#A serious little fella he is.

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

Told myself I was only gonna participate in Artfight passively this year but here i am less than a week out so hyped that i’m prepping some new defenders. Finally getting around to designing Bandit Blue’s bestie/rival, Aurelio. His main costume is giving me some trouble though lol. Keep waffling on whether or not i wanna clunk him up or with a lot of scifi junk armor pieces or keep him sleek like Band.

[boopsloop363]

that muchacho better take care of his wife (and lil chicos?) OR ELSE!

They had their first child this year and are already planning for another. These renovations we're doing have a lot to do with those kiddos. He wants to give em a nice house to live in

[handfulofmuses]

Whenever he is focused on you like that you are pretty much screwed.

[flockrest]

i think there is something so funny about tu.lin going from honorific-name to just name with adults of his flock as he grows. oh, the masters will still be master and dad and mum do not have any other names duh (joking) but everyone else is suddenly on a purely first-name basis with a t(w)een whether they like it or not

[t-l000]

[yutaspierced]

I screamed like a proud mom I’m not gonna lie I smiled like an idiot I’m too invested in this silly little baby girl of a grown man

[benevolentbones]

beach day | spencer reid x fem!reader

part 2

warnings: swearing, massage? flustered spencer

word count: 1.2k

summary: you and penelope decide to take the team to the beach :)

a/n: thank you sm to everyone who follows me and supports my silly little fanfics!! getting to everyone’s requests soon!! comment if you’d like to be added to my taglist <3

“you want to what?��� hotch asked, his dark brows furrowing.

“we should have a beach day! it would be so much fun- you can bring jack.” penelope mused excitedly, her arm wrapped around your shoulders as you both tried to get more people on board.

it was initially your idea, to invite a few members of the team to go to the beach as the summer heat was eating you alive, it was penelope’s idea to invite everyone. and y’know the more the merrier.

“so will you come?” you asked, a sparkle glinting in your eyes.

“i don’t swim, so i wouldn’t be able to mind jack in the water.” he mumbled, reshuffling the case files on his desk, thinking of his five year old son.

“that’s okay- y/n is a trained life guard, she can look after him in the water.” penelope seemed to have an answer for every one of hotch’s excuses.

he then realised that the two of you weren’t taking no for an answer. he let out a small sigh before meeting your eyes.

“you promise you’ll watch him?” he asked, like you haven’t been babysitting jack for two years at this stage.

“pinky.” you smiled, extending your pinky finger for hotch, who reluctantly locked his finger with yours. he knew how serious you took pinky promises.

“alright then.”

garcia let out an excited yelp, dragging you out of hotch’s office and on to convince the last few members of the team.

so far you had got jj, emily and hotch.

“three down two to go.” you grinned at penelope, her blonde hair bouncing as she dragged you towards spencer’s desk.

derek was standing against reid’s desk, his hands gripping the edge of the table as they were both deep in conversation.

you had thought to wait until they were finished talking before you interrupted them, but penelope had other ideas. she came to a halt, her arm locked with yours.

“how do you fellas say about a beach day this weekend?” she asked, a cheshire like grin on her maroon stained lips.

derek’s attention shifted from the younger male to the two women who stood before them.

“a beach day? a chance to see you ladies splashing about? count me in.” morgan grinned, before turning his attention back to spencer.

“what do you say, pretty boy?”

spencer’s face turned sour, it was needless to say he didn’t really enjoy the beach. he hated hot weather, the texture of suncream and then the dreaded sand.

“um…” he began “i think i’m okay, thank you for the invite though.”

“oh c’mon reid, everyone else is going!” penelope beamed, determined to have everyone go.

“i don’t know- i don’t really like the beach guys…” he trailed off.

“you get to see y/n in a swimsuit.” derek added.

you furrowed your brows slapping morgan’s arm in a playful manner.

“i mean you will!” he laughed, shielding himself from your attack with a case file.

“fine, i’ll go- but not for that reason.” a blush exploded onto spencer’s pale features.

“yes! i’m going to start planning!” penelope couldn’t contain her excitement as she whisked your flustered self away.

“oh it’s totally for that reason.” derek bumped his elbow into spencer’s ribs lightly.

“s-shut up man.”

~

saturday rolled around and the team were on their way to the beach, it was a bit of a road trip to the nearest beach but you weren’t complaining. the sun was out, the heat causing wisps of your hair to stick to your neck. you couldn’t wait to get into the water.

once everyone arrived, penelope scanned the beach for the perfect spot and then began ushering everyone over, making morgan and hotch carry the umbrellas and coolers from the van you took.

you followed in suit, holding onto jack’s small hand to guide him over while his dad did all the heavy lifting. once you had reached the perfect spot you began to lay your towel down as derek positioned the beach umbrella.

everyone began laying out their respective towels and beach chairs, spencer plopping his chair under the umbrella beside you. you gave him a sweet smile before you dug through your bag for the suncream.

“alright mister, suncream time and then uncle derek will make sandcastles with you okay?” you announced, getting jack to sit in front of you.

“hey i didn’t sign up for that-“ morgan began earning a glare from both you and hotch who was mounting a wind barrier to his left.

“-yeah i mean, yay sandcastles!”

once you applied the suncream to jack, he ran off to derek, dragging the man down the beach, bucket and shovel in his tiny grasp. you turned to spencer who was already halfway through a book he had brought for some ‘light reading.’

he was wearing a pair of dark purple board shorts, paired with a white short sleeve shirt that was loosely buttoned up, and damn did he look good.

“your turn spence.” you smiled, taking the book from his grasp.

“i- yeah i already put some on before hand.” he muttered, attempting to take the book back from you.

you rolled your eyes playfully. “well i’ll top you up later- would you do me?”

“do you?” spencer’s voice cracked slightly, a small blush beginning to spread to his cheeks. his mind threatening to wander.

“mhm would you put suncream on my back, i can’t reach.”

“oh right- yeah come here.” he adjusted his seated position.

you stood up, dusting any sand that clung to your skin. you quickly slipped off your white sundress that you used as your beach coverup, revealing a black two piece.

spencer gulped nervously, as you passed him the bottle of suncream. his eyes traced your form, the two piece accentuating your already, in his opinion, attractive figure.

he didn’t really comprehend why he was so nervous, he had seen peoples bodies before, other women at the beach and such. but he had never seen this much of you.

he began applying the lotion, ignoring the heat rising through his body. this felt like a fever dream to him.

honestly you could’ve asked one of the girls to help apply the suncream, as they were already helping out each other, but truthfully you craved spencer’s touch.

his lightly calloused hands massaged your form, trembling down to the small of your back which made your face heat up.

spencer’s hands brushed up your waist, causing your breath to hitch in your throat, his touch soft as he worked in the suncream.

you never wanted this to end, his hands moving up to your shoulders nearing the nape of your neck, and then..

“a- all done.” he stuttered out, handing you back the bottle. you took it back, your fingers brushing against his as you passed his book back to him.

“thanks spence.” you flushed, quickly putting it back in the beach bag to avoid his intense gaze.

“up for a swim garcia?” you turned to the woman to your left, her blonde hair in two braids and her body adorned with the cutest pink frilly two piece.

she shot you a grin before grabbing onto your arm and dragging you off to the water.

“yeah i bet you needed to cool off after all of that, damn girl.” she whispered causing you to become even more flustered.

“oh you’re down bad.” emily laughed at spencer as soon as you were out of earshot.

