me up."

"That's alright. Stay safe." Jason tells her, taking a turn sharply as she hangs up the call without another word. The second she does, he double-taps his helmet to connect to the Bat communications.

"Barbie. I need to know what B is up to now."

_________________________________________________________

Bruce watches the Fae shake the mud out of his face after he has scrambled down the fire escape. Tim was at his side in a second, using a handkerchief to gently clean up the Fae's face.

There were a lot of whispered words, but based on what Bruce could pick up from lip reading, Tim had no idea he was up here. He just assumed the Fae got caught up in a juvenile prank.

Oddly enough, that was primarily due to the Fae covering for Bruce.

It was rather disappointing the repealing spell hadn't worked, but the Justice League Dark the mixture of John's Wort, primroses, and marsh marigolds mushed together with water socked in iron during the full moon should have made it possible to force the contact with Tim to break down.

Of course, this had been a desperate attempt, seeing as all the JL Dark had been unsure which method was best when he asked how to get a Fae to leave a human alone.

A lot of debate went into finding a solution, but in the end, Bruce had chosen a mixture repellent. He had even decided to use some holy water and trough in blessed soil and blessed iron just to make it extra powerful.

The magic users had all assured him it would work as long as it touched the Fae skin while Bruce chanted Tim's full legal name. It had felt rather ridiculous dragging a bucket half the size of himself through the city, trying to spot where Tim and his companion were, and even more so when he had sprinted across the rooftop screaming.

"Timothy Jackson Drake! Timothy Jackson Drake! Timothy Jackson Drake!"

The Fae had been in the middle of taking a photo. He set up his camera on a little tripod and, after pressing the time, had run to face the city- back facing Bruce- raising his arms to form a triangle above his head. Based on fact the camera was slightly lower then the Fae's torso, Bruce could deduct her was attempting to capture himself making the triangle top of one of the most iconic buildings in Gotham.

Spear tower.

He waited only long enough for the flash to go off, so by the time the Fae turned around, he had a face full of mud.

It splat all over his front, covering every inch of what should have set Tim free. The silence followed was louder than anything Bruce had ever heard, even as the Fae calmly picked up his camera and scurried to the ground.

Bruce let him go, wondering why he had failed. Thankfully, it seemed Tim and the Fae were getting back in their car- not the food truck for some reason- and were driving away.

Tonight, Bruce would find its lair and get his son home because letting him take a relaxing vacation was alarming to the rest of his children.

He rushed to the Batmobile, climbing into the driver seat and taking off after the pair. As he was driving, he could have sworn Jason just passed by him, moving like the devil was after him.

Bruce wondered briefly if he should check in on his third oldest but thought better of it when he noticed Cass, Dick, and Duke driving right behind Jason on their own bikes. His children had each other backs.

A few hours later, Bruce stood before a large empty field. He had watched the Fae drive into it and vanish from sight. None of his machines could pick up any hint on where they might have gone, but he was reasonably sure there wasn't any teleportation involved.

Sometimes teleportation left some traces in the airwaves. It's how Bruce could track people using the boom tub or find the Flash whenever Barry went on a craze.

Bruce was thinking that this was the Fae's court and his magical home was being protected by supernatural means. He just had to figure out how to get in and Tim out.

As he was considering the field, a soft, distant roar made him reach for his weapons. He turns one hand poise for a throw, his trusted batarangs in between his fingers, only to become surprised when he recognizes the vehicles driving towards him.

It was his spare Batmobile and four bird-themed motorbikes. His children.

"B?" Dick questions after spinning to a stop and sliding right in front of Bruce. He lowers his window, looking at him with apparent confusion despite the Nightwing mask blocking his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Following a lead on the Fae. What are you doing here?" Bruce asks, lowering his arm but keeping his weapon. He could never be too sure this isn't a trick.

"Following a lead on Tim." Dick responds, stepping out of his car. Two other doors open, and out steps Steph and Damian, both looking posed for a fight. Of all his children, those two tend to be the most territorial and have not taken to Tim being a semi-held hostage well. "Oracle was able to track him through the city cameras after he popped up taking photos."

"hmm"

Jason jogged over to them with Cass not far behind. "Wait,, you got a lead on your cases too? We would check in on Victorian and see if he knew anything about Alvin."

He gestures to those behind him, indicating Cass and Duke, but the daytime hero is not paying attention. Duke was staring at the field, mouth slightly open as if in awe. Bruce straightens once he realizes Duke can probably see or at least detect the magical castle.

"Victorian?" Damian asks, crossing his arms. "Who is that?"

"The owner of the giant mansion we're standing in front of. He's one of my contacts."

"Ugh, not to make you feel crazy, Hoodie," Steph speaks up, placing a hand on the crook of her hip and waving her hand to the field. "But there is literally nothing there

"What are you talking about. This place is bigger than Wayne Manor."

Bruce heard about this. Guests who have been here before or have permission to enter can see glimpses of the Otherworld that Fae deals in. However, it is surprising to know Jason has already been in contact with the Fae before and has not been kept.

Did that throw a wrench in his theory of Tim and Alvin being the same person? Why would the Fae ask Jason to find Tim if he was in the creature's home?

Before anyone could say anything else, a giant gate entrance suddenly manifested mere feet from where Bruce stood. A soft creek was heard as it was thrown open, and a glowing woman in an old mail outfit floated just a foot off the ground on the other side. She eyed them all in an eerie, emotionless face before bending her own into a low bow. "Welcome. My King wishes to invite you in."

Well, that's not ominous at all.

His children shared a look between them, silently letting each other know to be cautious as they followed the floating woman. She led them down an impressive driveway that slowly gave way to a massive mansion.

Bruce fought to keep the surprise off his face. Jason was right. This place was more prominent and grander than his manor. It didn't just scream wealth. It screamed nobility; it screamed royalty.

The group walked into the main hall, some muttering thanks to the bowing woman who opened the doors. "Of course. The King stated that his home would always be open to Master Alvin's kin."

She vanished from sight like mist fading away as soon as they crossed the doorway.

Bruce's eyes instantly landed on the figure standing atop the grand stairs. Tim was gawking at them, wearing nothing but a long, seductive black robe with fluffy collars and wrists. The front of the rob was open, displaying a large amount of chest and thigh, but keeping the significant bits out of sight.

Thankfully.

His skin was glowing, his hair tussled stylishly, and a dozen red roses were in his hands. Tim looked like he was planning a romantic evening in his get-up.

"Oh," He said dumbly. "You're not Danny."

"What the fuck is going on" Jason demanded after a long period of silence.

"Um...I was planning on seducing my friend. What are you all doing?"

"Regretting waking up this morning," Damian demands, pressing a hand over his eyes. "Please get decent. My nightmares are horrid enough."

Bruce nods. "You were Alvin Draper and are romantically involved with the Fae. He seems to be treating you well. That's good."

All of his children stared at him for a long moment before the hall erupted with displeased noises. Bruce was taken aback.

Did none of them know any of this? It seemed obvious to him.

[bountydroid]

Jealousy

Request: Can I please request a Cooper x Fem reader comfort angst romance where the sweet reader is infatuated with Cooper (she has a thing for older men)The sweet reader is always doing unnecessary favors for him, like secretly giving him discounts on rad away and supplies, taking care of dog meat, and getting him information on bounties. Until he brings along Lucy, misunderstanding the whole situation, the reader’s heart breaks thinking the worst and slowly stops trying and acting cold and distant, making Cooper notice that the only tolerable person he has ever known in this god forsaken world is ignoring him. (Feel free to add or change anything just pls feed into my delusions😭 I just want some hardcore romance with our cowboy) Also can u pls add that the reader also has a cute southern accent?

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader

Description: As a wandering trader, you've made a lot of strange friends. Among them, Ghouls, but there is one in particular that is your favorite.

Notes: I hope I did this justice for you anon!

The Wasteland was brutal, and even you knew it was a bad idea to trek it alone, but you had a job to do. However, as you found yourself in front of your old friend Roger's home you felt like the Wastelands weren't all that bad.

"My name.. is Roger." You heard him repeating between snarls.

You stopped in your tracks outside the door. "He's turning," You thought to yourself as you rummaged through your pack looking for any vials of Radaway. You were all out. Sighing, you put your hand on your holster before slowly making your way inside to check on your friend.

"Rog?" You ask as you round the corner to find him sitting in the dirt.

