#.. Posted almost every day or so until I stopped

[harpsinfinity]

HARPY MY LOVE!

May I request a fic with RE2 Leon getting an awkward boner and needing the reader to deal with it? I feel like you would write this deliciously. You can chose to make him a sub or a needy Dom whatever you think is best!

ILY and hope you have a great day x

I love you I love you I love you

Also I'm making this post re2 events + SUBBY LEON.

I listened to Ayesha erotica while writing this

Nsfw !! ↓↓↓

Okay hear me out hear me out

You're at an event with Leon, his becoming of an agent. He's having fun, you're having fun, the drinks are flowing perfectly.

You're all sat at a table, making conversation and just having a good time.

It's all fun and games until Leon notices how tight his pants now feel, awkward much. He tries his best to ignore it, but it's difficult to with how he's now throbbing with need. And it doesn't help when you notice and slide your hand up his thigh, stopping right at the front of his pants and palming him

thank god for table clothes

Eventually you end up in the bathroom, the place you were at was so fancy it had its own sofa in the bathroom. Which you gladly sat Leon down on as you pulled his cock out and got to work

You straddled his lap, lips locked as your hand stroked him, your thumb subbing the tip every now and then until it was a mess, coated in pre and the obscene wet sounds bouncing off the walls

Leon looked so cute, his face bright red and flustered as he fought back his whimpers with the fear that someone could talk in on you both.

That was no good, you decided. Hiking your dress up to your hips and pulling your panties aside, it made it much for difficult for him to hide his whimpers and whines when your slick walls were wrapped snuggly around him

His hands placed themselves on your hips and you began to bounce on him like your life depended on it. He was so big, managing to hit all the right spots with so little effort, it almost turned your brain into mush too.

"baby, fuck, you feel so good"

You swore you could see tears of overstimulation in his sapphire blue eyes before he stuffed his face in the crook of your neck

He was always so sensitive

Your hips went down as his went up, sending shocks of bliss up both of your spines. A loud, sharp whine came forth from his throat as your walls clamped around him, hard.

He clearly wasn't worried about being walked in now, he had nothing to lose as your pussy sucked him in. Leon's big hands slid up your waist, pulling the neckline of your dress down until your chest was exposed. His mouth immediately got to work as he shoved his head forward.

Attempting to muffle his needy moans as he tongue swirled around your perked nipples, your hand tangled itself in his golden locks as you let your eyes roll back in bliss.

"you feel so good inside me, baby. So big"

You praise through pleasured pants, you tighten around him when you feel his dick twitch inside of you. with the way his moans and whines started to increase in volume, and the desperate bucking of his hips, you knew he was getting close

"c-can I come? Pleasepleaseplease let me come, I've been so good, please- wanna cum"

His eyes rolled back and his jaw went slack.

"yes you can, such a good boy, come for me"

In a attempt to somewhat silence himself, he leaned to kiss you. Though you were quicker, pulling him away with a sharp tug to his hair. A noisy, erotic whine ripped through him, bouncing off the walls as he came. Hard.

He seemed to fill you up forever with his massive load. you soon joined him, moaning in ecstacy as you coated his cock and your thighs in slick. The combined highs dripping onto the pristine, white tiled floor of the bathroom.

"d-did I do good?"

Leon panted, his forehead slick with sweat, and a tired disheveled look coating his form.

You smile, brushing back his damp hair and pressing a kiss to his hairline

"you did amazing, love. c'mon, let's get cleaned up" you stick a final kiss to his lips "we still got a party to get back to"

After that, the rest of the night went smoothly.

And a few extra rounds happened when you got home

[facesittingnightmares]

Wonho ‘The Titan’ : A tale of a helpless seat

Post Contains: Facesitting, Facefarting, waterboarding with sweat, smothering, Fartsniffing

"Ahh damn!" Wonho came into his kitchen moaning. The muscular legend had just finished an intense leg day at the gym, not stopping until his glutes couldn't take anymore. After such a session, he could barely bring himself to shower and didn't want to deal with his stench while doing some work. Good thing he had someone to take care of his glutes and scent at least, you! When you had run into him at his local gym, you secretly took a quick pic of his bare ass and posted it. Not long after, his team had tracked you down and threatened to sue. Instead, Wonho asked if you'd like to work for him, unpaid but with living and food taken care of. Naturally, you took the latter without any idea that it would involve serving him. Since then, he had to have a personal gym installed in the large spare garage of his home. As for you? You were essentially his personal maid for a few months. Spending most of his time on work and maintaining his Greek statue like body meant that a maid was greatly needed.

"HEY BOY!! Get into position for glute time!" You hear the man roar from the kitchen down stairs. Your heart dropped to your stomach and your breathing got more rapid. This was by far the most devious thing he'd have you do. You'd have to lay down in his bedroom and place your head firmly on top of his favorite bean bag chair. This one was twice as big as the regular ones and was pitch black. He used this as normal desk chair hot worn out super frequently with his superior glutes and gas. Next, you would wait and stay still until Wonho entered the room dripping with sweat. He'd take his place on your face and complete any digital work he had to get out of the way, still wearing his skintight grey compression shorts drenched with ass sweat. Despite the routine, this session would be the worst you ever suffered. With you laid down and ready for the sweaty session to come, Wonho enters in all his glory. With only the dim LED lights in his bedroom, the hallway light radiated in to highlight the muscular titans frame. Light reflecting from every drop of sweat just enhanced his godly appearance, which was now approaching rapidly until he finally stood above. You heard some clicks on the mouse and keyboard as he got his setup sorted. Still entranced by his godly frame and bubble butt you get quickly snapped out of it when a sudden fart erupts. "Didn't even plan that one!" He laughs as you gag on the fart, not even point blank and yet still powerful. "Okay, imma let you take a deep breath before I sit down. Ready for me to take my place? Too bad if you aren't, my legs are aching, so imma sit anyway." You take a deep inhale, cut off by his compression short clad ass. With such sore legs, he couldn't care for making his descent slow. Instead, the impact on your head was astronomical and depleted any oxygen you just acquired as his session begins.

The fabric of his shorts rubs against your nose as his crack begins to slowly swallow it. On both sides of your face, you felt the cooler room air disappear as the warm glutes started to consume your face, crawling around your head as if it was on a mission to consume more protein. Finally, the moving settles, and his ass meets the beanbag chair. Now, the true test began. His weight crushed your face deeper into the soft moldable chair until you were as deep as you could go. You hear muffled voices as he begins his calls to the managers. Soon, your focus is drawn away from the muffled calls and instead, the issue of his compression shorts basically waterboarding you took priority. They are drenched in sweat from the gym and almost fully saturated. This resulted in each inhale simply being a nose full of ass sweat, stinking sticky sweat at that. After a few more minutes of this, you give up and try to fight for a little breath of air. You reach up from the floor and try to push at his thighs to shift him slightly. Your hands paled in comparison to his trunk like thighs. This combined with the last 15 minutes of no proper air meant you had the strength of a child. Despite this, you continue your useless pushing for a few minutes until you accidentally squeeze a muscle and cause wonho to moan in pain. "Ahh... fuckk... you little seat should be grateful for this instead of trying to hurt me! Oh well, you must be punished now!" The words make you fear what is to come and with good reason. He contracts his glutes and squeezed tightly, crushing your insignificant face in his compressing crack. Your arms instantly fall to the ground, and you flail around. Your mouth is squeezed open, and your cheeks sink into your mouth as the room began to reduce rapidly. Your nose had nowhere to go but deeper, straining against his compression shorts worse than ever before allowing the fabric to inflict a little burn on the tip.

You thought he was going to crack your head open...in reality that might've been better. The now compressed crack began to rapidly heat up as a loud roar erupts from the giant. The protein fart worms its way around the restricted space and through the shorts into your open mouth and nostrils. You begin inhaling rapidly. It might be the most foul protein fueled fart you ever experienced, but at least it was finally air. Well, that's what you think. You can barely hear the moans of Wonho above the thunderous fart or through his meaty cheeks but get enough of a hint of it to know it was a moan for pleasure. This was his first proper fart of the day, specifically saved for you, and you had no choice but to inhale it. At the twenty-second mark, you begin to slow down your inhales, destroyed by the filtered fart as it didn't provide much relief and still pushed his ass sweat up your nose. Despite your slowly fading body, his fart continued and went for a full thirty seconds before spluttering out. An ending you had passed out before experiencing.

"Ughh.....yeaahhh...damn, that's nice!!" These were the words you reawaken to. You were still in the same position, but now Wonho was squatting about a foot from your face, farting rapidly as his prior thirty second bomb clearly burst the dam of gas wide open. Now, with the ability to actually breathe, you got to smell his gas properly in its dense heated form, clearly an evil concoction of his days worth of protein dense food. "Oh good, you're awake again. You were out for about half an hour. So I thought I'd be nice and lift off and allow you to live. The good news is that my farts are all coming out now, so imma need you to be a good fart sniffer and get them all okay?"He laughs as he lets out another rip, shorter and wetter sounding from the others. "Su...sure thing, boss. You stutter out as the sight of his compression short ass gives hints of ptsd, almost killing you already tonight. "Great! Imma get comfortable again then!" His words barely finish before his ass is on you again. Just like before, your nose sinks between the massive cheeks, this time almost reaching his hole. Had it not been for the restricting fabric of his shorts, you'd probably reach it.

For a few moments, there is an unsettling silence. Only the faint sound of his wet fabric rubbing against your facial cheeks could be heard. Then, the rumbling of his stomach and digestive system followed as the barrage of farts brewed and made their way to his hole. "Fuck take these farts...take them alll...yup sniff like a wild animal!" He moans as he clicks on his keyboard, struggling to type any of his emails. So far, you are able to keep up, inhaling his gas through your nostrils and exhaling through your mouth rapidly in order to get all the farts. This works for the first fifteen minutes of his endless barrage. But gradually his now eggy farts outpace you and overflow your lungs with gas. Exhaling through your mouth was also as it flows right up his crack again and only added to the heat and force of air.

Now desperate yet again for a break, you try inhaling every second fart so that his horrid gas didn't flood your body. The new strategy was working, and you felt a little relief. Sure, it meant that you needed to take larger inhales to get his consecutive farts but it was more barely than trying to keep up with him. This continued to work for almost ten minutes before a new hurdle emerged. "Ughh.....yeaaahh...finally!" Wonho moans as a thirty second long bassy fart erupts. Even with his shorts on, it shook your face with ease as you tried to hold your breath. After what seems like a lifetime, it ends. Then, the second fart burst out. Just as bassy, and just as long. At the halfway mark, you decided to start inhaling, having held your breath for roughly 45 seconds. The initial inhale was easy, but then the lingering stench of his ginormous eruption hit you. You flailed beneath him, barely able to move. All the while, you still had to sniff his potent protein farts as their eggy scent flooded you.

"Okay, boy, I know you're struggling, so how about you make sure I don't get a whiff of my farts as I finish my emails and I'll give you a break? I've only got three left, you think you can be a good little fart sniffer and do that?" He laughs as he gentle grinds down, rubbing his sweaty fabric around your face. You simply tap his thigh twice, still rapidly taking large sniffs of his endless eggy storm for minutes ago. "Good boy!" He says as he farts yet again. Tears begin rolling down your face as he continues to fart with more speed than before. Unknown to you was that he had figured out your little strategy almost immediately, detecting fewer inhale against his hole. Deciding to shake things up, he saved the bulk of his gas for these last ten minutes. The effects of which you were experiencing. "Damn, I got a good little skilled seat, absorbing all my gym and gas smells!" He laughs, showing his happiness with a few bounces. These bounces realign your nose so that its tip is bent upwards and back, exposing your round nostrils directly into the firing line.

"Okay...I've only got one email left to do and a few farts still in the tank...for now at least. You be a good fart sniffer and make sure I don't smell any before I finish?" Wonho asks as if you had any way to avoid him. The first erupts and shakes you face with its intensity. Powerful and enormous, it blasted the sweat from his shorts right up your nose as the eggy air crawled through your nostrils. You do your best to inhale the vile fart, taking two individual breathes to get it all. Barely finished his first one, you hear the rumbling above you yet again. What follows will forever give you nightmares, or maybe wet dreams. "Ohh shit this is a big one. Deep whiffs!" The titan moans.The second bursts through his hole and immediately fills his crack. You begin to inhale, but the stench is unholy, clearly powered by his abundant consumption of protein milk. Within a few seconds, you stop inhaling. Half because of how bad it was shaking your facial features, hald because the smell felt like a corrupting force. Only at the ten second mark do you begin to inhale again as the stinking air surrounds your face, making it feel like it's melting. Unfortunately, the fart now transitions to a more airy flow. Although not as face shattering in force, the stench grew in potency as it seemed to come from the deepest depths of his bowels. Now, you can sense hints of his meaty diet. The bacon and sausages he had this morning, and the burger he likely had for lunch. At the twenty-second mark, you are already defeated, but the super fart continues.

You just lay there, consumed by Wonhos compression short clad ass, allowing the fart to fill you. It comes to a spluttering end, wetter than ever in its last ten seconds as the moisture from his hole adds to its sound and smell. "And do....I...I...I smell my gas! What did we agree? You sniff all my gas, and I'd let you go. Oh well, now I guess you don't get your little break!" He groans, both disappointed you couldn't take his gas, and happy about what was about to happen. You wonder what he was going to do as he simply sat there for a few minutes, no noise and no movement. Then your face began to heat up again, almost melting like during his last fart. Determined to live, you start to 'attack' his thighs. In reality, your energy resulted in little taps. "No...no. Only good fart sniffers get to demand a little break, and you are definitely not a good fart sniffer. Take my silent face melter!" He laughs as he is aware of just how hot his gas is.

Finally, you feel the weight removed as he stands up. The light was still shining in from the hallway and highlighted his massive glistening back. "Oh, you're still conscious, that'll make this more fun!" Wonho laughs. You watch desperately as he reaches for a pillow and sets it down beside the beanbag chair. Then he approaches you and lifts your lifeless frame onto the floor, gently setting you head onto the flat pillow before standing above your chest and looking back down at you. "Try not to scream, keep your air so this lasts a while!" He smirks before grabbing the waist band on his shorts and pulling them down. As he bends over and his godly glutes expand, the hall light shines on them. You are almost blinded. His lightly tanned ass, covered in sweat and completely hairless, lit up as if you were at the gates of heaven. Despite such a bend over, his cheeks were massive, and his crack seemed endless.

"Nighty night seat." He laughs as he drops to his knees. Immediately, your face is engulfed. Without his shorts restricting his ass, the mounds of well toned yet fatty flesh wrapped around you head, your nose gliding deep with sweat easing its travel to the centre of Wonho You begin to twitch your leg, trying to signal your need for mercy. "Sniff this one...it might be your last one fart boy!" Immediately the dam that was his moist hole burst and a large stream of gas rushed out. Now completely point blank with now saturated fabric in the way, the Titans gas showed just how deadly it was. You inhale involuntarily, almost as if you were programmed to do. In spite of the thickness of his gas, it was necessary, your last hopes at living as it flooded your lungs.

Halfway through the fart he began bouncing heavily. Leaning forward to his legs made a 90⁰ angle, shins flat on the ground with his feet just past your head, and his thighs straight up. Once again, the light reflects and almost blinds you as you continue to hear new farts bubble out, sounding muffled due to his thick fatty and muscular cheeks. Then came the rapid descent. You couldn't even prepare as his ass was light up so bright. His glutes mould around once more, and a loud squelch is let out as the sweat acts as lube. The impact shakes your body, and his hole is a few inches from your mouth now. Then he raises again, exactly the same. Again, he drops, shaking your lifeless frame and farting just as he makes contact with your skin. The combined actions of his ass sliding around, consuming your face, and his fart bubbling out and down into your mouth made it seem like a helium baloon was deflating. Now, able to taste his protein fart you gag and shake violently. Wonho smirks as he senses your disgust. Slowly, his ten second fart fills you. You can't help but recall all his consumed food today that was now being recycled into you. Bacon, eggs, and sausage for breakfast. A protein shake a few hours later. A burger and fibre bar for lunch. A strawberry milkshake as a treat. Then today was his weekly beef day, so he likely had a steak with some cabbage. Finally, he was just back from the gym, so another protein shake was almost certain. By the time your mind stops with the horrific train of thought, his fart had ended, yet it would live forever on your tongue.

"One last one, boy. Any last words?" He asks, leaning up again. "Plea....please..."You try begging, but his fart still restricts you mouth movements. "Oh, right, I get it. Little fart sniffer wants me to sit down and clear my bowels fully? Too bad you didn't earn them all. Imma just sit full weight until you pass out and then unload the rest into your clothes so you forever remember to sniff all my farts when I say!" His ass rolls back one last time. The sadistic laughs send shivers down your spine as your vision slowly gets consumed, and your head disappears. Your arms struggle to flail, your body already given up before your mind. Just when it seems dreadfully, you feel movement. Wonho lifts his legs and straightens them out in front of him, tight on too of yours. You scream into the endless crack as you realise he is now full weight sitting on you. He wasn't even touching the ground anymore. Your face was his only souce of balance, and his ass was sinking around it fast. "Keep screaming. You might actually clean my ass for once!" These are the last words you hear before his ass hits the bottom of your ears, a mear 5mms from the floor. Finally, your nose touched his hole in all its sticky, moist, stinking, hot, and puckering glory. He sits for another twenty minutes as you slowly fade from consciousness, consumed by his ass. You never wanted this again, and yet Wonho smirked as he watched your boner pulse, even after fading, in fact he saw it the entire time and yet you didn't even realise you were turned on.

[mannythemunchkin]

HERMES' SAGA

SUMMARY: Modern day Greece has left the gods with not much to do, so when a intriguing mortal arrives at the shores of Ithaca, Hermes couldn't help but have a little fun, but after she leaves, he can't stop thinking about her. He follows her to her homeland, and so, his saga begins.