“as if i didn’t already know that.” spencer sighed, slumping back into his chair.

he was in for a long day…

taglist: @0108s22m

[hoshifighting]

       hoshi + wet dream(z)

— “teacher, please, don't make me stand up” hoshi thinks when he just realized he had a wet dream about you, his roomate, at class.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, inspired by ''wet dreamz'' by j.cole (just a hint of it), oral (f. & m. receiving), dry humping, cock riding, mentions of handjobs and jerk off.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

soonyoung’s dead to the world, head down, cheek smushed against his arm, that dumbass hoodie string sticking to his lips. honestly, you’re surprised he hasn’t drooled yet. professor kim’s yelling about some kid in the front row not having their project finished on time,

but soonyoung? yeah, man’s out cold. he probably crashed after staying up too late again, messing around, doing who knows what. typical. you try to take notes while glancing at him every few minutes, but then something shifts—his leg jerks under the desk, his face scrunching up like he’s in serious trouble.

and that’s when you notice his fingers flex, the furrowed eyebrows, the faintest shift of breath slipping through his lips like he’s...no, no way. your eyes narrow, and you kick the side of his foot, just to check. the dude grumbles in his sleep, biting his lip hard.

oh god, this idiot’s having a wet dream. right here. in class. you’re both gonna get expelled.

meanwhile, in soonyoung’s head? oh, it's something else. it’s you, of course. you’re wearing that tight little top, the one with the low cut that gives him a peek every time you lean over his bed to wake him up for his dance recitals. and you’re smiling at him, all innocent and sweet, but your hand is somewhere down his stomach, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats, tugging him closer, stroking his cock, making him moan your name in this barely-there voice.

and just like that, you tap him on the shoulder, your voice cutting through his dream like a slap to the face, “soonyoung, you good? you looked like you were having a nightmare or something.” trying to keep it lowkey so the whole class doesn’t start looking over. your hand's still resting on his shoulder when you see his eyes snap open, like he’s been hit with a lightning bolt.

nightmare? nah, he wishes. he blinks up at you, disoriented as hell, blinking twice to focus. the way your boobs are hanging in front of him in that low-cut shirt? shit. it’s like his dream didn’t even end. he can barely breathe, eyes glued to you as you lean in, not even noticing the way his gaze drops right to your chest.

he shifts again, pressing his thighs together under the desk, praying to whatever god is out there that professor kim doesn't make him stand up, because, fuck—he’s so hard it’s practically poking through his jeans. if he stands up right now? boner’s definitely gonna slap someone in the face. maybe the fella sitting in front of him.

he panics, trying to will it down, but nah, not when he remembers the way your tits jiggle when you run to catch the bus with him, or how you’ve always been so nice to him, helping him clean up his absolute wreck of a dorm room like you actually care. you’re so fucking nice. and hot. being sweet like that makes you even hotter.

“dude, what the hell?” you frown, and he feels guilty for all of a second, ‘cause you’re just looking out for him, being a good roommate and all, and here he is, thinking about how badly he wants to—

“uh, no—no, i’m fine,” he stammers, swallowing hard, forcing himself to look anywhere but at your cleavage. jesus, how are you real? you’re too fucking hot for your own good. “just—uh—tired, y’know?” his voice cracks, and it’s a miracle you don’t ask why he’s shifting so awkwardly in his seat, arms crossed tight like he’s hiding something.

you blink, clearly not convinced but too busy to care. “okay, well, maybe you should get some sleep tonight instead of staying up watching dumb youtube videos.”

he laughs nervously, shifting in his chair, again, trying not to let his boner ruin both of your lives. “yeah. yeah, totally.”

but honestly, he’s praying the class ends soon, ‘cause if professor kim makes him stand up, his whole life's over.

the class ends, and the signal bell’s barely even faded before soonyoung’s out of his seat. like, out. he snatches his backpack and casually—well, tries to be casual—slides it in front of him, covering the situation in his pants like his life depends on it. which, yeah, it kinda does. you watch as he bolts for the exit, practically crashing into the doorframe on his way out. you’re left blinking, a little confused.

“where tf are you going? we still have p.e,” you type, texting him quickly as you pack up your own stuff.

a few seconds later, your phone buzzes.

soonyoung: dorm.

what the fuck? you stare at the screen, baffled. you know this man loves dodgeball more than life itself—hell, he’s usually the one pelting people with those foam balls like it’s the olympics. but now? he’s bailing on p.e.?

you shoot off another text. “??? bro, dodgeball’s about to start, what’s your deal?”

his response comes in almost instantly, a little too fast.

soonyoung: not coming. sick.

right. you raise an eyebrow, but whatever. his loss. maybe he really is coming down with something, ‘cause skipping p.e. is like skipping oxygen for this guy. but, as you head down to the gym, you can’t help but wonder if something’s off. especially the way he bolted earlier.

halfway through dodgeball, it clicks—oh shit. it’s gotta be you. he’s been weird since you woke him up in class, and now, you’re running around in your sports bra and high-waisted shorts, the same ones you always wear. that might explain it. he’s probably freaking out over that damn wet dream, too embarrassed to face you.

good. let him sweat it out for a bit. serves him right for ditching.

by the time you make it back to the dorm, you’re drenched in sweat, breathing a little heavy from running around like a maniac all period. the heat from dodgeball is still clinging to your skin, and all you want is a cold shower. you toss your bag onto the couch and kick off your shoes, stretching out your arms as you step into the kitchen.

soonyoung’s there, standing awkwardly by the counter with a glass of water, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for like, a second before darting away. something’s definitely up. he’s acting weird.

“yo,” you call out, wiping a hand over your forehead, “where the hell did you go? you missed dodgeball, man. you feeling alright?”

he shrugs, not looking at you. his face is all tight, like he’s focusing way too hard on drinking his water. “yeah, just… didn’t feel like it.”

“didn’t feel like it?” you echo, narrowing your eyes at him. “you love dodgeball.”

he just grunts, and you catch him glancing at you, real quick, before his gaze shoots right back to the floor. you follow his eyes and—oh. oh. right. your sports top’s soaked through, sticking to your skin, and you can literally feel his eyes tracing every damn inch of it. it’s not like you’re trying to be a tease, but something about the way he’s avoiding you makes you want to push him a little. just to see how much more uncomfortable he can get.

“you sure you’re okay?” you ask, stepping closer, watching his ears turn red. “you’ve been acting weird since class. did something happen?”

he shakes his head so fast you think he’s about to give himself whiplash. “no, nothing happened. i’m fine.”

yeah, right. you chuckle to yourself, brushing past him toward the hallway, but not before you notice the way his eyes drop again, glued to the sweat clinging to your back, the way your skin’s gleaming in the low kitchen light.

“whatever, weirdo. i’m taking a shower.”

you leave him standing there, all fidgety and red-faced, as you disappear into the bathroom. you close the door behind you and smirk, wondering just how long he’s going to keep up this act.

you step out of the bathroom, towel slung over your shoulders, hair damp and sticking to your neck. the warmth from the shower did little to wash away the tension in your head, the lingering feeling that something was off. soonyoung hadn’t said more than three words since you got back to the dorm, and it’s weird. too weird. normally, he’s all over you, making dumb jokes, bugging you about something, throwing himself onto your bed like it’s his second home—with wet hair to freak you out. only for him now be holed up in his room, glued to his phone, avoiding you like the plague.

and for some reason, you hate it. the silence. the way he’s brushing you off. you’d rather have him drenched in rainwater, messing up your sheets like always than whatever the hell this was.

hair dripping slightly onto your t-shirt, you pad over to his room. the door’s half-open, and there he is—soonyoung, sprawled on his bed, phone in hand, scrolling like he’s actually interested in whatever’s on the screen.

you don’t say anything at first, just step into the room and sit beside him, sulking as you grab onto his arm. your fingers squeeze lightly, and you glance at him, expecting some smartass remark or at least something. but all you get is a quick look from him, eyes darting from you to the phone. nothing more. then he turns back to the screen like you’re not even there.

“seriously?” you mumble, rolling your eyes. his silence is starting to get to you now, and your frustration boils over. fuck this. you reach over and snatch the phone right out of his hand, holding it up in the air, out of his reach.

“what the hell—” soonyoung tsks, sounding more annoyed than anything. annoyed, yeah right. he sits up quickly, leaning in close as he reaches for it, but you keep it out of his grasp, grinning despite yourself.