"Oh hey," he said relieved. "My savior. Do you have any vials"

"I don't have any, Rog." You replied sadly.

"Oh." He whispered. "You should probably get out of here then. It's not safe for little girls like you to be in the Wastelands alone." He said sadly, leaving out the bit you both knew, you weren't safe with HIM alone. 

Before you could respond, you heard quiet footsteps down the corridor. "Who else is here?" You thought to yourself as your hand went back to your holster. Peaking your head around the corner you find none other than Cooper Howard and... a vaultie? You did very little to hide the confusion on your face as you looked between the two.

"Hey, you." You said to Cooper. "What are you doing here?"

"Could ask you the same thing, sweetheart." He responds, pushing the vaultie through the doorway and making his way to Roger.

"Hey Rog," Cooper greets him.

"Hey. Hey." Rogers laughs, relieved to see his friend. "Fancy seeing you here. You out for that bounty, too, huh?"

"Yep," Cooper responds as he knelt in front of his friend.

You all stand there in silence for a bit, listening to Roger snarl and whip his head around. 

"Oh, shit," Roger says between wails.

"How you feeling?" Cooper asks quietly, already knowing the answer.

"Oh.. you know," Roger replied. "It's hard out here. Dang smoothies can be so unkind. I see you got a smoothie of your own." He says as he looks over at the vaultie.

You also turn to look at the vaultie, a look of displeasure on your face. "A smoothie of your own." Repeating over and over in your head. You wanted to be his smoothie. You and Cooper never really started a relationship, but you thought you were heading in that direction. You gave him a generous discount on Radaway since you developed a little crush on him, and he would always spend more time than necessary with you whenever you crossed paths. He was always fussing after you and was always telling you how you were too reckless. In his eyes, everything was too dangerous for you. He knew how you felt about him, and you THOUGHT you knew how he felt about you, but this vaultie threw a wrench in everything. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he doesn't like me." You thought to yourself while eyeing her up. You were so lost in thought that you could barely hear Roger snarling next to you. 

"You're turning," Cooper says reluctantly, his voice pulling you from your thoughts.

"Yeah maybe, maybe." Roger says on the verge of tears, "Maybe. Hey, you don't happen to have any vials, do you? Y/n is all out."

Cooper's eyes met yours as you nodded your head sadly.

"Just one little puff and I'll be back on my feet. You know I'm good for it." Roger pleaded.

"I'm sorry Roger I am all out," Cooper says, looking back toward his friend.

"That's okay. That's okay." Roger mumbles. "Though, um, you and y/n and your smooth-faced friend, you um... you might want to clear out before things get ugly."

You flinch as you hear Roger snarl again, each time he was getting louder and louder. You look down at your feet with tears in your eyes.

"I did okay. 28 years since I first started showing," Roger said looking between you and Cooper, before snarling again. "Oh, hell! Not as long as you though." He pointed proudly at Cooper, "You've outlasted us all. How long since you first started Wastelanding?"

"A long time," Cooper responds while shaking his head.

"That's a lot of vials," Roger said quietly.

"Well I've always been good at making money, Roger." Cooper exhales as he stands up. "Say, you remember how good food used to taste?"

"Yeah, BlamCo Mac and Cheese!" Roger says excitedly.

"Ice Cream and Apple Pie." Cooper countered.

Roger laughed, a real laugh. He was happy. "Apple Pie is not nearly as sweet as young Y/n's southern accent though." He says smiling up at you. "You know, my mom used to -"

Before you knew what happened, Roger's brains were all over the wall. You looked up at Cooper with tears in your eyes. You knew it had to be done. You knew it was mercy, but it still hurt. 

"Why did you do that?" The vaultie asked. "He was sick."

"He wasn't gonna get better." You responded dryly.

"You usually don't go all the way out here sweetheart, not on your own. What are you up to?" Cooper asks you as he picks up Roger's body and places it in a position where he easily access what he needs.

You don't respond. Between the jealousy brewing in your stomach at the vaultie next to you and the sadness about Roger, you couldn't find the words you wanted to say. 

"Stop. Stop Stop." The vaultie pleaded, "Please, I know it's hard out here but you don't, you don't have, you don't have to resort to... to..."

Before he could respond you quickly made your way out of the building for some fresh air. You could hear their voices inside, but you decided to drown them out by humming to yourself. You didn't need to see him take apart Roger, and you definitely couldn't stand the sound of her voice any longer. You knew you should get walking, you were low on supplies and they would be leaving the building soon. You didn't want to face them again, but it felt like there were bricks in your boots. As exhaustion hit you, you sat down in the sand and closed your eyes, losing track of time.

"Hey," You hear Cooper say as he puts his hand on your shoulder. "You good, sweetheart?"

'Fine." You mumbled out. "You and your smoothie should get going." The venom in your voice was loud and clear, but you didn't care.

"That's what got ya panties in a bunch?" Cooper laughed. 

You glared up at him in response. "Don't laugh at me, Cooper."

"I am taking her to SuperDuperMart. Not keepin’ her as a pet.” Cooper smiles as he offers you his hand. 

"Oh," You responded quietly, feeling stupid.

"What is SuperDuperMart?" You heard the vaultie ask, but the two of you completely ignored her.

"No one could ever replace you, sweetheart," Cooper says as he cups your face. 

You couldn't help the smile that graced your face at his words, and the blush that creeped up your neck.

He smiled when he noticed the way your eyes flickered towards his lips. 

"When I get my hands on some Radaway, I'll show you just how much you mean to me." You whispered.

"Lookin' forward to it." He whispered back.

The two of you were so caught up in each other that you didn't even notice the look of pure disgust on the vaultie's face as she watched your interaction. Some people may never understand why you like Cooper so much, but honestly? You couldn't give a damn.

Tag list: @sitkafay

[wandaslovey]

𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇’𝓈 𝓆𝓊𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓁

➺ pastor’s!wife!wanda x fem!reader

wc ~ 3.4k

a/n: i just finished watching love & death for the 4th time and it made me go absolutely feral for lizzie with a southern accent. i’m debating whether or not i want to make this a short series—especially writing a second part where i better establish the background of these two characters. let me know if you guys would like a part 2!

*not proofread*

cw: brief mentions of religious background, infidelity/cheating, forbidden relationship, legal age gap, established relationship, reader almost smokes a cigarette but doesn’t, punishment, [wo]man-handling, spanking, humiliation, inspection, finger licking/sucking, praise, mommy kink, reader is kind of a whiny brat in this fic (she’s really just overstimulated), and some fluff at the end

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ୨♡୧ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you pace back and forth along the side of a red and white striped tent, kicking up some dirt and rocks as your feet drag. your skin feels like it’s tingling and your ears cringing at the sheer amount of sounds coming from the carnival you were currently at. you reach into your bra, retrieving one of the two cigarettes you had secretly stashed there unbeknownst to wanda. it was very unlike you—the smoking—but it was a nasty habit you picked up during your rebellious teen years. wanda had been trying to break you of it for months now. she’d gone as far as taking it upon herself to search through your things every time you two escaped to a town over to be together. any time she found a pack or a lone cigarette, she would throw it away claiming that her “sweet baby” shouldn’t be doing such a thing as “harming her own lungs.”

you hadn’t actually smoked one in awhile, but knowing you were coming here today, you stashed a couple in case you became overstimulated, which you now were. it didn’t help that you were already in a sour mood upon arriving here. wanda was all smiles and encouragement, happy and chipper to spend time with you. you weren’t sure why you were in such a poor mood, especially since you got to be with her, but at the moment you couldn’t care less about the series of events that may have drove you into this corner.

you pat your other breast, seeking the lighter but it wasn’t there. shit, you must’ve left it in your overnight bag or maybe in wanda’s car. with the cigarette hanging limply from your lips, you stupidly look around you as if there would be something around you to light it.

as you step out from behind the circus-like tent, you scan the small herds of people surrounding the area. there were so many families here along with couples and groups of young teens out with their friends. you hated being in places that were overly crowded. stepping out into this scene only made you feel worse and just when you were about to step back to your makeshift hiding place, you spot wanda walking rather briskly over to you. she was clutching onto the straps of her purse with two hands, her eyes intent on you as she made her way seamlessly through the crowds to get to you. normally, the look on her face would make you cower instantly, but you were in no mood to give into her dominating presence.

the cigarette that had been dangling from your lips was now stuffed back into your bra, your hands shoving themselves into the pockets of your t-shirt dress.