WORD COUNT: 1.9K

TAGS: Fluff, Hermes being Hermes, a little ooc, Hermes being a little obsessed, modern day au, oc x Hermes, not beta read we die like the crew.

A/N: I have become a smidge obsessed with Epic The Musical, and Hermes has changed my brain chemistry, SO HERE WE ARE! This fic is so self-indulgent, but I needed it out of my brain, and I hope you'll love it as much as I loved plotting and writing it! ♡ special shout out to @kquil for motivating me to actually finish and post this! Love you MWAH!♡♡

ART BY XIMENA NATZEL

What on earth was he doing here… literally, why was Hermes, messenger of the Greek Gods, God of Mischief, Thieves, Merchants etc sitting in a café in a city in Sweden, sipping some sweet concoction of coffee, cream and sugar, while staring out the window. Hermes frowned as he looked at all the people passing by, both outside and inside, no one noticing him since he had glamoured himself to stay hidden from the eyes of mortals. The God leaned back in his seat, a leather couch that he had deigned a good enough spot for him to plan how he should approach the reason why he had left his home on Olympus.

Saga.

A mortal woman who had arrived at the coast of Ithaca about five months ago, her presence having caught Hermes’ attention almost instantly. Normally the gods didn't care for mortal tourists in Greece, yet as soon as this little human had arrived, Hermes couldn't help himself from investigating, because this little human had divine essence in her veins. It was barely a drop, having been diluted over the centuries, but it was there. And it was foreign. How could he, the local trickster and messenger deity, not want to investigate such a rare occurrence.

So he had. Some might have considered that a mistake, because Hermes became utterly and completely infatuated with her. What he had intended to only be a little fun had turned into a full-blown obsession almost. He had spent all three weeks of her stay guiding her around the island, showing her all of the places no one knew about, telling her the true events of Greece's legends and myths, and just spending time with her almost every day.

So once Saga had announced she was moving on to the next country for her travels, he had followed her, telling himself that he was the God of Travelers, and he hadn't guided many of those in the past centuries, so why not this little intriguing mortal. Hermes followed her for weeks, not interfering or revealing himself, just watching in case something happened. Which nothing did, of course. And when Saga had returned to her homeland, he had made sure she was okay before returning to Olympus, only to have the little Swedish mortal stuck in his head for the next few months, much to his own and the rest of the pantheon's dismay.

And now he was here, in this little, quaint café in Saga's city. Hermes had made sure it wasn't a place she came often. He needed time to plan the perfect “meet cute”, theatrics were everything obviously, so he had spent about two weeks in her city, memorizing her schedule, noted all of the places she went and which she loved the most, and the café wasn't anywhere near where she usually ventured. Hermes took another sip of his coffee and hummed thoughtfully as he considered his options, his silvery eyes scanning the patrons in the café in slight boredom, until his gaze fell on a certain platinum blonde head of hair, and he almost dropped his coffee.

Saga turned around, her own coffee in hand, and her eyes landed on him, and they widened in surprise. No, wait, that couldn't be. Hermes looked around himself, but there was no one but him on this side of the café, so it was definitely him she was looking at. Which shouldn't be possible, he had hidden himself from the eyes of mortals, not wanting to be bothered, so when Saga shot him a bright smile and began walking over, Hermes quickly removed his glamour in a panic.

“Kostas! What are you doing here?” Saga plopped herself into the couch opposite Hermes, her smile radiant and sweet, her emerald eyes shimmering with joy. Hermes returned her smile with a playful one of his own, barely managing to mask his bewilderment of how Saga had been able to see through his glamour.

“Why, Saga darling! What a delightful surprise to see your gorgeous face here.” He greeted her with his signature toothy grin, and he leaned forward, propping his elbow on the table between them to rest his chin in his hand. Saga shrugged off her coat, dumping it on the seat next to her before replying. “Well, it's not as much of a surprise since I live in this city, but you on the other hand, Kostas, you are so far from home! Why on earth are you in Sweden?”

Why on earth indeed, little mortal… Hermes thought to himself as he shrugged at her question with a small sound of indifference. “Ithaca was getting too small, too boring. Needed to experience something new, so I thought why not the homeland of my favorite little tourist?” He replied with a wink, causing Saga to laugh, the sound like music to Hermes’ and he smiled wider. “But tell me, my sweet Saga, why are you here? You never mentioned this quaint little place back on Ithaca.” Hermes narrowed his eyes playfully to mask the real purpose of his question. He was so certain that she had never been here before, maybe before they had met, but it wasn't a spot she frequented, and Hermes would know, he had practically stalked his little mortal for weeks.

Saga just chuckled and shook her head as she took out her phone, the screen lighting up when she put it on the table, and Hermes’ eye twitched. Her lockscreen was art of none other than Zeus from some musical about Odysseus’ journey from Troy and back home to Ithaca, a legend that Hermes himself had taken part of. Hermes pretended to feign offense, his arms crossing over his chest as he huffed in disbelief.

“Still obsessed with that silly play I see.” He grumbled, his tone a little more offended than intended, and Saga raised an eyebrow before laughing at Hermes’ seemingly silly behavior. “I know he's not your favorite, Kos. Let me show you my homescreen.” Hermes harrumphed in protest, but still glanced at her screen as she unlocked it and held it up for him to see, and he had to do a double take. A wide, satisfied grin spread on his lips. Saga's homescreen was art of none other than himself, not that it was completely accurate, but the winged helmet donned on top of the character's mussed hair was impossible not to recognize.

“Oh my, I see your tastes have improved, sweetheart! He's such a handsome fellow, isn't he.” Hermes grinned while nodding approvingly at her. Saga rolled her eyes at him, but couldn't help but chuckle at Hermes’ instant mood change. She turned off her screen and placed it back on the table, before leaning back in her seat, bringing her coffee to her lips and taking a sip. “I felt bad about how I talked about him while on Ithaca, so I decided to give him a chance. He has begun growing on me a little, I admit.”

Hermes’ entire face lit up, he simply couldn't help it, and he leaned closer, folding his hands under his chin as he smirked. “Sweet Saga, darling, dare I assume that you changed your screen to Hermes because you missed me?” He teased her with a sweet voice, his silvery eyes shining with delight and mischief. His eyebrows rose and he tilted his head, his smirk widening when a bashful smile tugged at Saga's lips.

“Well, yes. You made my time on Ithaca unforgettable, Kostas. I couldn't have asked for a better guide, and you were so sweet and kind. So yeah, I've missed you.”

Oh, oh how Hermes wished she'd talk about him like that, not as the human, Kostas, he was parading around as, but as Hermes. His real self. But that would probably never happen, simply because no mortal could look upon the true form of a God, and also because no mortal would ever believe that the ancient gods were real.

Hermes felt his grin falter, but only for a split second, and he waved her off with a small playful scoff. “It was nothing, sweetheart. I couldn't just let such a sweet looking tourist wander around on her own.”

Saga rolled her eyes at Hermes' dismissive, yet playful attitude. She put her now empty coffee cup on the table, and took out her phone again. After tapping around on the screen, she held it out towards Hermes, who quirked an eyebrow and gave her a questioning look. “What do you want me to do with that?”

“Your number. I'll be your guide while you're here.”

Well fuck. Hermes glanced between Saga and the phone, unsure of what to do. He knew what phones were, obviously, but he had a distaste for them. They could leave him without a job, after all, but luckily none of the Gods back in Greece had had any interest in that specific technology, so he remained their messenger. He didn't own one, and he wasn't sure he would know how to operate the thing even if he did.

“Ah, well… I don't have a phone, darling.”

His response resulted in Saga giving him an incredulous look, finding it hard to believe that a young man like him didn't own a phone in this day and age. She retracted her hand, and sighed. “Well, how am I going to get in contact with you then? Back in Greece you always just kinda showed up, so we didn't need to be able to call or text.”

His little mortal was right, annoyingly so. Hermes hadn't thought this part of his plan through. Yet. But only because he wasn't given the time to since, apparently, Saga's divine heritage made her able to see through his invisibility spell, much to Hermes’ dismay. Leaning back in his seat, Hermes crossed his arms over his chest, and let out a sigh. Back on Ithaca he had just appeared when the moment felt right, and Saga didn't think much of it because, well, she thought he lived on the island. With a dramatic roll of his eyes and light click of his tongue, Hermes reluctantly replied.

“Fine, I'll acquire… a phone.” He grumbled, his eyes slightly narrowed in irritation, but when Saga's expression practically lit up at his words, all annoyance he felt evaporated, and he couldn't help but flash her a cheeky half-smile. “But! Only if you help me get one, sweet Saga.”

"Oh, absolutely!” Saga hastily grabbed her coat and almost bounced out of their booth as she swiftly put it on. Turning to him, she held out an expectant hand while smiling brightly at Hermes, who chuckled at her with a small shake of his head, but took her hand in his nonetheless, and got up. His little mortal all but dragged Hermes out of the café, her mouth working overtime as she rattled on and on about different phone models and accessories he could get once he had chosen one.

As Saga dragged him through the streets, Hermes couldn't help but smile almost fondly at her back, not that he'd ever show her that side of him. The fond smile quickly disappeared when Saga looked over her shoulder with a wide smile, and Hermes gave her his signature cheeky grin, showing off his tooth gap.

“Keep going. I'm in your capable hands, darling.” Urging her on to keep talking and leading the way, Hermes winked playfully at her. Saga laughed sweetly, the sound tickling Hermes’ brain just right, almost making him stop in his tracks. He knew little about love and being in love, but whatever Saga's wonderful laughs had just done to his body… it felt a lot like how most mortals, even some of his fellow gods, would describe it.

And it felt dangerous.

[crguang]

607. I MISS YOU.

" And I found photographs of our school, on the day we met I thought that you were so beautiful, it was love, I guess."

VIOLINIST AU MASTERLIST

It's here!! The official lore-filled post for the Violinist AU that my wonderful anons, @shalomniscient's godly input and I have concocted over the past three months. This masterlist will serve as guidelines for the AU so that newcomers and current enjoyers (me included lol) can easily refer to it and see if any burning questions have already been answered or not. Speaking of, every anon questions and rambles can currently be found under the #violinist au tag. Things will inevitably be added as time goes by, so I'll do my best to update this post when they do. Let's get into it! ♫

SOME BASICS!

SUMMARY ♫

╰┈➤ Kafka and Reader are classical musicians and childhood best friends who have been playing together since their respective instructors discovered their potential and made them work together on a piece at just 8 years old. At the time, they are both young prodigies in the making who share a dream of becoming the best in their field. They navigate the carefreeness of childhood, heavy expectations, close friendships and tumultuous high school years hand in hand. As they grow, so does their music. The two are intrinsically tangled up; where there is one, you can surely find the other. One day, when they're around 16 years old, R moves away. Their last bus ride together is a memory Kafka holds close to her heart and she remembers it viscerally whenever comes the time to bring an especially complex composition to life. This musical prowess eventually becomes the source of her recognition and success.

After R moves away, Kafka loses herself in her ambitions and Elio's strict teaching. He continues to groom her into the perfect musician and has little regard for her self-destructive behavior if the results surpass his expectations. She isolates herself from her friends, practices until her fingers ache, and spends a long time exteriorizing her feelings of abandonment through her music. She’s snarky, irritable and mean. She grows up to play the violin professionally and is recognized as a prodigy in that world. She goes through pianist accompaniment after pianist accompaniment, always looking for the “missing key” to her art that’s disappeared alongside R, but it remains unattainable.

R grows up insecure due to Elio’s hurtful favouritism towards Kafka; they never feel skilled enough to keep up with her, strong enough to shoulder their instructor’s expectations for them and thus worthy of Kafka’s attention and respect. When they move, they stop playing the piano for a while. Even they pick it back up eventually, it’s never in a professional context. While KFR have different relationships with music, since they’ve learned it as a duo, they understand each other’s art like no one else. R now makes records of songs covers that they’ve only recently started selling due to their popularity among the locals. It’s a hobby, not a career.

PRESENTING... KFR ♫

╰┈➤ KAFKA

We all know her, we all adore her, forever a superstar... Kafka's as close to HSR's canon as I could make her. Since this is an AU, there are obviously backstory/character traits that I've added to further flesh her out but the base of her character remains the same. Classical music is her life and she's played professionally as soon as she could; praised and admired almost all of her life (by her instructor and her fellows), she's a goddess with the violin. She's playful, confident with the skills to back it up, and guards her true feelings behind easy smiles only the ones closest to her can pick apart.

Some Kafka facts:

She's most definitely a media sweetheart. Her practiced elegance and distinct fashion style make her look very Cool, and it's an image she's carefully built brick by brick!

She lives in a condo with minimalist design, so it looks pretty empty despite her collections of records, musical instruments and mini libraries filled with books, music sheets and the likes. You can find an intricate, pretty vase in almost every room.

Outside of music, she doesn't do commitment. She sucks at it, hates feeling "hindered" and is often preoccupied by someone something else anyway. Hookups and FWB are more her style. She’s had like one serious relationship up until the present time.

As a teen, she was pretty rebellious. Though rigorous when it comes to the violin, she was never above skipping a day or two of class to have some fun and almost always dragged R along whether they thought it was a good idea or not. As an adult, she still enjoys the thrill but is much more calculated due to being under the spotlight most days.

She’s always heard humming! Though singing’s not her thing, she’s constantly humming her favourite orchestras, pieces she’s currently learning or just songs that she likes.

Heavy smoker, especially when she’s feeling some type of way.

She has no living relatives.

She harbours some repressed anger that she’s never fully healed from until the present time. That explains a lot of her defense mechanisms and current guarded behaviour.

She wears her sunglasses when she wants to hide.

Her closest relationships are: Blade, Acheron and Black Swan.

She meets Blade sometime after college and offers him a job as her personal driver. He understands her needs implicitly and she deciphers his moods just as easily. He’s the one who takes care of her when she drinks too much or needs to clear her head with a long drive. Sometimes, shared silence is enough. Kafka and Acheswan have been friends since high school and have stayed friends throughout adulthood. The three of them grew closer right after R moved away.

╰┈➤ Reader

Because this is still an x reader AU, they don’t have a specific appearance. All of their specificities lie in their character. R is an excellent pianist despite their traitorous mind convincing them otherwise, they genuinely have a passion for the piano and classical music as a whole so they’re very knowledgeable when it comes to it. They currently work at a record store alongside Serval and make music for themselves that others happen to enjoy. They’re an overthinker and tend to diminish the place they take up in people’s lives but they’re also very sweet, reserved and thoughtful.

Some R facts:

They’re a terrible liar. It’ll show on their face whenever they’re bothered by something, or they’ll have little tells like fidgeting or avoiding eye contact.

Funnily enough, they were the most direct one out of the two as teens. R had no issue calling Kafka beautiful on concert night or holding her hand unprompted as they walked to the bus stop. While she hid behind shitty humour and sarcasm, they were more open in their affection. It’s a little more complicated in the present time, as they have to relearn each other with their respective baggage.

Elio's berating is the reason why R starts hiding things from Kafka and their other friends. As a teen they keep more secrets from her than she thinks, it's something she'll come to realize in the present time.

R moves away for a couple of reasons; their parents consider moving due to having to take care of chronically ill relatives but that decision isn't cemented until R tells them that they're okay with it. By the time they make this decision they've let their dwindling passion for the piano, years of Elio's expectations and their own insecurities take up so much space in their mind that they simply don't believe they're needed anymore. They couldn't do it anymore, look at Kafka and be reminded of how insignificant they were. They don't inform her simply out of cowardice. At 16 they were going through so much that they just believed leaving was for the best.

They have a little sister! She's 14 years younger than they are, so she was 2 when their family moved away. In the present time she's 14!

R sings! Not professionally or anything, but their singing voice is (one of) someone's favourite sounds.

They live in the one bedroom apartment right above the record store. It's cozy and seems packed at first glance, complete opposite from Kafka's home. There are music sheets and drawings from when their sister was younger on the fridge, pictures framed on the walls, old posters of bands they still love in their bedroom, etc.

Their closest relations are: Serval, Acheron and Swan

Serval and R met at the record store, where she already worked at before they were employed there. R is often invited to her band's performances, and they grew close from working together so often (outside of the owner, they're the only two employees in the store.) They're here for each other as they both go through these ridiculous homoromantic situationships... Acheswan are high school friends and once KFR reconnects, so do R and our fav purple ladies. They're closest to Acheron.

TIMELINE ♫

╰┈➤ KFR are the same age and meet at 8 years old. They grow together under the same instructor, Elio. They go to the same school and don't live that far off from each other, only one bus ride away.

At 14 years old, in high school, KFR befriend Acheron and Black Swan who have just started dating. They're high school sweethearts!

At 16 years old, the Bus Breakup happens and R moves away. Kafka's left to finish the rest of the school year with Acheswan and throws herself into her music/goals to cope with R's sudden absence.

Kafka starts to get recognition in the classical music world in college, but more so in the years that follow. At 23, she's already pretty known as a violinist prodigy. Also the year she meets Bladie!

Around a decade after they last saw each other, at 28 years old, KFR meets again in the vintage record store R works at. When I say "present time" I'm referring to their first meeting and on.

KFR officially get together about a year later, at 29 years old.

SOME FUN STUFF!

DRABBLES

╰┈➤ I've written a few short drabbles for specific moments of KFR's lives together that particularly spoke to me. I intend to write more whenever I feel inspired, and you're all welcome to pitch in as well !

🎼 Bus Breakup

🎼 Record Store Shitshow

🎼 Random KFR drabble

HEADCANONS ♫

(more like fun facts since I decide what's canon...)

╰┈➤ These aren't in chronological order because that would take me an insane amount of time to figure out. As always, if anyone wants me to elaborate on any of these they can always send me an ask :)

R has natural perfect pitch while Kafka's worked hard to hone hers. In the present time, she’s much better than they are due to playing consistently and professionally.

