#I also busted both of my knees

[deaniewithalittleweanie]

I AM GOING TO REVOKE MY GODDAMN DRIVERS LICENSE I CANT DO THIS SHIT ANYMORE

DRIVING IN ATL EVERY DAY FEELS LIKE PLAYING CHICKEN WITH GOD AND ONE DAY IM GONNA LOSE

[scoringeffects]

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[btsbs]

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[of-another-broken-heart]

Damn, that survey about jam on toast really has me wishing we had bread (and butter) because I could DESTROY like half a loaf all by myself right now.

Which of my menagerie of maladies is to blame for me craving salt and fat above all else?

I don't fucking know.

Even day-old bread costs like $4 a loaf now. And butter, that shit's like, double digits for a pound.

I don't remember the last time I could eat enough to actually feel full.

I say, while just wanting fucking. Bread.

Hit me with the peasant scraps. I will take your stale heels and I will be delighted.

[s0urw00lf]

Love is in the air

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: you unknowingly give Dean another reason to fall deeper in love with you

Warning: complete and utter fluff and sam is a girls girl.

A/N: idk if anyone has done something like this, but I really loved it and I think it’s my favorite fic I’ve written yet. Also this isn’t proofread so if you see any mistakes please let me know. I wrote this at 5 am so I probably won’t notice any mistakes. Anywho hope you enjoy!!!

Today’s hunt had been a bust after you and Dean were tasked by Sam to be the cliche “couple in love” so that the envious love witch would target you instead of some other innocent couple.

So now you and Dean were in the impala driving back to the motel that happened to be about a fourty five minute drive away from the restaurant she was targeting.

The night was silent aside from the quiet music Dean had playing in the background and the light tapping of his thumbs against the steering wheel. Dean looked incredibly good in his suit and tie, a look you wish he’d worn more often.

To Dean you looked better than any angel that could grace his presence, when you exited the bathroom with your off the shoulder black form fitting dress and high heels that made your legs look like heaven, his knees almost buckled and they would’ve hadn’t it been for Sam who was there to catch him before he could.

“Hey dean?” You asked softly, drawing his attention from the empty road to you, replying with a ‘hmm’. His green eyes were extra bright in the darkness and made you want to melt in your seat.

“Can I roll down the window?” You asked, it was an odd request on your part, because you usually don’t like the pressure the harsh wind puts on your head. Dean eyebrows rose in surprise before answering “f’course sweetheart, sure it’s not gonna make your head hurt?” he asked sincerely

You shook your head “no it won’t be for long I just… want to try something” you said, pausing in thought you hoped that the feeling would push away the sadness you felt. He nodded glancing back at the road, “okay then go for it” he said with a smile.

You clicked the button to roll down the window and felt immediately relaxed. You put your arm out of the window, closing your eyes and let the wind blow on your face and whistle past your ears.

Dean watched with love in his eyes at how relaxed you looked, he could tell that the your failure to obtain the witches attention had bothered you but decided against saying anything, but as soon as the wind hit your face its like all that sadness slipped away with the wind.

You sat like that for a minute or so before deciding that was enough, you opened your eyes looking for the button again before an idea struck you. You paused in thought ‘would that be too cliche’ you asked yourself, but ultimately you told yourself ‘who cares, do it’ so you did.

You surprised Dean when you stuck your torso out of the window, he immediately grabbed on to your thigh in case you accidentally slipped. You raised your arms as the wind that was way stronger whipped past you, the air was sticky which you’d guessed was from the rain that had fell a few hours prior but you could care less.

For the first time in a life time you felt completely and utterly free, from the worries of the things that lurk in the dark, from death, and disappointment. But the feel of dean hand on your thigh mixed with the wind whipping past you and through your hair made you want to cry of happiness.

Dean watched you from inside of the car, how beautiful you looked, in that moment he was convinced you were sent right from heaven into his arms just so he could live this moment. He saw all of your worries slip away as a carefree smile graces your face. The light from the streetlight lit you up like a pop star on stage and he was your audience.

You caught him even more by surprise when you let out a loud and cheery “woooo” and it seemed like time had slowed. If both of his hands weren’t occupied he would’ve taken a picture, but he couldn’t and he would have to rely on his memory to recall this moment for the rest of his life. He wasn’t even sure how he hadn’t crashed the car.

Your heart thumped loudly at the adrenaline that rushed through your veins and that’s when you decided to get back in the car. You seated yourself back on the seat and rolled up the window before letting out the most cheerful laugh Dean had ever heard from you and just the sound itself had his heart souring. “Holy. I see why they do that in movies” you said, looking at him with the most genuine smile he’d ever seen.

Dean couldn’t help the smile that took over his features at the happiness gleaming from your face. You were glowing and it was the most precious moment of his life. “You are gorgeous sweetheart” he said, he couldn’t help that it slipped past his lips, but the look on your face showed it didn’t have much of an effect on you. You rolled your eyes, still smiling “whatever, eyes on the road Winchester, I don’t want to be roadkill because you’re too distracted” you joked. Dean huffed out a laugh in response.

For the rest of the ride the two of you basked in the happiness that replaced the previous gloom. And when you arrived at the motel, Dean was the first one out the car, rushing to your side to open the door for you. “Such a gentleman, if I’d known you’d be this sweet I would’ve let you take me on a date sooner” you joked, but Dean didn’t take it as one. “Then let me” he said genuinely.

Your smile faltered, ‘is he messing with me?’ You thought “what” you said, it was the only thing you could get out. “Let me take you on a date. A real date not one where we have to look over our shoulders the whole time. Let me take out on a date to drink champagne and eat all those fancy meals that don’t even fill you up” Dean said almost sounding as if he was begging.

Dean grabbed your hands “y/n if you let me I will go the whole nine yards. Flowers, a gift, rent a fancy car and order valet whatever you-“ you cut dean off with a kiss to which he immediately returned. The kiss was soft and sweet, you could feel his eyelashes slightly brush against your cheek, and the way he relaxed into the kiss made you swoon.

His hands dropped yours and he placed his on your hips and you bought yours around his neck pulling him deeper into it. You only pulled away because your lungs had began to burn from the lack of oxygen. Deans eyes remained closed for a little longer, reveling in the feel of your lips against his and your body pressing against him. “Woman you drive me insane” he muttered before opening his eyes.

He was graced with the sight of you smiling up at him with your arms still around his neck. “You can take me on a date Winchester, but it doesn’t have to be anything fancy. We could go to a diner in baby and I’d be just as happy” you said softly, your nose brushing his.

It wasn’t often Dean was rendered speechless, but in that moment he was sure you were made for him and only him. “O-okay” he stuttered. You giggled in amusement “have I rendered you speechless?” You teased, and deans cheeks reddened. “Maybe this will knock some words back into your head” you said before pressing your lips against his for the second time, only this time you didn’t give him enough time to recuperate.

“Hey I wasn’t done” he pouted, and you laughed loudly. Pulling away from him you closed the door to baby and began to drag him back to your shared motel room with Sam who you were sure was watching you wondering why it was taking so long for you to enter the room.

“C’mon Winchester we can talk out the details later” you said grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the stairs that led to your room.

Added bonus:

Sam had seen the blush on deans cheeks and he pure happiness in the both of your eyes. Dean quickly excused himself to the bathroom and Sam looked at you with raised brows. He’d helped you pick out that dress, telling you “Dean won’t be able to keep his eyes off of you”. You gave him the biggest smile trying to contain your excitement “it worked” you whisper yelled. A huge smile broke out on Sam’s face “I told you it would” he said.

He had been the biggest supporter of you and his brother’s possible relationship. “He asked me out Sammy” you whispered so Dean wouldn’t hear. You threw yourself on the bed like a teenager from one of those romance sitcoms you claimed to not like, but before Sam could ask for more details the bathroom door opened revealing a slightly less blushy Dean.

He eyes you two skeptically “what are you two whispering about” he asked. “Just figuring out how we’ll get the witch now” you quickly lied. If Dean suspected you were lying he didn’t show, because he immediately turned his back to you and Sam trying to get his tie off. You sent Sam a quick and subtle wink that meant ‘I’ll tell you later’ and he nodded trying to hide his smile

[gojoest]

MDNI, f! reader, fingering, thigh fucking, creampie, satoru calls you pretty + my darling + my love, he cums so easily, wc: 1.1k, not proofread as always, bit messy too (i am so sleep deprived)

the fresh, tangy scent of coffee wafted through the air, momentarily distracting your senses from the smell of sex lingering on you from last night’s activities as you watched the coffee machine fill your mug. elbows resting on the counter as you waited for your drink, and a few seconds in—your nose adapted, you could once again distinguish the musk soaked into your skin.

you smelled like satoru — his cum, his sweat — lots of it in fact; but also like yourself. both of you combined and oiled all over your body, especially on your inner thighs.

you had noticed, in fact as soon as you got up and made your way to the kitchen — layers of his now dried load parched and glued onto the plush between your legs, reminding you of how many times he came inside you last night, ineluctably feeling its still somewhat sticky texture as your legs brushed against each other with every step.

a soft smile cracked your lips at the sound of footsteps approaching from behind you. it was time, you thought, he was coming to you.

satoru could never stay in bed too long without you. no matter what kind of deep slumber he were to be in, he’d always wake up shortly after were you to sneak out. i become restless when you’re not in my arms, he would say.

“morning”, you smiled but didn’t turn around. “coffee?”

“morning, pretty”. he stopped right behind you. you figured he was naked — the tip of his cock, hard and rigidly up already, was poking at the small of your back.

a hand slid under the oversized shirt you had quickly tossed on yourself, palming the bare cheeks of your ass — “i want some of that, definitely” — grabbing a handful and squeezing it inside his massive hand.

a hum dragged out of you, body jolting and back arching from the way the squishing caused one of his fingers to graze against your cunt, the tip of it almost prodding at your entrance. “i’m so hard, i can bust any moment”, his voice still low and loaded with sleep. there was something so undeniably sexy about the way he spoke to you in the mornings. drowsy, husky and lower than usual. “but i want it to be in you”

he rested his chin on your shoulder from behind, snaking his other arm around your waist to hold you still while the one between your legs worked the arousal out of you carefully. two digits rubbing against your folds, wiping the insides of your lips with the tips. you could feel a huge portion of your slick gathering at your entrance, threatening to blob on the floor any moment. but his hungry hand went for it first — he used his entire palm to wipe it off and then held it tightly pressed against your cunt for a few moments.

“s-shit”, you hissed, head falling down.

lifting the hem of your shirt you watched as his fingers peeked from in front. it was such an obscene view — your entire pussy inside his massive palm.

“can’t have you making a mess here, my darling. it’s the kitchen after all — it’s where we eat”, he pulled his hand away only to smear your slick all over his cock with a few slow strokes.