“tsk. give it back,” he grumbles, his hand wrapping around your wrist, but you refuse to budge. his eyes flash up to yours. “seriously, y/n. stop.”

you tilt your head, eyes locking onto his, something playful and challenging bubbling up in your chest. “not until you stop being a weirdo. what’s your problem? you’ve been acting like i’ve got the plague since class.”

he tugs at your arm again, trying to reach the phone, but you just hold it higher, raising your eyebrows at him. your other hand grabs onto his shoulder to steady yourself, and you’re both so close now that you can feel his breath on your neck.

you want him to say it first. to admit whatever the hell’s been going on in his head.

“come on, soonyoung, just talk to me.” your voice softens a little, though there’s still a teasing edge to it. “you’re not really pissed, are you? what, did i embarrass you in class or something?”

he huffs, falling back against the bed again, hands covering his face in frustration. he mumbles something, but it’s too muffled to understand.

“what was that?” you press, your hand still gripping the phone. you lean in closer, hovering over him, trying to peek through his fingers.

he groans, louder this time, and lets his hands drop to his sides, staring up at the ceiling like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “just… forget it, okay? you’re making it worse.”

“worse? worse how?” you shift, sitting cross-legged on the bed now, leaning over him with your phone still clutched in your hand. your knee brushes against his hip, and you see his jaw tighten for a second. “soonyoung, come on, talk to me. why are you acting so fucking weird?”

he lets out a long breath, rubbing his palms over his face like he’s trying to scrub the answer out of himself. his lips press together, eyes squeezing shut before he finally mutters, “i didn’t want you to see… that.”

“see what?” your voice drops lower, curious now, your hand letting the phone slip down beside you. you’re so close to him now that your hair is starting to drip on his shoulder, but neither of you moves away. you watch the muscle in his neck tense as he swallows hard, lips parting slightly.

“you,” he finally breathes out, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. his cheeks are flushed now, the embarrassment clear in every line of his body, but he doesn’t look away from the ceiling, not even once. “i—fuck, i was dreaming about you. okay? in class. and then you woke me up, and i—shit, i couldn’t stop thinking about it. about… you.”

you smirk a little, shaking your head. “so… wait, you’ve been avoiding me because of a dream?”

he groans, hands covering his face again. “it wasn’t just a dream, okay? it was—god, this is so fucking embarrassing. you were… you know.”

“no, i don’t know,” you tease, shifting your weight slightly so you’re leaning in even closer. “why don’t you tell me?”

he glances at you then.

“you were all over me,” he mutters finally, his voice low, “in this tight shirt, and you wouldn’t stop touching me. it was fucking killing me, okay? i woke up and—god, i just couldn’t look at you. i’ve never seen you like that before, and it… fuck, it messed with my head.”

you raise an eyebrow, not quite expecting that level of honesty. but something in you can’t resist pushing him a little more. “so that’s it? you were just… turned on, and now you’re too embarrassed to even be around me?”

he groans again, this time louder, pressing his hands into his eyes. “yes! fuck. yes. happy now?”

“actually?” you grin, leaning back slightly. “yeah, kinda.”

he looks at you, “you’re the worst.”

“yep.” you sit back up, holding his phone just out of reach. “but i’m also not giving you your phone back until you stop acting like i’ve got cooties or something.”

he rolls his eyes, sitting up again, this time without the fake annoyance. there’s a look on his face you can’t quite read, somewhere between embarrassment and frustration, and it makes your stomach flip. maybe there’s more to this than just a dream.

“you’re really not gonna let this go, are you?” he asks, voice softer now.

“nope,” you say, smiling. “not a chance.”

he sighs, shaking his head. “fine. just… don’t make this any weirder than it already is, okay?”

you glance down at his lips, and something inside you shifts. you tilt your head slightly, eyes locking with his as you whisper, “trust me, i won’t.”

and before he can react, you lean in, pressing your lips against his. it’s soft at first, a hesitant brush of mouths, but then you feel him melt into it, his lips parting as his breath hitches. the kiss deepens, and soon enough, you’re straddling him, your thighs pressing into his hips, and his hands—hesitant at first—grasp onto your waist, unsure but needy.

the second you feel his grip tighten, you take control. your hands snake around his neck, pulling him closer as you grind down against him, making you feel the hard length of his cock, even through the fabric of his sweats. his breath catches, a quiet groan escaping from his throat as your hips rock against his.

soonyoung’s head falls back against the pillow, eyes half-lidded as his fingers sink into your skin, he doesn’t know what to do with himself—he’s trying to keep up, but you’re driving him crazy. his hips jerk up to meet yours, but it’s too much, too fast. he’s never been this turned on from just kissing before, and it’s almost awkward how quick his body responds to you.

“slow—fuck—slow down,” he gasps, hands slipping to your hips, trying to hold you still, but you only smirk, grinding down harder.

“sensitive already?” you tease, your breath hot against his ear, your fingers trailing down his chest, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“yeah,” he breathes, his voice shaky. “fuck—sensitive. really sensitive.”

you pause, frowning a little as you tilt your head to look at him. “why?”

he doesn’t answer right away, his hands still gripping your waist, trying to keep you from moving. he just looks at you, his eyes full of something that feels like shame, waiting for you to piece it together.

and then it hits you. oh.

“did you…?” you ask softly, your voice dropping a little as you lean in, your lips brushing against his jaw. “did you have to touch yourself after the dream?”

soonyoung swallows hard, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment before he nods, barely. “yeah,” he mutters, almost like he’s admitting some deep, dark secret. “i couldn’t… i couldn’t stop thinking about it. about you.”

for a second, you just stare at him, processing the confession. he was jerking off, thinking about you—and now here you are, straddling him, grinding against him. “shit,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him, your fingers tracing lightly over his chest. “you’ve been thinking about me like that?”

“how could i not? y/n-nie” he sulks, his hands trembling slightly as they slip under your shirt, his fingers brushing against the damp skin of your lower back.

you smirk, leaning down to kiss him again, this time slower, deeper, letting your tongue slip into his mouth as your hips rock slowly, teasing him. his hands tighten on your back, pulling you closer, but you can feel him trembling beneath you, his body so tense.

“you want me to stop?” you ask against his lips, voice low and teasing. “because i don’t think you do.”

he shakes his head, the movement jerky, his breath coming in quick gasps as you continue to grind against him. his fingers slip into your hair, damp from the shower, tugging gently as he lets out a soft, desperate sound.

“no—don’t stop.”

and that’s all you need.

you push yourself off him, just enough to slide your shorts down, tossing them aside before settling back down on his hips. the feeling of your bare skin against his sweats makes you shudder, and you see the way his eyes go wide, dark and blown out with need as you shift, grinding your bare pussy against the bulge in his pants.

soonyoung groans, his head tipping back against the pillow as his hands grip your thighs, trying to hold you steady. but you don’t give him a second to recover. you grind down hard, dragging your slick cunt over the fabric of his sweats, and he’s almost delirious from the sensation.

“fuck—fuck—y/n—”

you smirk, leaning down to kiss him again, your lips brushing against his as your hand trails down his chest, tugging at the waistband of his pants. “you’ve been thinking about this, hm?”

“yeah,” he gasps, his hips jerking up to meet yours as you slip your hand under his waistband, fingers brushing against his cock. “god, yeah.”

but you don’t give him what he wants. not yet. instead, you slide down his body, trailing kisses over his chest, his stomach, your fingers tracing the waistband of his sweats before tugging them down. you don’t even bother taking them off completely, just pulling them down enough to free his cock.

you wrap your hand around him, stroking slowly as you lean down, your breath hot against his skin. he’s sensitive—too sensitive—and he’s almost squirming under your touch, but you keep going, taking your time, watching his face as you work him up even more.