Kafka picked up smoking in college to alleviate her stress. Very bad habit that she can’t seem to stop.

Kafka has tattoos! I don’t care, she at least has a spine tattoo. Her and R probably get matching ones at some point, much smaller though. I’m thinking particular music notes.

R eventually comes to own the record store they work at.

Kafka’s very close with R’s family. They hang out without R often. Their sister loves her and they've had a few spa days.

R’s dog tag is from a grandparent that passed away. It’s sort of a way for them to remember to keep their loved ones close. I can see Kaf gifting them one with a date engraved on the back.

Kafka’s tried her hand at composition but the one she’s been working on and off on for years is still unfinished.

Once KFR gets together, they're always touching in some way. One of them toying with the other's fingers is a common occurrence.

R still has the drawing their 8 year old self made with Kafka somewhere in their teenage bedroom. They've also held on some specific annotated music sheets/partitions that they've worked on with Kafka when they were in the school orchestra.

Kafka and Serval have a funny relationship; Serval loves to get on Kafka's nerves because she's a rich snob and Kafka's always a fan of getting even. The passive aggressiveness between them is off the charts, but they can also be found giggling together when drunk. They'll deny it wholeheartedly.

R and Himeko are friends! They go to the same coffee place almost every day and see each other often but work in very different fields.

Serval and Cocolia have something weird going on. They've been friends who kiss sometimes since college and now they have different career paths that add some distance between them but they still want each other but Cocolia tends to prioritize her work and Serval feels she doesn't care as much anymore and--- it's complicated. Bronya doesn't exist at this point in the AU, but she likely will in the future.

R's followed some of Kafka's success on social media for a few years before they met again. Kafka has a little fanbase!

R sells their personal collection of the records they make at the store. When Kafka gets wind of it, she makes sure to have a copy of each (mostly by having Blade buy them from people’s hands…) and keeps the records at home. That’s before they get together.

R plays the piano for Kafka for the time the morning after they sleep together hehehe.

R confesses to Kafka about Elio's mistreatment after Swan convinces them to. I would say it’s the biggest chance Kafka has to make them understand that she wants them at her side.

Swan was the pretty but kinda weird girl in high school who was very into palm reading and tarot cards. Acheron was probably on the track team or something. Super sweet but reserved.

Kafka and Acheswan see each other pretty often. They have brunch.

Acheron studied philosophy in college.

Acheron mostly taught Kafka how to do her makeup as teens.

Swan has always been able to see through Kafka's bullshit and defense mechanisms.

When they were in high school, R’s house was the designated hang out spot for the 4 of them. At school they had classroom 311B which was often vacant so they hung out there most of the time.

KFR's confession happens in R's teenage bedroom after a family dinner. Sev and I already have the whole thing planned out...

Their bus number, 607, means “I miss you” in pager code! I thought I was being clever when I chose it lol. It’s kind of the official title me thinks.

CONTRIBUTIONS!

╰┈➤ KFR PLAYLIST MADE BY @blinkinn <3

Very grateful and giddy about this one because I still can’t believe my brainrot has inspired someone to make a playlist out of it. It’s full of angst, as it should be, so I’m very happy. I’m still adding on songs that make me think of them and have some instrumentals/violin sonatas that I need to add as well, and I'm always taking anon suggestions for songs y'all think would fit them <3

╰┈➤ KFR PINTEREST BOARD

This pinterest board is unfinished but is essentially meant to be a progression of KFR’s childhood to adulthood. It was supposed to start off representing childhood carefreeness and nostalgia then progresses into their angsty teenage years, their separate lives, all to come back to the time they meet again well into adulthood. However, the board is structured from most recent to older years, so the oldest memories are at the bottom.

Thank you to all my anons and Sev for brainrotting with me, this AU is getting kind of big now and I’m really happy about it. I’ll add more info to this post periodically, I think about it often and I’ve likely forgotten some stuff that has been mentioned to me before so it’s a work in progress!!! Hope more people enjoy what we’ve all made together <3

[cutieln4]

made it all look painless, man am i the greatest? | LN4 fanfic

lando norris x oscar piastri (can be read as platonic or romantic)

a/n: hi guys! i wrote an actual lando fanfic like no OC or self-insert or anything, and i also cross-posted it on ao3. it's really angsty but has a good ending so make sure to read the warnings carefully! and as someone who's gone through this stuff, this is in no way romanticizing it. if you are struggling please reach out for help, my DMs are always open!

summary: After Lando's first win, things were supposed to get better. But it only gets so, so much worse.

WARNINGS: suicidal thoughts, self-harm, eating disorders, panic attacks, suicide attempt

After Miami, Lando thought that things would get easier. He was no longer "Lando Nowins." He had finally proved everyone wrong and got that win.

But then, the season continued. It became clear that the Mclaren was consistently challenging for wins. He almost won again in Imola, he missed out on a podium in Monaco due to a red flag, and an untimely safety car lost him the win in Canada.

And suddenly, everyone was trying to conjure up a championship fight out of nowhere.

In Spain, he took his first pole position of the season. Maybe things were starting to look up. Maybe Mclaren actually had a chance this year.

But then he had to go and ruin it just like he always does by fucking up the start, and Max beat him again. He tried to choke down his disappointment during media, unconsciously biting and picking at the skin around his fingernails as the interviewers picked apart his mistakes.

And then Austria happened. He was faster, but he couldn't pass Max. He tried over and over, making silly mistakes as his frustration built. But then, they made contact. He had to retire, yet Max still extended his lead by 10 points.

Lando's chest was tight and he felt like he couldn't breathe as he climbed out of the car. He relished in the pain of ripping the skin off his fingers as he gave his interviews.

He skipped his dinner that night, the pit in his stomach making him too nauseous to eat anything. He spent the whole debrief focusing on not hyperventilating.

When he got back to the hotel, he had a few of the drinks in the minibar, just to help him fall asleep. The numbness he felt almost made up for the pain from the day.

The next day, he texted Max and then went on a run until his legs and lungs nearly collapsed. The burning pain in his chest felt better than the nauseating lump in his stomach.

Silverstone was next, and he finally got to see his whole family, which made the anxiety melt a little.

But then, he fucked up again. That might have been his only opportunity to win his home race, and he fucked it up because he couldn't pick the right tire. It was just like Sochi all over again. He tried not to let the disappointment on his family's face affect him.

There was finally a little break after Silverstone where he could spend some time not thinking about racing. Yet somehow, every time he tried to relax, he couldn't stop thinking about his mistakes, and his nails dug into his skin.

Hungary was even worse. He had to give up a 6-second lead on the second-to-last lap just because he was too stubborn not to switch positions right after he undercut Oscar and race him later on. So stupid.

The radio messages from Will haunted him. You're going to need Oscar, and you're going to need the team.

Then why did he feel like they were never there for him?

He ruined Oscar's first win. He tainted it. He only has himself to blame when Oscar looks disheartened during the tense debrief, but he can't bring himself to apologize. He can't even bring himself to look at him. It's all Lando's fault.

They go out that night to celebrate, and although Lando wants nothing more than to lock himself in his room and not talk to anyone, he feels like he owes it to Oscar to be there.

He ends up taking way too many shots way too quickly, or maybe it's the fact that he hasn't eaten all day, but he's drunk out of his mind as he sits in the VIP booth Mclaren bought out.

The table is spinning in front of him, and the euphoric feeling that the alcohol brings is enough to distract himself from his self-deprecating thoughts. He startles when someone slides into the seat next to him.

"Are you okay?" Oscar asks him, eyes wide as he holds a half-empty drink.

Lando just nods, looking down to avoid eye contact. "Good job, today," he says numbly, but he hopes Oscar knows he's being sincere. It's silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry–"

"Why are you apologizing?" he cuts Oscar off harshly. "I'm the one that didn't let you pass when they told me to. I'm the one who fucked up the start and put us in the situation to begin with."

"I know, but–"

"But nothing. I fucked up everything just like always, and now I've ruined your first win. 'M not sure how you still tolerate being around me, but you should probably leave like everyone else before I ruin your life too."

He didn't mean to say all of that, but the words just kept coming out. And now Oscar is staring at him with a look of shock. He opens his mouth to say something, but Lando quickly stands up and pushes his way to the bathroom before he can.

Once Lando locks himself in one of the stalls, he immediately slides down the wall, head buried in his knees as his breathing quickens. He doesn't know he's crying until his tears are soaking his pants.

Painful whimpers leave his mouth as he scratches at his throat, willing to allow himself to breathe again. His nails rip into his skin, clawing down his throat and his arms.

He stays there until his breath returns and his arms are rubbed raw. Then, he gets up, orders more shots at the bar, closes out his tab, and calls an Uber to take him back to the hotel.

The shots just start kicking in as he stumbles into the backseat of the car. He feels himself going numb again, and he breathes a sigh of relief. He stares out the window the whole ride, trying not to throw up as the world spins.

Finally, he stumbled back to his hotel room and went into the bathroom, and he just stared at himself in the mirror. He's so fucking useless. Everyone hates him. And if they don't, they will eventually.

Lando considers punching the mirror in front of him and imagine that he's really punching his face, but instead, he flops onto his bed and hopes his hangover the next day isn't too bad.

He's off to Belgium the next morning. His mum told him his grandma was getting sicker and it sounded like she didn't have much longer left.

She passed just before the weekend started. Seeing his mum cry had been one of the most painful parts of it. He at least got to see her one more time before she left. But of course, it had to be right before the Belgian race.

Winning here would mean so much after what happened. He wanted to do this for her and his whole family. He couldn't let them down.

Max was also taking an engine penalty, so this weekend should've been a good opportunity to gain points on him in the championship.

Yet he could only manage 4th in qualifying, and the race went even worse. He was stuck behind Max for several laps, but he just couldn't get past.

6th. 6th in a "rocketship," as everyone liked to call it. Why did Mclaren even want him? He couldn't even finish in front of Max, who started way behind him.

He disappointed his family, he disappointed his team, he disappointed his fans, he disappointed everyone. He didn't even want to see what people were saying about him online. He already knew that he was a fraud, he didn't need others pointing it out as well.

He let Max Fewtrell drag him around during the summer break, and he spent the whole time dodging Max's worried glances and acting like he was having fun. The only time it was bearable was when they went out and he was several drinks deep, too drunk out of his mind to even think about racing and his failures.

Nearly every night he got blackout drunk. He didn't see the problem with it, but it raised red flags with his best friend.

"How are you doing, really?" Max asked him when they went out to lunch, just the two of them.

Lando wrinkled his nose, looking off to the side to avoid eye contact. "I'm fine."

Max sighed, seeing right through his bullshit. "Dude, come on."

"I don't know why everyone is acting like I'm falling apart! This is the first time I have a chance at the championship, I think it's only reasonable that I'm acting a little different," Lando replied, exasperated. He was sick of everyone acting like something was wrong with him.

"Right, because getting wasted every night is a healthy coping mechanism?"

Lando laughed, dryly. "I'm on fucking vacation. If you're going to talk about feelings and bullshit the whole time I might as well fucking leave!"

And with that, he dug some money out of his wallet, slapped it on the table, and left.

Another relationship he fucked up. Just like always.

He spends the rest of the summer break alone in Monaco.

He's lost more weight by the time he arrives at Zandvoort. Jon asks how he was eating over the break, and he insists that he's been following his meal plan.

He just can't eat. There's a churning in his stomach that makes him want to throw up at the thought of food.

Lando gets pole on Saturday. It should feel good, but it doesn't, he knows he's gonna lose the lead on the first lap anyway, just like what everyone says.

He beats Max by 23 seconds, but his face is stone-cold as he poses for the cameras. He still messed up the start, if it wasn't for his pace, Max would've won again.

The interviewers point out his mistakes, the team points out his mistakes, and everyone points out his mistakes. And now people are giving him death threats and calling him arrogant and egotistical because he said 2 words after the race.

He thinks about what would happen if he were gone, if he did what so many people said and removed himself from this world. Perhaps everything would be better that way. He scratches his arms until they're raw whilst he ponders it.

He makes it to Monza. He pulls off another pole and gets a ring for it. It's even a 1-2 with Oscar.

Max is starting in 7th, which means this could be another good opportunity to gain on him in the championship.

His start is good, he's actually leading through turn 1, but then Oscar gets him in the second chicane. It's a good overtake, Lando can't deny, but it gets him out of sorts and Charles passes him too.

Neither Oscar nor Lando ends up winning. What should've easily been a 1-2 turns into a disappointing 2-3.

Some sick part of him feels satisfied when Oscar looks dejected after the race, but he immediately scolds himself for it, guilt flooding him.

When he gets back to his hotel room, he can't help but scroll on social media, and he sees the interviews from Andrea.

"We're only concerned about the constructor's championship."

"The future is Oscar's."

Oh.

The team doesn't even believe in him anymore. They don't think Lando can win the championship. He's only a year and a half older than Oscar, but they're acting like Lando's nearing retirement.

His chest tightens as his breath hitches. He can't breathe. He opens his phone and his thumb hovers over Max Fewtrell's contact, but he throws his phone on the bed instead of calling him.

He's gasping for air as he stumbles to the bathroom, his whole body shaking. They don't believe in him. He's a failure.

Lando scratches at his arms but it's not enough. Tears start forming in his eyes, blurring his vision. He still can't breathe. Why can't he breathe?

He grabs his razor and smashes it with one of his hair product bottles. The blades separate and with trembling fingers, he grabs one and holds it to his arm.

He presses the razor into his skin, then slowly drags it across. The stinging pain is welcoming. It's a different kind of pain than just scratching at his arms. He watches as the blood beads up, and his lungs open up just a bit.

He keeps going a couple more times until his breathing is almost back to normal, and he just stares at the blood. It feels good. He deserves the pain after all his mistakes.

He stays there until the blood is dried, and then he eventually cleans it up and collapses in his bed. He feels guilty. He feels lonely. He still feels like he wants to die. All he does is squeeze his eyes shut and hope he falls asleep soon. He doesn't.

He's scared Jon will see, but he's also scared that Jon will say he deserves the pain for messing up so many times. He wears long sleeves and is extra careful.

Then, an unnecessary yellow flag in Baku causes him to get out in Q1. If he had any hopes of the championship, it just died. He's confident he'll get in the points, but he still needs to get ahead of Max, and even just one place ahead wouldn't be good enough.

Oscar wins, and Lando only got 4th because of Carlos and Checo crashing. He was in front of Max, though.

He's happy for Oscar, but he can't help but imagine what it would've been if he'd qualified near the front like he was supposed to.

At least Mclaren was leading the constructor's championship now.

Lando can't help but feel ashamed. His teammate, who's only in his 2nd year, has tied his number of wins again. How pathetic is that?

Things start looking up in Singapore. Lando is immediately quick, and he gets pole by a large margin. However, he's starting next to Max. He doesn't celebrate too soon.

But, he manages to keep the lead the entire race, leading by nearly 30 seconds at one point. He's pushing, though, and the heat starts getting to him. Maybe he should've eaten before the race, because his focus slips, and he almost goes into the wall because of a lockup. Will tells him to cool it and take a drink after that.

He's still making silly mistakes, even when he's all alone on the track.

He feels nothing when he crosses the chequered flag and the fireworks go off for him.

They have a month off, which Lando actually wouldn't prefer with the momentum they've been having. It gives him time to get his mind off racing, though.

Yet the whole time, he couldn't get rid of the ache and constant nervousness in his stomach. All he could think about was the stupid championship and the disappointment he would give people if he lost it.

When he got to Austin, he just prayed that they would be quick.

Instead, they were immediately struggling. It was extremely bumpy despite the track being resurfaced, and they didn't do well in those conditions.

The sprint wasn't great. His start was good, for once, making up several places in the first corner, but the pace wasn't there. In the end, he loses out to Carlos because of a stupid lockup, and he nearly gets done by Charles too. Max still extends his lead in the championship.

He curses himself for his mistakes. He doesn't eat until after qualifying later that day, but it must've helped because he managed to get pole.

The race is disappointing. He messes up turn 1, again. The car feels like shit, his back is killing him from the bumpy surface, and he's getting frustrated.

He catches up to Max and tries over and over again to pass him. But Max is a great defender, he knows exactly where to place the car, and it just frustrates him more.

Max pushes him off the track, but Lando finally gets ahead. Will tells him that he's being investigated, but that he was ahead at the apex. But the stewards tell him he wasn't, and the penalty takes him off the podium, putting Max ahead of him so he extends his lead again.

The team tries not to look disappointed in him, but he can see it clearly in their faces. Lando was sloppy and careless with his overtake. He's too nauseous to eat, and he cut his thighs that night while he was staving off a panic attack.

He should've just given the fucking place back. Part of him resents Will, he's the one who told him it was fine, after all. But in the end, Lando knows it is on him.

They arrive in Mexico and Jon is starting to notice. His weight loss is "concerning," as Jon puts it. But he doesn't understand that Lando just can't stomach any food. He's already a picky eater, anyway.

It definitely has nothing to do with the fact that he doesn't feel satisfied unless his stomach is cramping in pain and he feels empty, but light.

Jon also comments on how exhausted he looks, and Lando tells him he hasn't been sleeping well. It's not a lie, after all. Jon gets him prescribed some sleeping pills that are supposed to help. Lando doesn't take them.

Carlos and Ferrari have been dominating the whole weekend, and now there's pressure with the constructor's championship as well as the driver's.

Lando qualifies third. Max qualifies in front of him, even in a shit car. Lando should feel a little consolation considering his teammate got knocked out in Q1, but he can't help but feel useless.

On race day, Lando is battling with Max again, and he does everything in his power not to repeat Austria.