“says the man who’s fucked me on every possible surface in this very kitchen”

“almost every surface — i didn’t fuck you by the coffee machine, you see”, the smug in his voice was evident, “gotta fix that now. you just stay still and pretty the way you are”

bending his knees he lowered himself just enough to sneak his cock between the gap of your legs and brought your thighs together with his hands forcing them to clench around him. you smiled after realizing what he was up to. “can you cum from this?”, you looked at him over your shoulder.

“i can cum just by being next to you, my darling”, he breathed out a moan at the friction around his throbbing cock, pushing himself forward and effortlessly sliding across your sopping cunt all thanks to the little prep sesh from before.

“oh, f-fuck—“, satoru quivered when you took his tip poking out from in front and pressed it against your clit. “—fuck”, squeezing your thighs, bringing them more together, he settled into a rhythm of slowly drawing his hips back and forth into the slippery crevasse between your legs. “keep holding it like that… please, my love—it makes your lips kiss my cock”, he groaned through yet another slow thrust forward. the squelching noises, too, they were fucking with his brain. the vast ocean of you was right before him, yet he was only dipping his feet. regardless, it felt so fucking good.

“of course, baby”, you breathed, holding his cock flat against yourself from the underside — helping the upper side grind harder against your pussy, rubbing it on your clit each time he pushed himself forward. you couldn’t help but bite your lip as you watched his cock go in and out of the gap of your thighs swiftly.

“nghh..”, satoru moaned, his breathing now shallow as he felt the tingles at the base of his shaft. the tension rising in his groin rapidly, he wasn’t sure if he could endure a few more strokes without busting his balls out. “i’m sorry, love… don’t think i can hold it back…”, sweat dripping down his face and onto the back of your shoulder, he was desperately trying to keep his load under control as part of him was guilty that he was about to finish first.

“shh”, you hushed, rocking your hips against him to match his pace, to help him out. “you can cum, baby — do it for me”

your words were almost the end of him, but he managed to stop himself and paused his ministrations. pulling back from you slightly to spread his legs a bit more and grab a hold of his throbbing cock to guide it into your entrance and slowly slide it in.

“fuck” — he wasn’t even halfway in when all the tension in his balls suddenly released. he let out a loud groan, body slightly spasming as he shot a hot glob of his cum inside you…

extra:

“see — when i cum there is no mess”, his hands circled around your waist from behind (cock still inside you)

“that’s because you unload inside me. besides you haven’t pulled out yet”, you snorted, placing your hands over his.

“i’m not pulling out, yet”, his lips kissed the top of your head. “but i will ask of you to walk with me to the table”

“hmm, and why would i do that?”

“i am going to eat you there, for breakfast”

[starmocha]

to: my true love [Sylus/Reader ★ 1680 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Sylus receives a special surprise in his study. A/N: The Sagittarius in me told me to do something impulsive again, and I lowkey already regret it lol So…a mini series of twelve days of Christmas/winter-themed standalone ficlets with all four LIs (3 mini stories for each; no Caleb, sorry, I want to wait until I’m more familiar with his character before I write him). This lowkey may be me trying to find joy in Christmas again lol ヾ(✿˶◡‿◡)ゞ Tag list: @miudle @alfredosaws @nezukoo-channn @voidsylus @rose-tinted-kalopsia 【 request to be added 】

You were going to kill Luke and Kieran, you decided decisively, as you stood outside Sylus’ study, your hand wrapped around the doorknob, trembling uncontrollably and filled with anxiety worse than any other instances in your life.

A bet was a bet.

And you lost.

Tremendously.

They must have cheated, you thought, positive that those no-good tricksters definitely rigged the card game. Of course, you knew you were also a complete dumbass for ever having faith that residents of the N109 Zone would ever play fair in anything.

You were still going to kill them.

Knock-knock.

Your fragile heart practically burst out of your chest when you heard the knocking. Immediately, your head whipped up, completely mortified to see Luke looming over you and cheerfully rapping against the door with the back of his hand while you were silently fuming just seconds ago. Even though he was wearing his mask, you were positive he was sporting the most nefarious smirk ever.

“Come in,” Sylus’ calm, deep voice called out.

You gasped, feeling a hand over yours. You looked to your other side just as Kieran ‘helped’ you opened the door, and before you knew it, both twins gleefully shoved you into Sylus’ study before slamming the door shut. You stumbled forward, barely catching your balance before you realized what had happened.

“Who is it—”

Sylus looked up and paused. His expression didn’t appear to change, staying neutral just as always, but perhaps someone with a keener eyesight would notice the gleam of intrigue in his scarlet eyes the moment he had laid his sight on you.

You kept your eyes lowered as you stood in Sylus’ study, dressed in a bright red sleeveless Christmas dress with white fur trimming that lined around the bottom of the skirt and over your bust. Around your middle was a thick black belt and atop your head was a matching Santa Claus hat, its end dangling over your downcast face. You stared down at the black knee-high boots you wore, feeling completely mortified. You could practically feel your soul leaving your body as you felt Sylus’ intense stare on you.

“J-Jinglegram,” you greeted meekly.

You flinched when you heard Sylus’ amused chuckles.

“I-I see,” he responded, a hint of bafflement heard in his tone, but overall, he seemed delighted.

You, on the other hand, wanted to die. Preferably instantly.

Sylus cleared his throat, his voice sounding extra cordial than normal. “So…what is a ‘jinglegram’?”

You whimpered pathetically, nearly glowering when you could have sworn you heard the bastard twins snickering outside the room. Clearing your throat, you started to sing very stiffy: “On…the first day of…Christmas…my true love gave to me…”

You peeked up and you felt your face had instantly turned crimson. Sylus was leaning against the armrest of his chair, his fist held over his mouth as if he was stifling his laughter, but his eyes betrayed his amusement. They were practically sparkling with delight.

“…a partridge in a pear tree…” you finished glumly.

He clapped, seemingly encouraging you to continue. You felt a horrendous knot in your stomach, but you soldiered on.

“On the second day of Christmas…my true love—”

You fumbled, catching Sylus’ eyes brightening even more as you sang this one particular verse.

“…gave to me, two turtle doves,” Sylus helped you with his unique singing voice.

“…And a partridge in a pear tree,” you both finished together in a cacophony of mismatched notes and melody.

You winced, unsure if it was because of how mortified you were, or of how the lack of harmony between the two of you could easily be used as a form of torture. Not caring to find out, you quickly whirled around, intending on bolting right out of Sylus’ study and seeking a hole you could throw yourself into and just die in peace.

But Sylus had other plans.

“Not so fast, Miss Hunter.”

Dark red and black misty tendrils coiled around your waist and lifted you into the air with ease. You squeaked in shock as you were carried across the room and before you knew it, you landed with an undignified “oof” in Sylus’ lap.

Your hat fell, covering your eyes, but before you could react, Sylus had already helped you readjusted it. You looked up timidly, seeing his face full of joy. The way he was laughing and smiling almost reminded you of the night he and you had set free that little white dove he had cared for.

“So cute,” he murmured, almost as if he was speaking to himself, and you blushed. His thumb glided over your shiny red-glossed plump lips, admiring the way they trembled, almost as if they were beckoning him to steal a kiss or two, but he restrained himself. He continued in his soft, steady tone, “What have I done to receive this charming…‘jinglegram’?”

“Um…nothing…” you mumbled, feeling the heat spreading from your cheeks to the rest of your body. You squirmed a little, but Sylus held you firmly in place, not allowing you to leave his lap for even an inch. You looked down, seeing how one of his hands was absently caressing your thigh. You continued miserably, “…I lost a bet.”

“A bet?”

“To Luke and Kieran.”

“Ah.” Everything seemed to click into place, and Sylus leaned forward, burying his face into your hair as he laughed. “Perhaps I should give those two a Christmas bonus…”

You frowned. Pulling away, you turned to look at him, your faces just mere inches apart. “Do criminal organizations do Christmas bonuses?”

Sylus shook his head. “Of course not, sweetie,” he answered, “But…I think this warrant some sort of…rewards for them.”

“Rewards? For humiliating me?” you demanded, irate.

You gasped as Sylus lifted your chin lightly and kissed you deeply, his earlier self-control forgotten. He chuckled when you unconsciously gave in, returning his kiss with equal passion. He parted, but he pecked another kiss to your cheek. “Are you humiliated? But you look absolutely adorable in this outfit.”

Your face felt hotter. “You’re enjoying this way too much,” you griped.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed in agreement, unashamed. “Now…isn’t…‘Mrs. Claus’ here missing a ‘Mr. Claus’?”

Your stomach lurched at the implications in his teasing words. You covered your face with both hands. “No…no…no…we are not doing this!”

You felt the hat on your head yanked off. You looked up and saw Sylus had donned the hat he had just swiped from you. Plastered across his stupidly handsome face was the most insufferable smirk ever. He was completely enthralled by this entire ludicrous situation. You were definitely going to kill Luke and Kieran.

“Now if I recall,” he began, his tone light and playful, “the song is far from over. We still have quite a few verses to get through, don’t we, sweetie?”

You gaped, not quite registering his words just now.

He…looked really good with this hat on his head. Very cute. Very, very cute.

Maybe with a matching bright red coat that would be fitted to his deliciously toned body, and a pair of pants that would highlight his juicy ass, he could pull off that look. Would...would Sylus be willing to have a bit of a stubble, you wondered, already imagining him with one, and his face nuzzling against you, feeling the prickly hair against your smooth, soft skin, and oh shit—

You were doing a horrendous job of hiding your feelings today, because Sylus immediately noticed your reaction, his teasing growing increasingly merciless.

“Now, sweetie, have you been a… ‘good girl’ this year?”

You flustered. “What are you—”

“Since you’re already sitting on my lap,” he said suggestively, “don’t you want to tell… ‘Santa’ what you want for this year?”

“You are such a prick.”

Sylus laughed. “Naughty, naughty,” he chided, giving your thigh a light smack and making you yelped in surprise.

“We are not doing this, Sylus!” you protested, face redder than your dress.

He shrugged and leaned back in his seat with a defeated sigh. “Very well,” he conceded, a hint of disappointment heard in his tone. He smiled at you half-heartedly before speaking, “You really are a good girl, aren’t you, Miss Hunter?”

You knew he had meant it genuinely this time, but you couldn’t help but felt something when he had called you a ‘good girl’. This was getting out of hand. Was this what those no-good twins wanted to happen? For you to be down bad for their boss. What on earth was their endgame—

Sylus was humming the earlier Christmas song again, the sound cutting your raving thoughts to a grinding halt. He smiled at you pleasantly, apparently unaware of your inner turmoil.

“On the third day of Christmas,” he ‘sang,’ his jovial tone hinting for you to join him. There was a noticeable pause, and Sylus gave you a gentle nod, silently encouraging you to pick up where he had left off.