“now just where the hell did you think you were going? i’ve been looking all over for you, (y/n).” her southern accent bled into her words, which under different circumstances you loved, but right now that fact didn’t matter.

you cross your arms over your chest, taking a step around her as you attempt to walk away to blend in with the other crowds of people. she easily falls into step next to you, looking at you expectantly.

“i just needed a minute,” you say in a monotone voice, looking straight forward as you walk. clearly, she’s not sufficed with your answer. you count three, four, five steps before you feel her arm wrap around your bicep, her fingers curling tightly but not painfully as she pulls you back to the side, ducking around the corner of a carnival game tent.

“what is going on with you? you’ve been nothing but a fuss pot ever since i picked you up.” she uses her thumb and forefinger to hold your chin in place as you look up at her, her other hand still holding onto your arm. you feel your tough facade begin to crack, fissures seeping into your mind that made you want to cave and pout like the little girl you felt like right now.

“mm’fine wanda,” you mumble, looking at her pretty blonde cropped hair instead of her eyes. when you were in a mood like this, her eyes were the most dangerous place to look. those green orbs wielded more power than any god you’d ever been told to believe in.

“(y/n). look at me.” she commands, her fingers gripping more firmly onto your chin. she gently shakes your head back and forth until she gets the desired reaction and your eyes meet hers. you immediately feel a little more wobbly where you stand, her eyes all but piercing into your soul. “do not lie to me. ever. do you hear me little miss? i know something is going on with you.”

your bottom lip quivers slightly, jutting out into a pout and wanda watches your eyes widen and go soft around the edges, mimicking that of a guilty puppy. you hold eye contact with her for another second and all of a sudden the invisible cracks in your mind remold themselves. you harshly turn your head to the side, freeing your chin from her grasp. you didn’t want to give into her just yet.

“don’t wanna talk about it. let’s just go have some fun or whatever the fuck it is you’re supposed to do in this godforsaken shit show.”

you turn from her, already out in the midst of groups of other people before wanda can think about grabbing you again. from her place at the side of the tent, she watches you walk away, exhaling slowly to maintain her nerve before she catches up to you.

for the next hour or so, you go from tent to tent, playing the rigged games and forcing yourself to “have fun.” after being unkind to a couple of the attendants and giving her attitude for the last while, wanda was at her wits end. she had no idea what was going on with you and no matter how gently or forcibly she probed, you refused to tell her what was wrong.

it wasn’t until your final throw at a bean bag toss that she decided enough was enough. after hearing your “this was never my idea to be here” comment under your breath, she grabs your arm again, all but dragging you out of the carnival. there was a group of teenagers who stopped to watch you as you huffed, kicked and dragged your feet along as wanda pulled you wordlessly to the parking lot, but neither you nor she could care about that now.

she rummages through her purse with her free hand, angrily retrieving her keys at last as she unlocks the car. she opens the passenger back seat door, all but shoving you inside of it before shutting the door firmly behind you. she hurries to the other side, coming into the backseat with you.

a thick silence falls over the car, her eyes burning holes into the side of your face as you had yet to look at her. wanda wasn’t sure what to say—which approach would best get through to you in this moment.

“i’m going to give you one more opportunity to explain yourself before you’re in even bigger trouble than you already are.” her voice was artificially calm. anyone else would perceive her now as perfectly composed, but you knew better. you picked up on all the subtleties—the slight shake in her voice at the end of her sentence and her hands twitching ever so slightly. you had really pushed her today and you knew a punishment was inevitable. as you sat there in the silence of the car, you realized that subconsciously you were making today enormously difficult on purpose to earn her harsher hand. you were normally such a good girl for her, but today was about pushing buttons—and you really were overstimulated from everything at the carnival.

you glance at her from your peripheral vision, inhaling slowly as you begin to fidget with your hands in your lap. wanda’s normally impeccable patience had gone thin though, and when another beat of silence passed over the two of you, she was done waiting. she reaches over the middle seat, pulling your body till it was flush with hers. she lifts your legs over her lap, bending them in a slight awkward angle from being pressed against the side of the door. a gentle hand lifts your face, her fingers smoothing some of the frizz from your hair before she tucks the strands behind your ear.

“what happened to my sweet girl, hmm?” this time her voice was genuine and warm, her facial expression softening. she knew that paired with her sugary sweet sweetness and being wrapped up in her arms, you would melt. you could never deny the fact that regardless of your mood, you always wanted to be her good girl and to please her.

your pout from earlier came back full force as you began to feel a pang of guilt growing in your tummy. you had been unfair to her today, giving her attitude for no reason and denying her comfort at every turn. she deserved better.

your nimble fingers find the collar of her blouse and you fidget with the material absentmindedly. your brows pull together like you’re thinking hard about something as you stare at a random spot on her chest.

“i’m sorry, wanda,” you mumble, the edge of a whine in your tone. she strokes the back of your head, beginning to gently coax you into that fuzzy headspace you both love so much.

“well i sure do appreciate that, but an apology’s not what i asked for, is it?” you shake your head at her question, curling further into yourself to feel smaller in her lap. she easily adjusted her arm to support the new distribution of your weight while the hand on her other arm continued to caress the side of your cheek.

it was almost pathetic how easily you gave in to her touch. it had barely been a couple of minutes and you were already feeling much more compliant.

“i…it was just loud and bright,” you state simply in a small voice, offering no further explanation. you hoped she didn’t need clarification since you didn’t feel much like talking at the moment.

“the carnival? was my darling girl feeling a little overstimulated?” she asks sympathetically, tapping her finger against your cheek so you know to look up at her. your eyes slowly drag up her neck and her face until you’re looking in her eyes again. you nod once, your pout becoming impossibly deeper. she hums, a hand at the back of your head as she presses her lips against your forehead, planting a kiss there.

“i’m sorry sugar, mommy didn’t know. you have to tell me these things, honey. as much as i’d like to, i can’t read your mind.” she kisses your temple, watching your shoulders shrug in response to her comment. you wished she could read your mind. there were so many things you knew you needed to communicate to her that your stubborn refusal prohibited you from sharing.

“i really am sorry you were uncomfortable today sweetheart, that was never my intention. now i know for next time, right?” she pauses for a moment, noticing your line of sight was on your fingers that were still fiddling with her top.

“however, you did fail to communicate your needs with me despite the fact that i tried to get you to talk to me. on top of that, you were snotty and rude to not only me, but a few of the workers at the fair. you understand that is unacceptable, right?” she watches your head nod a few times, your eyes glazing over and she knows that right now, you’re her compliant little girl and you’ve already accepted your consequences.

“mommy’s gonna have to punish you. you understand why now, don’t you baby?” you nod once, but still clutch onto the collar of her shirt, your thighs pressing together as the word “punishment” passes through her lips. it doesn’t go unnoticed by wanda, but she chooses not to acknowledge it for now.

wanda gently pries your fingers from her shirt, maneuvering the both of you until you were face down across her lap. she had one of her legs crossed over the other so your lower back had a nice arch, your ass sitting higher in the air. she lifts your dress up over your rear, bunching the material at the middle of your back.

she hums to herself, her mouth watering slightly at the sight of your cute ass framed by your cheeky baby blue lace underwear.

“oh baby doll, you have the cutest, spankable cheeks, you know that?” the first teasing smack lands on your right cheek, already warming the skin. you groan at her question, feeling your panties dampen and the urge to press your thighs more firmly together.

“i’m going to spank you 40 times. i want you to count and say ‘i’m sorry mommy,’ for each spank. understood?” her hand caresses over the skin she just smacked, soothing the slight sting.

“yes mommy,” you reply, your voice muffled as your face was half pressed into the car seat. wanda purrs at your obedience, giving your ass cheek a squeeze. “good girl,” she murmurs, still rubbing your backside.

the first real smack lands on your left cheek, your body jerking slightly from the force. “one, i’m sorry mommy.” you breath out. you weren’t expecting her to start out so strong.

another blow. “two, i’m sorry mommy.” she measured the hit, ensuring she hit the same spot twice.

smack. “three, i’m sorry mommy.” you bite your lip, your core beginning to tingle.

smack. “four, i’m sorry mommy.” you feel your arousal continuing to wet your panties.

smack. “ffive—i’m sorry mommy!” you press your thighs together, only relieving a bit of the ache that was rapidly growing between your legs.

you hadn’t taken an inordinate amount of spankings, but you experienced enough that you knew that on average, the pain just surpassed the pleasure after about 18 hits. by the sixteenth one, your small pitiful whimpers turned to whines, and by the twenty-fifth the first low sob tore through your throat. tears were beginning to prick your eyes, threatening to roll down your pink tinged cheeks.

wanda pauses after the thirtieth spank, unable to ignore your increasingly squirmy little body. she could see your legs pressed firmly together, your body desperately trying to grind down onto her thighs. she tuts, tapping the back of your thigh in a silent command to open your legs. you feel a singular finger trace down your slit through your panties, the sticky feeling causing you to groan.