When Max completely pushes him off the track, all he feels is rage. A part of him feels betrayed, but most of all, he is frustrated. He knows his relationship with Max off-track is thrown out the window on track, but it hurts when his friend completely violates the rules just to mess up his race and possibly cause him to crash out.

His pace is rapid at the end of the race. He gets past Charles, but he can't catch Carlos. He thinks that maybe this was Max's plan all along.

But a day later, he and Max are talking normally again, and sometimes Lando hates himself for how easily he forgives people.

Mclaren was supposed to be quick in Brazil, and Max was taking another grid penalty. The pressure was high. The result of this weekend would either make or break his championship hopes.

During the sprint, Oscar lets him through at the end to let him win. He should be glad that he gained points on Max, but all he can feel is the guilt coursing through him.

Maybe everyone was right, he didn't deserve the championship if he had to get team orders. He cuts that night after qualifying is canceled.

He gets pole early Sunday morning and Max is starting 17th. He needs to win this one, otherwise, the championship will surely be over and he'll let the team down.

But the race quickly unfolds into a disaster. An untimely red flag means Max gets a free tire change and starts in P3 with just the Alpines in the way.

Lando can't turn at the restart. He goes straight and runs off the track, and the disaster of a race gets worse for him. He spends the rest of the laps focusing on not binning it in the wall.

It's a relief when he crosses the chequered flag.

The debrief is tense and the air is filled with disappointment. Lando can see it in everyone's faces. He spots Oscar giving him looks of pity. He wants nothing more than to have the ground swallow him up and take him away forever so he doesn't have to face anyone.

He quickly returns to his hotel, and he can't hold it in anymore. The nausea that has become permanent in his stomach is even worse, and he rushes to the toilet as he gags up spit and stomach acid from his empty stomach.

Tears prick his eyes but he wills them back, he cannot be weak right now.

Once he's in bed, he hesitantly looks at his phone. He has a text from Max Fewtrell, who he hadn't talked to since summer break. Lando knows he needs to apologize to his best friend, but it's just easier not having someone who will nag about his emotions or how he's coping.

He opens Twitter. He never should've re-downloaded it, but it was too late now. Immediately, he sees a clip from his interview in which he said that getting to change tires under a red flag is luck not talent.

However, people are changing it, not including the question that literally asked about the red flag. They think he's talking about Max's driving.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he opens the comments.

Arrogant, talentless, egotistical, worthless.

Kill yourself.

There are several death threats and people telling him to kill himself. All of this over a comment that was taken out of context.

A wet laugh bubbles up in his throat. As if he hadn't already thought about it, killing himself. It would be so easy. Especially with the sleeping pills that Jon got him.

But, he can't. He can't let the team down, he still has a constructor's championship to win. At least give them a little something as payback for all their hard work to give him an amazing car.

Lando scrolls until he can't take it anymore, and he throws his phone at the wall, a pained shout leaving his mouth. He bites his sleeve to keep himself from sobbing. He can't breathe. His chest is tight and it feels like his lungs have closed up.

He stumbles out of bed and gets to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and grabbing his razor. He resorts to cutting himself again to make the pain go away. He doesn't sleep that night.

Jon drags him out of bed and to the airport so he can go home. He's thankful, even though he'd rather lay in bed all day.

When he gets to Monaco, it's nighttime there. Lando goes straight to his apartment, not bothering to unpack, and curls up in his bed. He hasn't eaten or slept since the race, but he just can't. The thoughts consume him.

How can I be better? Why am I so useless? Why did I fail?

After 40 hours, he'd tired himself out enough to finally fall asleep, but he still couldn't stomach anything to eat. His ribs poke out now, but he doesn't care. He just can't.

Las Vegas passes in a flash. The media beforehand was exhausting, but it was an incredibly mediocre race from him. P6, but nearly 30 seconds away from Max who was in P5.

Max's P5 also seals the championship for him. It's a bittersweet feeling. Lando knew the championship was pretty much over after Brazil, but now that it was official, it kind of felt like some sort of relief.

But soon, it was replaced with pressure to get the constructor's championship after Ferrari outscored them.

When they arrive in Qatar, it is not nearly as hot as last year, thankfully.

He qualifies on pole for the sprint and Oscar is in P3. He decides right there that if the chance arises, he's letting Oscar win. He's sick of the guilt that's been eating him up ever since that Saturday in Brazil. Oscar deserves it as well, after everything he's done this year to try to help.

The sprint goes as planned with Lando letting Oscar by right at the end, finishing 1-2. But when it comes to qualifying, they only manage 3-4. It's ahead of the Ferraris, though.

There's a knock on his driver's room door as he's packing up at the end of the day.

"Come in!"

Oscar peeks his head in, then lets himself in and closes the door behind him.

"Hey mate, what's up?" Lando asks him, stuffing a shirt into his backpack.

"Hey, um, thanks for earlier, during the sprint. I really appreciated that."

"No worries, it's the least I could do."

Oscar hesitates. "Um, I actually wanted to, uh, check up on you. We haven't really talked in a while and, well, you just seem a little distant lately. I just wanted to ask if you're okay? I understand if I'm overstepping here, but I've just been a little worried."

Lando averts eye contact. "Oh. I...I'm okay," he replies, digging his fingernails into his palms until it stings. "Just a lot of pressure with the season, y'know? I appreciate you for asking, though. Thank you."

"Yeah, of course. Well, I'm here if you ever want to talk, yeah?"

Lando looks at him, trying to find ulterior motives but only finding sincerity. "Yeah, the same applies with me, mate. Thanks."

With that, Oscars nods, says goodbye, then walks out the door. The conversation leaves Lando standing in his driver's room zoning out at the wall, contemplating what Oscar said to him.

The race is hectic, but once they get going again after all the yellow flags and the debris from the mirror getting picked up, Lando is right on the tail of Max, hoping to find a gap to squeeze through.

"We have a 10-second stop-and-go penalty," Will tells him on the radio suddenly.

Lando's heart stutters. What? A stop-and-go penalty? Everyone's bunched up after the safety car, he's gonna end up last.

"For what?" he asks, still stunned.

"Failing to slow under the yellow flags. We will serve the penalty this lap."

Lando doesn't respond. He's trying to rack through his brain to think of when that could be, but he can't come up with anything. He didn't see a yellow flag that he didn't slow for, and Will didn't tell him anything either.

His body is tense, partly with anger at the harsh penalty and partly with disappointment at himself.

"I'm sorry," he says after he crosses the chequered flag in P10.

He's met with silence, but that speaks for itself.

The debrief is tense. Everyone knows that the constructor's championship is on the line, and everyone is disappointed in him for potentially fucking up all their hard work. Oscar pats his back, but Lando knows he's just as disappointed.

He stays afterward and watches the onboard over and over again while ripping the skin off his fingers. There's no light on his dash, the lights on the side aren't lit up, there's only marshals waving barely visible flags while he's going 200 mph down the straight.

He watches Max's onboard. His engineer warns him about the yellow flags. He watches everyone else's onboards and their engineers warn them about the yellow flags. But Will didn't warn him, in fact, he told him to go even faster to catch up to Max.

He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, then he shuts the computer off and rushes to his driver's room to get his stuff. He feels like he's going to explode with anger.

He slams the door shut and punches the wall. The walls are sturdy enough so they don't break, but Lando's hand is aching and it feels good. He does it again.

He feels his breathing quicken as tears well up in his eyes. His legs give out on him as he collapses to the floor, curling up into a ball as he cries into his knees. Painful, distressed whimpers leave his mouth as he sobs uncontrollably.

Between the crying and the panic attack, he can't breathe, and that only makes him panic more, his chest heaving as he desperately tries to get air in his lungs.

His door opens abruptly. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Oscar rush in and kneel in front of him.

"Lando, it's okay! Shh, it's okay, please calm down. You need to breathe."

Oscar is looking at him with wide eyes, unsettled from seeing his normally strong teammate like this. Lando looks back at him with desperation, urgently trying to stop his crying.

When more of Oscar's pleas don't work, he hesitantly wraps his arms around Lando, letting Lando collapse into him as he cries.

It takes a few minutes for Lando to stop crying. When he does, he pushes out of Oscar's arms, scrambling to get up.

"I, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, you shouldn't have seen me like that," Lando rambles on as he scratches at his wrist.

"It's okay. Do you want to, um, talk about it?" Oscar asks as he pushes himself off the floor, but he doesn't seem sure of it and Lando finds himself doubting the sincerity of the offer.

"No! No, no, I'm fine. Just the stupid penalty, s'all. I'm fine," he insists, mustering up a smile that doesn't meet his eyes.

Oscar looks conflicted, but eventually, he nods. "Um, okay. Well, if you ever want to talk, I'm here."

It's the second time Oscar has offered to talk within two days, and Lando curses himself for losing it like he did a few minutes ago. He needs to keep it together.

They're immediately off to Abu Dhabi the next day. Oscar doesn't bring up what happened but he keeps giving concerned glances toward Lando. Lando just really fucking hopes that they can pull off the constructors championship.

The weekend starts well. Charles will be starting P19 and they qualified 1-2 with Carlos behind them. All they needed was to hopefully maintain the 1-2 through turn 1, then it should be smooth sailing.

But, nothing is smooth sailing in Formula 1, and Oscar gets spun around by Max at turn 1, dropping him all the way to last. Then to top it all off, he gets a 10-second penalty for a separate incident.

So, the weight of the world rests on Lando's shoulders. No pressure at all.

But, Lando stays in the lead the whole race, driving flawlessly until he crosses the chequered flag after 58 laps. It feels like he can actually breathe for the first time in a very long time. He raises his fists to the sky as the fireworks explode for him and his team. He lets his head tilt back as he sighs in relief

The team is so ecstatic, and that manages to put on smile on his face. He and Oscar sip champagne together, bottles raised towards the night sky as their team surrounds them. For Lando, it's perfect. Just one perfect moment of satisfaction.

On his way back to Monaco, he makes a stop in England. He spends a day with his family, and then the next day he goes over to Max Fewtrell's apartment to see him.

"Hey," Lando simply says when Max opens the door to his apartment.

Max stares at him with a slight look of shock before letting him in. Lando greets Max's girlfriend, Pietra, who then excuses herself to Max and her's room, almost as if she knew him and Max were talking about something serious.

"Where have you been, mate? You haven't answered any of my texts," Max says.

"I know, I'm sorry. I've been a shitty friend. And I'm sorry for my outburst during summer break."

"I just wish you'd tell me what's going on."

"I'm fine, really. Jon has it all handled. He knows I've been going through some shit this year. I'm...getting better, I'll be better." The lie feels sour on his tongue, but it's for the better.

They catch up a bit, and Lando hugs him extra tight when he leaves.

When Lando gets back to Monaco, he gets his affairs in order, he cleans his apartment, and then he writes his letters. He writes one for each of his family members, Max F, Jon, and Oscar.

He puts the letters in a neat pile on his counter, then he grabs a bottle of vodka, drinking straight from the bottle as he heads to his bedroom.

He lays on top of the covers in bed, so there will be no hassle for whoever finds him.

He grabs the prescribed sleeping pills and starts swallowing whatever is left of them in groups of 5 or 6, washing it down with the vodka.

He gags as he struggles to swallow, but he pushes it down. He can feel himself getting more drowsy, and the vodka bottle bangs against his nightstand as he sets it down.