“you’re so fucking hard,” you murmur, your lips brushing against the base of his cock, and he lets out a choked sound, his hips bucking up involuntarily.

you don’t stop. you slide your hand up and down his length, your thumb brushing over the tip, slick with precum, and then you lean down, your tongue darting out to lick along the underside of his cock.

you slide down his body again, this time lowering yourself between his legs, your mouth hovering just above his cock. you can see the way his whole body trembles, his hips jerking up slightly as you take him into your mouth. you don’t rush—no, you take your time, swirling your tongue around the tip before sliding your mouth down, taking him as deep as you can.

soonyoung lets out a broken sound, his hands flying to your hair, gripping tightly as you work him over, your mouth wet and slick as you suck him off. you can feel him trembling beneath you, his whole body tense, but you don’t let up. you take him deeper, your throat tightening around him as you swallow, your tongue flicking over the tip every time you pull back.

“fuck—y/n—please—”

he’s close, you can tell.

his fingers twist in your hair, tugging just enough to pull you off him, your lips slick and spit-slicked. his chest heaves, eyes glazed, but there's something different about the way he looks at you now.

“wait, wait” he breathes out. “please.”

and before you can even think to argue, he’s moving, flipping you onto your back with a suddenness that makes your head spin. his hands are already on your thighs, parting them with this desperate, greedy energy like he’s been dying to do this. you’re still catching your breath from everything before, but the second you feel his warm breath ghosting over your core, it’s like everything sharpens again.

he's focused, his eyes locked on your pussy like it’s the only thing in the world that matters right now. his hands grip your thighs, pushing them wider apart as he leans down, his tongue darting out to lick along your slit, the slickness from how worked up you are already makes his job easy, and he groans at the taste, the sound vibrating against your skin in a way that has your toes curling.

“fuck,” he mutters, before he dives in fully. his tongue presses flat against your pussy, lapping up every bit of wetness before it circles around your clit, teasing but never giving you enough. you feel your hips buck up, seeking more friction, but his hands hold you down, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

“soonyoung,” you breathe out, your voice shaky, “fuck—don’t tease.”

he doesn’t say anything, but his mouth works faster now, tongue flicking over your clit before he sucks it into his mouth, just enough pressure to have your back arching off the bed. but it’s not just his mouth that’s driving you crazy—it’s the way his fingers slid to work at the same time, sliding up and down your inner thigh, teasing, but never quite touching where you need him most.

“shit,” you hiss, your hands finding their way into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan against you. “more—fuck, soonyoung—more.”

he lifts his head just enough to look up at you, his lips shiny, slick with your wetness, and the sight alone nearly makes you cum. “more?” he echoes, but he’s already slipping one finger inside you, slow and deep, crooking it just right to hit that spot.

“fuck—yes—there—” your head angles back, your fingers curling tighter in his hair, and he takes that as his cue to add a second finger, pumping them in and out slowly while his mouth goes back to your clit, his tongue swirling around it.

and then he stops, thinking, before diving in again. instead of just keeping his mouth on your clit, he presses his tongue flat against it, then flicks his wrist, his fingers twisting inside you, almost like he’s trying to find a new angle, something that’ll drive you absolutely crazy. and it does. you’re not even sure how he’s managing to do it—his mouth, his fingers, everything working in perfect sync to build that pressure deep inside you—but it’s fucking working, and you feel like you’re losing your mind.

“holy shit,” you gasp, your hips grinding up into his mouth, chasing the friction. “holy fuck, soonyoung—what are you—”

he doesn’t stop. he doesn’t fucking stop, and you feel the tension in your belly building, higher and higher, until it’s almost crazy to hold it. his mouth is relentless, his fingers curling and twisting inside you, and you can’t even form words anymore—just a mess of moans and gasps as you get closer and closer to the edge.

your orgasm punches you, crashing over you so hard that your vision goes white for a second, your body tightening and shaking as you cum undone beneath him. you feel the way his fingers slow down, coaxing you through it, while his tongue keeps flicking over your clit, softer now, gentler, but still enough to draw out every last bit of pleasure.

you’re breathless, your body limp against the mattress, but soonyoung doesn’t stop. he stays between your thighs, his fingers slowly pulling out of you, but his mouth is still there, kissing and licking you clean, like he can’t get enough of your taste.

“fuck baby,” you breathe out, your chest heaving as you try to come down from the high.

he finally looks up at you, his lips swollen and shiny, and he doesn't even wipe it out. “taste even better than i imagined.”

you let out a shaky laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “yeah? you’ve been thinking about that a lot?”

“more than you know,” he murmurs, before he leans in again, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “but now i can do the rest in peace.”

you lock eyes with him, your lips brushing against his, “not before i ride that dick.”

the way soonyoung’s eyes widen, his breath catching in his throat, almost makes you laugh. he looks like he’s about to choke on his own spit, his face flushing red as he processes what you just said. “wh-what?”

“you heard me.” you slide your hand down his chest, feeling the way his muscles twitch under your touch, “been thinking about it for a while now. riding you. sitting on it. licking it. you want that?”

he swallows hard, his tongue darting out to wet his lips—a habit of him, and you can tell his brain is short-circuiting. the way his hips shift beneath you, the way his fingers tighten their grip on your thighs, he’s already imagining it—has been imagining it.

fuck, probably for a while.

“you—y/n…” his voice is shaky, almost like he can’t believe you’re saying this out loud. “i—fuck, i thought about it—but like… i didn’t think you…”

you raise an eyebrow, leaning down so your lips are barely an inch away from his ear, your breath hot against his skin. “didn’t think i’d want it too? didn’t think i’d think about how i’d bounce on that dick? how i’d feel you filling me up, stretching me out? yeah, soonyoung, i’ve been thinking.”

he lets out this choked sound, his hand slipping from your thigh to wrap around your hip, like he’s trying to ground himself in reality. “fuck—you can’t just say shit like that…”

“why not?” you roll your hips down against his, feeling the hardness straining through his pants. “thought you liked me being honest?”

soonyoung’s eyes shut tight for a second, like he’s trying to get a grip, but you can feel the way his cock twitches under you, betraying him. and honestly, it just makes you want to push him further.

“been thinking about how it’d feel,” you whisper, your lips ghosting over his jaw. “how your cock would slide inside me, how deep you’d get if i sat on it, how fucking good you’d feel—hmm”

you smile, leaning back to look at him, loving the way his pupils are blown wide with lust, the way his chest is rising and falling so fast it’s like he’s running out of breath. you reach down to tug at the waistband of his pants.

he lifts his hips without thinking, helping you pull his pants down enough to free his cock, the sight of it making your mouth water. he’s bigger than you imagined—hard and thick, the tip already leaking.

“holy shit,” you mutter, wrapping your hand around it, giving it a slow stroke that has him hissing through his teeth. “so this is what you’ve been hiding from me, huh?”

soonyoung can barely speak, just nodding like his brain is short-circuiting all over again.

you shift your hips, lining him up with your entrance, slick and warm from how fucking wet you are already. and then, slowly, you sink down on him, taking him inch by inch, watching as his face contorts/

“oh fuck,” he groans, his head falling back against the pillows. “fuck, fuck, fuck—so tight—so fucking good—”

you can feel every inch of him, stretching you, filling you up completely, and it’s so good, delicious, you pause for a second, letting yourself adjust, your hands splayed out on his chest as you look down at him, smirking at how fucked he already looks.

“you good?” you ask, breathless, and he just nods frantically, his eyes wide and desperate as he looks up at you.

“yes, yes, yes!” he stammers, his voice cracking.

“well,” you grin, starting to rock your hips slowly, “just wait till i really start.”

he lets out a broken moan, his hands flying to your waist, but he doesn’t try to stop you—just lets you set the pace as you start riding him, just to tease him, before gradually speeding up, rolling your hips down against him in a way that has both of you gasping.