“oh sweetheart, look at you—all wet and sticky..” she trails off, her finger purposely rubbing up against your clit before she swipes back down to your opening. “you like it when mommy hurts you, don’t you?” it was mostly a rhetorical question, your arousal being evidence enough.

she brings her arousal coated finger up to your lips, which you eagerly suck into your mouth. you hum around the digit, swirling your tongue around it as any last rational thoughts you had turn to static.

“such a naughty baby. good little girls aren’t supposed to get so aroused by a punishment.” she pulls her finger from your mouth, a small popping noise emitting from the action.

“mommy,” you whimper pathetically, not quite sure exactly what you were begging for. you were past thinking clearly.

“shhh, i know honey. just 10 more spanks and then i’ll be done,” she runs a soothing hand down your back and then presses it down in the middle of your lower back. her last 10 smacks are just as harsh if not more than the other 30. by the end, the tears that been building in your eyes were spilling down your cheeks and you begin sniffling as your nose starts to run.

her hand carefully rubs across your now red, inflamed skin. she marvels at the sight. it was a bit sadistic, but she loved seeing the aftermath of a good spanking.

“mmm, i love it when you cry for me, baby.” her other hand finds its way into your hair, her fingernails gently scratching against your scalp. you melt into her affection, your body laying limply across her lap.

“let’s see how much more sticky sweetness is between these legs now, hmm?” she readjusts her hold on you, her leg propping you upright so your back is nice and arched again. her finger returns to your panties, finding them completely soaked through and ruined. you hear her chuckle amusedly before she presses the soiled material up against your opening, her fingertip just barely pushing into your hole. you let out shrill whine, your hips backing up into her touch. she shushes you, sliding your panties to the side and you all but jump as her finger grazes up against your unclothed pussy. she gathers the wetness there, drawing a line up and down your slit, taunting you. you bite down hard on your bottom lip, your hips wriggling under her touch.

“hush now… let me see.. ohhh, my listen to that.” you moan, her index finger sliding tantalizingly slow inside of you. you can hear your pussy squelching as she does so, your walls desperately clamping down around her digit. she wiggles it as far as it’ll go, her knuckles brushing against your clit. she does an experimental bend of her finger, your body jerking in response as she stimulates your g-spot.

just when you start to finally feel some relief, she slowly withdraws her finger. as she pulls it away, a string of arousal clings to her finger, connecting your went cunt to her before she pulls it far enough away that it disappears. she was going to have you clean it off, but the sight was too delicious to resist. she sucks her own finger into her mouth, cleaning off the evidence of your wetness. you swear you hear a small purr of pleasure coming from her, but you couldn’t be sure with your heart pounding in your ears.

she smooths your dress back over your ass, grabbing onto your waist and twisting you so you were now sitting facing her upright on her lap. she reaches up and holds the side of your face, a twinge of a smile on her lips as she notices your dismayed expression. she pouts sympathetically, stroking your cheek with her thumb.

“what did we learn today, (y/n)?” you don’t stop pouting as you answer. “to not be mean and to communicate my feelings..” you mumble, your expression solemn and wounded as if you had just been told the saddest thing. it turned out one of the most tragic things was having wanda tease you and then leave you high and dry.

“that’s right, sweetness. good job.” she smiles warmly, kissing your nose affectionately.

“you did so good for me, sugar. mommy’s very proud of you.” she smiles encouragingly, and despite how mopey you felt about being denied an orgasm, you glow under her praise and affection. you purse your lips together as you try to smother a smile threatening to cross your lips. wanda chuckles at this, playfully tapping her finger against your nose.

“i see that smile, little girl. you can’t fool me.” she attacks the side of your face with kisses, a wide smile now erupting across your face as you giggle gleefully.

“you’re gonna make my face all soggy—quit it!” you protest lightly, half heartedly pushing against her chest to put some space between your faces. wanda makes a mock gasp.

“i beg your pardon, missy? i can give you all the kisses i want!” she growls playfully through gritted teeth before she plants more sloppy kisses all over your face. you squeal and giggle, finding that moving your face around did nothing but give her new places to kiss.

you were so happy and content in your little wanda bubble. you never wanted it to pop.

[stargirl-russo]

Sailor Song (Alessia Russo x Reader)

Summary: Joining Arsenal WFC was supposed to be the best thing for your footballing career, you were the best female footballer in the world after all. You didn't expect the unexpected longing of a certain blonde that came with it.

(Hi! I've never written fan fics before but I was inspired by some I read and thought why not?! i hope you like it, i honestly might delete later or return it to drafts if I can? or even a pt 2??? idk lmk if you want more! enjoy. do I need to add warnings>....suggestive? angst? )

Recalling the exact moment when it happened was difficult to comprehend, maybe because you tried to completely erase the moment from your memory. You felt embarrassed, ashamed, and even a little disgraced with yourself. Why did you have to like another girl, a straight girl, who definitely didn't feel the same?!

Joining Arsenal this season was exactly what both parties wanted - you needed a change in scenery, and they wanted - no needed - a more clinical finisher like yourself. Everyone at the team was especially welcoming, considering your intimidating resume of accolades at such a young age - taking the women's football world by storm. You got on with everyone on the team, especially the Aussies, Kyra, Steph and Caitlin - being Australian yourself. But one particular teammate stood out to you the most, for more reasons than one.

You'd never forget the first day you finally saw and met the Alessia Russo in person, after admiring her from afar for about a year. She was absolutely beautiful, incredibly captivating and alluring. Words couldn't explain how you felt when you saw her at training, or heard her laugh or when she would smile - which was always. The way your heart hammered against your chest, it felt like you couldn't breathe, the butterflies in your stomach erupted like crazy. These feelings, they just felt...right. She made you feel so giddy and happy.

Although the thrill of this girl crush was very exciting, a part of you couldn't help but feel extremely ashamed. You were not supposed to like a teammate, let alone girls. You couldn't help but admire her gorgeous blue eyes, her long lashes, her soft voice, and her long blonde hair as you smiled shyly and shook her perfectly manicured hand, introducing yourself. Her southern british accent made you weak in the knees. "I can't wait to share the pitch with you this season."

You were absolutely certain that no one knew about this infatuation, crush or admiration, or how down bad you were - whatever you wanted to call it - with Alessia Russo. It was just so easy to get along with her, your calm natured and laid-back personalities working well together. Both sharing certain things in common, attending the same college in the US for football at different years, your love for fashion, travelling, and similar music tastes. She was just so sweet, genuine, caring, and just a ray of sunshine - you couldn't get enough. The chemistry you both had was clearly evident on the pitch also, as your styles of play complemented each other perfectly; turning arsenal's season around with each match.

It scared you how you strongly you felt about her, as she probably had no idea about the effect she had on you, and above all, probably didn't feel the same. And now you were going to continue to play alongside her and work with her nearly every day this season. You'd eagerly wait to see your cheerful teammate and greet her happily weekly at training. It was a blessing and a curse, but it was something that kept you going.

Hiding your sexuality was something you had no trouble dealing with initially as you just constantly immersed yourself with the football: whether it was with routine season interviews, the sponsorship photoshoots, the constant training or the glamorous award shows - it kept you busy, a distraction which led to you further cementing your place as the best young women's footballer in the world. It's not anything anyone really expected of you anyway, to like girls. Besides, you never spoke about personal matters to the media, so no one really assumed anything at first. Which was a plus.

You'd constantly make excuses to avoid going out with friends away from football, who wanted to enjoy a night on the town, bragging about the boys they'd make out with at clubs, or the crushes they had on them. Not that you could relate though, but a part of you wished you could feel that sense of normalcy. To fit in, to relate. No one had no idea what you were going through or how you felt. It got harder to find excuses to deny random set ups with guys. Your feelings for Alessia were actually driving you to insanity, you were most likely going through an identity crisis - but you were still in denial.