As his eyes close, there's only one thing Lando is feeling; peace.

~~~~~~~~~~

After Lando visited Max, Max had a feeling that something was off. He knew Lando was having a tough time, and there was just a feeling in his stomach that gnawed at him.

Eventually, he picked up his phone and made a call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Oscar, it's Max Fewtrell. Um, sorry, I know we haven't talked in a while, but, you live in Monaco, right?"

"Um, yeah."

"Okay, I have a really big favor to ask, and feel free to say no, but I was wondering if there was any way you could go over to Lando's and check up on him? He just seemed really off when I saw him the other day."

"Yeah, yeah, of course I'll go, it's no problem."

"Great, thank you so much! If he doesn't answer, his spare key is in the plant next to his door."

"Okay, I'll text you after."

Oscar had an unsettled feeling in his stomach as he made the short walk over to Lando's apartment complex.

He knocked on the door a couple of times and waited, but there was no answer. Maybe he was just out, Oscar tried to reason as he dug through the plant beside the door in search of the key.

With a deep breath, he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

"Lando?" he called out, taking a look around.

The place was spotless. Nothing was lying around, the tables and counters were clear of everything besides a small pile of letters. Stepping closer, he rummaged through to find that they were all labeled with names, including his.

The blood drained from Oscar's face, a cold chill running down his spine as he realized what this meant.

"Lando!" he called more urgently, running through the apartment trying to find him.

He stopped at the bathroom, but he wasn't there. Then he spotted it, the bedroom door was closed.

Without thinking, Oscar slammed the door open, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight. Lando was lying on top of his covers, eyes closed. Next to him was a bottle of pills and a bottle of vodka. Quickly, Oscar rushed to his side.

"Lando! Lando, wake up! Please, wake up!" he pleaded as he shook the man, but he was unresponsive.

With violently trembling hands, he pulled out his phone to dial emergency services.

"What is your emergency?"

"Help, please! My friend overdosed, and he won't wake up!"

He quickly told the operator the address.

"Is he breathing?"

Oscar held his own breath as he leaned down to listen to Lando, a sigh escaping as he heard slow, weak breaths coming from the man, which he reported to the operator. Then, remembering his medical training, he took the man's thin wrist, taking his pulse. It was also slow, which he told the operator.

"Okay, emergency services will be there in about 2 minutes, are you alright if I hang up?"

"Yeah, yeah," he replied offhandedly, full focus on Lando.

Oscar put his phone back in his pocket and picked up the pill bottle. He didn't recognize the medication name, but the instructions implied that they were sleeping pills. The bottle was empty.

"Please, please, please, Lando. Please be okay," he whispered, tears falling down his cheeks as guilt started eating at him.

He knew something was wrong, he should've seen the signs earlier. He could've stopped this.

He kept his eyes on Lando the whole time until the paramedics showed up.

Everything felt like a blur, and suddenly he was in the waiting room, head in his hands.

Fuck, he had to tell Max and his family.

Hands still trembling, he got his phone out. He had Adam's number, and with sweaty palms, he dialed it.

"Oscar?"

"Hey, um, I, I'm not sure how to tell you this, but something happened to Lando. He tried to, to kill himself."

It was silent for a moment. "What?" Adam replied, voice sounding heartbroken and watery.

"He overdosed. He's stable, though, we're at the hospital in Monaco."

"We'll be there right away," Adam replied, voice cracking before he hung up.

He didn't want to know what Cisca's reaction would be.

One down.

Next, he called Max F.

"What's wrong?" Max immediately asked, knowing Oscar would've just texted if everything was okay.

"Lando um, he overdosed," he said, the words not getting any easier the more he said them.

Max inhaled sharply. "What? Is, is he okay?"

"We're at the hospital. He was alive, but I don't know anything else. His family's on his way, you could see if you could come with them."

"Yeah, I will. Oscar, thank you. I can't–" his voice broke off with a sob. "I can't imagine what would've happened if you hadn't checked up on him."

Oscar didn't want to imagine that either.

"You were the one who knew something was wrong," he replied.

"Still, thank you," Max said, then hung up.

After that, everything went silent. Oscar was still shaking.

It felt like hours until the nurse finally came out to talk to him, and he was still shaking then, too.

"Oscar, right? You're listed as his emergency contact, so you can come see him," the nurse told him, as he quickly scampered up to follow her.

They stepped into Lando's room, and Oscar felt the air leave his lungs. Lando was sleeping, wires connected to his body all over. He looked weak and vulnerable, it made Oscar's heart break.

"The EMTs administered the antidote to reverse the effects of the overdose and the doctor had to pump his stomach as well. But right now, he is stable, and recovery looks good. He should be awake soon, you can press the button if you need anything if you need anything."

With that, the nurse left. Oscar was zoning out the whole time while staring at Lando, so he knew they'd need to repeat that to his parents. When the door closed, he finally snapped out of it and took a hesitant seat next to the bed.

He took in Lando's appearance now that he was closer.

He was pale, so unusual compared to his dark tan. Wires disappeared under his hospital gown. An IV was inserted in his forearm, tape covering the area, holding it down.

The pit in Oscar's stomach grew as he raked his eyes further down Lando's arm. His breathing halted when he saw the scars on Lando's wrist. There was no mistaking that Lando did that to himself, and the thought brings tears to his eyes. He never knew Lando was struggling so much.

He scoots closer to the bed, not taking his eyes off Lando. It's not long until Lando's eyelids are fluttering and a quiet groan leaves his mouth.

"Osc?" Lando asks, voice hoarse, likely from the tube they had to stick down his throat while they pumped his stomach.

"Hey, I'm here, you're okay. Your family is on their way," he reassures, unconsciously grabbing the older man's hand.

"What–how did you find me?"

"Max called, he was worried about you, so I–I stopped by. You, you were barely breathing," Oscar breaks off with a sob, a tear finally falling. "I thought I was gonna lose you," he whispered.

"Oh, Osc," Lando's own eyes well up with tears, and his grip on Oscar's hand tightens. "I'm–I'm so sorry. Nobody was meant to find me," he said, looking down.

"Well I'm fucking glad I did, you would've been fucking dead if Max hadn't called," his voice cracks as more tears escape his eyes. "Why...why did you do it?"

It was silent for a moment. "I didn't want to keep letting everyone down," Lando whispered, voice barely audible. "I thought it would just be better if...if I was gone."

"Fuck, Lan, you know that's not true, right? You mean so much to so many people, you don't even know it. We've all been so worried about you because we care about you. Your family, Max, the rest of the grid, me. I wouldn't know what to do if you weren't here anymore. The world is a better place because you're a part of it."

And that seemed to be the breaking point for Lando because he then broke down in sobs.

"I'm, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," he weeps, making Oscar's heart ache.

Oscar lowers the side guard and squeezes into the bed next to Lando, wrapping his arms around him while the older cries into his chest. Oscar rubs his back, whispering reassurances into his ear. It takes a while until he calms down.

"Just, promise me that you'll get better, that you'll get help. And talk to someone the next time you are struggling so badly. Me, Jon, your family, anyone. Just, please, don't do this again."

"I promise," Lando whispers back. And he means it.

[jesterbiscuits]

Shaded'moon redraw and his mate Dew'flower redesign chat🙏🙏🙏

Anyways I mentioned them before on Oat'whisker design that I have posted about along with his mate Turtle'flame which I will send a link to it, where I have mentioned them about on that post as you read it through the post about them

link to it:

As you can tell yes Oat'whisker mentor is Shaded'moon who is also abusive towards him when he was an app at the time because Oat'whisker mother Velvet'snake was Shaded'moon sister and they were close together when growing up and when Shaded'moon sister broke up with her mate Silver'snake due to their relationship starting to become unhealthy and toxic due to unknown reason which Shaded'moon put onto the blame to his app Oat'whisker who is also Shaded'moon nephew as well too and once Shaded'moon sister Velvet'snake was killed in a battle from another clan, he fully yell at his app in front of Oat'whisker father and brother and sister, and Oat'whisker friend Turtle'flame who were mourning her because of her death and Turtle'flame being here to comfort Oat'whisker at the time for it because Turtle'flame had a crush on him and wanted to be here for Oat'whisker, which when Shaded'moon yell at Oat'whisker he also blame her death on him saying that if he hasn't been born along with his brother Storm'soot and his sister Stoat'velvet that Velvet'snake bore kits with Silver'snake then none of them wouldn't even happen in the first place. Which after that day of Shaded'moon sister death he began to abuse his nephew Oat'whisker before starting to punish him as well too if he didn't do his training well at all and if that happens that he will overwork him and attack him making Oat'whisker to become scared of his own mentor who is also his uncle as well too causing Oat'whisker to have serious injury/wounds from this making his family, Turtle'flame and their clanmates to become aware of Shaded'moon actions towards his own app and no matter how hard they try to tell their leader Scorch'star about this Scorch'star would end up gaslighting them saying that Shaded'moon would never do that to his own nephew WHEN CLEARLY Scorch'star haven't see this himself AT ALL until yadada moons later Shaded'moon would also starve his own app as well causing Oat'whisker to almost died of hunger and thirst from this which this also making him to began to overwork himself as well too making Turtle'flame to become worry about this ---until yadada I'm time skipping this--- Oat'whisker father died few moons after Oat'whisker became warrior early from saving Shaded'moon mate Dew'flower who was also taken away by a eagle. Until 6 moons later Oat'whisker sister was murder who was expecting her mate kits and the murder of Oat'whisker death was unknown to this. Until yadada timeskip forward Oat'whisker brother was killed by Lion'star from leafclan during a war between brackenclan which when Shaded'moon saw this he fully blame Oat'whisker for this telling him that this is all his fault and that all of their kins are dead because of him making Oat'whisker to attack him and almost killing him too until Turtle'flame stop him from doing so which then soon Oat'whisker would make a plan to kill him after all of the abuse and trauma he receive from him which he ends up murdering him the night before the gathering somewhere in brackenclan territory.

yay the end now moving to his mate Dew'flower

And as for Dew'flower I end up changing her design because I didn't liked her old one at all when looking through my post like I did with Stoat'watcher that I have mentioned him and giving the same reason as well too that I'm giving to Dew'flower as well rn. I also add items that she is wearing rn on her new design which I'm too lazy to make the color palette for it 😞😞😞

Dew'flower also named one of her and Shaded'moon kits after Oat'whisker after he saved him from almost being taken away by a eagle which Dew'flower was worry that Shaded'moon wouldn't accept their son being named after him because of this due to how I mentioned that everyone is aware what Shaded'moon is doing towards Oat'whisker when Oat'whisker was an app at the time when this was happening. Which in the end Shaded'moon allow her to name their son after him which she was relief of, but unknown to her she doesn't know that her mate Shaded'moon is giving the same treatment to their kits that he did with Oat'whisker, until one of their kits from their 2nd and last LITTER Bog'water who is their daughter told her about what was Shaded'moon doing towards them after Shaded'moon death that was caused by Oat'whisker which Dew'flower still mourn for her mate but will never forgive him for being abusive towards their own kits and Oat'whisker until she retired as a elder and when moons pass she finally died in place when a greencough out break was happening which she reunited with Shaded'moon who guided her to starclan which she forgive him but never for his actions and what he did for.

LINKS TO OLD DRAWING OF SHADED'MOON AND HIS MATE DEW'FLOWER OLD DRAWING AND DESIGN!!!!!!!!

OLD DRAWING OF SHADED'MOON LINK:

OLD DRAWING AND DESIGN OF DEW'FLOWER LINK:

[mightybeaujester]

Comparing Mechs fans spotify wrapped with others shows us scientifically that we're something else

A friend of mine is in the top 0.05% of Sleeping At Last (almost 8mio monthly listeners) with 7.4k minutes

I'm just in the top 0.5% of the Mechanisms (36k monthly listeners) with 9.3k minutes

This means that you needed less minutes to be a way higher listener of an artist with 205 times as many listeners.

So there aren't many of us, but I can almost guarantee that not a single one of us is even remotely normal.

[love4hobi]

.

[rose-tinted-nostalgia]

being told you don’t deserve kindness or empathy because you won’t fuck someone is so ridiculous you’d think it wouldn’t hurt to hear, but it does. it really fucking does.

[lizard12323]

I hate the fact that the only reason I care about my life and self is cause of about two people..

Just, feels sad

[soutsuji]

There's an English class on Golden Age detective fiction being offered next semester but the prerequisite for it is the intro to literary study class required for all English majors (which I haven't taken because I'm in a hard STEM major and don't have much time for electives, which means that I have to be really picky with my electives and only go for stuff I like AND doesn't have an awful workload) and also even if I did have that prereq, I wouldn't be able to take the class because it's at the same time as one of my major reqs. And also I'll be in two labs next semester and one of them is pure hell so like I literally don't have the time to take more than 13 credit hours (as tempting as it is to keep up my streak of taking 17-18 every semester even though it's been like really pretty bad for my social life and hobbies). Sigh. (Pressing my hand wistfully against the glass) maybe someday they'll offer the class again

[localdorkincombatboots]

Losing a family member or a partner is already literally one of the worst parts of life we have to go through but being the person(s) that have to also handle all of the legal, formal, and financial parts of it makes it so much fucking worse like rubbing salt in a wound.

Like here I know you're devastated and grieving but also you need to fill out assloads of paperwork and get things set up immediately and figure out how to pay at the very cheapest $1k for a cremation without even being able to give the person you loved a proper funeral because it costs thousands of dollars more, and having to call Medicare and all the other govt. places to report her death and so fucking much that has to be handled.

Honestly everyone needs to find a way to teach themself at least the basics of everything that has to be handled after death because your family or partner could be perfectly fine one day and then all of a sudden an accident happens like a fall or wreck and it could all fall on you to handle every single thing.

And not a single part of the process is easy which only makes what is already one of the hardest things to go through in life exponentially worse.

And, death is so extremely expensive. Literally the cheapest possible cremation we can find is $995 and that's no funeral or anything just straight to ashes in a box.

You don't want to be struck with such a tragedy and have zero knowledge of what will become your responsibility to handle and pay for.

I know it's awful to even think about your loved ones dying but not knowing what to do when it happens, because death is the one thing that happens to us all and it can happen at literally any time, will only make everything worse and harder for you.

If you know you will be responsible for handling someone's affairs after death, take the time to actually sit down and discuss how they would want you to handle it and seriously consider looking into some kind of life insurance, even if it's not for much, because creation and funeral services require payment upfront and this isn't something that can be put off until you can afford it. Wether or not they had a life insurance policy could be the thing that could completely fuck you financially especially if you were already struggling.

[orcelito]

Honestly hate how hard it is to start writing again when you've gone too long without it. Like for fuck's sake man Why's shit gotta be like this

[lilac-melody]

Hmh.

[simpjaes]

HYPER-SEXUAL (s,jy)

If there’s anything in life that Jake wants, it’s to fuck. All day, every day, it’s on his mind. He fantasizes constantly, watches porn every free chance he gets, and ultimately has grown bored of his own hand to satiate his need. or the one where jake is inexperienced, incredibly perverted, and borderline addicted to sex but cannot, for the life of him, land a girl.

leave feedback and reblog to give jake another boner. 

minors do not interact. 

WORDCOUNT― 13.8k

PAIRING― jake sim x afab reader

CONTENT― smut, inexperienced but pervy and dominant jake, he kind of has an addiction to jerking off, im not joking like he has a boner every twenty minutes it’s probably a medical issue but, reader is really sex positive and lets jake go absolutely insane on her

NOTE― not proof read in the way it needed to be.  disclaimer: this is straight up just porn. it had a plot at one point but i deleted all of it and wrote this instead. also this is posted on my other blog [@ncteez] for mark lee. yes, i wrote it for both of them bc they both fit the shoe ok? ok.

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― jake isn’t submissive– just a loser, loads of masturbation, also loads of loads lmfao, jake’s dick is 8 inches in this one, public humiliation, dirty talk, teasing, pussy eating / face sitting, mentions of free use, unprotected sex, wayyyy way too much cum, raw grinding, attempts at deep throat, accidental face fucking, finger fucking, suffocation, riding, squirting, implications to the fact that orgasms are not the end of the fic bc they just keep going, some say they’re still fucking to this day. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Feels so good! Harder! Fuck m-” 

Jake slams his laptop shut in an exasperated sigh. Frustrated, annoyed, fucking horny. 

Always horny. To the point that nothing excites him anymore. Not his hard-on being palmed at by his own hand, not the make-shift pocket pussy he’s made out of household objects, not the porn on page one or on page seventy-three. 

Honestly, even as hard as he is now, it’s arguable that he could just start punching his cock and he’d still remain in this state until something changes. And you know what sucks more than not being able to get off? Being hard so constantly that it’s just a state of living at this point. 

It’s sad. He could be washing caked ketchup off of a plate and his cock would still lend a little jump. A reminder that his hand is no longer enough. A fucking threat that if he doesn’t sink into a pretty hole soon, he might as well just kill himself. 

The idea doesn’t seem too bad anymore, as he lays flat on his back with his cock in hand on his messy sheets. He stares up at the ceiling with another long-winded groan, wondering why he has to have such an insatiable libido and probably twice as much stamina. If he could just get off he’d have at least a little bit of time in his day to feel normal before it takes hold of his brain again. 

It’s the fact that he’s grown entirely numb to his own hand and feels like he’s going crazy because he hasn’t been able to hook-up with anyone in nearly a year. Porn is boring, he swears he’s seen just about all of the good, bad, and bizarre. Post nut clarity barely exists because there is no clarity by the time he finally gets that hard-to-reach nut. Bad luck, maybe. Awful fucking miserable luck? That’s more fitting. 

For the sake of the girls in this city, perhaps it’s good that he can’t manage to land a hook-up. Surely they’d be unable to walk by the time he gets his fill, that is if he manages to get a fill at all. And it’s gotten to the point that Jake has almost entirely given up on finding a girl at all. One that’s willing to put up with his near-constant need to get his dick wet, anyway. 

Almost given up.

A thought crosses his mind as he lazily palms himself with a bored sigh, knowing he’ll end up locked up in an asylum somewhere if this doesn’t stop. The voice of Jay in his head doing little to make his cock soften, which is…not something Jake is proud to admit.

“Dude, you gotta put a stop to this shit. This is your third laptop this year!” Jay had said to him. “It’s only June!”

Maybe Jay was right, and maybe Jake should have downloaded the new app that was mentioned shortly after the scolding rather than immediately going to another, even more, shady porn site. “Heard this one was really good.” Jay had advertised. “Even got Jungwon laid.” 

Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to try another app despite the immense amount of failure Jake has already faced regarding previous attempts with other platforms. After all, if it got Jungwon laid, surely it could get him laid too. 

Maybe this one really is better.

And at the end of the day, Jake does download the app. After all, creating a profile is easy, finding a girl though? 

We’ll see.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Ah. Okay. Nice.

Jake stays glued to his phone all night. He really had no hope that this app would offer him anything more than what the others did. But, oh. 

The app allows specific features, most of which are not aimed towards users looking for a relationship. Dick and body sizes are out in the open, there’s sections you can fill out regarding what you’re looking for in a sexual partner, how often you’re willing to see said partner, and if you’re looking for a regular fuck or a one time fuck. 

Safe to say, Jake’s profile went a little something like this: 

you can call me jake, im 24. just looking for a girl either for regular visits or a one night stand that’s willing to deal with a guy who literally suffers from chronic-boner syndrome.