“so—hmm—so fucking perfect,” he mumbles, his fingers digging into your skin as he tries to hold on, but you can tell he’s losing it. his breathing’s all over the place, and his hips keep bucking up, trying to meet your movements, desperate for more.

nothing could’ve prepared him for this—not in his wildest, dirtiest, late-night fantasies. the way you suddenly prop yourself up on one knee, the other leg still pressed into the mattress, your whole body lifting up just slightly before you drop back down on him—it’s fucking insane.

the first time you do it, he swears he blacks out for a second. his entire world narrows down to the way you’re bouncing on his cock, the obscene wet sound of your slick every time you slam back down, and the way your tits are moving in rhythm with your body—fuck, it’s like he’s stuck in a trance.

“oh shit—shit,” he chokes out, his hands scrambling to grab onto your thighs, your waist—anything—but he can barely hold on. you’re riding him like you’ve been waiting for this moment, like you know exactly what the fuck you’re doing, and he’s just trying not to fucking implode.

the thing is—there’s no hesitation in you. no shyness, no slowing down to check if he’s handling it okay. you’re just going for it, like you knew this was going to ruin him, like you wanted to see his fucking end. your nails dig into his chest, using him as leverage as you move, your body fucking perfect, hips rolling and grinding.

“y/n you're gonna—” he can barely form a sentence, his breath coming out in ragged, desperate gasps. every time you drop down, your pussy squeezes around him, tight and hot and perfect, and it’s too fucking much. he feels like he’s teetering on the edge of something dangerous, like one more bounce and he’s done for.

“what's wrong, soonyoung?” you tease.

and fuck, he knows you're joking, knows you’re playing, but the way you say it just kills him. he lets out a strangled groan, his hips bucking up involuntarily, and you gasp as you feel the shift, your body jerking forward, hands gripping his shoulders for balance.

“ah!—” you bite your lip, eyes fluttering closed for a second, and the sound you make—that surprised moan—goes straight to his fucking brain.

soonyoung’s hands fly to your waist, his grip tightening, trying to hold you in place, trying to slow you down, because fuck, if you keep this up, he’s not gonna last—there’s no way. but it’s like you’re on a mission to break him. you grind down on him, hard and slow, then lift yourself back up only to slam back down again, your tits bouncing in a way that’s impossible for him to look away from.

“fuck," he grits out, head falling back against the pillows, his entire body going rigid as he tries to keep it together. “y/n—fuck—i can't hold it”

but you’re not listening. you’re in your own world now, riding him like it’s second nature, like this is what you’ve been waiting for all along. and fuck, he can feel how wet you are, can hear the slick sound of your pussy every time you drop back down on his cock.

“oh my god," he groans, his voice cracking as he feels you tightening around him, “you're—fuck, you're so—”

“so what?” you ask breathlessly, your lips curling into a wicked smile as you look down at him. your hands slip up to his chest, pushing him down against the mattress, your nails dragging along his skin, and he fucking shudders beneath you.

“so fucking perfect,” he finishes, his voice strained as he watches you through half-lidded eyes. he feels like he’s on fire, like every nerve in his body is screaming at him to hold on, but you’re making it fucking impossible. you’re going to fucking kill him.

you lift yourself up again, your back arching, and for a second, soonyoung thinks he might fucking pass out from how fucking good you look. your hair falls in front of your face, sticking to your skin from sweat, and your tits bounce with every movement, the low cut of your shirt leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

he watches, completely hypnotized, as you plant your feet on the mattress again, one knee still bent, the other leg propping you up—and then you jump on him again.

he chokes out, his head jerking up from the pillows as his body goes rigid beneath you. the way you’re moving now, bouncing on his cock, your ass slamming against his hips.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, the words barely coherent as his hips buck up into you involuntarily, chasing the heat, the tightness, the fucking heaven of your body.

but you don’t slow down. if anything, you speed up, your pace becoming almost frantic as you grind down on him, hard and fast, your nails digging into his chest as you chase your own orgasm. and fuck, he’s right there with you.

“shit, soonyoung—” you gasp, your voice cracking, “feels so fucking good—”

he umbles something incoherent making you laugh, breathless and ragged, and the sound sends a jolt straight to his cock. you whisper, leaning down to kiss him hard.

the moment you tell him to come for you, it’s like his whole body loses it. soonyoung’s grip on your hips falls, eyes roll back, head slamming against the pillow.

his whole body tenses up, the heat in his stomach bursting into flames, and the orgasm hits. he feels it rush through him, all the way down to his toes, the release so intense it almost hurts. his cock twitches deep inside you, and he’s spilling into you, his body convulsing, he can’t stop moving, his hips jerking up into you as he tries to ride out the high.

you feel him coming inside you, making your walls tighten around him, squeezing him as you throw your head back, gasping, your thighs shaking as you grind down on him.

he watches you, his eyes barely open, completely mesmerized by the sight of you cumming on top of him, your mouth open, your body trembling.

your hips move slower now, grinding down on him. you collapse on top of him, your body going limp against his chest, both of you drenched in sweat.

soonyoung let out a ragged breath, his arms wrapped around your body, his fingers tracing shy patterns on your skin. it felt like a gift after the best time of his life.

[dizscreams]

Hobie x fem reader where he gets a little jealous that’s shes been hanging out with another guy and she reassures him

NO NEED TO BE JEALOUS

— Hobie Brown ★

PAIRING: Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

A/N: The Hobie brainrot is crazy

You crawled out of bed in a rush since you were already late to your hangout with Miles, accidentally waking up your boyfriend in the process. “Where you off to?” He asked groggily watching as you quickly grabbed a shirt and shimmied into your pants. “Hanging out with Miles!”

“Miles Morales?”

“Yeah, I told you this last night.”

You smirked at his muttered “Of course its Miles” but carried on getting ready like you didn’t hear it.

You put on mascara quickly and checked the time again. “What do you do when you’re with him?” He asked curiously. You looked at him as he propped his elbow on the bed and looked at you tiredly. “Not much,” you chuckled, “He’s been helping me with my drawings recently, giving me tips and all of that boring stuff.”

He nodded and opened his mouth to say something before you cut him off, “Shit I gotta go. I’ll see you later, I love you!” You kissed his head and grabbed one of Hobie’s jackets before running off. He groaned and rolled over to put his head into his pillow. He trusted you, he really did, but he didn’t know Miles too well.

He was a good kid it seemed but you had been spending a lot more time with Miles than you were with Hobie. But Hobie wasn’t jealous, of course not! He didn’t get jealous. He just wished you spent more time with your actual boyfriend than with a kid you just met.

That was it.

That night Hobie waited in your room for you to come home. You ended up coming home at 9 o’clock at night. You stepped through the portal and immediately greeted your boyfriend. “Oh hey, you’re still here?” You asked as you sat on the bed next to him. “Yeah, you were out late.” You looked at the clock and grimaced, “Were you waiting this whole time?”

Hobie nodded in reply and you kissed his cheek, “I’m sorry I kept you waiting. Miles and I were spray painting all the spider people we’re friends with and it’s super cool. You should come see it sometime!” You ranted as you got up from your position on the bed and changed into more comfy clothes, that being an oversized t-shirt of Hobies and some sweatpants.

“You spent the whole day with him?”

“Yeah,” you replied nonchalantly as you laid down on the bed, sighing as your back his the comfy mattress.

You patted the spot next to you and Hobie moved to sit upright against the headboard. “Are you okay?” You asked looking up at him. “Fine, just fine,” he responded in a way that told you he was definitely not just fine. You put a hand on his arm and moved to prop yourself up so that you were now sitting upright against the headboard as well.

“What’s wrong?”

You would be lying if you said his crossed arms and slight pout didn’t amuse you. You knew exactly what was wrong, you just wanted to mess with him a bit. This was about Miles. Everytime you mentioned his name you saw Hobie roll his eyes or you heard a small annoyed groan. It was funny to you, but you couldn’t tell him that.

“You’re spending a lot of time with this Miles fella, don’t you think?”

You hid your smile and shrugged, “Guess so. He’s just a good friend is all.”