However, the longer you concealed your true feelings and the harder you tried to deny it, you found it harder each and every day hiding how you felt about the certain blonde. It became more difficult to suppress your feelings, you wanted to talk to someone, - anyone - but you were afraid with how they would react if they found out. Besides you weren't going to embarrass yourself if she didn't even feel the same, what would be the point of coming out anyway right?!

But maybe you should've controlled yourself. You should have ignored her, distanced yourself even. It was fine though, you were just acknowledging that fact she was really gorgeous, and you weren't crushing on her - or so you told yourself. But the not-so-subtle glances at her during the training sessions said otherwise.

The glancing became constant, admiring her whenever she'd move with or without the ball or take a drink of water during break. You just couldn't help but admire her longingly. Thinking of believable excuses when being called out by the outspoken Katie McCabe became more difficult to articulate. You were certain Alessia was oblivious to this, and she was - for the time being.

It was supposed to be a post game interview focusing on the team's accomplishments this current season, given the difficulties the team faced at the beginning of the year. You expected to answer questions about your valuable contributions to the match and the squad, not some irrelevant, personal, stupid, phased, feelings that had nothing to do with football.

The lights were brighter than usual in the media room, you were riding a high after your incredible individual and team's performance. You couldn't stop smiling. Sitting in the media room alongside your captain Kim Little, you felt proud and finally content with yourself. You felt as if you were finally contributing to a team, a team that was winning. A distraction for the time being.

That is, until the question was asked.

You will never forget the way your stomach dropped at the question, the silence in the media room, the smirk on the reporters' face. He knew he struck a nerve as the colour drained from your face, you were no longer smiling. You're not sure why the question was asked or what value it had to the match you had just played, or above all - why this reporter was permitted into the the media room anyway asking such inconceivable questions.

You shook your head awaking from the absolute shock and audacity of the reporter. There is no way this is really happening right now. You were media trained - you got this. Totally.

'Could you please repeat the question?' You asked politely into the mic, besides the fact that your was voice now quiet and shaky as you squirmed in your seat, refusing to look at the reporter. He noticed your uneasy reaction, and pressed on, knowing there is more to what your letting on.

"Can you address the rumours within the women's football community that you currently have romantic feelings for your teammate, Alessia Russo?"

"What?! That's ridiculous. Next question."

Maybe you responded to that too quickly, way too quickly for it not to be suspicious as you dismissed him. To your knowledge, and last time you checked, you hadn't come out, you hadn't revealed how you felt about her to anyone - especially not Alessia, and you were certain someone as beautiful as her was taken - surely.....right?

Your throat was going to constrict, no doubt, your breathing becoming heavier and faster, your ears turning a bright red and your leg begins to bounce. Your eyes dart around the room. "How is this football related?" your captain Kim interjects, sensing your uncomfortable state as you fidget on the spot and find it hard to remain composed. She herself looks confused.

Both your heart and mind race. Who told them? How do they know? Where did they even think of something like that? They can't know. Does Alessia know?

You were widely aware that this post-game press conference was currently live. This didn't make the situation better. "Is there really nothing going on? You seem pretty flustered. Besides, you didn't deny it did you?" He smirked, a chorus of chuckles emerging from around the room.

"Stop instigating." The words pour out of your mouth defensively before you can stop them, let alone even comprehend what is going on. You can hear your heart beat in your ears.

"I'm not instigating anything, just trying to get the truth out of you. Why don't you start being honest? Show the world who you really are."

Your body shakes with frustration and panic, you can't do this anymore. You rush out of the media room, holding back tears of frustration. This is absolutely ridiculous you think to yourself, barging open the door of the locker-room, ignoring the looks from your teammates.

Silence fills the room, you look up at the locker room’s television, seeing Kim still in the media room - the broadcast was indeed live. Shit. Alessia, along with everyone else in the room definitely saw it. Shit. You freeze up.

Steph, your Aussie teammate turns to you "Hey, are you okay?" You refuse to say anything - afraid your voice might crack, further revealing your vulnerability. You refuse to make eye contact with anyone, especially Alessia. Steph senses the inner turmoil you’re enduring, and gestures everyone out of the locker-room.

You sit there with your head in your hands, as tears threaten to fall. You didn't reveal much in the post-match interview, so everything is fine right? But maybe thats the problem. You didn't deny anything technically - further exposing and embarrassing yourself and probably Alessia. You fail to notice she's still in the locker-room.

You look up slowly, locking eyes. Her ocean blue eyes bore into yours, a glimpse of concern and curiosity. "Can we talk?" She questions softly. Shit

"No thank you, I'd rather not." You say stubbornly, packing your wash bag quickly as she sits down next to you. You had to get out, you had to get away from her.

Alessia is surprised by your nonchalant response. "Lets just talk about this, please?" She says softly in a pleading voice, her eyes looking up, trying to lock with yours.

"I'm sorry." You say quietly, packing your bag and making your way towards the exit of the locker-room as fast as you can. You actually couldn't fathom that this was happening. Is this some sick joke?!

Alessia is concerned and saddened by your dismissive tone, she can tell that this whole situation has negatively affected you and is eating away at you. "Don't be sorry." She says softly, standing up. "It can be hard times, but I just want to understand whats going on. You clearly feel something. Something about me."

You stop in your tracks and turn around to face her, she makes her way towards you her eyes never leaving yours. Your heart aches, and she can see the adoration and the longing that you have for her in your eyes, behind internal conflict and self-hate.

"You're not a bad person. You know that I won't look at you differently." She whispers, pleading with you, trying to lock eyes with yours. "Please don't shut me out. I care about you, so much."

Alessia doesn't wait for a response. She steps closer to you now, closer the distance slowly. Your panting heavily, still refusing to look at her in the eyes, petrified you'd get lost in her ocean eyes. Terrified your eyes will reveal more than your words did in the press conference only moments ago. She can't feel the same. She doesn't.

She gently grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers with her ones. You feel as if you're going to have a heart attack, her touch sending bolts of electricity through your body. She can sense you're avoiding eye contact still.

"Hey, look at me" she whispers, staring at your now very flustered face, looking at you intently. Her eyes filled with concern, worry and something else, something you can't quite make out, something you've never seen from her before.

You still avoid her gaze, until she cups your cheek. You lock eyes with hers and you feel like you could die.

"just, look at me" she whispers once more, gently stroking your cheek bone with the pad of her thumb "thats it, just look at me."

Before you can stop yourself, the words fall out of your mouth in a whisper "i am. how can I not?" You let out a shaky breath at that, noticing her lips curl into a small smile, her eyes following your gaze down to her own lips.

"i know, I know you do, I see you" she whispers in response, moving closer to your face now, both your breaths mingling. Your heart continues to pound, her thumb gently traces your jawline, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity you’ve never seen before.

Its as if time has stopped. Your heart is pounding so hard against your ribcage you might have a heart attack. But her presence, the way shes looking at you, her voice, her touch—it makes sense in ways you never expected.

And then, just as you think you can’t handle the intensity any longer, she leans in. Were you about to kiss the girl you've been in love with for so long now.....

[luludeluluramblings]

dream team duo rambling again (our bad 4 tha spam but we luvvvvv ur stuff!!)

gyaru or influencer reader or even normal reader who intentionally has a specific way of speaking (valley girl, southern accent, Cajun accent, etc.) and then completely drops it to go off the grid??? that just seems so cool

Neglected!Influencer!Reader x Yandere!Batfam

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Okay, buckle up! Cause y'all are adding the spin to my spiraling and I'm living for it!

A/N: Adding this to the concept list because I got carried away with this and will probably want to add to it at some point. Calling this Influencer!Reader.

Warnings: GN!Reader, subtle yandere themes

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Neglected!Reader that starts filming Youtube videos or streaming in their room in the manor to cope with the loneliness. Only, rather than putting on a persona or costume, they just act like their genuine self.

They wear a certain style that they love and feel their best in. They have a distinct accent that they don't bother to hide when filming. They talk as loud or as soft as they want. They ramble and rave about their favorite things. And, people adore them for it.

Including the Bat Family.

But, no one makes the connection.

Outside of streaming, they were typical ordinary clothes that they don't feel like themselves in and try to hide their accent to sound more normal. All in the hopes of fitting in with the family and the Gotham.