You smiled helplessly, his genuine happiness spreading to you. “…my true love gave to me,” you continued.

“Three French hens / Two turtle doves,” you both sang together, half-laughing, before finishing strongly, “And a partridge in a pear tree!”

You slumped against him, giggling and forgetting your earlier embarrassment. Sylus’ arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to his body, the familiar, comforting warmth calming you instantly. You gazed up at him, an idea forming in your head.

“Sylus?”

“Hmm?” He peered down at you, his eyes meeting yours, and his smile soft and sweet.

“We should give the twins a fruitcake,” you said, smiling wickedly, elaborating, “For their ‘Christmas reward’.”

“Two fruitcakes,” he corrected you with a knowing smirk, “One for each mischievous twin.”

You leaned up and kissed him, “Ah, my ‘true love’ is correct.”

He stifled a chuckle, his face buried in your hair again, as he husked, “Then are you my Christmas present for this year?”

“I’m yours for always.”

“How cute,” he whispered, tightening his hold on you, and you stayed like that, humming the rest of the song softly as you enjoyed each other’s presence.

[chere-indolente]

La Repasseuse

Hello I'm back with a lingerie set this time ! It includes corsets, a corset cover and some drawers. Althought the painting that inspired me this time is older than usual, the cc I ended up making is fit for the 1870s, 1880s, 1890s & 1900s. More pics and download below

This set was mainly inspired by the Edgar Degas's painting : La Repasseuse (The Laundress/Ironer).

————————— Plain Corsets —————————

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In the 19th and 20th corsets were used to achieve the fashionable shape of the times, provide bust support, maintain good posture and distribute the weight of the skirt's and petticoat's yards of fabric. Althought corsets were underwear judging from the paintings I've seen (cf reference pictures below) working women would sometimes take off their bodices when it was getting too hot (ironers, laundresses as well as peasants during harvest). I've kept these plain corsets pretty simple only featuring the boning channels (where the whale bones or steel bones would go) and a bit of cording under the bust, as I've seen on most corsets of that period.

I've made 2 versions :

is meant to be worn on top of clothing (presumably underwear but you do you) and as such are compatible with my skirts and split drawers

is meant to be worn under clothing (petticoat or skirt)

32 swatches : 22 solids & 10 floral patterns

2 versions

————————— Lace Corsets —————————

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These are the same corset but with some lace at the top, a very common style but probably more expensive than the plainer ones.

These corsets too exist in 2 versions (V1 to wear over clothing and V2 to wear under).

32 swatches : 22 solids & 10 floral patterns

2 versions

——————— Embroidered Corsets ———————

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These corsets are the same as the lace ones with added embroidery.

This type of embroidery is called flossing it's decorative but also practical : the flossing reduces the corset bones’ movements to improve the comfort of the wearer. These corsets too exist in 2 versions (V1 to wear over clothing and V2 to wear under).

36 swatches : 24 solids & 10 floral patterns

2 versions

—————————   Corset Cover  —————————

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As the name implies corset cover were worn on top of corsets. Their purposes were to smooth over the corset lines (the equivalent of today's pantylines), to hide the corset's color (for it to not show under a lighter bodice), to absorb sweat so as to protect the bodice and finally especially in the edwardian era to act as padding to achieve the fashionable pigeon breast look.

That being said it seems not everyone wore corset covers from what I've seen.

Like corsets, corset cover too were sometimes used as workwear by women working in hot environnements (ironers, laundresses as well as peasants during harvest).

This corset cover includes 3 styles (pictured below) with different degrees of "laceyness". I tried my best to make it work for both 1880s and Edwardian fashion, in the end I think it's leaning more toward the later.

15 swatches : 3 styles (cf picture above) with 5 swatches of white/off white each

—————————   Split Drawers  —————————

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For most of the 19th century and even the beginning of the 20th century, women drawers were open : they were composed of 2 legs that would be buttoned or tied together at the waist and that would overlap in the crotch but could be split appart when necessary.

I've made 2 versions of these, since I've seen both :

is tighter under the knee giving that poofy "bloomer" like shape

is straight legged

10 swatches with 5 different white & off white color ways

2 versions

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Download : dropbox — simfileshare

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And once again as a bonus some of my main reference pictures :

[bunny-jpeg]

Helloooo, i fear my first order didn't go through(if it did feel free to ignore this one pls) but can i order a slice of apple pie with coffee and something on the house in verstappen's name pretty please🤭 my fav sauce is fem!dom but i understand if you're all out lol

bakery menu

feel free to submit your own order! i am accepting for more than just f1 if something tickles your fancy! i love servin' up smiles! as for this lovely request, ya'll have figured out i love a good set of rivals. something romantic and erotic about it! especially with mr. verstappen!

apple pie ("now be good and beg. thank you.") + coffee (rivals au) + on the house/vanilla cheesecake ("where are your manners?")

cw: smut/pwp, dom!reader, begging, cowgirl position, rivals au, blindfolds & bondage, dom!reader, bd/sm baby,

the clock in the hotel room ticked as you sat on the couch, your phone in your hand and your face rested on your other hand as you leaned against the arm of the couch.

you thought about giving max a heads up about how much time he had left. but you knew what would only get him more excited. and this was a punishment, not a reward.

max verstappen fucked up.

the two of you have been in a limbo between rivals and lovers since you both joined f1 around the same time. he was the golden prodigy and you were the underdog. you, max and charles made three rivals.

but charles had no interest in getting between the both of you in the little games you played. he was very happy with his own love life. plus as he once said to max over a few drinks.

"what's going to happen when you eventually fall in love? i don't think there can be two verstappens on the track at the same time."

max shrugged and looked at his half-empty glass of his g&t, "that's if she even would take my last name."

charles knew you had it bad for max and max had it bad for you. he thought if you two were not drivers you would've been married with two kids living in some european country! and he would've been genuinely happy for the two of you.

he had spent most of his karting career between the two of you and the weird "i'm going to kill you" but also "let's have sex" energy, so to let you two figure it out was less stress on him.

the situation max was began a few hours after the dutch grand prix, outside the ferrari rooms. charles just put in his earbuds and went back to what he was doing on his phone. he wasn't getting involved.

"you are a backstabbing bastard, verstappen." you snapped, arms crossed as you stared at him.

he had his arms on his hips, "backstabbing! i did nothing to you! that dnf was your fault."

"my! my fault! you fucking ran me off the track you piece of shit!"

he made a face, "then get better!"

you couldn't gone for his throat, it would've made international headlines if you just lunged at him and made a mess of that handsome face. you wondered if all those girls would still follow him around if he had a busted lip.

"you're a fucking prick, max."

he reached out and held you jaw, those blue eyes on you. but you stood your ground and put a hand on his wrist. there was a moment of stand off before he leaned in to you and whispered, "drieëndertig en vijf."

thirty-three and five.

your racing numbers. you looked at him and took his hand off your face. ah, this is what this was all about. the current champion had some pent up energy.

the last your teammate heard of the two of you was the slamming of the hotel room door.

now max was blindfolded on his knees with those strong arms tied behind his back. his posture was weakening the longer he had to kneel there.

also your bullet vibrator taped to his cock using medical tape. you were glad that you collected and held onto the weirdest shit in your make-up bag or you would've have the tape.

his liked it all. he panted heavily, you looked up from you phone and smiled at him. poor verstappen. he might have walked away with the trophy but there was no better than prize than a man on his knees.

you leaned forward a little bit. and level the camera to his face. he was blindfolded and you snapped a photo. then you cupped his face, nudging your thumb against his lips which he then opened his mouth like a good boy.

soon he was sticking his tongue out of his mouth and you pressed your thumb against it while you snapped a picture. he really was trained, but then again. you only had yourself to pat yourself on the back for that.

when you found he was a total sub, he was like putty in your hands. world champion likes when he long time racing rival tied him up and makes him drip pre-cum down his cock.

"please." he pleaded.

"please, what?"

he then gasped and came all over himself. his eyes were wide and his back hunched over as cum spurted all over his abdomen. his entire body was shaking from the after shocks.

you sighed and looked from your phone, "verstappen, where are your manners?" you also saw he was still painfully erect. you kissed your teeth and got up. the poor guy was worn out enough.

you crouched down and turned the toy off. you made a face as you saw there was cum all over it. nothing you could not clean, just a bit of an inconvenience.

"max, you with me?" you asked as you tapped the apple of his left cheek, "need to slow down? give me a sign, verstappen." it was erotic for you too. he liked when you sounded bored, disinterested in him falling apart sexually.

you tried not to get psychological with it. but, you guessed that he was used to people being disinterested in him. lazy, stupid... at least at the end of this you'll hold him. care for him.

he nodded, "i'm good, het gaat goed met me." he was panting heavily.

you quickly took the blindfold off and looked in his eyes. they looked a little hazy, but still the shining blue was still there. you then kissed him on the lips.

"you did good." you said between kisses, "you're still so hard." you chuckled a little.

"can't help it." he panted, "you drive me crazy."

you kissed the side of his face and said, "alright, let's get you on the bed. and i'll wear you out, max." when gave his cheek a small pinch. you then got the binds off of him and took him by the hand and got him onto the bed.

he laid out with his cock painfully hard. he was still covered in cum. and shuddered when you took one of the face cloths from the bathroom and wiped it off of him. you tossed it off the bed when you were done.

"i'm going to beat you next time, verstappen." you said as you started to get undressed, "then i'm really going to really overstimulate you." then splayed your hands across his exposed chest. feeling the rise and fall of it under your touch.

"i don't expect anything else." he gave a light chuckle as he felt you sink yourself on his cock. he groaned when you hit the base and he clutched onto covers under him.

he couldn't touch you unless you gave him permission. he watched you find the pace on his cock. you had your hands on his chest as you rolled your hips up and down on him.

"please." he groaned.

you chuckled, "mmm, i don't know max." you felt hot all over from this entire ordeal, "you were being mean to me earlier. and that's not acceptable."

"i'm sorry, i'll be good next time." he whined.

you rode him gently and you felt him twitch under you. he looked simply so good.

he continued his cute begging, "please. fuck, i'm so sorry. i shouldn't have been so mean." his voice cut off in a moan as he panted wildly, "you're an amazing driver. i'm.. i'm nothing."

you cupped his face, "no need for that, max. you make racing fun, going up against you is like butting heads with a titan. you're not nothing." your voice was cool. also a genuine affection was in there.

"i want to be a good boy for you."

and who could deny that?

"you always are, max. you're my good boy. the second best driver i know." you chuckled. he looked up curiously, almost hurt that he was labeled second best.

before he could ask who was the number one best, you patted his hot cheek and face, "because i'm number one." then leaned in to kiss him on the lips as you continued to rock your body against his.

the bed moved against the wall every so gently as you thrusted against max. you felt warm all over as you moved against him. he felt like a dream. you would often joke to him that it was like you two were a perfect fit.

he never denied the claim.

you pulled away from the kiss and planted both hands on either side of his head. you panted, "you're a good sub for me. i bet everyone thinks you're the big man in charge. but no, no, no. you curl against my like a good little kitten."