LOOKING FOR: Female PREFERENCE: One Time Only, Occasional Meetups, On-call, Regular meetups, Permanent Friends-With-Benefits, Secret Meet, Virtual Meet, Audio Meet, Rebound C…[Click to see more] PARTNER REQUIREMENTS: N/A SIZE REFERENCE: 8 ½” hard, 4” soft, 5.6” circumference SEXUAL INTERESTS: Vanilla, Free Use, BDSM, Begging, Breeding, Dom/Sub, Dominatrix, CBT, Role Play, Public Humiliation, Edging, Spanking, Dirty Talk, Phone Sex, Virtual Sex, Group Sex, Humiliation, Cock Play, Cum Dump, Religion, Raw, Multiple Orgasms, Androgyny, Genital Piercings, Older Women, Body Art, Wax, Anal, Financial Domina...[Click to see more]

NOT INTERESTED IN: Cuckolding, Voyeurism OTHER: im not very experienced in most of these, i just watch a lot of porn

Embarrassing? Yeah, probably. 

Looks like a lot of women are into that though if his inbox is anything to go by, anyway. With him checking the app every few minutes to find ten new messages? Yeah, they’re feeling him. 

He can only imagine what the fuck Jungwon had on his profile to actually land a hook-up. Couldn’t have been any worse than his own, after all, Jake is desperate and so was Jungwon at one point. 

Apparently girls like desperate guys. 

Message after message, degrading comments and praise, all from either women clad in leather or sweet looking church girls who must have the app hidden deep within their phones. There’s barely anyone in between those two categories, actually. 

“Hi baby boy, you looking for a sugar mama?” 

“ur dick really that big? lol, what do you even mean by ‘chronic boner syndrome’?” 

“you’re so desperate to get laid, might as well just doxx yourself at this point…please.”

Arguably, these women are very forward and he has a great time sifting through the ones he’s interested in. Scrolling through all of these messages….does not help his case regarding his insatiable need to fuck something either so, naturally, he’s also 100% jerking off the entire time he’s doing this.

Still, never quite able to reach the orgasm he needs by this point.

Up until there’s a message that catches his attention. No degrading, no insults, no borderline-too-kinky insinuations. Which, given, Jake probably shouldn’t have selected the majority of the kinks just to pull more girls, but he did. 

And upon reading the message, he almost doesn’t know if this girl is real. 

“High libido, no girls around to help you out, I take it? Rough.”

One look at her profile spikes even more interest. Her sexual interests include a list of things he wishes he didn’t fit. But he does, though he’d never admit it. Inexperienced men, losers, virgins, micro-penis, big penis, praise (receiving), body worship–

Oh.

Fuck yeah.

He responds quickly, already feeling the orgasm within him bubble up as he tries to pretend he doesn’t go on a war path of responding to everyone after you, but still. Your message box with him remains in his mind as he awaits the response to his message of “you looking to help me out?” 

Every ping on his phone afterwards makes his cock twitch more, makes it dribble out little beads of pre-cum with each pass of his palm, only for him to sigh out of frustration that it’s just another person that wants to devour him whole. Which, he’ll take what he can get if his first choice never responds but still. He wants to get off to you.

He finds himself on your profile more often than anyone else’s too, looking at the same three photos you’ve posted, noting how you don’t seem super active on the app, but active enough to find him by some beautiful grace of God. 

You’re kind of perfect, honestly. Fairly mundane compared to most of the women in his inbox, but cool nonetheless. He can tell you have an eye for fashion but it seems to be more geared towards your real life self rather than the secret fetish/kink app you’ve got downloaded.

And that’s the thing. Most of these women, beautiful or not, are dressed in their best sexual attire just to message a possible fuck, while during their daily lives they probably wear conservative dresses and pant suits. Which….arguably that’s kind of hot. Then again, what isn’t hot to him these days?

You though. You have normal pictures posted just like he does. Your tits aren’t out, your legs aren’t open, you don’t have a pile of sex toys behind or beside you and yet still your pictures turn him on more than those who do. Insane how his cock twitches at just these three photos, fucking insane how he grows a near instant obsessed thinking about how you…uh, deal with the losers you seem to be looking for.  

Then again, maybe it’s the mystery of what’s under your clothes, or what’s in your stash of sex toys. Oh, whatever you’re hiding has got be so fucking hot. Naturally, he groans at the amount of sexuality you barely give. Thinking far, far too hard about it all, given the circumstances. 

Don’t get him wrong, he can get down with the hoes. In fact, he very much wants to get down with a hoe. But man, the way you stand out because you’re somehow….boring compared to everyone else?

Please.

Fucking pretty please, let him in between those thighs. 

And just as he scrolls again through your photos, that long-awaited orgasm hits him like a brick.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A mere two days later you find yourself in the inbox with the self-proclaimed boner-god. He’s since proven his size with photos involving different objects beside said penis, and even a video or two of his frantic hands jerking off to you. 

Ah, he’s kind of perfect if you think about it. At first you thought that it was just roleplay for him or something. Where he plays a guy who can’t get enough, though he clearly probably does. It wasn’t until you were woken up at four in the morning with him spamming your inbox that you suddenly realized this dude is actually as desperate as he seems. 

Normally, being spammed awake by your phone pinging consistently would bother you. But goddamn was he needing it. Just three hours before now it was mostly casual conversation with him, albeit about hooking-up, but still. The two of you agreed to determine on the following day if you were compatible enough for a meet up. He said goodnight to you, and you said it back. 

Then you woke up to three dick pics, one voice note with a borderline pathetic apology (only because you could still hear him going at it), and then like fourteen messages of him trying to wake you up intentionally. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: You awake?

Dick pic #1. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: You’re so pretty, sorry lol

Dick pic #2 

JAKE_02 sent you a message:  Wake uppppppppppp! 

JAKE_02 sent you a message:  Please? :(

Dick pic #3, precum smeared across his fingers as he grips it. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message:  Do you already have me silenced?

JAKE_02 sent you a message: I’d let you silence me hahaha….

JAKE_02 sent you a voice memo: “Sorry about all this, I really meant it when I said I have a problem. You should probably just block me because I’m going to end up begging to see you otherwise”

Oh, he has an accent. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: your profile says you like inexperience…..well i’ve only slept with like 3 girls, is that inexperienced enough?

JAKE_02 sent you a message: do you like to tease guys like that? like edge them and stuff? 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: oh damn, that’d be so hot 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: do you like it when guys beg btw? 

Etcetera. 

And, well, apparently he just has a lot to say. It’s cute how embarrassed he must feel basically getting himself off with a one-sided sext session with you as you were sleeping. At least, you hope he’s embarrassed. 

You let his messages simmer for a while, waiting to see if he sends anything else. And when he doesn’t, you respond. 

YOURUSERNAME: that was cute. 

It’s the way he’s instantly trying to respond that really gets you going. You chuckle first, knowing already that you’d probably help him out based on this situation alone. 

YOURUSERNAME: trying to wake me up because you can’t stop touching yourself? :( poor baby. 

JAKE_02: oh god please don’t say that

JAKE_02: im gonna end up awake all night trying to get it to go down again

YOURUSERNAME: that’s good to hear. so you can go for a long time then? 

Yes, you’re teasing him. 

JAKE_02: if you’d let me

YOURUSERNAME: you already got off tonight tho, didn’t you?

JAKE_02: i don’t think you understand just how bad it is. i’m already getting my dick out again

You lend yourself a sly chuckle after a deep yawn, knowing for a fact that you’re about to make him prove to you that he’s either still hard or really did get off only to get hard again by a mere few messages from you. 

YOURUSERNAME: show me?

And he does. Similar to the other three photos, only this time he sends a short video with his shorts pushed down his thighs and his cock raging hard and pathetic against his stomach. Again, he’s big, that much is true, but the fact that such a dick is always ready to fuck? To the point he’s desperate? To the point he’s embarrassing about it?

YOURUSERNAME: how bad do you wanna bury that in me?

Oh, shit. Jake could fucking die right now. You seem so willing, which is truly what he needs at this point in his sexual sickness.  

JAKE_02: i’ll come over right now. 

JAKE_02: let me come over and show you

YOURUSERNAME: let’s wait a bit for that, gotta meet officially before I let you fuck me

And you do intend to make him wait, knowing for a fact that you’re not meeting this guy tonight. There’s too much danger in that. Given how desperate he actually is, you can argue that if you changed your mind upon meeting, he very well may not care. Which, that’s something you need to worry about with any person you meet on such an app, but still.

Public meeting first. 

Always.

JAKE_02: right, right, that makes sense. 

JAKE_02: so can i see your pussy then

You stifle a laugh as if the man can hear you, he’d probably like that though. But yeah, no. As much as you know he’d enjoy that, it’s best to let him experience it for the first time in real life if all of this goes well. So, you settle with tits. 

Meaning, he has to settle with them too. 

And the photo is all but enough for Jake. The ping of his phone was far too exciting with the flash of the image sinking into his eyes. Sure, he wanted to see your hole open for him, he wanted to see your pretty hands spreading your lips for the picture, he wanted to see what he might get to fuck into someday– but…

This is good enough for him, honestly. Seeing your tits alone is hot enough, but it’s the fact that you only barely let him see. The plush skin of your lower breasts are peeking from under the shirt you're wearing, one nipple barely out, the other completely hidden. 

He moans out at it, holding his cock tight and painfully as he glares into the screen of his phone. God, he can almost taste it. 

JAKE_02: thats so hot…but….

JAKE_02: pussy….

JAKE_02: please show me your pussy

Another chuckle at how desperate he really is. You lower your phone just a bit, not at all intending to show him all of it but you do lend a panty shot with your legs spread. He’ll live with it, he doesn’t have a choice. 

And he does live with it because he cums almost instantly upon seeing just your thighs open. He wouldn’t have been able to hit climax so quickly had you already had this photo posted for all to see. It’s the fact that you sent it to him in the dms. It’s the fact that you presumably just took it for him. It’s the fact that he can almost see the outline of your folds, and the lines of your pussy that deserves to fucked open. 

When he doesn’t respond immediately, you know it was enough for him. Already you’re preparing to roll back over and get some more sleep, but your phone dings again. 

JAKE_02: tht was hot lol….um

JAKE_02: can u come to the mall tomorrow? i work at [redacted store name], u can come see that im actually very normal if u want

You stop for a second through another yawn, thinking long and hard about it. You shrug to yourself because tomorrow is a saturday and there’s plenty of public spaces to meet him in. And despite how fun it could be to tease him for weeks on end before officially meeting him, you, yourself, have been in a dry-spell lately. 

And he fits your interests perfectly. In other words, yeah, you could fuck.

YOURUSERNAME: you sure you’re not gonna take me in the back and fuck me on the spot? 

JAKE_02: ….would u want me to? 

YOURUSERNAME: no, i wanna bring you home if i think you could make me feel good

JAKE_02: hahah damn

JAKE_02: so you’ll come see me?

YOURUSERNAME: yeah, i’ll come see you

JAKE_02: ok cool :)

And then it’s silent for a long while. In fact, you’re nearly asleep again when your phone pings one last time. All you need to see is the notification to know that meeting Jake is gonna be fun. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: for the record…i definitely will fuck you good

Sounds promising. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You knew he was cute but holy shit, he’s like, cute cute.

Fucking handsome and charmingly cute. 

Perhaps even, hot. 

You stand from around a shelf to check him out. That same accent you’ve heard previously rings loud and clear in your head, and his hair is definitely a stylistic mess, the type of hair you can imagine grabbing and tugging to guide a tongue between your legs. His eyes are pretty and piercing yet equally as filled with some sort of wonder. His hands, his body.

 Oh wow. 

On any other day, you’d think he’s just some poser emo-guy working a shitty retail job so he can buy his first guitar and play it totally out of tune. But on this day, you’re aware that this is a man with a need that you very much wouldn’t mind satisfying. 

 Seeing him go about his work tasks behind the counter is another thing. Checking customers out both through the register and with his eyes when they walk away. You know he isn’t aware that you’ve actually shown up, and it feels nice to watch him in his element before he attempts to play himself up as a totally normal, cool dude. Especially now that you can see him secretly be a pervert on the clock. 

Customer after customer, he smiles at them when he hands them their items, he offers small talk and little chuckles that ring in your ears, and every single time one of the pretty ones walks away, his head turns to watch them leave for a few seconds too long.

Anyone can tell he needs it if they watch him for long enough. 

You’re not sure why this guy is getting to you the way he is, but there’s just something about the way that he carries himself in public that turns you on. You already know for a fact that he’s a horny motherfucker. You know that behind those charming smiles and laughs, he’s got a neglected cock needing to be used. 

No one else in this store is aware of it. You’re the only person here who knows he was spamming a stranger last night with dick pics and begging to see her pussy. 

It’s hot. 

And when you approach, Jake nearly doesn’t even know it’s you at first. 

“Hi, did you find everything you–” Jake stops mid sentence. “Oh, fuck. You’re here.”  He adds, trying to primp his hair into a spot that may look a little better than it did already.

You watch as he studies you for the first time, nervously darting his tongue out and against his bottom lip just for a split second before shifting his eyes behind you, and then turning to look around to see if anyone is within ear shot. 

No one is paying attention to either of you, and no one is going to hear what you’re about to say to him. Good.

“Do you wanna see my pussy?” 

It’s a joke, mostly. Kinda. 

You chuckle at his stunned reaction. His hands move to the counter as he clutches it and continuously looks around to make sure no one just heard those lewd ass words from a girl so goddamn hot. Like, oh god, it’s you. You really showed up to see him and already he’s not acting normal. 

No, no. You’re the one acting out of pocket, not him.

“I’m–” He tries to start, but his voice cracks in a very, very, embarrassing way. You hear him clear his throat before continuing. “I’m supposed to be showing you that I’m normal.” 

You tilt your head at him playfully, leaning against the counter and pushing your tits together with your arms. You wore this shirt here for a reason, and boy are you glad you did. You watch his eyes go straight to your chest and stay there. 

“Public Humiliation.” You echo one of his sexual interests to him from his app profile. “Dirty talk.”

Jake swallows around his words in stunned silence, feeling his cock wake up immediately. Fuck, this is the only place he finds peace of mind from…that. Yet here you are, with that soft and pretty voice reminding him of everything he wants but hasn’t been able to have. Standing there like you know he can’t bend you over right now and make you stop talking.

“Eight and a half inches hard.” You continue, leaning in even closer and moving your hand to the collar of your shirt. Tugging down just a little bit. “Five point six inch circumference.” 

Jake squeezes his eyes shut as he leans back with a sigh, pressing his hips against the counter for some sort of relief. To think the “boring” girl on the app wouldn’t be like this? God, he knew there had to be a catch considering you were on that app to find him in the first place. 

“Please–” He groans as his ears redden, lazily opening his eyes to look at your tits again. “Please don’t do this to me.” 

“I can imagine you’d fit it in me just right, wouldn’t you Jake?” You continue briefly, noting the bulge he blatantly presses against the counter. “Can you say ‘please’ again? It’s kinda hot.” 

“Please–” Jake blatantly groans now, his voice sounding hoarse and low. As much as he wants you to keep going, he’s at fucking work. He can’t be doing this. 

“Okay!” You gleefully agree as you switch up like you didn’t just fuck him up, lending him a bright and innocent smile as you lean back and away from him. “So you don’t want to see my pussy then?”

His relieved face falls right back into that of pained frustration as he narrows his eyes at you. 

“Right now?” He asks curiously, nodding his head without realizing it. Sure, he’s at work but like….your pussy is also at his work place right now.

“Yeah! Can you show me to the fitting room, actually?” You ask, louder this time in case anyone has moved around within ear-shot by now. Can’t make him lose his job, or whatever.

Jake swallows thickly with a nod, his eyes still narrowed at you but his mind racing a mile a minute at the fact that you’re really here right now, and this is what you’re doing to him? Enjoying his pain? Enjoying his suffering? Making it worse? 

Five minutes ago he was perfectly fine. You’re using his need against him and god, he loves it. Yeah, maybe he will take you to the back and try to fuck you at this point. Even if you said that you wouldn’t let him…what the fuck is this then? 

Really, he expected you to show up with an awkward hello and irritating small talk. He wanted to show you that he’s not always thinking about sex. Except he is, and it seems you want him to. You want him to think about fucking you. 

You really just walked into this establishment and asked him if he wants to see your pussy.

Of course he wants to see it. You already fucking know that. He wants to fuck it too, like, right now. 

And as he walks you to the fitting room, he has to try his damndest to adjust his growing cock. He nods to each customer as he walks by them, hands repeatedly going back to his lap to hide what he’s packing.

“Here it is.” Jake says in an unfocused voice, nearly staring a hole through you. “Now show me.” 

You dip your head in a smile, heading for the room and opening the curtain. Cheap ass store, really, most places have actual doors, but whatever. 

It’s easy to step inside and leave the curtain skewed a bit, knowing that Jake is hovering around the room, knowing that it’s probably protocol that an employee assist this space when it’s in use to prevent stealing and to prevent others from walking in on naked customers. 

You like the way you see him take peeks, trying to be discreet. You like the way he keeps his hands in front of his lap, hiding that you’ve definitely made him a mess of him already. You love the way he whispers a curse to himself when you sit against the bench in this small room and spread your legs wide open. 

You bet he loves the skirt you’re wearing for him today too. Though this wasn’t exactly planned or anything, you didn’t expect to be this turned on upon seeing him act as desperate as he sounds. You wore this shirt so he can look, and the skirt too…but looking this much wasn’t in your mind originally. 

He’s hot though. The way he needs it is hot. 

“Hurry up.” He groans, trying to make it seem like he’s frustrated but you know it’s just because he’s anxiously horny. 

And, well, you’re not actually gonna show him your pussy, but at this point you feel bad because he seems really stiff right now, almost robotic in the way he likely feels uncomfortably aroused in his least favorite place.  

“Jake,” You whisper-chuckle. “If you wanna see it, you’re gonna have to come in here and take my panties off of me.”

You hear him sigh, and see his eyes flick back to you through the small open space in the curtain. 

“You’re insane. I can’t come in there, I’ll lose my job.” He argues with a hushed tone, eyes fixated on the very panties he wishes he could remove. 

Even against his protests though, he reaches an arm in as he looks away. As if on extreme watch of other customers and employees roaming around. Probably pretending to grab a garment that doesn’t work for you, probably just doing normal, good-employee things. 

And, well, it’s pathetic really, the way he hopes for more. The way you offer more knowing he can’t get exactly what he wants. You actually feel a bit bad for doing this, especially because it wasn’t entirely in the plan. 

You really were just coming to meet him. It’s not your fault that watching him work turned you on solely because you know what he needs. So, you stand and walk towards the curtain, grabbing his arm and holding it in place. 

“Well–” You start, pressing yourself against the backside of his fingers, feeling him move his hand slightly against your clit. “Touch it then.”

He goes entirely silent but you feel the way he fumbles his hand, immediately grabbing your panties and moving them to the side just to really feel. And you let him, finding it somehow cuter in the way he doesn’t even ask. He does it like he needs to, like it’s instinctual to touch it. He feels for a second or two, probably closer to about five seconds before you step back. Really, it’s enough for him to know you’re wet, enough for him to suffer, enough for him to want more. 

Jake’s brain is on fire at it. Touching it before getting to see it? Goddamn, you’re so fucking mean.

And it’s silent for a few more moments after that as Jake keeps his hand in place, seemingly searching for a pussy just out of reach when you slide the fabric down your legs and place them directly into his hand. 

“When do you get off work?” You ask slyly now, ripping the curtain open and moving his hand for him, forcing him to shove your panties in his pocket. 

“Uh–” He stutters, swallowing again around his words before clearing his throat of the moan he really needs to let out right now. “Seven– I get off at seven.”

You nod with a smile, leaning in real close before patting his pocket. 

“I’ll text you my address.” 

And you leave without sparing him another glance, knowing that by the time his shift is over, he’ll probably pounce the second you open your door for him. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake suffers through the rest of his shift aggressively trying not to suck on his fingers. Fuck, he wants to taste you so bad, but to go as low as sucking the remnants for several hours just to hold him over? Truly, he’s at his wits end. 