“A good friend?” He repeated, “You’ve known him three days tops.”

“Hobie?”

“What?”

“Do you think you might be jealous of Miles?”

He made a weird face and you laughed. “It’s okay to admit it you know,” you gave him a teasing smile and put your chin on his shoulder. “You’re kinda hot when you’re jealous.”

He rolled his eyes and gently pushed your head off his shoulder, “Shut up. Ain’t jealous.” Your smile turned into a grin, “Right, is that why you can’t even look at me when you say it?” He turned his head to look at you and gave you a glare. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you aren’t jealous,” you said with a small laugh.

“You serious?”

“Extremely.”

He hated how much fun you were getting out of this but couldn’t help the small smile that formed on his lips. "M' not jealous of some 15 year old.” You hummed, “Thought you hated labels.” He shook his head and out of no where grabbed your waist and put you on his lap. He laughed at the yelp you let out and you hit his shoulder. “You could’ve given me a warning!”

“You didn’t deserve it.”

You scoffed, “You are unbelievable, Hobie.”

“What? You don’t like me teasing you, after all you’ve said to me?” You stayed silent with a pout on your lips and he kissed your forehead, “Cmon now, ’s just fun and games, love.” “Jus fun and games, love.” You mimicked with your familiar smile returning back to your face. You laughed at his reaction before leaning in to rest your head on his shoulder and put your arms around him.

“Back to the main point, you are jealous.”

He let out a breath and nodded, “Suppose so.”

“Ha! I knew it!”

“Ay! Just a bit. Lets not forget that you were jealous of Gwen one time.”

“Okay, shut up.”

He laughed and you smiled, “I just want you to know you’re the only guy I want. You’re cooler than Miles, but don’t tell him I said that,” you warned as you observed the dumb smirk on his face. “I wont.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He put his arms around your torso and you both stayed like that until you fell asleep.

Maybe he was stupid to be jealous of Miles but the outcome was completely worth it.

[mis-mcgifsten]

Adorable Tooka kits need to be reblogged. Fella and Missy are canon now, in my heart.

Drew Phase 1 Fox adopting Fellony (Fella) and Misconduct (Missy) somewhere behind the Corrie Guard Barracks. Special shoutout to @iamagoddamnrailgun for the idea of naming the tookas after crimes. Join my Star Wars/ Art discord: https://discord.gg/bGRq2dCxj9

[zombvic]

VROOM (harry lewis x reader)

summary : in which y/n and harry get invited to go to the silverstone formula one grand prix (2023)

face claim : no one exact

notes : im an absolute noob at writing fics so please excuse the quality lmao. im petrified of posting on here but ive been thinking about starting a blog for over a year. im open to feedback, opinions and any sort of questions/advice is welcome! i happen to waffle a lot so just skip those parts if uninterested. this is my first post so enjoy 😝 also pls request because i have the creativity of a koala so id appreciate some ideas :D

pairings : harry lewis x reader , lando norris x platonic!reader

"WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?! Are you actually serious?" You asked your boyfriend in genuine shock, followed by a laugh from the man dressed in head to toe in Ferrari merch. The red and yellow colors clashed hilariously with the sleek, orange McLaren paddock pass hanging around his neck.

"What? I thought I'd support the winning team." He shrugged, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. You and Harry got invited by the Mclaren F1 team to watch the Silverstone Grand Prix from the paddock. As a Formula 1 fan youself, you were excited to see the cars upclose. To watch the mechanics to the pitstops, engineers do their things (idk what they do lmao) and to watch Max Verstappen overlap the whole grid like seven times. Even since you were a little kid you were amazed by those cars driving freakishly quickly. Now, several years later you get to experience it right infront of your eyes.

"Look, there's Lando!" Harry pointed out, spotting your friend talking to a group of mechanics. You approached Lando, who broke into a wide grin as he saw you. "Hey! There are my favorite YouTubers!"

You beamed. "Lando! It's so good to see you. How's it going?"

"It's been wild but amazing," Lando replied, glancing at Harry. "And I see you've managed to get Harry in the right gear this time."

Harry laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I had a little help with that."

Lando gave you two a playful nudge. "So, who are you rooting for today? Besides me, of course."

You laughed. "Well, McLaren, obviously. But I'm also excited to see how the Brits perform. It's going to be an interesting race."

"That's the spirit," Lando said, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "Alright, I better get back to my team, but I'll see you guys later? Enjoy the race!"

You and Harry found a spot in the back of Landos garage, it had a view on the screens but also the pit-stop. The whole race went by fast. The moment the lights went out Lando tried his hardest with a deserved P2 at his home race.

Liked by mclaren, f1 & 1,002,485 others.

yourusename mom, i got invited to the silverstone grand prix.. still lowkey in disbelief like wtf.. me?? anyways, tysm mclaren 🩷 enjoy my lovely film camera dump raaaah.

View all 2,547 comments.

user harry looking fine as always😍

user y/n and lando finest friends

wroetoshaw whos the first fella hes fit

- yourusername he has a girlfriend..

user i can imagine y/n just walking around taking pictures of everything and everyone 😭😭😭

user i almost melted when they came on the screen

- user me too 😭 forgot i was watching f1 for a second

wroetoshaw i still think i shouldve worn my ferrari outfit #hater

- yourusername youd be sticking out like a sore thumb youre lucky i stopped you #loser #youalmostworepajamapants

user y/n looked so good there 😍

user i LIVE for y/n and landos friendship

faithlouisak i cant believe you chose him over me..

- yourusername im sorry bae.. next time im taking u

faithlouisak finest woman out there

calfreezy wtf fake friends.. theburntchip are you seeing what im seeing ???

- theburntchip bunch of fakies😔

holy what a yap fest lmfao please someone REQUEST something 😭 cause this is too plain.. !

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: Tangerine wants to teach you some important self-defense skills.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: mentions of violence and bruises, self-defense and mentions of an attacker, banter, swearing, reader has hair long enough to tie in a pony-tail

~ also inspired by @little-miss-dilf-lover's thoughts on this ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

"Remind me why we're doing this again?" you huff, pushing some stray strands of hair away from your eyes and tucking them behind your ears.

You glance up at your annoyingly insistent boyfriend from where you're sprawled on the training mat, one of your legs extended in front of you as you examine it for any bruising.

Tangerine stands over you, his arms crossed, and his frown deepens. "Because this is important to know, my luv," he sighs and holds out his hand to you.

Reluctantly, you accept and he pulls you up. Without a word, he tightens your ponytail and then runs his hand down your cheek. His tone is stern when he says, "Now, will you quit your complaining and try again?"

Knowing there is no use in arguing with him when he's like this, you turn around. Your skin feels clammy from the hours spent in this basement and you desperately need a shower.

Tangerine's arm suddenly comes around your throat this time, his other wrapped around your waist.

You gasp, focusing on not being flustered by his proximity as he presses his lips to your cheek. "Go on," he invites hoarsely and tightens his grip, "show me what ya learned."

His tone betrays his smirk as you struggle against him. His hold tightens and his frustration rises.

"Ya aren't even tryin', for fuck's sake!"

"I am," you say, your voice small as your nails dig into his arms.

Tangerine's grip tightens even more. "C'mon, use my strength against me. Just like I showed you earlier."

"I'm trying!" you exclaim more desperately and push against him.

"Try harder!" he grunts, and then his voice becomes low and serious again, "'Cause I'm bein' gentle—any other fuckin' bastard wouldn't, ya hear me?"

"I hate you," you hiss, only half-meaning it.

"Cheers," Tangerine snorts a chuckle and then, with a push, he sends you tumbling to the mat again.

You groan, rolling and hitting the ground with your head against the mat. You're staring at him with an annoyed expression. "You're definitely sleeping on the couch tonight, you dick."