"i only want to make you happy." you admitted through heavy pants.

"and you'll always make me happy. not only in the bedroom, but also on the track. as much as i want to win, i want you to be successful too. you in second and i in first."

he chuckled lightly, cheeks stained pink, "that was almost romantic."

you kissed him once more and said, "don't get used to it. you're still my rival." you knew eventually you two would end up getting married, at this point the lines were so painfully blurred that another person couldn't get between you two.

in moments like this, if someone asked either of you if you were dating. the word "yes" would slip out so easily. thank god, this was as private as it got.

you continued his movement against him, and watched him ball his fists into the sheets. you felt your breathing grow heavy as you felt the thump on your heartbeat.

"you're a good boy."

"please."

"i mean it, verstappen." you kissed him once more. the kisses led down his neck and to his collarbone where he hissed. you always knew how sensitive it was. one time you tried to leave a hickey on the skin and he had to cover his mouth because his noises were a little too loud.

"thank you." the pleasure was clouding his head as he felt your sweet pussy around it. it didn't take long for him to finish, and his brain short wired for a moment.

he relaxed against the bed and panted heavily. trying to get as much air in his chest.

you leaned back and rubbed his chest as you continued to ride him which only shoved his cum deeper into you. risky games just like their racing.

"fuck, schat." he groaned.

"i got you, max. don't worry." you replied as you kept your pace up, feeling the heat in your body and buzz your brain. you rode yourself to completion and hunched over him for a moment. you could feel your heart race. you wiped the sweat off your neck. you were both done for the night.

he cursed something and tried to catch his breath.

"good boy." you said as you laid next to him, half-spooning him. you played with his hair and felt the steadiness of his heart beat.

"i'm going to beat you again." he said through the haze of post-orgasmic bliss.

you chuckled and kissed him on the forehead, "right, right. but i'll still take the championship home."

he tilted his head up and you kissed him on the lips. it'll be another

in the next room, charles was staring at the ceiling with his cheek between his teeth. he was thankful when the thumping in the next room stopped. the only problem he had now was the painful erection in his shorts.

maybe him not getting involved was making things worse.

[joeloverture]

flesh currency | j.m. x disabled!f!reader

masterlist | notifs blog | on palestine

pairing: qz!joel miller x disabled!f!reader summary: you have an arrangement with joel. pleasure as currency for your painkillers. but what happens when he tires of the same old song and dance? warnings: (18+ mdni) reader has chronic pain/uses a cane*, sexual favors for painkillers, dubcon but reader is fully comfortable even with the headspace she's in, drugs (reader takes illegal painkillers, the kind is not described), elements of both game and show joel, ableism (cr*pple), mean!joel, slight intox (reader takes 1 pill before the act but is in her right mind during), smut, degradation, underwear sniffing/musk kink, ass eating/rimming (m!receiving), instructions, humiliation, slight praise, thigh riding/leg humping, tit & ass grabbing, cumplay [no use of y/n] word count: 6.2k author's note: stimky joel. yeah. this is my grossest fic to date but it's also kind of my favorite. there's regressive language packed in here (junkie, etc) but that doesn't align with my perspective on the use of opiods when it comes to patients in pain. hell, im one of them. i hope this speaks to you as much as this is hot for you. thank u @lovesickonmybed for being my rock as always. pics in moodboard arent mine. *don't let this put you off, please. being disabled in the apocalypse is not as far fetched as fungal zombies. it's always useful to read experiences that aren't yours.

“You need to go home, lady.”

The FEDRA fuck glowering down at you is bulky and glistening with sweat. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, chapped lips twisted into a snarl. The hustle and bustle of the mess hall is persistent, a thrum of chatter and scraping utensils that batters your skull. A rag hangs limp from your hands — saturated with dirty water and diluted cleaner.

You lean heavier against your cane and wince as the handle digs deeper into the calloused heel of your palm. “Why?” you ask, tilting your head up.

“Can’t have any fucking cripples slowing us down. You knocked over that spray bottle five separate times. Been counting.” Cripple. The word hurts almost as much as the burning, burning, burning in your legs and arms. Almost.

He gestures vaguely towards the busted spray bottle of cleaner. You hadn’t noticed it fall down on the bench as you were tying yourself into knots just trying to wipe it down.

“But I need rati-”

“Don’t care what you need. You’re slowing people down. Got more suitable workers lined up outside the door. Get going, or I’ll have you removed.”

The spray bottle is capsized much like you, tilted and leaking onto the bench. A needling sensation pedals itself into the back of your knee and you can’t stop yourself from wincing.

You squeeze the rag in your hands and chuck it onto the table before you limp out of there.

Pain isn’t something that happens to you anymore.

It’s inextricable from yourself. Sewn into your muscles, bone marrow, and tissue. Stabbed into the pincushions of your fleshy joints. You’ve become the pain scale, the same one that hang in the FEDRA-installed medical tents.

Usually, your pain is a bearable backdrop to the show that is trying to survive in the QZ. Lately, though, it’s become the centerpiece. Just as inescapable as this hellhole you’re stuck in.

You weren’t always like this. There are flickers in your memory of sob stories on the news. Kids in wheelchairs or dragging themselves along with arm crutches before they even got their braces. Something happened to you after the world ended. Something that derailed you, sent you scattered into a thousand pieces and left you in the shrapnel spray of your own making.

You try not to think about it.

It’s hard not to on days like this, though. There’s books in the semi-refurbished libraries and abandoned bookstores that talk about how people like you used to live. They’d have benefits programs (laden with flaws, of course) that kept them afloat. Caretakers, sometimes. Elevators used to work without generator power. You envy them.

There are endless more in this QZ just like you. Limping, shambling, flailing. Drowning in the black sea of FEDRA suits.

Right now, you’re crawling.

Up the stairs of a derelict apartment building. Trash lines the sides of the stairs, crumpled and mashed into the ground by heavy-footed boots. You tangle your hand in a cobweb and wipe it on your jacket, cane thunking against the stairs as you haul yourself up. When your knee bashes against the edge of a stair, your hands grapple against the air as you fight an invisible entity. A frustrated, exhausted noise crumbles in the back of your throat.

Floorboards creak behind you, and you cringe.

“Fuck are you doin’?”

You roll over and muster a rueful smile. “Hi, Joel.”

The first time you went to Joel, he was your last resort.

“I need something for pain. Anything.”

He’d looked at you like he saw right through you. Now, knowing what you do about him, you’re sure that he did. Like a pane of stained glass that he’d held up to the sun.

He’d rifled through his mattress for a couple minutes. “Got you for sixty.”

You couldn’t do sixty.

When you told him that, he’d only shrugged at you. “Ain’t my problem, kid. Either scrounge it up or quit wastin’ my time.”

“I– I–”

You were never very seductive. Not even before your body turned into… this. This cataclysmic, living horror that disorients you in every waking moment.

You settled for unzipping your jacket. Tugging down your tank top. Showing your tits.

A wordless ordeal, one where your cheeks flamed hot and you felt like he’d taken a scalpel to your skin. But you always felt like that, at least.

“Ah, now we’re talking.” The chair scraped against the floor as he stood, meeting you in two strides. He’d looked at you with heat in his dark eyes, so dark that you could see yourself leaving your dignity in a pile at his feet. He’d reached across the empty space between the two of you and grabbed a handful of your tit, thumbing at your peaking nipple. “A junkie and a whore. You’re cute, I’ll give you that.”

You hadn’t been scared to spread your legs. To let him into the warmth festering in your core. It hurt, all of it did, it always does. But for a brief, blistering moment, when he was balls deep inside of you, the pleasure swelling in your stomach had been enough to dim the lights of the pain.

Since then, you just kept going back. A leech he just couldn’t shake.

“Jesus, girl. C’mon, up on your feet.” He patted you on the shoulder, grabbing your cane for you. He holds his hand out. You swallow your pride and accept the help, letting him drag you up. You wrap your arm around his shoulders and your free hand around the banister, letting him pull most of the legwork. “Stumblin’ around like a goddamn stalker.”

You grumble under your breath, a jumble of words too incoherent to mean anything sufficient. At the top of the stairs, he thrusts your cane back into your hand and heads down the hall without you. You glare at his shoulders before limping after him. One dragging step after another. The tread of your boot dips into a greasy looking puddle.

Joel fumbles for the key into his apartment, and you lean against the wall while he sorts himself out. At least he’s not covered in blood today. There’ve been times where you’ve shown up when he’s fresh off of a supply run, smoking gun sticking out of his waistband.

You use your cane to knock the door shut behind you.

“You’re lookin’...” He surveys you. “worse for wear.”

“Fuck you, too,” you say. A pause, punctuated by casual crossfire outside. “I need more.”

Joel huffs a laugh. “‘Course you do.”

He’s never given you that sort of attitude before. You swallow down the lump in your throat. “Please, I–”

“I ain’t a one man Salvation Army. Everyone’s got needs.”

“I’ll… I can…”

“What? Suck me off? You got a pretty mouth, baby, but I got about twelve girls who can do the same thing.”

“FEDRA won’t let me work,” you blurt out. Sympathy with Joel isn’t even a one way street. It’s a path that hasn’t been foot trodden. “They… they kicked me out when I tried, I’m trying, Joel, I swear I a–”

“Deep breaths,” he says. He folds his arms over his chest and jerks his head toward the slouching couch in the room. “Sit down. Can’t talk to ya if you’re fuckin’ hyperventilating.”

You prop your cane up against the armrest and drop yourself into the cushions. You dig your palms into your eye sockets and suppress a scream.

“I’m working at a deficit with you.”

“I know,” you grit out.

“I put up with a lot, but you’re drainin’ me dry here.”

“You’re right,” you relent. “I’ll find someone else. Sorry… for the trouble.” You reach for your cane again, but then he’s tugging it out of your reach.

“You’re waddling around like a fuckin’ fool flingin’ your legs open for any guy whose got what you need, gonna get yourself killed out there. Lotsa guys have less of a tolerance for girls like you than I do. I’m not runnin’ you out the door.”

“Then what are you doing, Joel?” you ask, hand still hanging in the open, wrapped around the empty air where your cane should be.

He sets the cane in your hand, and you deposit it at your side again. “Givin’ you a wake up call,” he says. “What’re you willing to do for your fix?”

“I…” Just three short months ago, before you’d sought out the much-feared Joel Miller, you would’ve said nothing. Just three months ago, your pain was bearable, livable, mere tinnitus. Now it is a bonfire. Roaring in the kindling of your ribcage. “Anything.” You swallow, worrying your tongue against your teeth. “I just want to feel normal.”