Mostly because he absolutely does suck his fingers any chance he gets. Tapping his lips with them as he sees a customer off, licking against them discreetly, trying to make it look normal for him to have his fingers in his mouth so consistently. 

It’s not doing anything to hold him over though. 

He keeps glancing at the clock, and then at the message that reads your address. Just one more hour and he can leave. Just one more hour and he can bury his cock so deep into you that you’d never think twice about letting him do it again, and again, and again.

Oh god, really, he feels like he’s going insane as he checks out customer after customer. Every word they say somehow reminds him that he’s about to finally get laid again. 

“Can you wrap this up for me?” One customer said to him, nodding to a set of candles. 

Jake wishes you’d wrap him up in that pussy. 

“Do you have this in a bigger size?” Another customer had said to him as they held up a plush sweater. 

Jake doesn’t think you’d ever need a dick bigger than his. He’ll fill you up just right. 

“69.99?!” One customer argues. “The sign said it was 30% off!” 

Jake would sixty nine you all night long if you asked. He bets you taste sweet, you probably get really wet too. 

And by the end of the night, rain pounding on the roof, his last customer unfortunately has to hear a low groan leave his throat at their comments. He’s very quick to cover it with a cough. 

“Sorry for coming in right before you close, the rain is bad tonight and I forgot my umbrella, thank god you guys sell them! I didn’t mean to drip all over the floor like this, I hope you don’t have to stay late cleaning up my mess!” 

“I didn’t mean to drip all over your floor like this” Replays in his head, over and over again. God, he’d make you drip. He hopes you drip all over the floor for him. He’d get on his knees and lick it right up, god.

He needs to leave. Right now.

“S’all good,” Jake shakes his head after the initial moan and cough cover, trying to remain casual. “It’s my job to clean it up, after all.” He smiles, his brain stuck on the feeling of how wet you were when he touched you. Shiiiit. “Have a good night, stay dry!” 

And finally, Jake can close out his register and lock the doors. That, he does. Performing his end-of-night tasks at lightning speed with a cock throbbing so bad that he worries he might have to get off in his car before making it to your apartment. He genuinely needs to get off, especially knowing these pretty panties are in his pocket ready to be soaked in his cum. 

He doesn’t though, no. He holds off, thrusting his hips up and against the inseam of his pants with every passing second as he drives. He’s practically writhing by the time he gets to your place. Honestly, he moans with each movement because he’s sensitive. It’s so, so fucking sensitive. Everything feels good, he could genuinely cum the second you open your door if he’s not careful. 

Careful isn’t something Jake can be at this moment though, not when he lands a single knock at your door and you’re immediately opening it, looking at him with that same fucking evil smile you gave to him while he was at work. 

He looks at you and instantly lets out a frustrated moan before stepping in without another word. You feel his hands grab you much harsher than you originally thought he would, but you let him as you laugh out in a nervous chuckle. 

“Hello to you too.” You pat him on the back as his arms wrap around your middle. You hear him kick back against your door, slamming it shut before his lips hit your neck. 

He isn’t talking but goddamn you can hear what he needs to say through the way he presses his lips against you. He’s rough with it, kissing all across your exposed skin before slipping his hand right between your legs from the back as if he doesn’t have to chase anymore. 

You were going to jerk your hips back to make him chase, but his grip is too tight and he’s nearly lifting you off the floor entirely to get a feel. You were going to force him to look at you and the outfit you changed into for him, but again, he’s not having it, it seems.  He moans when he moves his lips up and against yours, hot breath desperate and needy as he finally speaks.

“Did it turn you on to torture me like that?” He nearly growls against your lips. “Got me so fucking hard.” 

You’re genuinely surprised with how he’s acting and talking. Then again, he’s desperate, that much is obvious if that monster bulge rubbing against your leg is anything to go by. Perhaps he may be desperate, but you guess that doesn’t always mean someone will end up submissive as a side effect. 

“It did.” You smile against his lips, pushing yourself forward to try and plant your feet back on the ground, chasing the ability to gain control over him. “Did you like that?”

Jake nods before shaking his head, allowing you to push forward, loving the way your hands reach for him and run through his hair before tugging. He did like what you did, but it doesn’t change the fact that it was fucking torture to stand there at work like he wasn’t losing his mind. 

“I’d like it more if we skip all the bullshit,” He starts, hand still attempting to reach the spot between your legs and lips landing at the corner of your mouth. “Could go all night.”

You nod to him, gripping his shirt and pulling him back to your living room couch and spinning him around, only to shove him back. 

“Is that a promise?” You ask, looking at the lazy way he spreads his own legs and rests his head against your couch cushions, eyes staring straight at you and cock twitching in his pants. “You gonna fuck me all night?”

“Yeah–” He breathes as if he’s in disbelief, hand reaching between his legs just to grab himself and squeeze as his eyes trail your body. “You have no idea how bad I need this.”

“Show me then,” You nod your head to his length that’s hidden under his pants. “Let me watch you first.”

Jake groans, rolling his eyes back both out of frustration and arousal, but he does as you say. His palm feels better with you watching, at least. He doesn’t feel so numb to the pleasure with you promising your body to him, at least. He doesn’t mind proving his size to you by shoving his pants down to his thighs and presenting said neglected cock to you either. 

It’s heavy, dark in color due to the blood that’s likely rushing throughout every inch of it. He feels sensitive to even the air in your living room as he twitches and aches to hear you talk again, to see you in front of him watching how he pleasures himself, wishing his hand is yours. 

“You wanna watch?” He says in a low-rumbled voice, tracing his fingers along the head of his cock and seething out a breath through his now, bitten bottom lip. “Wanna know how tight I want you to feel?” He asks now, bold and in the heat of the moment. You watch him when he squeezes the base of his cock tightly, you can almost feel yourself choke at that alone. 

“How wet you need to be to take it?” He continues, dragging his hand back and licking his palm before spitting into it. 

The wetness against his hand is horrifyingly pornographic. So wet when he reaches back down to his length, allowing you to hear it squelch and slip with ease. His breath is hitched while he does it too, which nearly has you seeing him in tunnel vision.

“Yeah…” You tune into him entirely, swallowing around the lump in your throat and feeling yourself drip already. “I can’t imagine how good–” You cut yourself short to moan at the way his other hand holds his pants down while he jerks his hand up faster and faster. “Oh god, you’re–”

“Wanna see how fast I can cum just looking at you?” He continues, hand only moving faster and faster as his grip tightens more, shamelessly grunting proudly over how he could probably cum now if he wanted to. “I told you, I can go all night.”

You pause, because goddamn. You thought he would be embarrassing, pathetic, needy. You thought he would beg, plead, and cry. But…you feel like you’re the one who needs to do that. God, you’ve never seen a man so desperate to fuck yet be so powerful about it. As if he’s in your face whispering, “You’re gonna let me fuck you, right? You’re gonna love it too, right? You’re gonna let me use you to take care of this little problem of mine, right? It’s what you want, right?”

If he were to say those things to you right now, you’d nod without a doubt. But…he doesn’t. He simply looks at you now, heaving out broken moans that sound too sexy to be considered pathetic. His hips chase each movement of his hand and goddamn does he fuck his fist hard.

Your mind is spinning watching him, knowing that he’s probably going to fuck you twice as hard as he fucks himself. And it’s not surprising to you at least that you can feel your own clit swell and throb for touch too. You easily move your hand between your legs, standing right there in front of him, toying with yourself as if you don’t have the power to ask him to do it for you. 

“Ah, fuck–” Jake groans, thrusting his hips up into his hand one last time before strings of his cum make a mess on his shirt. And it seems to go on forever too, spurt after spurt of it pumping out of him alongside his pretty moans and open-mouthed expression. You can feel your body react to him more than it ever has for anyone else, especially in the way….

“God–” You moan yourself now, watching him spread his legs and slouch more against your couch with a relieved sigh from his messy orgasm. But…his cock doesn’t soften. No, it stays stiff and heavy against his stomach, twitching and dribbling more and more of his cum out in little beads. 

The proof of his issue is right here, he really can and probably will go all night. And you say nothing else to him after that. In fact, he wouldn’t be able to answer you if you did say something simply because you find yourself stepping up onto your own couch, resting your knees against the back of it, and gripping his hair. 

Jake lets out a half-moan-half-hum, as expected, when he feels your hand drag his face under your skirt. You didn’t have to do that, but goddamn does he fucking love it. He loves how he can feel your knees buckle and force you to balance on the couch, loves how your cunt is just as needy as he feels, fucking adores the way you drip all over his tongue when he pushes your panties to the side and starts licking you up. 

It’s the fact that he didn’t even have to ask you to put it in his face. The slight taste against his fingers all night at work is nothing compared to the way you drown him now. He needs to do this for you. Hell, he needs to do this for himself.

“Jesus,” You breathe, rolling your hips on his mouth. He’s truly eating you like his life depends on it. You can hear his muffled hums at the taste, you can feel his shoulder shake as he starts jerking off again, you can feel the way his tongue goes deeper and deeper, licking each clench of your walls, only to pull back and suck the wet from your panties in a deep breath. 

He coos at it too, as if he’s in love with the moment, as if he truly can’t believe he’s finally got a pussy to lick. And he swallows each mouth full of your slick before muttering curses and promises against your swollen little bud. 

“Please,” He moans, nipping and licking against you. “Been so long since I’ve eaten pussy, rub it on me- fuck-” he continues to babble, heat-of-the-moment-talk coming out as far more arousing than cringe if you listen hard through your ringing ears. “Come on,” He continues, now neglecting his own cock and gripping your ass with both hands, shoving you back and forth on his face in painfully slow and harsh grinds. “Come on, harder.”

As if you can function at all right now with how rough he is about trying to pleasure you? Fucking hell, the words ignite something in you as you pull back and away from him. For a split second, you see his blown out pupils and fucked up hair as he licks his lips and presents that shining lower-half of his face to you. 

You don’t look for long though, no. Because you’re too busy pushing him to the side and forcing him to lay back on the couch instead. You resume your position afterwards, straddling the couch on either side of his head with your knees and planting your pulsing cunt right on his eager tongue. 

“You’re too hot,” You moan, feeling his hands go straight back to your ass to force more of those harsh grinds against him. “If you could see yourself right now–” Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you feel his moaned out chuckle hit you right in the clit. It’s like he knows he makes you feel good, but does he really? 

Does he truly understand how fucking good at this he is?

 “God, if you could feel how good your tongue is–” You continue, now losing yourself in the heat of the moment, feeling his fingers nearly bruise your ass with the death-grip he has on you. 

He nods his head in what little space he has as he spirals into heaven behind his eyes. The smell of you suffocates him, the taste of you drowns him, the weight of you is nothing short of sexy as hell. This is all he could ever want. A pretty girl using and abusing his face, much like he wants to do to you. But oh, there’s so, so much he wants to do after so long of having no one but himself. 

Eat you out, finger fuck you, slide his cock down that pretty little moaning throat of yours, grip that hair and kiss those tits. God, he wants to do everything right now but he can’t bear to push this perfect clit off of his lips. He cannot fathom losing the taste of you and the way you clench around the tip of his tongue. 

Oh fuck.

“Ahh- '' Jake moans open-mouthed against your clit as his brain hits a wall, his cock standing stiff from behind you as he spills out against himself again. Untouched completely, he cums without any effort where as previously it took him hours just to get off because he’d grown so fucking bored of everything. 

You’ve ignited him. His drive is higher than it’s ever been after being neglected for so long. God, he wants to fuck you so full that you can’t bear to leave him. 

“Fuck–” He continues, trying to lend licks between his jerking body to keep your arousal peaked. “See how bad I need it?” 

He finally manages to pull back, feeling you lift from his face just for a moment after noting the way his entire body is shaking. He’s not having it though, as he cranes his neck in chase of your dripping hole once more.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He adds now, enveloping his lips around your clit again and using both hands to force you right back down on his face. 

There, you feel the way he almost passionately makes out with your pussy. As if he’s thanking you for a second orgasm within the past ten minutes. As if he truly can’t stop wanting to fuck something, someone, anything at all.

Goddamn, what a fucking deal. All hail the hook-up app that brought this insatiable sex beast to your apartment.

“Jake–” You start, grinding down for him and feeling his hands now move to rub up and down your back. “Keep your tongue in me.” You choke out, gripping his hair to hold his face in place as you sit his tongue inside of you, short and jerky thrusts forward to bump your clit against his nose. 

He’s gotten off twice now, it’s your turn. 

And you watch as he drops his arms from you and grips your outer legs through it, letting you use his face until he can’t breathe. Both of you are seeing stars through it, your orgasm bubbling up so quickly that you can barely warn him when your hips halt in a stiffened clench and he’s finishing the job for you. 

Your legs squeeze around his head, your fingers pull his hair, and still he manages to find the space to tilt his chin up just to tongue-fuck you deeper, just to rub his nose harshly against your clit, up until he feels your quivering pussy spill all over his chin, down his throat, stealing any breath or moan he could possibly give right now. 

You’re out of breath by the time you finally slide off of his face, your hands immediately shooting to both of his cheeks as your sensitive clit drags down his stomach for the easy position change. You wince when you lick against his lips at the sensitivity, being sure to seat yourself right against his cock. 

“Hah–” Jake lends a breathy laugh against the way you lick his lips, his hands going right back to your ass and landing a sharp slap to it. “Couldn’t even get our clothes off first.”

You take a second to pull back and look at him, noting the redness against his cheeks and nose, likely from your panties consistently getting in his way and then you chuckle back at him. You’re thankful for the short break the two of you seem to be taking at the moment. Still, you lift up from him just to remove your shirt, exposing your tits in an instant solely because you didn’t wear a bra for this exact purpose. 

He’s still hard, despite two orgasms. You feel him rubbing it against you every few seconds, right up against your saliva and cum-soaked panties which, mind you, are insanely uncomfortable right now. It feels as if they’re slicing through your thigh with the force of how Jake managed to keep them shoved out of his way. 

“Just lay back,” You smile at him, allowing him a longer rest for now as you take it upon yourself to remove the barriers. “Let me take care of you now.”

Jake has hearts in his eyes as he watches you. Normally, a girl would already be falling asleep after all that, leaving him with not enough orgasms and no actual fucking. It’s not his fault he could do foreplay for upwards of three to four hours before going for the finale. Which, arguably, can and will last several hours longer. 

Still, you appear to not be finished either, with your breathless smile and gentle hands. He bites his bottom lip through a smirk as he watches you, tits on full display to keep him satiated for now as you move around on the couch to get his pants off of him. He helps a bit with a little kick, his cock still so sensitive and pathetically weeping for more. He feels lucky to have found you, almost baffled that he may have met his match. 

You lend several glances at his cock, not quite realizing the way he’s blinking at you right now. To be fair, it’s only natural to have your attention on that thing right now. You swallow around your nervousness regarding the size but equally want him to fuck you senseless with it. You already feel entirely fucked out, but…that. Oh, that could change your life, probably. You can imagine he won’t be as gentle as you expected before all of this too. Would probably shove it in all in one go and lose his mind at the feeling. 

He’s probably going to split you open and make it feel good for you too. Somehow. 

Anyway, enough of that. You’ve still got to get his shirt off, your uncomfortable skirt and panties too. 

You make quick work of it, as you stand to your feet and expose yourself entirely to him. Jake just watches, humming and moaning at each new expanse of skin you show to him. He keeps his hands to himself though, likely so used to feeling of them that they’d bring no pleasure at this moment if he were to jerk off to you doing this. And you just…look right back at him.

“Come on,” You smile at him again, lending your hand out for him to grab. “Bedroom will be more comfortable.”

Right. Bedrooms exist.

Jake follows, cock heavy and sensitive against his thigh with each step as he tries to get up close behind you. His eyes stay on your ass as you walk in front of him, and it’s not hard for him to keep his hands on it. In fact, he’s touching you as often as he can, trying to remind himself that he’s with someone right now who actually wants him. 

You seem to be willing to let him do what he needs tonight, and hopefully it won’t be the only time. 

You feel him on you, clinging so closely, hands constantly groping, lips always trying to reach the back of your neck and shoulders, to the point it’s actually difficult to get to your bedroom because you want nothing more than to turn around and shove him against the wall, all to try and take him into your mouth just to see if you can.

He doesn’t really let you think about that for too long though, because the second you get to your bedroom, he’s grabbing you from behind and lifting you in his strong arms. You writhe in his grasp with playful giggles, feeling the strong hold he has on you, keeping you in place against him as he stumbles forward with a deep inhale into your neck.

He’s quick to make his way to your bed, dropping you onto it, flipping you over onto your back, and immediately slotting himself between your legs. He hovers over you for a minute, looking directly into your eyes as his hair falls forward. 

Somehow, you’re more focused on his face than you are of his cock that he’s sliding up and down your core right now. You reach up to his hair, brushing it out of his face and feeling the sticky sweat at his scalp. 

“Could eat you out again.” Jake mentions, hips thrusting against you but eyes calm and level with yours. “Could lock me up in here and just use me all day if you want.” He continues, partially being serious about it, but treating it as if it’s some kinky joke instead. 

Because let’s be honest. If there’s any job Jake could do better than anyone else, it’s be a woman’s fuck toy. Always ready to go, always stiff and horny, always willing to please. 

“Could slide in right now and let you feel how hard I am.” His voice gets breathier as he talks, and you can tell he’s just imagining everything he wants to do. He probably worries he’ll have to go home at some point tonight only to resume his search for potential fucks to keep his need satiated. 

He probably thinks he’s going to exhaust you. 

“Could let you do all of that and more.” You respond, lifting your hips just slightly to press his cock between your bodies, throwing your legs around his waist simultaneously with the way you wrap your arms around his neck. “You want me to lock you up in here?” 

Jake nods with a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut as if he can imagine it. 

“Do you work tomorrow?” 

He shakes his head with another sigh, focusing on the way you keep humping up against his length, sliding yourself in whatever way you can against him. 

“Maybe I’ll just have to do that then.”

Oh, damn. 

The heart eyes are back. The very thought of being in this room all night and all day tomorrow drives his cock to pulse and twitch. Foreplay can come whenever, fucking can come whenever, he can cum whenever. There’s no need for a to-do list. No need for a specific structure of rules on how this needs to happen. Foreplay, sex, sleep. Not with Jake. 

Sex. foreplay. sex. foreplay. for hours. He’ll keep you up all night if he can, fucking and sucking every part of you, into the morning hours straight into tomorrow night. 

Free use with you from now until you’re tired of him. You can do anything you want to him but for now…

“Yeah?” Jake breathes out in excitement, arching his back slightly to let his cock land against your hole, and then he pushes forward slowly. The bulbous head spreads your lips and stretches out your slick pussy with ease as he continues to speak. “Feel that?”

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, fingernails already digging into his shoulders at the anticipation as your legs loosen around him. He continues to push forward, inch by inch, painfully slow as if he wants you to feel the burn and stretch even while being as wet as you are. 

“Ah–” He confirms for himself as he watches your face, wincing, mouth falling open. “Yeah, you feel it.”