The irony of trying so hard to make people like you only for you to fail to realize they already like you. Just not when you hide who you are.

Being blown off by members of the family, only because you have a video scheduled to post and for them to literally cut out time from their day just to watch it and be the first to comment.

Watching the usernames send you donations for your running away fund, only for them to be from the very people you want to run from.

It's not like the Bats realize who you are. They never spend time with you. They never notice you when you try to fit in with them. They've never even been in your room before. How could they know that their favorite person was literally right down the hall.

It isn't until you take a hiatus, telling your followers your finally moving and getting out of your hell hole that the pieces click.

Lets say, Tim gets itchy. (Going back to the idea of him using your videos to fall asleep.) He wants your voice back to soothe him. He needs his fix. And, lets face it, the others would only encourage it when they find out he's trying to track you down.

Imagine their horror when the puzzle comes together. That your their sibling. The one they've ignored. You live in the manor with them. But, wait. You said in your last video your moving? Wait! NO!

The rush down the hall to your empty room. Realizing they had seen the inside of it so many times, but had never actually been in it. Finding some of your old things left behind that had been in previous videos that you didn't bother to take. (They fight over them. They're sacred now.)

The had you. They had you right there in arms reach and they didn't hold you.

And, then you finally post another video. Thanking your fans for loving you when they couldn't. (But, their your fans too.)

They're gonna get you back though. Their you're biggest fans after all.

[loserboysandlithium]

Let’s Play Pretend: ex boyfriend Eddie one shot

Minors dni, angst, I haven’t done any angst in a while so I’m sorry if this is shit 😂 I needed a good practice run and hopefully someone will enjoy it 🖤🖤🖤

*******

Okay, I can do this. Just breathe.

Thanksgiving. Your mom expected Eddie to be there. He’s been there by your side for the past three years. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell her about the breakup. It was too hard. You still couldn’t truly wrap your head around it. How did we end up here?

Eddie pulls uncomfortably at the collar of his sweater, borrowed from the one and only Steve Harrington, as you both stand at the door of your mom’s house.

“You didn’t have to wear that.. she knows you Eddie.” you speak for the first time since he picked you up.

“Just wanted to look nice, ya know? Not like the asshole who broke your heart…” Eddie’s voice trails off as his gaze falls to his feet. His big black combat boots a stark contrast to his cream colored sweater. How does he manage to pull even this off?

“We said we weren’t gonna talk about it, Eddie. You promis-”

“Yeah, yeah I know. I’m sorry. I just- this is weird okay?” he mumbles.

He’d agreed, semi reluctantly, to play pretend for one night. Put on a happy face for your mom. Just one night. One dinner. Surely you could make it through, right?

You hear footsteps behind the door and take a deep breath as you reach over, sliding your hand into Eddie’s. The simple gesture making your heart ache. His calloused fingers, the chill of his rings, so familiar to you once. You hear the top lock click just as Eddie’s brown eyes meet yours.

He gives you a small smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Ready, pumpkin?” he whispers, his old nickname for you suddenly sending you into a spiral. Fuck, pull it together. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

The door swings open, revealing your mother and you smile big, probably too big in an attempt to hide your true emotions. Your mind is swirling, flashbacks of you and Eddie filling your thoughts as you try to push them away.

“Are y’all ready to eat?” Your mother’s sweet southern accent easing your racing thoughts just a bit. You nod, releasing Eddie’s hand to embrace your mother.

“I know my boy is ready, and I made your favorite.” your mom smiles warmly as she takes Eddie in her arms next. You watch as he hugs her, squeezing tight. He’s always loved your mom. Always felt right at home. Soaking up the attention she gave him every time he was over.

“Thanks, Ma.” he answers softly, clinging just a little tighter than usual before pulling away. His eyes look glossy. Shit. Maybe this was a bad idea.

He swallows hard, glancing your way once more before he excuses himself to the bathroom, the tear falling down his cheek only spotted by you.

Your mom ushers you into the kitchen as you begin to grab the dishes, carrying them to the large wooden table in the dining room. She’s rambling as usual, “I’ve missed you, baby.” “How are things?” “Eddie looks handsome as ever.” “Is that Steven’s sweater?” “Anything new?” Her last question hits hard as she wiggles her ring finger playfully.

You give her a small smile and a fake giggle as you shake your head no. “Mom, stop.” you groan.

“It’s gonna happen, baby. I just know it.” she reassures, leaning down to kiss your cheek. There was a time where that was all you wanted. You thought about it constantly. What ring would he get? How would he propose? The fantasies had run rampant in your mind. He was the one. He was supposed to be the one.

“Everything looks incredible.” Eddie’s voice appears suddenly from behind you shaking you from your thoughts. Then you feel his touch. His hand resting on your lower back as he pulls you into him slightly.

It’s all pretend. It’s all pretend. It’s all pretend.

He’s so close. You can smell his cheap cologne mixed with cigarettes and weed. Your favorite combo. You allow yourself to lean in a little closer, your eyes shutting softly as you brush against his chest.

His heart is fucking pounding.

The oven beeps and your mom claps her hands excitedly as she announces that the turkey is done. She disappears into the kitchen, leaving you and Eddie alone for the first time since you’ve arrived.

“You doing okay?” he whispers, gently titling your head to look up at him.

No.

“M’ fine.” you reply instead. You can’t look away. His eyes drawing you in as always. His pretty lips. His brow furrowed slightly. He’s so fucking close.

“I’m not, if it makes you feel any better.” he says bluntly, his eyes still on yours.

“Eddie..”

“Okay kiddos. Time to eat.” your mom sings, placing the small turkey on the table as you all take your seats.

****

You spend the night playing along. Eddie making his usual jokes, your mom smiling and laughing, talking about memories of the past few years. Eddie’s hand rests on your thigh under the table, making your body tingle.

“God, I remember that.” Eddie chuckles, his genuine laugh something you haven’t heard in so long. Now when you talk, it’s always a fight. Screaming and crying. Or just another hate fuck. But it was never just that. And you both knew it.

You look over at his pretty smile, his eyes look light, his body relaxed. Everything felt almost normal again. But it isn’t real. None of it is real anymore.

After dinner, you hug your mom goodbye. Eddie kissing her cheek softly as he promises to see her soon.

Then you’re in his van. The light atmosphere fading back into your bleak reality as he drives you home. He tries to make small talk. Even tries to keep the earlier conversations going. Memories of your good times. They were the best times. But you have to stay strong.

He pulls into your drive, shutting of the van, landing you in a uncomfortable silence. “I should go.” you say quickly before he takes you off guard, leaning down to kiss you. You shove him off, doing your best to control your emotions.

“I just thought maybe we could..”

“I can’t, Eddie. Not tonight. I’m sorry.” you mumble, grabbing your bag from the floorboard of his van.

“Yeah.. yeah okay. Only when you want some dick, right?” he grumbles, his response making all of your feelings from the night explode out of you.

“Did tonight mean nothing to you? Did you not feel it? Do I mean nothing to you?”

“Of course I fucking felt it! My heart feels like it’s being ripped in two. Do you think that was fun for me? Playing pretend? A happy fucking family? I miss you. I miss us. You know that!” Eddie shouts, running his fingers through his dark curls.

“That isn’t fair.” you grit your teeth, begging for the tears to stay in place but it’s too late. They stream down your face in little rivers, blurring your vision as you try to compose yourself but it’s no use.

“I know I fucked up…” he starts and you just shake your head.

“I can’t do this Eddie. Please don’t do this.” you beg, your heart already shattering into a thousand pieces.

His firm hands cup your face, forcing you to look into his eyes. Those pretty eyes. His face matches yours, heartbroken, tears falling onto his chest, silently begging you to give in. To take him back. To forgive and forget.

You close the gap in between you, pressing your lips to his, tasting the salt from his tears as you kiss him gently.

He was supposed to be the one.

You pull back, resting your forehead against his for just a moment before wiping your tears.

“I can’t, Eddie. I’m sorry.”

[allfortheslay25]

I’m back???