“Tough shit,” he says.

You have nothing to say to that. You only sit there, biting into the inside of your cheek. Knives sink into your skin with each breath. It hurts to be alive, it is anguish to be alive, and you just want to swallow a pill down dry. Enough to dull the edge, enough to make things tolerable. You stare at your feet as the room swirls.

“Alright,” Joel says after a moment. “You look beat, and I’d be a worse man than I already am if I ‘took payment’ now. I’ll give you one.”

Your eyes light up.

“You’re gonna take a quick nap in my room while I pull some strings, yeah? Let it kick in. Then we’ll see about what you can do to earn the rest if you’re up for it.”

Maybe sympathy can be a two way street. You’ve heard everything about him. Seen the occasional wanted poster floating through the street before FEDRA moved on to the Firefly of the week. Likely heard gunshots fired from the barrel of his gun.

“Thank you,” you whisper as he plucks one from a baggie. He drops it in your hand and you can’t help but wrap it in your fist. The inherent value of what he has given you.

He sees you eyeing it, sees you thinking, and says, “Don’t hurt yourself. I’ll wake you in an hour.”

And you do wake in an hour, scar-serrated, gun-hardened hand on your cheek. It’s instinctive to roll away, or at least it should be with someone who’s as bloodstained as Joel. Instead, you find yourself nuzzling into his palm before you’re even fully awake, when the walls of his apartment are only a border of the shapeless dream you’d been having.

“Rise ‘n shine, sleepyhead,” Joel says. He taps you on the apple of your cheek, and you find yourself blinking the crust from your eyes. Your fists go to rub at them. “Feeling any better?”

It’s not entirely gone — it never entirely is. It’s always the sand dollar nestled in the sand. The grain of sand lodged inside of the crevices. The clutch of your high is less of a clutch than it is a hangnail caught on a thread. It’s only a fracturing lightheadedness instead of a backslide into euphoria. You feel perfectly grounded, body taken off of the perpetual razor blade edge it rests on and airlifted onto a sturdy mattress.

“Yeah,” you croak, clearing your throat of any trace of grogginess. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he says. “I got twelve slow release tablets for you. Should be enough to get you strong enough to work the ration lines for a couple days.”

“I promise I’ll make this worth your while– agh.” You say, whimpering as you try to sit up. 

Joel keeps you down with a hand on your shoulder. “Oh yeah? And what exactly are you offerin’ me this time, huh? More of those pretty tits? A taste of that leaky little cunt?”

“Anything you want,” you blurt out. A hefty statement with even heftier implications. But just one pill has shredded your pain from glass sticking out of your skin into little pinpricks. A miracle confined to a little circular pill.

Joel cocks his head at you. “Anything, huh? You’d sell your soul for a hit, wouldn’t you? Let me do whatever the fuck I wanted to that pretty ‘lil body of yours?”

A better person, the upstanding salt of the earth, would’ve walked away long ago. But you can scarcely walk on a good day, so all you can do is bob your head at him.

A smirk slices across his face. Joel reaches out to you to grip your chin, thumb pressing into bone. It’s satisfying in a twisted sort of way. Your eyes go all glassy and your lips form a picturesque pout. “Well ain’t that just precious,” he croons at you. “You think you’re the first desperate junkie to offer me the world for a cheap high?”

“No,” you mumble. “But that’s not… that’s not what this is. I have a good reason —”

Joel snorts at you. “Yeah, keep tellin’ yourself that. Might not be the first one to come crawlin�� — literally — to me, but you might be the most pathetic. Tits and ass, that’s all you got to trade. Tell me sweetheart, how long ‘fore those goods wear thin?”

“According to you, they already have,” you fire back.

“Oh, they definitely have,” he says, voice so stony that it’s on the verge of being a leer. “But that don’t mean I can’t squeeze a little more outta you. You see, kid, I got a special request today. Something that requires a… different kinda payment.”

You worry your lip, teeth scraping over skin. You’re already in this deep. There’s so little you have to lose, pride included. Eventually, you take a deep breath and steel yourself. “Please, Joel. Just… just tell me what I can do.”

He leans in close, breath hot against your ear as he hangs onto your chin. “You’re gonna eat my ass, baby. And you’re gonna do it with a smile on your face, you understand?”

You stare, blinking once and then twice. He– you– what? “Excuse me?” you ask, brows furrowed.

“You heard me right, sweetheart. I want to see that pretty little mouth wrapped around my asshole, suckin’ and slurpin’.” He squeezes your chin. “That make enough sense to get through your drug-addled head?”

You squirm under his scrutiny, face heating up as if you’ve been held over an open flame. He’s looking at you as if he’s got you all figured out. Knowing him, he does. After you’re certain his handprint has started to stain your jaw, you say, “...Why?”

He shrugs. “Why not? ‘Cause I can pull any crackhead off the street and shove ‘er down on my cock until snot’s runnin’ out of her nose and her belly’s full of my cum. Can’t just find any girl who’s willing to knock on my backdoor. Takes a real nasty degenerate bitch to do that. And you’re a desperate little druggie willin’ to do anythin’ for a fix. You said it yourself.” He chuckles under his breath. “Seems like a match made in heaven to me.”

You swallow. Work the saliva in your mouth. “I… I’ve never, um–”

Joel’s head goes back with a grating, harsh laugh. “Never ate any ass before? Oh, you’re a dainty ‘lil thing, ain’t ya? Don’t worry your pretty head, sweetheart. I’ll teach you what you need to know.”

“I didn’t think you’d be the type to… want that sort of treatment.” Joel’s rough in bed, yes. Probably less rough with you than the other girls he sees, considering your predicament. You just hadn’t marked him as the type to want anyone near his ass.

Joel laughs. “I sure as hell ain’t. But here’s the thing, sweetheart. I don’t just want your tongue proddin’ around between my legs. I want to see your slutty little face smushed between my cheeks while you debase yourself for your hit.”

And that… makes more sense. This isn’t about his pleasure. It sure as hell isn’t about yours. It’s about him getting off on making you suffer, making you do something uncomfortable, something many would dub unpleasant.

Maybe you are a nasty fucked up degenerate bitch, because slick leaks into the gusset of your panties.

“Think you wanna do that for me?” he asks, dragging his hand from your chin, down your side, to where he gives your hip a light squeeze. “For you?”

“Yeah,” you say, a little breathless and plenty dizzy. Then, when you gather your wits, you nod firmly and speak louder. “Yeah.”

“Attagirl. Knew you were an obedient little pill chaser.” He gives your hip a tiny little smack. “C’mon, strip for me. Show me what we’re workin’ with.”

This part, you’ve done.

You fiddle with the hem of your tank top and lure it over your head before dropping it on the floor. You wriggle out of your bra, letting your tits fall loose. Joel nods his approval as you kick off your boots. You move on to your jeans, flicking the button. Dragging them down your thighs, savoring the hitch of denim on blemished skin. You have no problem showing off for him in this way, heels knocking your waistband down and leaving the pants in a lump on the floor. You’re left in your panties, the wet spot with the evidence of your slick shining through.

“Oh, baby,” Joel laughs. You shiver. “Ain’t even done anything to you… fuck, maybe you were meant to be a little ass eating slut. Filthy thing.”

You avert your eyes, face flaming, body boiling from the inside out. He’s standing hip-level with you, his semi visible in the stretch of his jeans. “Hey,” he says, hand gliding up your side. He taps your cheek with a bent knuckle. “No reason t’ be scared. First time for everything, yeah? Not gonna bite ya.”

You’re not scared. Just demeaned and humbled — exactly where he wants you to be.

He undoes his jeans, zipper snarling as it loosens, and knocks them and his boots off in a pile next to yours. He makes no move to take off his briefs or shirt, just taps your thigh. “Scoot,” he says. You shuffle over. “Gonna lay on my back. Figure that’ll be comfiest for you?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Um, thanks.”

Despite his reputation, despite how he treats you like a fucking cum rag, and despite this being a business transaction, he never neglects your own comfort. He never blocks the door. He never traps you in this situation.

Joel climbs onto the bed, sprawls out among the flattened pillow below. You go back on your haunches before adjusting yourself onto your stomach. You look at him and his rising bulge as he gets comfortable.

“I, uh, what do I–” You’re bumbling, and you know it. Seduction, even after a few transactions with Joel, still isn’t your domain.

“Alright, you little ass kisser in training. Gonna ease you into this. First thing you gotta do is get comfortable with the smell,” he says.

You give him a look.

“Like I said, you’re drainin’ me dry. Soap’s not the cheapest find, baby. Gotta make due. Besides, who needs bar soap when I’ve got your eager little tongue ready to wash me up?”

“Jooooel,” you whine, nose crunching.

“Nuh uh. No complainin’. I’m doin’ you a solid here, unless you’d rather me shove you face-first between my cheeks?” You shake your head, and he raises his brows at you. “Thought so.”

Joel slowly peels off his briefs, and your mouth can’t help but water at the sight of his mostly-hard cock. You remember the heft of it inside of you, the way he’d made room for himself inside of your body. And then your eyes trail lower to how his bulky thighs branch into the meat of his ass.

He hands you his briefs and gives you an expectant look. “Go ‘head. Sniff ‘em.” 

“I– really?” you ask. They’re heavy in your hand and the exact sort of thing you’d expected him to wear. An off-white color, discolored by years of sitting around in a post apocalyptic world. A little bit stretched out with a hole in the waistband.

“Really. C’mon, kid, I don’t have endless patience.”

You change you grip on them and tentatively bring them to your nose, inhaling the musk that he’s embedded into the fabric from days of wear. It’s sharp and pungent, but underlined with a faint trace of sweetness. His musk is almost sugary, with the way it cloys inside of your lungs. Your hesitant sniffs turn into fuller, deeper breaths.

A cocky grin crosses his face. “And that’s just the appetizer, baby. Wait until you get a real mouthful of me.”

You whimper into the fabric, snuffling against it. Feeling yourself drift into that floaty, cotton-candy state of mind that you nosedive into whenever you’re with him. You watch, enraptured, as he spreads himself apart. His pucker is nestled in a thatch of hair and skin, tanner and darker than the rest of him. “See that?” he asks “That’s where you’re tongue’s headin’ baby.”

You let out a tiny little whimper. Joel laughs at you and a fresh wave of slick saturates your panties.

“This is the real deal, sweetheart. Go ahead. Give it a whiff.” You dip your head lower than it already is, nerves winding around your chest. You take a tiny, halfhearted breath. “How’re you gonna kiss it if you can’t even breathe it in, baby? Just get your nose in there, first. Think of it as an initiation.” He reaches back and gently grabs the back of your neck, tugging you closer. Before you know it, your nostrils are mashed against his hole, and every breath you take is muddied by him. You whine, a keening noise that traps itself in your throat.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Deep breaths, now. Let me defile that pretty nose.” You listen to him, controlling your breaths and drawing them in deep. “You’re gonna learn to love this. Nasty fuckin’ girls always do.”