Tangerine crouches next to you, looking you over, and once he sees you're completely unharmed, he takes your chin in his hand as you sit up and looks you dead in the eye. "I'd much rather ya bruise now than be helpless in a dangerous situation, luv. Why can't ya just listen to me? I just wanna protect you," his voice turns much softer.

You sigh, looking at him with a pouty expression. "I'm tired."

Tangerine rolls his eyes but swipes his thumb over your lip in an affectionate gesture. He smiles as he says, "We continue until you knock me down, luv. Just once, alright?"

You know he is being completely serious, so you nod, and he helps you stand again. Tangerine positions you like last time, his arm around you again, and he begins to tell you a scenario.

"Imagine I'm some fucker—"

"Don't have to imagine, honey," you interrupt with a laugh, finding your comment hilarious.

"Pay attention," he growls, "Imagine I'm some dangerous fella, no weapons, but I'm much stronger than you. I have ya like this, and no one is around. What do ya do?"

"Panic?"

"Dalrin', don't fuck with me."

Annoyed, you blow some hair away from your face and think for a moment. When an idea hits you, you smirk.

With as much momentum as you can manage, you suddenly knock your head back and smack Tangerine in the chin. He groans and loosens his arms from around you, but he doesn't back away completely.

You'd anticipated this, so you bend forward and hold his ankle, using his surprise to your advantage as you pull—hard. His legs fall in between yours and you hear a grunt—and then a loud thud.

He's fallen over.

You spin around, and with excitement, you jump onto him, earning another groan as you straddle his hips and pin down his wrists next to his head.

"Ha, I did it," you grin, breathing heavily as you stare into his eyes. Tangerine looks as breathless as you, his blue eyes widened in shock.

He looks you over. He hadn't even taught you that one yet. He cracks a real smile, the one that accentuates the smile lines one his face.

"One correction, baby—please don't straddle your attacker after, okay?"

You grin happily, sitting up and running your hand through his hair. You lean down, kissing his lips hastily, "Mmm, I just can't help myself if they're as sexy as you," you wink dramatically.

Tangerine laughs. He tickles your side and then pushes you off of him, earning him a squeal. "Whatever," he sits up and smoothes his hair, "A deal's a deal, my darlin'. We're done for today."

You sit up, and your eyes widen. "For today? You're shitting me, right?"

Tangerine nods and stands up, dusting his sweatpants and stretching his arms. "Ya didn't think one day would reassure me, did ya?" he shakes his head with a smirk and tuts, "I'm training ya until every move is muscle memory. Now, c'mon, let me check your bruises in the bathroom."

You groan and flop back onto your back. "You're definitely sleeping on the couch," you whine and cover your face with your arm.

"Hurry up, poppet!"

Your boyfriend calls from the doorway, a towel now draped across his shoulders nonchalantly, and when you flip him off that only earns you a fond look from him.

[sodapopboy]

no because literally?

Dallas winston fans need to learn how to be happy because why is every single fanfic/blurb request like “you just got jumped by the socs and as you’re bleeding out you come to buck’s to visit your boyfriend dally only to walk in on him cheating on you with 3 different girls, when you confront him he laughs in your face”

and then it’s like “here’s your request, hope you enjoy!!!”😭😭😭😭😭

[fxllfaiiry]

all I imagine in my little mousy mind the flustered effort of reader pleading for dear life after being lifted over Miguel's big ol' shoulder like a small bag of potatoes and how this fella is having a dandy time watching em squirm

✶ cw: fluff, slightly suggestive nothing too bad, wife!reader.

✶ notes: this is so funny, I love it omg. this was written while I was half asleep so don't mind any errors. also I love wife!reader sm its just so ughh

"Let me go!" You exclaim, hitting Miguel's thigh.

"Not until you behave" He says, slapping your ass.

"Stop that! I am behaving" You try to free yourself from his strong grasp but it's no use, hanging upside down from Miguel's shoulder is not how you saw your day going.

"Are you though?" Damn. Sometimes you really hated your husband.

"I'm your wife, you don't get to treat me like this" You pout. You slap his ass in frustration hoping it'll have some effect.

"Did you just... Slap my... Butt?"

Silence. "No."

"Oh, we're lying now, huh?"

"Not my fault you have a spankable ass." He couldn't help but snort at that comment.

Honestly, Miguel was having the time of his life watching you struggle, it was honestly kind of... cute.

"Try all you want, cariño, I'm not letting you down that easily" He was trying his hardest to not burst out laughing.

"Are you enjoying my pain, Miguel?" First name usage, wow he's screwed.

“Mi reina-"

"Don't Mi reina, me! You are in serious trouble once I'm down, Mister."

"Well, in that case, you're staying like this for a bit longer." He replies, slapping your ass once again.

"MIGUEL!"

[sehtoast]

Forget Me Not (Homelander x Reader)

1.4k words | gender neutral reader

Ask Prompt: HL x gn reader. Where hl loses his memory and runs away to another state where he meets the reader 🙏

You were totally prepared to swing first and ask questions later. Of course, that was before you saw him. Standing there drinking from your milk carton at three in the morning, fridge light illuminating him against the darkness of your kitchen, was The Homelander himself

You hide the baseball bat before he turns to you, a droplet of milk dribbling down his chin. 

“You should really invest in whole milk,” he says, sloshing what little was left inside the carton. “Tastes way better.”

You could hardly believe the night had been real when you woke up the next morning.  But, sure enough, he was still there.

“So, how did I end up with The Homelander of all people in my house,” you’d asked nervously. Reality had finally set in and you both sat at the table to talk.

He looked at you like you had seven heads.

“What’s a ‘Homelander?’”

Yeah… That really did happen. If not for the fact he looked entirely serious with such a genuine curiosity in his tone, you’d have thought he was bullshitting you.

Somehow, some way, he’d lost his memory.  Ran away from wherever he was, showed up at your house out of all possible others.  He said it seemed more inviting, but he couldn’t quite explain why.  

You’d tried to explain to him how to find his way back to New York, how to find Vought Tower so that he could go home and get some help, but he seemed too afraid to leave.

“What if I get lost?”  He’d asked, eyes twinkling with nervous energy.  “You said it’s north-east, but aren't there a lot of things north-east? What if I get the wrong place?”

You don’t know what possessed you, but you decided to let him stay.  Let him borrow some spare clothes that made him look much less… well, like a superhero.  You’re sure Vought would come looking for him eventually, so you might as well keep him safe and sound, right?

After helping him out of that suit, you can’t help but wonder if all super suits are total death traps.  If most heroes are padded up to look larger than life, but are really just plain as can be underneath.

Before he falls asleep in your spare room, he tells you the one thing he can remember.

“My name’s John…”

The next day, he follows you around everywhere.  You work remotely from home, and he sits next to you on the couch while you do.  The TV plays in the background while you cycle through tasks and emails, but his attention seems fixed on you entirely.  The clickety-clack of your keyboard fascinates him and he ends up curious as to how you type so fast, what you’re doing, what your code inputs mean.

He’s an interesting fella, curious by nature to the point he’s a total snoop.  You catch him in your bedroom on the third day, fingers trailing over your blankets as his gaze pans around the whole room.  It seems innocent enough, and he’s given you no reason to feel he’s out to hurt you.

When you ask him what he’s up to, he just shrugs, saying something… interesting.

“I wish I would've had a nice room when I was little…”

It conflicts with what you know to be true about him, but also makes you wonder if he’s starting to remember things.  You ask him to elaborate, but he can’t.  He presses his palm to his forehead as if he’s in pain and just shakes his head.  

“I don’t know. I just know I didn’t…”  He trails off, and you’re there to press a soothing touch to his shoulder.

You tell him not to worry too much.

You take him out grocery shopping one day.  He’s like a fish out of water.

He doesn’t know the first thing about navigating a store and doesn’t do much more than follow you like a lost puppy.  Hell, at the end, he doesn’t even know how to help the cashier with bagging.