God, yeah. You do. You feel the weight of his size inside of you, stretching you open so good he probably wouldn’t even have to move for it to hurt. But he does move, he does continue to slide in, savoring every second of your walls quivering and suffocating his cock. 

“Goddamn,” He groans, lifting up on both arms and bracing himself as he looks down, only to find he’s only slid half of his dick into you, and already you’re about as breathless as he is. “Didn’t realize how tight you’d actually be–” 

He chokes when he says it, sliding out little by little before fucking back in, pushing just a bit more into you.

“S’okay.” You try to reassure him, but it’s more for you than it is for him. You really didn’t think a cock could feel so big that it actually hurts, yet, here you are. “I’m adjusting.”

Jake moans at your broken voice, no longer holding himself back to look at your pussy grip him when he pulls out slightly. He looks at your face instead, witnessing how you take all of it in one solid movement from him. All of it, until he can feel his pelvis rest against your clit and your entire body stiffens in a tight hug around his body. 

“Mhm,” He leans back down now, humming against your cheek as he tries to control the urge to fuck. “Taking all of it, aren’t you?”

With those words, he slides out slightly before pushing back in again, trying to force your pussy to relax so that he can stop holding his breath. One hand finds its way to your leg to hold onto, the other holding himself up beside your head, and he just…watches. 

Little by little, he thrusts. Plunging into you in short-tight snaps of his hips just to watch your tits jiggle with the movements, up until he really, really can’t hold back anymore. 

You feel his cock leave you almost entirely, only to slam right back in and cause your vision to go white with a pang of pleasure. Your loud yelp pairs well with his relieved sigh of a grunt, and it appears that this is what breaks him entirely. 

That single, full thrust, lets him fall forward and nuzzle his nose against your neck and his body just goes. Instinctually chasing the deepest parts inside of you, hitting your cervix with each thrust only to drag back and make your toes go numb at the way your g-spot feels entirely too sensitive with this alone.

And god, Jake loves the way you cling through it. The way you moan each time he bottoms out, the way your nails cut into his back and the way your legs continuously fail to stay wrapped around him. He…

Oh no.

“I can go all night–” He breathes out through his relentless thrusts, almost as if he’s pleading with you. “I swear, I’m not done–” He continues to cut off his own words with choked moans as he pulls back and leans up, frantically forgetting to apologize over the fact that he’s already about to cum again.

And you feel him try to slide out, that face he made twice before already alerting you that he really must have so much to pump out of himself at this point. You don’t mind if he’s about to hit a third orgasm, in fact, you’re glad.

Your legs hold him in place as he fights to pull out, his eyes snapping to you in realization after the second time he tries. 

“No fucking way, you– you want it?” His eyebrows fall into that of a relieved release as he, too, falls right back down against your chest and lets his hips fuck freely. 

He’s not controlling it at this point. You feel him stretch you open more through his orgasm, rolling his hips but not pulling out even in the slightest now. Moving back and forth, as if trying to stuff you impossibly full while he releases those thick ropes of cum. It…feels so good even with the way the base of his cock continues to swirl and loosen you up in a painful stretch that almost feels like he’s ripping you open. Still, the pain is gone as he shakes on top of you, in fact, you feel your clit throb at the feeling of how big he is, of how hard he manages to stay. 

He didn’t even fuck you that roughly before this, but it feels like you’re already ruined. Ruined enough to want more. Enough to need more. 

“Bet that feels good,” You chuckle against his hair, feeling each pulse of him and loving the way he pants against your ear. “Not having to pull out, knowing you can fuck me for as long as you want.”

That only pushes his orgasm to hit harder. He thought he was nearing the end of it, but instead, his body goes into overdrive as more pulses of cum shoot out of him at your words. There’s so…so much of it he can give you. And if this is what you want, he’s the perfect man to do it for you. 

“Don’t say that, oh god–” Jake mumbles through the end of his orgasm, keeping himself tucked nice and deep into you as he releases his body weight and makes you feel slightly suffocated under him. “Please.”

Well, he minds his manners well enough, you shrug under him, clenching around his length unintentionally and reminding him that you genuinely can go all night, just like him.

Reminding him that maybe you really will just lock him up in this room all tonight, all tomorrow. He seems into the idea anyway, right? Both of you just free-use sex dolls for the time being…Hell yeah.

And as Jake catches his breath, he finally lifts up, pulling you with him, and sits you directly on his lap now.

“Keep going then, don’t let it get soft.” He nearly whimpers, solely due to the sensitivity his cock is now offering and the fact that after that third orgasm, he truly is gaining the ability to go flaccid between orgasms. 

And you follow his direction, though not entirely how he wanted you to. Instead of rolling your hips, you slip him right out of you and sink your face down between his legs, loving the way his cum spills out of you all the while. You don’t even say anything, not that you’d need to. He watches you, a smirk forming on his lips as he raises an arm and throws it over his eyes. 

“Shit, You’re so my type.” He groans out of the sexual frustration that still bubbles within him. You look so good down there with his cock just inches from your mouth. God, no woman has been able to go down on him for too long despite really fucking wishing they would. 

His hips always lose control, they don’t like face fucking, he’s too big to fit, they’re gagging too much, their jaw is hurting. What the fuck ever. Look at you, blinking up at him like you want nothing more in the world than to take it all down your throat. Ah, fuck, if you did that…

His hips buck up on instinct, forcing you to hold him down with your arms as you lick your lips. 

“You really live up to your promise, you know that?” You smile with warmed cheeks as you speak, blowing air gently against the head of his cock. It’s softened up a little, but it’s no longer going flaccid. You’re sure that the second you work it into your mouth, he’s going to be blocking your airways. 

Good. 

“You say that like I’m not overwhelming you with all of this,”  He chuckles as he moves his arm from his face and down to yours. “Most girls would have already sent me home.”

You circle your lips around the bulbous head, tasting the remnants of both you and him as you gently suckle before popping off and licking your lips. 

“Well, Jake–” You look back down and lend his cock a little kiss. “I’m not most girls. Besides, most guys get their nut and leave me hanging. You’ve gotten, what? Three orgasms by now? And you’re still in my bed? Wanting me to lock you up tomorrow too? What a fucking win.”

Jake rolls his eyes because you don’t even know the fucking half of it. If he were a normal guy, he probably would have done the same thing. Maybe not to you, but to others? Yeah. The thing is, he’s not like most guys. And you’re right in saying you’re not like most girls either, considering…your sex drive appears to be just as insatiable as his.

“Fuck, let me eat you out again–” Jake groans now, needing to pleasure you again, aroused by the fact that he’s basically met a female version of himself. Even if he’s just exaggerating and making himself believe such a woman could exist close enough to him. “Let me– Ahh…”

You cut off his words, dragging a loud and sensual moan from him as you sink down. Mostly to shut him up, mostly so you can return the favor for him from earlier before letting him have another lick of you. After all, you truly do appreciate him for all of this. 

“Mmf–” You mumble unintentionally, feeling each inch of his length that you swallow up pressing your tongue further and further down in your mouth. Up until you’re entirely open mouthed on him, gagging yourself when he hits your throat only to angle yourself up on your knees to point it straight down your throat instead.

It hurts, but you close your eyes in concentration, breathing through each gag, ignoring the dribble of saliva that runs from the corners of your mouth and– you swallow.

Mostly because you can’t suck. Again and again, you swallow around him just to stimulate his length, the girth stretching your lips out to the point you feel your jaw could break, but it doesn’t and it won’t. 

Within an instant of taking his whole length down your throat, you feel his hands in your hair. Your ears are ringing, otherwise you would also be listening to him choke on his words at how you’re doing this to him. All of it. You’re taking him in full, not leaving an inch out, seemingly proving that your mouth can be fucked just as good as your cunt.

He’s in heaven, head spinning as you stimulate him through each gag and sputtered out chokes of a moan. He can’t help it when he grabs your hair, he really doesn’t mean it when he pushes your head down while pressing his hips up. Essentially choking you and suffocating you in full with a paused hold. 

You brace yourself on his hips when he does this, squeezing your eyes shut and continuously gagging from the way he abuses your mouth with just that small movement, and then– he pulls back.

“Ahh,” He groans, snapping his hips back and holding you by the hair to keep you from chasing. “You like that?” He continues, letting you breathe but not answer at all before he’s pushing your head right back down, holding you there again and fucking his hips up repeatedly into your throat this time. 

The sounds are pornographic at best, concerning at worst. You, searching for air somewhere between his thrusts, the sounds of wet sputters, drooling, whimpered groans from him, and desperate gasps and gags from you. Truly, Jake is in heaven right now. With you, specifically, you’ve brought him to heaven.

For you, it feels like he does this forever. You’re losing the ability to comprehend what breathing ever was in the first place, thankfully though, Jake can see the tears pouring from your eyes and feel the way you fall slightly limp, letting him do as he pleases before he realizes– he may actually be overwhelming you now.

He snaps his hips back quickly, pulling you up and off of the last remaining inches of his weeping cock before taking a good, long look at your gasped breath and abused lips. Tongue licking out and eyes stained. 

“I’m sorry, fuck, I–”

Instantly you press yourself down on him once again, resuming your original position of sliding him in until you can’t stand the feeling in your throat, gagging and swallowing around him time and time again. You feel proud of it, proud of the pain, proud of the suffocation. 

Fucking proud to not be finished with him compared to every other person, apparently. 

“Jesus–” He groans now, his entire body slouching against your bed as he slams his head back and starts petting your cheeks. “It’s like you were born for this. For me.”

You hum around the gags, growing accustomed to swallowing him up and feeling your jaw strain. And just a few moments later, you pull up with a deep breath, a smile, and you start rubbing your jaw. 

“Maybe I was,” You try to talk dirty, wanting to drive him insane. “You taste so good.” You add, dipping down again to lick a long stripe up the underside of his balls up to his tip. “Any girl should be proud to say you’d fuck her mouth like that.”

A twitch, he rolls his eyes back and clenches his jaw. 

“How are you so…” He breathes out, reaching his hands blindly for you, only to feel you shift on the bed and essentially sit your tits into both of his hands. “perfect?”

You shrug when he opens his eyes, you’re now hovering over him, both hands covering his on your tits as you force him to squeeze and grope. 

“Maybe it’s best to not ask questions.” You tilt your head playfully. “Besides, if I’m lucky maybe you’ll stop trying to find other girls to fuck. They can’t take care of you like I will, anyway.”

Oh, you damn fucking right they won’t. 

“You can have it any time you want.” Jake smiles, relishing in your tits warming under his palms, watching the way you hover over him tall and proud on your knees. “Could play with you every day and never get bored.” 

You feel him move his hand from under yours, going straight between your legs and sliding not two, but three fingers into you with ease.

“Still so wet too,” He hums, eyes narrowing at you with that same pretty grin. “You always this horny?”

You shake your head. 

“Not usually, you just turn me on.” 

Jake feels proud of that. He doesn’t feel like the odd ball with a dick that can’t be satiated no matter how many pussies he plows through in a night. Which, again, for the past year has been a total of zero pussy. You getting turned on by that makes him feel…capable. Makes him feel like maybe he can be put to use by a pretty girl. 

Makes him feel like his need is wanted and well taken care of. 

“So, I can keep calling you?” He asks now, fucking his fingers up, loving the warmth and slide, anticipating for when he gets to bury his cock in you again. 

“Mhm.” You hum, closing your eyes to enjoy the pleasure of how deep even his fingers reach. Kind of ready for him to stop talking and just focus on what he’s doing to you.

“Even if it’s every single day?” He continues to ask, now using his thumb against your clit. “Even if I need you in the middle of the night?”

Anything he wants if he can keep hitting your g-spot like this. 

“Yes, Jake,” You sigh out of aroused frustration, now wiggling your hips to chase that stimulation inside of you. “I’ll give you the fucking key to my apartment if you want. Just let you walk right in and start fucking me.”

His fingers move faster at the image, the implication of not just free-use, but true free use. Real free-use. 

“Yeah? Wake you up with my cock sliding into you?” He urges you to keep talking, now removing his other hand from your chest and circling it around his cock. “Just walk right in and get my mouth on you while all your friends are here?”

You lend a surprised chuckle, but pay no mind to his words past the arousal it brings to you. You’d tell him about how you have a total of like two friends, and half of the time they’re too busy to show up anyway. Still, the image is hot at the moment. All of it is hot. 

“You’d let me?” He continues pressing every button both physically and mentally, unaware of how easy it is for him to talk as if it’s a normal conversation solely because it’s kind of his general state of living at this point. You, on the other hand, are not used to having a full conversation while your g-spot gets abused. “Even if you’re not home? Let you come home and find me fucking myself for you?”

Oh.

“Fuck–” You groan out at the image, feeling his fingers reach so perfectly, thinking of how it would feel to walk into your apartment just to see this pretty man chasing that tight ring of fingers his fist creates. Probably so turned on and frustrated that you’re not home…so frustrated that all he could do is drop to the floor and start fucking. “God, yeah.”

So that’s what you’re into. You love that he’s that pathetic to fuck. And lucky for you, he’s more than willing to continue to be that fucking pathetic. 

“Does that feel good?” He hums now, watching how you fuck yourself against his fingers, lifting slightly to lick against your nipple. “Can I use my cock again?” He babbles almost, brain on constant loop of you actually giving him free reign of your apartment someday so he can come and–”Please, do this on my cock.”

This is the second time he’s asked you to ride it, and you think that may be one time too many. You almost feel guilty for taking him down your throat first, but then again, you don’t. Your body vibrates knowing you’re about to split yourself open on him again, only this time having full control. 

“You want me to sit on it, Jake?” You smile, thrusting your hips down and sinking his fingers into you so deep that you physically can see his brain malfunction. 

The frantic nod he gives is somehow less powerful than how he lifts his hips, forcing you higher on your knees as his fingers slip out of you and immediately land in his mouth. 

Man, this guy must love the taste of pussy. The image of him doing that alone is insanely arousing to you as you lend him a short nod and slide back, your pussy sucking in the head of his cock instantly as if the two of you move together so well, that it was only natural to not need a guiding hand for it. 

He sinks his head deep into the mattress with the way you try to sink down on him. He holds his breath with those same fingers in his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut at how tight you still are, how wet you still are. 

And he’s shocked, almost, at the way you just keep sliding down. Not letting yourself re-adjust to his size, holding your own breath and bracing yourself on his abdomen just to keep balance and you wince through the stretch. 

“That’s it.” Jake soothes your hips as you sit, clenching around each one of his twitches inside of you. “Doing so good.” He breathes out this time, trying to hold back his moan just for a moment as he awaits your moan first.

And it comes quickly when you lean back rather than against him, arms by his knees as you practically present his cock to him buried entirely into you with this position. He lifts his head and stares at it before reaching his thumb to your clit, immediately pressing hard circles against it. 

“Ride it,” He pleads now. “God, please ride it.” He loses his mind at the image, really, as you do start moving. 

Pained whimpers falling from your lips as you circle your hips, fucking just an inch of him in and out of yourself, forcing the deepest part of your pussy to take the abuse more than anything else. And you know he loves it with the way his thumb stops rubbing your clit, with the way he can’t decide on if he should look or throw his head back and fall into the sensation. 

It’s really cute to witness, and you’d lean forward to kiss him if you had the strength to do it, but you don’t. In fact, all the strength you have is currently bubbling up inside of you with a sharp, almost burning sensation. 

You know exactly what this is. You’ve practiced it time and time again alone in this bed. 

“Oh, oh shit, Jake–” You groan as you frantically start moving your hips through the full and splitting feeling of him inside of you. Your voice sounds so panicked, it almost scares him. And honestly? Had he not have finger fucked you against your g-spot previously perhaps you could last longer on him, but no. 

“What– What’s wrong?!” Jake’s voice is broken when he quickly leans up, hugging around you as you continue to ride against him, faster now, chasing, chasing, chasing. 

Pushing, pushing, pushing.

“No, no!” You moan out, shoving him back against the bed and now lifting entirely from his length before slapping your own clit, fast, rough circled motions before each slap. “Oh, shit!” You nearly yell, witnessing it squirt from your body straight against his abdomen and chest. 

Jake just watches, mouth agape and eyes wide. 

“Oh–” He stares. “Oh yeah?” 

And you’re not even done when he seemingly takes full control. Allowing all that squirt to fall out of you, ignoring your shaking legs, tipping you straight back and plunging his cock right back into that release of pressure inside of you.

“You just weren’t gonna tell me you could do that?” He grunts against your ear, fucking into you so hard and so fast that your orgasm just keeps coming. It feels too good to speak, too good to breathe. 

Even as it subsides and you’re trying to catch your breath, he doesn’t let you. He just keeps going, grunting incoherently against your ear, snapping his hips harder than you think he’s probably ever done before. 

Honestly, with each yelp you let out, your sensitivity goes from being unbearably painful to–

“Do it again–” He urges you. “Give me another one.” Babbling, cooing, fucking moaning all over your neck until his lips hit yours. 

Somehow, that gives him exactly what he wants as he feels your legs tense up and fall open around him. Your pelvis slamming into his so hard that it’s, quite literally, splashing out of you in loud and painful sounds. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He nods and whispers against your tongue, sucking it into his mouth before licking into yours, nearly rabid with the way he’s both kissing and fucking you, he can’t help it. He forgot words the second he felt the gush rush past his length, trying to force it out of you only for him to go harder. Like hell he’s not going to feel you literally squirt on his cock. “So fucking messy.”

At one point, you think you might have actually died. You’re not sure but you swear you saw him fucking you in third person for two solid seconds before being slammed right back into your body. The pleasure genuinely is so overwhelming that…well, suddenly you understand why girls probably think he’s too much.

But goddamn he’s…so good. Like, you remember him mentioning his body count through his one-sided sext session with you and you can argue his inexperience probably made this that much better. He’s a fucking natural. 

And as he continues fucking into you, all you can do is lend him a distant smile. You’re definitely not experiencing real life at this moment, and you know he sees it with the way he lifts and keeps his eyes on your zoned out expression. 

“Look at you.” He echoes against your walls. “So, so pretty.” 

And he just keeps doing that, whispering praises, working you through his presumed last orgasm of the night because he genuinely can’t not fill you up with his cum one last time before letting you rest. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The rest didn’t last long, but to be fair you didn’t need it to. All night, and all day. That promise was kept and Jake remained insatiable throughout all the time he spent with you.

To the point you very nearly felt strange about him leaving. Like you’d grown so accustomed to having someone literally attached to you at the dick that you knew the loneliness and silence would hit you a little too hard once he leaves. 

And, well, he does leave in a sense, but not completely. 

Though you never truly meant that offer in the midst of sex-talk, Jake seemed to have clinged to the idea of it. Lock him up, but still give him the key. 

Never in your life would have imagined giving a person the key to your apartment, and yet…there he goes. Backing out of a guest parking spot in front of your building with your spare fucking apartment key in his pocket right next to those fucking panties. 

[fridayyy-13th]

God. what do you do when a lifelong friend just refuses to see any worth in themself or their skills even after you've tried to get them to see it for years. i want to help them but i'm tired. it hurts to see them so flippant about it. i'm angry and sad and nothing i do changes their mind and i feel like i'm running out of options and i'm scared that the only one left will be "leave them." i really don't want it to come to that. they mean a lot to me.