All for the act (actor au)

I’ve been dying to draw things for this au but since I’ve posted too many AUs at once, I already got enough on my plate

In this au, AFTG is a TV series and the characters are all actors

Some facts 👇

Andrew and Neil are dating before the series (they get engaged by the end of the first book)

Neil has a British accent, Andrew has a southern accent and calls Neil a buttload of things like Honey, Darling, and Sugar

Neil has heterochromia (one eye is brown and the other is blue) so he wears contacts throughout the entire series

Neil is trans (I believe in trans Neil supremacy)

Andrew has tattoos he hides with makeup and the armbands (Aaron has some too so most of his wardrobe is high collars)

Aaron and Andrew tend to fill in for the other when one of them is sick

Kevin has had a crush on all of the foxes/flirted with them

Wymack is actually Dan and Kevin’s dad and Abby is his wife (Dan and Kevin are half siblings)

Dan and Matt are not dating but they are interested in each other

Seth is not best friends with the main cast (the foxes) because he is too old but he is friendly with them and thinks they are all great

Allison and Renee are dating which is why their characters have so much chemistry

Betsy is the Twinyards mom and they got her the role as Bee for the show

Riko is friends with the Foxes and is genuinely a cool person. He is best friends with Jean before the show

Jean started dating Jeremy before he was introduced in the show

Nathan is a really sweet person off set but absolutely terrifying when the camera is rolling, the cast loves him

Lola and Mary are sisters and they improvise lots of their insults for each other

[tojisun]

hockey player simon pt 03 // part of this plot // mlist

i swear it was just supposed to be a drabble w no plot

jo heaves a sigh the moment you slide in front of her, and you would have been insulted if it wasn't for the gentle smile she gives right after. still, she's staring at you with that teasing tilt of her lips and her eyes narrowed in humour, one that you're not privy to.

"what?" you finally bite out, fiddling with your iced coffee, feeling self-conscious.

you fleet your eyes to yourself and, yeah, sure you're wearing the same pants as yesterday’s but c'mon? you didn't get to go back to your place after, well...

at least you didn't repeat your top, and is instead wearing a sweater you've stolen from simon's closet. cashmere, cream and soft, and the material comfortable, if not a little bit loose in the arms that droop past your fingers.

you thought you at least looked like those typical college students in the movies—effortlessly chic in a boyfriend sweater, if not a little haggard because who is not when in university?

she finally chuckles, the thrum of her voice easing up the frown that tugged your brows together. “don’t sweat it, superstar. it’s just that i’m still not used to seeing you be a sugar baby.”

you choke mid-sip, her words devouring you like an angry tide. you feel your eyes water in protest, the feeling burning as you sputter.

“i’m not–!”

“you’re not what?” tim asks, sliding into the seat beside yours.

you grumble, wagging a finger as you wipe your stained chin with your other hand. jo snorts and fills him in, chuckling all the while as she gestures at your sweater because she knows it couldn’t possibly have been yours.

tim’s smile turns cheeky, teasing, and he wiggles his brows at you.

“shut up, oh my god,” you whine, rolling your eyes at them, almost shyly, and you feel your cheeks warming. “i’m not– simon’s not my–”

“oh c’mon, babe,” jo says, playfully throwing her mechanical pencil at you. you huff before chucking it back at her, giggling to yourself when it bounces off her arm and rolls into the floor.

tim picks it up for her.

“he buys you expensive things—” her eyes flit to the new promise ring that you’re wearing. you unconsciously hide it behind your palm. “and pays for your tuition which i’m so, so jealous of.”

“doesn’t he fly you around too? in a private jet or something?” tim pipes up, shamelessly snagging away your iced coffee now that you’re too preoccupied to drink it.

“he doesn’t!”

twin brows quirk up in silent judgement.

“…he buys us first class tickets, not, like, a whole jet.”

see? they seemed to say with the way they cock their heads to the side.

you sniff. “it’s for work,” you mumble, remembering the first time simon flew you for his games.

“i mean, for him, maybe. but you? tell me what business do you have in winnipeg?” tim chirps and you almost want to jump him just to make him shut up.

“sugar baby,” jo finishes, singing. “but i mean, who can blame him, huh?” she grins, her voice dipping into a faux southern accent. “i’d spoil you too, sugar.”

“oh, you flirt,” you trill, taking the opening she offers to change the topic.

tim takes the bait and whines about how jo doesn’t do all those things for him, but jo is unmoved, eyeing you knowingly, but thankfully drops it too.

it’s just—

there’s a whole stigma to athlete’s girlfriends. for god’s sake, they even have a whole label—puck bunny—which is honestly just a dig made up by really shitty men who burn with jealousy . and you know that, but—

you can’t help but wonder if some, not all, of simon’s love for you is because of what you do to him. of what you give him in return. especially since he’s so busy all the time, either flying during the season and is rarely home, or packed with training and other physical regimen during the offseason.

so you wonder if this—flying you with him on the days the official WAGs are not being flown by the franchise, bringing you to vacation spots on the other side of the ocean, buying you everything you used to only dream of ever having—was his way of paying you back for your support and patience and care and love.

tim knocks his shoulder with yours, worry now lining his boyishly charming face.

“y’alright?”

“of course.” you lick your lips. “so did you ever get a copy of the lab sheet from rayan?”

.

you watch from the front seats as the team wrap up practice tonight, their coach looking pleased at their performance. it was still difficult to follow the game, but the players all look content too despite the sweat and their ragged breathing.

they never did know how to hold back even during a practice.

you say your goodbyes to the other people who came to watch, shooting simon a text that you’ll be waiting for him in the parking lot, and walk out.

the cashmere sweater, thankfully, is enough to fight off the cool air and the gentle breeze while you make your trek to simon’s distinct range rover, all sleek and pure black like he’s got the damn royals for a passenger.

it’s locked so you hover outside, stuffing your hands in the pockets of your pants, and entertained yourself with making puffs of air like you’re ten again. it’s honestly not too bad to be alone, if it weren’t for the sudden swarming of your doubts—the very same ones you thought you already shrugged off before taking the cab to the rink.

fuck.

“hey, love,” simon’s voice pierces through your thoughts and you jump, barely smothering the yelp that almost tore itself from the base of your throat.

you swivel, heart pounding, and simon’s beautiful face creases into one of concern.

“are you–”

“si!” you greet, jogging to him.

he laughs and opens his arms for a hug, one that you excitedly give him. you tuck your cold face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in, taking in the antiseptic scent of rink soap and the faint smell of his shampoo.

his body is so warm against yours, and you can’t help but melt in his hold, body relaxing at the comfort he brings you.

“you ready to go home?” he asks like the insinuation that his home is also yours is not heart-stopping and world-changing.

you nod, unable to trust your voice right now.

there’s something different whenever it’s just you and simon—your thoughts, for once, are quiet and your confidence in yourself peaking like simon is the only place in this world where you can truly be yourself. it’s not just indulgence, nor tolerance, but it’s pure unadulterated acceptance.

and maybe it’s because of that realization, that flipped switch, that in the lull of your conversation with simon, you bring it up.

“did you know? my friends think that you’re my sugar daddy.”

you feel him freeze, body going rigid as your words spill into the space between you two. you continue to hide your face away from, avoiding a serious conversation as regret begins to build, shame licking up from your fingertips to your ears.

stupid, you think to yourself. why the hell did i bring it up? fuck—

then, simon laughs, soft and sputtering, his whole body shaking as he giggles, choked wheezes uncontainable. you tip your head up just enough to catch his eyes, questions filling your tongue, waiting to be spilled, but simon cups your cheek so tenderly before you could doubt anything any more.

“do i need to be one to spoil you rotten?” he asks like he didn’t just shaken the foundations of your doubts.

do i need to be one to spoil you rotten, he said like spoiling you was the norm. like showering you with expensive gifts and booking you expensive flights and helping you with your expensive necessities was something that boyfriends typically do. like your friends are the odd ones for thinking he had to be anything other the man you’re dating to be able to splurge for you.

“no,” you say, dizzy with the weight of your affections.

simon’s smile droops, his eyes clearing. “was that something that honestly worried you?”

“i–”

the humour leaves him, and simon straightens up at seeing the gravity of the turmoil in your heart. his hands fall to your sides, thumbs hooked in the dip of your hips. he leans forward until his nose is brushing against yours.

“you know i love you, right?” simon asks, his voice quaking in desperation.

“yeah,” you sniffle, honest because god you mean it. “yeah, si. i know.”