You pull back when he loosens your grip on his neck, panting and dizzy off of him. You feel cross-eyed, almost. Swooning over the sensation of being buried between his legs. 

“Look at you,” he coos. “Really are just a pathetic ‘lil fucktoy. All worked up and drooling over my ass.”

“I,” you start, but your voice tapers off when you realize you can’t argue that. You are pathetic, damn near slobbering over him just for a chance at pain relief.

“Say it before your mouth gets busy,” he says. “You know what you are, sweetheart. Tell me.”

“I’m your pathetic little fuck toy,” you whisper. You can’t disobey him, not if you want your drugs. But he isn’t wrong. How could he be, when you’re so far underneath him right now?

“And?” he nudges.

“And — I want to eat your ass.” The words come out all stumbling and embarrassed, muffled by your own shame. But they only make you wetter.

He smiles down at you. “Attagirl. Now why don’t you kiss the outside for me. Get used to usin’ that cute little mouth.”

You’re a squeamish person. It’s in your nature; unfortunately a nature that’s contradictory to the nature of the world that you live in. Still, you swallow whatever scraps remain of your dwindling pride and kiss up his sun kissed thighs. You plant your lips above the crook of his knee and poke your tongue out, laying a trail of saliva and heat up to the crease of his thigh. Joel sighs as you draw a spiral with your tongue. You glance up at him through lidded eyes and are almost startled by the unadulterated want that glaze his own eyes.

“Gettin’ closer, baby,” Joel says. His hand goes up to cup the back of your neck, thumb rubbing circles into your neck. “Knew I chose right with you. Got a curious mouth on ya.”

You nuzzle up to his ass cheek, pressing a timid kiss against the swell of it. You bite gently at your lower lip when you separate from him. Your breaths have quickened, now, and he gives the back of your neck a reassuring little squeeze.

“Spread ‘em,” Joel coaxes, so you do. You press your thumbs into supple, fuzzy skin and spread him open for your scrutiny. You can’t help but lick your lips and come to regret it the second he chuckles. “Hungry, aintcha?” And maybe you are. But still, you hesitate when you lean in, taking a deep breath that is entirely steeped in his musk.

“Like a deer in headlights,” Joel mumbles. “Gonna make my hole blink at you or what, baby?”

“You’re crass,” you say, teeth digging into your lower lip.

“What’s crass is how your sloppy cunt is leakin’ waterfalls all over my bedspread.” He smirks at you when you pull a face. “Now go on, baby, I know you wanna eat it right on up.” 

You try to ignore the distinct kickdrum of your throbbing clit where it’s buried between your thighs. Your head dips, and you kiss up his cleft. Occasionally, your tongue flicks out. He tastes how he smells. Like the same sweat and musk that everyone has from living in the QZ with an undercurrent of almost honeyed warmth. You lick up the inside of one of his cheeks, pride rushing through your gut when your tongue at the edge of his asshole makes him moan.

“Quit avoidin’ it, sweetheart. I got places to be. Jus’ pretend it’s a peach ring.” You’re dizzy, head swimming off of the sensation of being this close to him in this way. “Give it a ‘lil kiss. Just a smooch.”

You lean in and press your lips against his pucker, a tiny whine lodging in your throat. Joel grunts above you. It’s humiliating, being this low beneath him, this debased. There’s not much further you can go, so you flatten your tongue against his tight hole and spin it around his skin. You’re drooling all over him, tongue sweeping across wrinkled flesh. “Fuck, attagirl, just like that.”

He tastes good. Savory almost. You lap against him, tongue laving across the furrows of his ass. It’s just as satisfactory as the time he’d shoved his cock down your throat and held you down until you were choking and teary eyed. If not more. Because he was right earlier — fewer girls would do this for a fix. And you’re one of them, on hands and knees while your tongue probes his most private place, licks all the sweat and grime from between his cheeks. You can’t help but moan.

“Told you you’d love it,” he says. “Told ya you fuckin’ would. God, you’re a needy little bitch. For your fix… for me.”

You whine in protest, but it comes out much more pathetic than that with your tongue slipping up and down his crack. Your hand goes up instinctively to play with his balls, squeezing and fondling with each pass of your tongue. Joel groans, hips jumping against you. “Yeah, that’s it. Eager slut… feelin’ me up…”

You whimper into him, muffled with how your face is buried between his cheeks. Your tongue lashes out again, whirling around his entrance. Your eyes flutter in time with your cunt. You want more, you’re just as hooked on him as you are on the sensation of being painless. You flick your tongue, lips peppering him with open-mouthed kisses as you work.

Joel hisses as you lightly test his entrance. “God.” His hips jerk again, sporadic. “Fuck — shit,” he groans. “Natural ass licker, aren’t you? Yeah, you are. Oughta tie you to my backside, have you doin’ this all the time.”

You mewl at the thought, thighs clamping together. Your free hand wriggles down to rub at your bare clit. You get two rubs in before Joel kicks your hand away. “Nuh uh. This ain’t about you.” Joel smirks. “All that bitchin’ about it, but you’re pretty fuckin’ horny for your tongue up my ass.” He hikes his legs under your arms. Confusion spreads across your face until he locks his ankles around your back and tugs you face first into his ass. 

“Mmph!”

“Don’t suffocate. Be out of a pocket pussy if you do.”

Fuck. You clench, leaking all over his sheets. Your eyes can’t help but roll back.

“Look at you… bet you could get high off ‘a doin’ this if you tried hard eno– ungh.” Joel fully convulses when you wrap your lips around his asshole and suck. “Goddamn. Nasty whore really earnin’ them pills,” he grits out. You giggle into him when you see his cock twitch, precum oozing down the side of it. It leaks between his legs and onto your tongue, and you slurp him up eagerly.

You’re so aroused that it hurts, slick spilling in droves down the insides of your legs while you tongue him eagerly. Your hips rock subtly against the bed, and Joel’s head is too thrown back to notice your violation. He rocks his hips up into your mouth as you wriggle your tongue inside of his hole, probing the tightness of him as thoroughly as you can while he twists underneath you. “There you go, fuck me with your slutty tongue, baby. Get it in deep.” He groans as you drag your tongue along his insides. “Bet you’re gonna be sucklin’ on a pillow later. Thinking ‘bout my ass with your hands between your legs, rubbin’ that cock starved cunt.”

“Bet you’re wishing I’d pound that pussy now, huh? Wishing I’d shoot a load up that messy little slit?” You nod, tongue swiping up and down. You fuck your tongue in and out of him, moaning as you get the smallest friction from the sheets bunched up between your legs. His ankles tighten around your shoulders, holding you down with no escape. 

You manage to wriggle in his grasp enough to spat a lob of spit into your hand. You reach up around his waist and wrap your fist around his cock, jerking him. Joel jumps, his hole rubbing against your tongue as he lets out a wrecked moan. Your thumb traces his head. Sounding strangled, he curses, “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Goddammit, you were made to eat ass. Wish I could have your tongue up there 24/7…. Show you off, baby. Bet some other smugglers would love to take your tongue for a ride, but no. Your pretty little mouth only opens wide for me, huh? Whenever I say jump, you ask me how high, dontcha?”

You moan in assent, tightening your grip on his cock as you stroke him. Your tongue works even harder, messy as you draw circles of spit around his rim. You suck with your lips locked around him, watch his abdomen twitch as you do, watch precum ooze from the head of his cock. You collect it on your thumb and use it to work him faster. Your tongue runs laps around him, his eyes fully on you. “God, baby, fuck, I’m comin’, I’m, co–”

With your tongue deep in his ass and your hand wrapped around his cock, Joel comes. Spurts of it leak out, some of it landing on your tits. You whimper and work him through it, through each groan and hitch of his hips, through each spasm and aftershock that coils through his body and snaps at him. His chest heaves as he looks at you, damn near starstruck.

“Grand prize ass eater right here. Nasty bitch, salivatin’ on my dirty hol—”

“Joel, please,” you cut him off, starry eyed all on your own.

“What? Already givin’ you your pills, ain’t no need to beg me for ‘em.”

“I–” you say. “I’m really wet.” You’re teary-eyed, maybe from the action of humiliating yourself, but much more likely from arousal, wound tighter than a coiled snake in your stomach. 

Joel groans, and you swear his softening cock gives a mild twitch. “C’mon.” He swings his legs off of your shoulders and jerks his thigh, tapping it with a thick palm. “Get on up here.”

You an hour ago might’ve stood up for yourself, insisting that you at least deserve his fingers, but you right now was just tongue deep in Joel’s ripe asshole. So you scramble to mount his thigh, letting out a choked moan the second your swollen clit makes contact with his sweaty skin. You immediately start grinding yourself on him, feeling your slick squelch between your skin and his.

“Pathetic whore. Bet your tongue still tastes like my asshole, but you like that, don’t you? You like being my disgusting little junkie bitch.” You nod, bunching your hands into the fabric of his cum spattered t-shirt, tugging at it, tugging at him. “God, listen to you,” he says. Your broken-up moans, the sound of your wet pussy leaking and leeching against his leg. Your breaths are charred with the heat of pure, debauched need. It’s lewd, and you can see the shadow of yourself rocking your hips into him.

“Joel, oh God, Joel,” you moan, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you roll your hips. Your clit catches on his skin and he groans. 

“Gonna shove your face in the fuckin’ puddle you’re making,” he says. You clench hard enough that your eyes squeeze shut. His hands, once still at his side, move along to anchor at yours. He yanks you against him, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass cheeks. You’re wobbly and woozy, shaking as you hump him. “C’mon, c’mon. You need it, don’t you? About to cream all over your dealer.”

And you are. You’re so, so close, with pleasure strung so tight through your body that it could snap at any second. It’s coarse and ragged, a sort of friction that stings and catches on your insides. Your tongue’s hanging out, you’re leaking all over him, and you’re pumping your hips even faster. He smacks your ass hard enough that your ears ring.

Your head hangs low and you make a noise akin to a kicked puppy. One of his hands moves to your cumstained chest, rubs his cum into your aching, hardened nipple. “Give it to me, you depraved fuckin’ slut. Little pervert, rubbin’ that cute little clit on me.” He tenses his leg, and you’re done for. 

“Joel!” you whine as you topple over that edge, flailing, kicking, screaming.

Joel grunts. “Attagirl. Soak me.” He keeps rutting you against him through the aftershocks, even after you go limp and slump against his front. You’re both sweat-slick, and you’re still shaking. A giddiness swipes through your body as you clench and clench. You’re out of your own body. This is a pleasure beyond the pleasures you have known.

Your mouth still tastes like him on the comedown.