He is, however, incredibly helpful when it comes to bringing everything in.  He is quite literally the one trip wonder, dangling every single bag from his arms and walking in as though they weigh nothing.

You could get used to that.

You cook a proper dinner that night and he helps.  Well, ‘help’ is a strong word.  More like he watches and hands you the occasional ingredient.

You’re fascinated by him.  He seems oblivious to normal living skills, but a part of him seems to genuinely want to learn them.  More than that, he seems so… peaceful.  You recall his recent erratic behaviors in the public eye, his meltdown on his birthday, his snippiness with interviewers…

But he seems so much less tense now.  Maybe it was the memory loss.  Maybe he just likes the quiet.  Who knows?

What you do know is, by the second week, you hope he never leaves.  You’re almost praying that his memory never returns despite knowing that's selfish.

It’s nice to share your space with someone.  It’s nice to have him around.

He’s sweet despite his dramatics.  Helpful and eager.  He’s company, and it’s been… a very long time since you’ve felt like you weren’t alone.  You didn’t quite live in bumfuck nowhere, but it was close enough that he was a blessing.

Your heart sinks on the day he comes downstairs wearing his suit.

He looks at you with those big blue eyes, but within them is a sadness. 

There is recognition floating around in there, swirling with that determined fire that you’ve seen on so many screens before. Yet he still looks so melancholy.

You offer him his morning coffee, a shared routine between you both for the past two months, and he sips at it quietly.

He used to hate it, but now..?

“Are you going back?” You ask after some time, not daring to meet his eyes.

Your heart sinks when he tells you he is.

“I’ll miss you…”

He struggles to reciprocate the words properly, but… he leaves you with a tight hug before his departure.

You don’t know why you cry so hard when he goes.  No, no…

That’s a lie.  You do know.

You miss him terribly.  

You miss him for days, for weeks.  

You watch the celebrations for his return.  You touch the screen of your laptop, wishing he was still at your side, still peering over your shoulder, still riding alongside you in your car.

But he isn’t.

And you don’t think he ever will be again.

You learn to breathe again after some time.  You feel good enough to crawl out of bed, collected enough to clean up the house a little.  You fall into your hobbies again, but nothing feels right.

It’s all just… dull.

And you hate that you know why.

You hate that you pray every night to hear your fridge door shutting, to hear the clinking of glass in your cabinets, to hear him step on that creaky floorboard on the steps.

But you don’t.

You don’t hear any of it.

Eventually you just stop listening.

Which means you don’t hear what slips through your window.  There are no footsteps, no creaks or cracks.  You don’t hear his nervous breaths.

You only feel when he lowers himself onto the other side of your bed.  You about jump out of your skin, ready to reach for the bat by your nightstand until you realize just who has come to see you.

You throw yourself at him entirely, hugging him tight, arms and legs wrapping around him to squeeze and squeeze and never let go.  He holds you close, nuzzling into your neck.

He tells you how much he’s missed you.  That he misses the quiet of your life together, that it was the nicest thing to happen to him in… well, his whole life, really.  He thanks you for taking care of him, tells you he wants to do the same for you.

Over the next few days, you have a visitor every night.

Within a few weeks, he kisses you for the first time.

After six months, you are a resident of Vought Tower, living with him in his penthouse.

He is different in this environment.  More demanding, more intense, but not to you. 

No.

When he comes back, when he comes home, he falls into your arms much like you did the night he came back to you.  He leaves his burdens at the door, safe and sound with you.

The peace didn’t necessarily come from losing his memory. It didn’t come from the solitude of your old home, nor the routine of domesticity.

It came from you.

He found his peace with you.

[weirdmorefics]

bridgerton sister ran away just before the beginning of her season and discovered by Colin in St Petersburg under a fake identity and bought back home

The Familiar Barmaid

x bridgerton!sister

Pronouns- She/her

Warning- Mother issues

Word Count- 933

Summary- The reader wants to be an author, but unfortunately, she has a season to get back to.

Y/n Bridgerton had never dreamed of being married like her other sisters (Eloise excluded). Y/n loved reading, she imagined her own stories and stashed her written stories under her bed. She craved to be an author like the ones who made the books she admired. Her mother however had other plans for her since day one; come out, become the diamond of the season, and be courted by a handsome gentleman I loved who hopefully had an amazing title. I never craved that life I much preferred to live in the fantasy worlds I created in my head. This leads us to my escape from the Bridgerton household the night before my season.

I had packed the most important things to me; my writings, my favorite books, and the leftover money I had been saving from my gown fittings. I quietly took my horse out of the stable at night and rode the horse to a place no one would know Y/n Bridgerton.

I rode my horse for as far as she could go taking breaks in dingy inns that my Mother wouldn't dare to step foot in. By the time I was in St Petersburg, I was already short on funds. It was a better place to settle than most it had gorgeous views and so many new things to write about. As luck would have it the bar in town was looking for a barmaid. Unfortunately, the bar owner could tell very easily that I had no experience. Shockingly he gave me a chance! He said I reminded him of his daughter who recently married so her room above the bar was also available. It felt like fate like I had been sucked into my very own fantasy book.

I spent my days writing in the nearby park and the nights dealing with town drunks. Honestly, they weren't too bad just demanding their drinks. I learned quickly and I became their favorite barmaid only because I made the drinks the fastest but it still made me feel accomplished. It was a bittersweet feeling to have the town drunks appreciate me more than my mother but at least I was appreciated.

I felt true relief once the season was over no longer worried they would find me and make me a last-minute entry. The bar was just closing and I was washing the grimy tables when the chime of the door startled me. The man was bundled his scarf nearly covering his whole face.

I turned to him and frowned politely "I am so sorry sir we are just closing."

The man gasps once he hears me speak "Y/N?"

I quickly back up accidentally sending a chair to the ground with a loud thud, "I think you have the wrong woman sir."

My boss exits the backroom at the commotion, "This fella bothering you Rose?"

"Are you serious Y/n? Rose? Be a little more original," the man unwraps his scarf and my fists immediately tighten.

"Colin, what are you doing here?" I practically growl.

"You know this man Rose? Seems a little too uptight for you, but I am not here to judge your taste in suitors." My boss chuckles finding his comment hilarious.

Colin gags, "That is my little sister I'll have you know! And I am bringing you right home Mother has been worried sick about you!"

I roll my eyes "She probably did not even know about my absence until Lady Whistledown announced it. How did she cover it up? Am I in the States visiting my cousins?"Colin's face turns beat red which tells me I am right.

Colin tries to change the subject, "Your sisters miss you dearly, Daphne was devasted you were not there for her wedding."

I gasped, "Daphne is already married! The season just ended!"

Colin rubbed his arm, "There were a lot of issues with this season Y/n… honestly we all could have used some of that Y/n wisdom. I especially could have used some of that wisdom." He mumbled the last part seeming very embarrassed to admit it.

"Oh, Colin… I am so sorry. I miss my siblings all dearly but I am not meant for the home carer life. I am meant to be out there writing about anything I can get my hands on." I gesture to the world around me.

"That is one good thing about your departure, no one thinks you are Lady WhistleDown anymore," He smirks.

"Oh what a pity I did like causing fear and scaring the men off with the promise to write about them," I smile.

Colin sighs, "I will make you a deal Y/n, travel with me during my studies. You can explore the world that way, but you must write to Mother and the rest of your siblings and let them know you are safe."

"You know she or Anthony will just drag me back home," I frown.

"Not with me by your side, I am sure I can convince Anthony and she can convince Mama." He smiles as the plan begins to form in his head.

I smiley widely, "You have yourself a deal Colin Bridgerton."

He smiles back as my boss lets out a few stray tears, "You truly are just like my daughter, just as stubborn and hot-headed. Be sure to visit your welcome back anytime."

I gave him a side hug, "Oh boss you big old softie."

Colin laughs, "Y/n you are truly something."

"Why thank you," I take a bow. "Shall we take our leave?"

"We shall," Colin smiles.