“okay,” he says after a while, still intensely looking at you like you aren’t surely anything but a blob in his eyes with how close you two are pressed to each other.

then, his lips brush with yours, so faint, you almost missed it. you shudder at the feeling of it—how could a chaste kiss feel so intense?—your lips wobbling as something in your heart bloats.

you feel simon’s lips stretch into a grin from where they’re ghosting above yours, and then he’s kissing you again, this time deeper and longer. you curl your arms around his neck, feeling like you’re being swept off your feet all over again.

because simon is not good with words, truly, but he’s managed to swing an axe to the cornerstone of your self-doubt and made it crumble.

.

“oh god,” jo sobs in your arms, the two of you snuggled up under your sheets. “that was a joke! i promise!”

“i know,” you say, giggling. “i swear jo, it’s not you, it’s me.”

she looks up at you, eyes shimmering with tears. “are you sure?”

“yeah,” you croon, bumping foreheads with her. “...‘sides, simon’s taking me somewhere to make up for, and i quote, ‘making you doubt how serious i am about you’.”

she sniffs. “…permission to make a joke again?”

you grab your plushie from somewhere behind you and smack her ass with it.

“ow!”

“stop being dramatic—that didn’t hurt.”

[giggles nervously] so uh. 🏃🏻

[cravingrickgrimes]

CHAPTER ONE | ❝IN THE DIM LIGHT❞

rick!grimes x male!reader (smut) top!rick x bottom!reader

multi chapters / not finished word count: 1018

summary: You were relatively new to the prison. You had the same story as most of these folks here—no family, and alone. On your fifth day here you got your first work assignment. You manage to get paired up for field duty on the prison… in the blistering heat. It wasn’t until a few minutes in the heat that your work-assigned partner finally arrives…Rick Grimes.

CHAPTER TWO ->

CHAPTER ONE:

The mid-summer heat was dreadful. Far worse, in fact. It was terrible enough that you were assigned field duty today, even worse when you realised you were going to have to do most of the work by yourself. You realised quickly that the jacket sticking to your back would be no help so you escaped it before it could do you anymore discomfort. You assumed the partner you were assigned with had just never gotten out of bed. That is, until you saw him walking right toward you. His hips jutted out gracefully from his sides as he grinned slightly. As he exited the prisons shadows he placed a hand on his already sweaty forehead, eyes trying desperately to hide from the sun. He was stunning, and you don’t even think that was half of what he was.

“Hiya.” He smiled. “Rick” He stared at you for those few seconds before he corrected himself with a chuckle accompanying it. “I’m Rick Grimes.” You fought your teeth to stop them from biting their lips at his southern drawl. It was the most attractive thing you’d ever heard that’s for sure.

“Hi.” You gave him the tightest smile possible and took a sip of your water.

“Hot isn’t it. This shirt won’t do any good today.” His strong hands clicked each button undone. You couldn’t help but gaze at the way his veiny hands undid each button on his shirt. Was he trying to get you wet? It was surely working. “Sorry ‘bout that.” His shirt was off. He was sweating. His shirt was off, and he was close to you.

Too close.

He looked as if carved by gods. His pecs were like plates of the finest armour. And not to mention the sharp defined abs that were riddled on his chest. Small dark-brown hairs were sprinkled on his chest. As if to hook you even more a trail of hair went from his bellybutton to…

Oh God. You thought. This day is going to truly be hell.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

It had been two hours now. An hour of being remotely near Rick Grimes would have any person completely on their knees. But two? You were struggling not to strip right here and now. The weeds surrounding clothe prisons walls were almost done. The both of you agreed to start on opposite ends and make your way to each other. You agreed, drunk on the way his body shone in the sun.

Now you and Rick were almost done, he was quite literally almost touching you. You pulled on the weed aggressively. It was to no avail. You pulled and tugged, but nothing. “Y’kay?” His southern accent was thick, but you took that to mean “you okay?”.

“Yeah, fine, just—a strong weed!”

“Ah, let me help darlin’” Not helping! You almost shouted. He moved behind you and grabbed the weed whilst your hands were still clasped around the stubborn thing. You were trapped under his strong grasp. Trapped under him. Trapped and smelling him. He pulled but it didn’t budge. You both moved with the tug and it looked and felt too much like a thrust. Your face flushed quicker than you could stop it. As inconveniently as it was you suddenly remembered him calling you darlin’ and you would give anything for him to say it again.

“Sorry ‘bout this.” He chuckled nervously. So he did know how awkward this was? He came off so confident you would have never guessed. He may not be as confident as you first thought, but he is as compelling. Your eyes followed his arm muscles as they tensed under the strain. He pulled again but nothing happened. Rick leaned back and thrusted into you to try and get a better grip. You stifled your moan. No. You forced your mind to be clear. Rick Grimes is not fucking you. All he’s doing is helping you out. That’s all. You could have sworn you felt something hard and stiff at your backside but he pulled the weed out before you could feel it again. He waved a hand of apology.

“You weren’t lying,” He ran a hand through his soaking hair and you noticed that every part of him was sweating. “really was strong.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You sat in bed that very night with only one thought on your mind. How was Rick Grimes’ pace in bed? It wasn’t the most appropriate thought but those thrusts were…thought provoking… to say the least. The prison was quiet that night, as if even the prison was trying to get you to do what you wanted. And all you wanted was to touch yourself. To touch yourself and think of Rick Grimes every time you slide your hand up and down your cock.

You did just that.

You didn’t need to get hard, you already had been the moment you saw Rick take his shirt off. Maybe even before that if you were being honest. It felt fucking amazing. You stroked your length once thinking only of his chiselled body. The second time his thrusts. The third his scent. You almost kept to that cycle of those three things until you got to the topic of his cock in your mind.

You spat on your hand and kept stroking. This was getting good. You imagined a six inch cock—modest, considering the large lump you felt between his legs earlier that day was just that…large. You thought of a thick foreskin covering almost all of his head. You could almost physically see the amount of veins crawling up from the base of his cock to right before the head. You could see yourself sucking and worshipping the man’s dick.

You knew all too well that you would if you had the chance. You prayed that it tasted just like he had smelt in that blistering heat, like a man.

Your cock pulsed quicker in your hands now. You imagined you were giving Rick a handjob. God it was the best thing you could have done. You squirmed against your pillow whilst you released your hot cum onto your chest.

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Maaxx||Max verstappen x GN!Reader

Summary — max loves the way his partner says his name

Word count— 422

Max Verstappen liked to think he was a composed man. He’d handled high-pressure races, rivalries, and champinship battes. But nothing nothing could prepare him for the way Y/N said his name.

It wasn’t just “Max.” No, it was “Maaxx,” drawn out with that slow, honey-dripping Southern drawl that made his brain shortcircuit.

“You alright there, darlin’?” Y/N teased, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed as they watched him struggle to maintain his cool.

Max cleared his throat, gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing tethering him to reality. “I—uh—yeah, I’m fine.”

Y/N smirked, seeing right through him. “Mmhmm. Sure you are, sugar.

Max felt his face heat up. He wasn’t sure what was worse: the pet name or the way Y/N said it like they knew exactly what they were doing to him.

“You do this on purpose,” he muttered, crossing his arms in an attempt to look unimpressed. It failed spectacularly.

Y/N leaned in just a little closer, voice dropping to a lazy whisper. “Do what, Maaxx?

Max groaned, turning away as if that would help hide the ridiculous smile tugging at his lips. “You’re impossible.”

“Aw, darlin’,” Y/N laughed, stepping to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “You ain’t foolin’ nobody. You love it.”

Max huffed, pretending to roll his eyes, but the pink dusting his cheeks betrayed him. Yeah, he loved it. Maybe a little too much.

Y/N turned back to the stove, flipping a pancake effortlessly. “Y’know, for a big, bad world champion, you sure do get all flustered real easy.”

Max scoffed, forcing himself to focus on something—anything—other than the way Y/N’s accent curled around each word like warm molasses. “I do not.”

“You do,” Y/N countered, shooting him a knowing glance. “And you’re real cute when you blush, too.”

Max ran a hand through his hair, utterly exasperated but also completely smitten. He moved behind Y/N, wrapping his arms around their waist and resting his chin on their shoulder. “You’re annoying,” he murmured, but the way he nuzzled into them told a different story.

“Aw, sugar, you love me.”

Max pressed a kiss to the side of their neck, his smile giving him away. “Ja, I do.”

Y/N smirked, flipping another pancake. “Then you won’t mind me callin’ you my sweet Maaxx all the time now, huh?”

Max groaned dramatically, but his grip around Y/N only tightened. He was doomed—and he wouldn’t have it any other way.