You heave for air, winded as you look at him through darkened eyes. Joel pats you on the ass and pushes you off of him. “Oomph.” He grabs you by the back of the neck again, and, true to his promise, pushes you face-first against his thigh.

“Look at this,” he snarls. His thigh is glistening with your arousal and release, viscous and slippery. You whimper as you smell yourself on his skin. “Lick it up.”

That makes you clench again. You stick out your lolling tongue and lave over his leg, scooping up your cum with your own tongue. You whimper and pout at him, and find yourself dizzy with need when he laughs at you.

Then, you hit the mattress and the ceiling seems to spin over your head.

Joel gets up and groans. You think you hear his knees pop. A few footsteps later, and you’re all alone in his bedroom, cocooned in sweat-wet sheets. There’s an emptiness inside of you, one that sticks everywhere. The silence crackles along your eardrums.

“Here,” he says, and then you’re back inside of yourself. Your eyes flicker open and you’re watching him from upside down. He props your cane up on his nightstand and chucks a box of tissues at you. You grab a fistful of them and wipe down your chest, then your inner thighs.

He tosses you your clothes, next. You shiver and tug your shirt over your head with only some difficulty. When it comes to your legs, just lifting one makes it crash back down at your side. You bleat, squeezing your eyes shut through the pain. Maybe riding him had been… overzealous. But the painkillers had made you indomitable — or at least feel indomitable.

“Hey,” Joel says. “Let me help.” It’s a foreign tone from him. Softer than what you’re used to. He redresses you, even laces up your boots for you. When all’s said and done, he pats you on the ass. The silence is a blanket, a warmth of sorts.

“Thank you,” you mumble. “I… I’m sorry I don’t have any more to offer you.”

“Kid,” he says. “I agreed to this. I ain’t mad at you. And, hell, I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that. I’d say it was worth it, even if you’re robbin’ me blind over here.” 

He pulls out the baggie of pills and folds them in your hand. “Try to stay safe out there.” You nod at him and lean yourself on your cane as you stand. You swing it in time with your steps.

“I will,” you say. It feels like more of a hollow promise, if anything.

As your hand lands on the doorknob, he says, “My door’s open. Come back when you need more.”

Whether he means more pills or more of him, you’re not sure. Maybe he’s not sure, either. But you’re hooked on something, you think. And you pretty sure it’s not the drugs.

[only-luce-the-goose]

Busted

A/N: it’s a little short, I’m sorry. My requests are open, I’m going to start writing for all Formula (Prema too).

Arthur Leclerc x Norris!reader

Warnings: upset Lando, making out, little swearing, indicated to smut (none tho)

Based off this comment ⬇️

@barcelonaloverf1life thank you!! 🫶🏻

You had followed Lando around your whole life, he was your big brother. You love him to pieces. Some might say you were more excited that him when he was announced as an official Formula 1 driver. You came with him to every race, getting to know a lot of the drivers very well. Becoming close friends with a Spaniard, which led to a Monegasque, which led to a certain younger brother.

That was three years ago. Now, you and Arthur had been secretly dating for over a year. You expertly hid your relationship from your brothers, especially Lando. You know Charles wouldn’t have too much of a problem with his brother dating you. You also know that Lando was explode if he knew you were dating the impulsive idiot from Oscar’s Prema days.

It was time, once again, for the Monaco gp. One of the very few times a year you could publicly be seen with your boyfriend for a good reason. After making sure Lando was busy getting ready for the race, you slipped over to the Ferrari garage. Arthur was leaning against a wall, talking to his brother and an engineer when he spotted you. He clapped his brother on the shoulder and took off towards you.

It had been way too long (a couple days) since you had last seen each other and all you wanted to do was kiss him. Which you couldn’t, because you were in public. “I have an idea” you said as you turned to him. You snuck him through the McLaren garage and into your brothers driver room. You knew he wouldn’t be coming back until much later so you knew you had time.

You closed the door and pushed Arthur into it. You gripped his broad shoulder with one hand and tangled the other in his hair, bringing him down to your lips. You both began feverishly making out, tongues fighting. When Arthur won, he pushed you into the wall next to the door. His hands slipped under your shirt to play with your tits through your bra, his knee moved in between your legs and applied pressure to your clit. You started grinding on the knee, letting out little whimpers until the door to the drivers room opened. “WHAT THE FUCK”

Lando grabbed Arthur’s shirt and yanked him backwards as Oscar rushed in “what happened?” “Your prema mate was eating my sisters face off” Lando said as he kept prattling on “this is ridiculous. And in my room for fucks sake! Why now y/n? Why the sudden interest?” Lando asked. Arthur moved to answer, immediately being glared at my Lando. If looks could kill, Arthur would already be six feet under.

Lando looked at you, waiting for your answer. “Actually, Lando, Arthur and I have been dating for over a year. We didn’t want to tell you because we knew how you would react” Lando’s jaw hit the floor. “I’m getting Charles” he grumbled. Charles walked in five minutes later, we were both sitting together on the floor. “Finally got busted?” He laughed.

Lando looked at him, dumbfounded. “You knew?!!” He screeched. “I had my suspicions, until I walked in on them making it. They didn’t even know I was there” Charles admitted “come with me” he said afterwards. Charles took Lando outside and had a long talk with him. When they came back, Lando announced “I have a deal to make little Leclerc. Make my sister happy and I won’t murder you. Break or hurt her in anyway and you will never think about racing again”

Arthur nodded, agreeing with Lando. After everyone left the room, you turned to Arthur and said “I can’t believe we finally got busted. I thought it would have happened way sooner!” That made Arthur laugh.

[luvrrszn]

know no bounds

STANFORD!ART DONALDSON x STANDFORD! FEM READER x STANDFORD!PATRICK ZWEIG (18+)

summary your two best friends have zero boundaries—especially when it comes to you

warnings slight nsfw (smut), erm probably a shit ton of challengers inaccuracies, art and patrick r not in love !!!!!!!!!!@#!@#!@

a/n art and patrick are not in love !! there's nothing wrong with two hot people kissing and doing the hankypanky every now and then...right... also there is like little to no mention of tashi for my sanity while writing this also i'm trying out writing with proper capitalisation let's see how it goes lolsies ALSO plzzzz send requests loveya

masterlist

You spend most of your free time with your best friends.

Hanging out in their dorm, or doing your homework in the stands while they had tennis practice.

Wherever they were, you were never far. (more like wherever YOU were, they weren't far......)

There are traces of you everywhere and traces of them everywhere. In your dorm room, your corkboard frame has several pictures of the three of you, and half of your clothes drawers are comprised of Art and Patrick's t-shirts. For some reason, you even have some of Art's textbooks at your table. In their dorm room, your hair ties are everywhere. On the bathroom sink counter, on Art's nightstand, even on Patrick's wrist.

Because the three of you were so close, your bond knew no bounds. or no boundaries.

—

It wasn't unusual for you to hang out in Art and Patrick's dorm room even when they weren't there.

So, it was only natural that when the AC in your dorm room was busted, and the heat was unbearable, you used the spare key they had given you to let yourself into their room. You were sprawled on Art's bed, books open as you finished up your assignment due that week.

At some point, you got stuck on your work. You groaned in frustration, deciding to take a shower and hope that you'd be able to continue once you were done.

And that's exactly what you did. You rifled around Art's drawers of clothes, looking for the comfiest-looking shirt. You beelined towards the bathroom once you finally decided what shirt to wear. You strip, leaving your clothes in a messy, yet neat, pile on the floor.

Humming, you draw the shower curtain shut, and as soon as the hot water hits your back, your entire body relaxes. You reach for your shampoo on your shelf (yes!! you have a shelf!!), but clumsily drop the bottle on the floor with a loud smack. That's why you don't hear the jingle of keys as Art (or Patrick,...but probably Art) opens the door, or the two consecutive thuds as both Patrick and Art drop their tennis duffels on the floor.

So just imagine your surprise when the shower curtain gets pulled open and Patrick steps in behind you. You squeak and your hands immediately move to cover yourself as you exclaim "What the fuck!"

Patrick is smirking as he replies, "Aw c'mon, I need to shower. Plus, it's nothing I haven't seen before." (another story for another time)

You start to move aside so Patrick can get under the water, but he stops you by wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in the curve of your neck. You're used to something like this coming from Art, but Patrick?

"Hey, you okay? Bad day?" You ask, voice soft.

"Real bad," He whispered back, pressing soft kisses against your neck.

"Well, maybe I can help." You whisper as you turn to face him, and slowly drop to your knees.

With zero hesitation, Patrick's fingers tangle in your hair, his thumb pressed against the side of your cheek. He's already hard, beads of precum dripping out of his tip. No matter how many times you've seen little Patrick Jr., which is in fact anything but little, you always have to take a moment to even adjust to the sight of it.

Outside the bathroom, Art groans in annoyance, mumbling something under his breath about "noisy friends" and "not sharing the joy".

Oops.

—

"the fucking ac in my room is busted again !!! i'm coming over :')"

You sent Art a quick text before making your way over to their room. You curse under your breath, why on earth was your room always in shambles?

You made a mental note to feedback to maintenance as you let yourself into the boys' room. Art and Patrick are sitting on Art's bed, backs against the wall as they watch a movie on Patrick's laptop. Patrick's in nothing but his boxers, and Art is shirtless in shorts.

"Hey, I just saw your text. Our AC's busted too." Art says, offering a sympathetic smile. You notice two fans blowing in their direction and decide you just have to enjoy the breeze too.

Art scooches over to make room for you, and you rest your back against his chest, with one of his arms around your shoulder and the other splayed across your stomach.

After a while, the heat becomes almost unbearable, so you decide to just take off your shirt.

You don't miss the way both boys' eyes dart to your chest, but it's truly just too hot to care.

[solxamber]

On my hands and knees sobbing throwing up combusting into dust signs my soul away to you THAT WAS SO SO SOOOOO CUTEEEEEE GUAYAYYAYYUUUUUAUAGAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! Poor Rollo thinks hes just being nice meanwhile poor yuu is so used to people digging underneath the bar that he's literally prince charming incarnate. Rollo clearly needs to adjust their standards and do what the villains could not by kissing yuu softly while they take a nap. And also threaten crowley to give them money for food. ANYWAYS!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FEEDING ME AND THE 5 OTHER ROLLO FANS THAT SURVIVED THE FAMINE (/j) I OWE YOU MY LIFE!!!!! This message is getting so long, but you deserve to know how awesome your writing is and that I look forward to whatever you post for real. I slide over a crisp 5 maddol and ask for when you feel like it (and if you even want to ofc!!) A part 3 where maybe they're deeper in the relationship and are doing heinous things like m*king out and grimm thinks they should be executed for making him walk into this horror. (He didn't knock. Bc he's grimm. He claimed to be scarred for life until Rollo busted out the premium tuna suddenly we should get married asap) . ANYWAYS SORRY FOR THE LONG RAMBLE. IM BARKING AND CRYING AND EXPLODING AND PROPOSING TO YOU. Signed with love, rollo anon 💗💝💖

Rollo Flamme x reader

i just saw this and this almost made me cry 🫶 also sorry for the very long wait

Part 1 ; Part 2

Rollo was nothing if not diligent. Whether it was reorganizing the shelves at the library, fixing the perpetually squeaky door in Ramshackle, or chastising Grim for yet another snack-induced fire hazard, he was always helping in his quietly intense way. It wasn’t just duty—he genuinely seemed to enjoy making your life easier, which both baffled and warmed you to your core.

You, of course, did what you could to return the favor. Helping him clean up after unruly magic festival events, proofreading his endless notes about anti-magic policies, and gently reminding him to relax when he got that telltale furrow in his brow.

And you were in love.

Like, grossly in love. The kind of love where you found his huffy rants about magical irresponsibility charming and he tolerated Grim's chaos just to spend more time with you. It was a weird, wonderful balance you’d somehow managed to strike.

Which led to this particular evening: you and Rollo, tangled on the old, creaky couch in your room at Ramshackle.

It had started innocently enough. You’d been reviewing a new book he'd brought for you—something philosophical, of course, but he’d chosen it specifically because he thought you’d enjoy it. You were teasing him about his insistence on leaving a handwritten note inside the front cover (“Who even does this, Rollo? It’s adorable, but—seriously?”), and he had flushed in that way that made you want to pinch his cheeks.

Then one thing led to another.

Now, his lips were on yours, one hand cradling your face with the kind of reverence that made your heart twist. His other arm was around your waist, anchoring you against him. Rollo might not have been an experienced romantic, but he made up for it in sheer, focused intensity. When he kissed you, it felt like you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him.

“You’re—mmph—very distracting,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and tinged with amusement.

You grinned, tugging him closer. “Says the guy who started this.”

His only response was to kiss you again, deeper this time, until your brain was reduced to a pleasant, fizzy blur. The world outside the room ceased to exist. It was just you, him, and the creak of the couch as you shifted closer—

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY?! MY EYES! THEY’RE RUINED!”

Grim’s shrill scream shattered the moment like glass.

You froze, pulling back to see Grim standing in the doorway, paws dramatically covering his eyes. “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? ON MY COUCH?”

“Grim, it’s my couch,” you said, face burning.

“You’re the henchhuman; it’s ours by default!” Grim wailed. “And now it’s a place of SIN!”

Rollo, to his credit, had already straightened up, his expression transitioning from flustered to composed in record time. “Grim,” he said, voice calm yet firm, “surely you’ve barged in enough times to anticipate that privacy should be respected.”

“Oh, I respected it,” Grim sniffed. “But my henchhuman clearly has no shame. And you!” He pointed an accusatory paw at Rollo. “I thought you were better than this! But no, you’re—”

Rollo, completely unbothered by the tirade, reached into his bag and produced a can of… premium tuna?

Grim’s rant ground to a halt. His ears perked up as he sniffed the air. “Wait. Is that—?”

“Indeed,” Rollo said smoothly, holding it up like a peace offering. “A gift I intended to give later, but it seems circumstances call for a different approach.”

Grim’s eyes lit up with unrestrained glee. “You know what? I’ve never doubted you for a second, Rollo!” He scurried forward, practically salivating as he swiped the can. “You’re clearly the best thing that’s ever happened to my henchhuman. You two should get married. Tomorrow. I’ll get a priest. I’m sure Crowley owes me a favor.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as Grim popped the can open with zero regard for decorum. “Grim, you are the worst.”

“Correction: I’m the best,” Grim said, already devouring the tuna with gusto. Between bites, he added, “This guy’s a keeper. Don’t mess it up, henchhuman.”

Rollo’s lips twitched, a hint of amusement breaking through his otherwise composed demeanor. He leaned closer, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “Shall we take his advice?”

You gave him a playful shove, laughing despite yourself. “Not helping, Rollo.”

But deep down, as Grim devoured his bribe and Rollo sat beside you with that quietly pleased look, you couldn’t deny that the idea didn’t sound all that bad.

The exhaustion of the day had finally caught up to you, and you’d collapsed onto your bed with a sigh of relief. “Wake me up for class, okay?” you mumbled to Rollo, who was sitting at your desk, meticulously organizing the scattered notes you’d left behind.

“I’ll make sure you’re on time,” he replied, his voice carrying that steady assurance you found oddly comforting.

You barely managed a hum of acknowledgment before sleep claimed you, leaving the world behind in a haze of warm, peaceful quiet.

When you stirred again, it wasn’t the sound of your alarm or the creak of the floorboards that woke you. It was something far gentler.

A warm, featherlight pressure on your forehead.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, and the first thing you saw was Rollo leaning over you, his expression soft in a way that made your heart do an Olympic-level somersault. He was close enough that you could see the slight flush on his cheeks, though his composure never wavered.

“Good morning,” he said softly, his voice a gentle murmur. “It’s time to get ready for class.”

You blinked at him, your still-sleepy brain struggling to process what had just happened. “Did you… just kiss me awake?”

His blush deepened, but he stood his ground, meeting your gaze with quiet confidence. “You looked so peaceful. I thought it would be a more pleasant way to wake you than simply shaking your shoulder.”

Your heart melted on the spot. If there was a scale for romantic gestures, this one had just broken it.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, though your voice betrayed how utterly smitten you were.

“Perhaps,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But you didn’t seem to mind.”

You didn’t bother arguing because he was absolutely right. Instead, you reached out, tugging him down for a proper kiss this time.

When you finally pulled away, you smirked at his flustered expression. “If you keep this up, I’m going to start napping more often.”

He chuckled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “If that’s the case, I’ll have to be even more diligent about ensuring you don’t oversleep.”

You laughed, warmth blooming in your chest as you sat up and stretched. “Thanks for waking me, Rollo. Really.”

“Of course,” he said, his tone earnest as ever. “It’s the least I can do.”

The man was going to ruin you with how thoughtful he was. And as you got ready for class with a lingering smile on your face, you couldn’t help but think that waking up like this every day wouldn’t be so bad.

It started with something simple. You were both sitting in the courtyard of the chapel, enjoying a quiet moment together. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over everything, and Rollo was, as usual, the picture of composure. He was reading a book—some historical text you’d never have the patience for—but his attention drifted when he noticed you staring at the horizon, lost in thought.

“Are you cold?” he asked, setting his book aside and leaning slightly closer.

You blinked out of your reverie, shaking your head with a soft smile. “No, I’m fine.”

He studied you for a moment, then pulled his scarf from around his neck and gently draped it over your shoulders anyway. “Just in case,” he murmured.

It wasn’t anything extraordinary—just a scarf—but the gesture made your heart swell. The scarf smelled faintly of lavender, and the warmth of it felt like an extension of Rollo himself.

“Thanks, Rollo,” you said, voice soft.

He nodded, but when he saw the way your smile lingered, something shifted in his expression. His usual composed demeanor softened into something… almost reverent.

“You deserve this,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically tender.

“Huh?” You tilted your head at him, confused.

“You deserve to be cared for,” he clarified, meeting your gaze with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “You give so much of yourself to others. It’s only natural that someone should do the same for you.”

You stared at him, heart racing. “Rollo, I… That’s really sweet.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, though not at you. “It’s concerning that such basic decency stands out to you,” he muttered, almost to himself. “What kind of environment is this school fostering?”

The thought of Rollo, grimacing at the thought of NRC’s questionable population, made you burst into laughter. “I mean, you’ve met Grim, right? The standards here are subterranean.”

Rollo’s expression softened again when he saw how amused you were. “Even so,” he said, taking your hands in his with surprising gentleness, “you should never feel as though you’re asking for too much when you expect kindness or respect. It’s what you’re owed.”

Your heart did a little somersault, and you couldn’t help but giggle, ridiculously touched. “Stop, you’re going to make me cry,” you teased, though the slight quiver in your voice betrayed how close you were to actually tearing up.

He smiled faintly, leaning closer until his forehead nearly touched yours. “If you cry, I’ll simply have to dry your tears,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “Though I’d rather see you smiling.”

You let out another helpless laugh, pulling your hands free so you could lightly swat at his arm. “Stop being so romantic! I can’t handle this!”

Rollo chuckled softly, pleased with your reaction. “If it makes you happy, then I’ll consider it a worthwhile effort.”

And he meant it. He was genuinely, utterly content to see you so touched, so happy. Yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, a quiet but fierce determination grew. The villains and miscreants of NRC may not have treated you with the respect you deserved, but he would make it his mission to ensure you never doubted your worth again.

Masterlist

[wormdebut]

WALK HIM LIKE A DOG

@hellion-child you did this. Inspired by this legendary post.

‘It’s not illegal to go to the dog park, just to hear hot dads say Good Girl.’

Rating: M CW: overusage of the term daddy and Eddie just being a horny bastard.

——

“You know, this is fucking insane, right?” Chrissy laughs while Eddie lounges on the park bench.

Yes. He’s aware.

He and Chrissy don’t even have a dog and yet—

“Chris. Look at all of these great pet parents, taking care of these little doggies. Look at em. Wonderful. Stunning, very normal.”

Chrissy levels him with a glare. Being on the wrong side of a Chrissy glare is a scary thing, but alas his dog park visits are worth it.

“No. Look, listen. You’ve got all of these doggy daddies taking their lovely pups out for runs and walks and what not and then daddy wraps up his run and takes the precious ones to this here dog park. Woof.”

It really was worth it to Eddie, alright? There is nothing wrong with going to a public dog park to maybe hear a hot sweaty man coo at his dog.

‘Good Boy’

‘Precious Girl’

Bark bark bark or whatever.

Would Eddie ever talk to any of them? Absolutely the fuck not, but a man could dream.

He was bummed though because none of the hot guys were out, today.

Damn.

He is busy scanning the area to see if he missed anyone, Chrissy yapping on and on about how they could just get a dog when someone slows their run to chat.

“Hi!” She says. This woman is tall, short hair messed up from running, she’s got a bright ass orange jacket on, and she is most certainly Chrissy’s type. Thats not fucking fair at all, now is it?

Chrissy’s complaining tapers off. “Hey.”

They smile at each other, and this is truly unfair, Eddie thinks. This whole dog park thing was for him and yet.

“I hope you don’t mind, but me and my best friend just moved to the area and honestly, I think you’re pretty so—I just thought I would say hi.” She hardly makes eye contact with Eddie. So it’s clear who she’s talking to.

Like recognizes like, he supposes.

He can respect the straight forwardness of it all. Chrissy is just kinda staring at her so he speaks up. “Well, I’m Eddie and this is Chrissy, and I can confidently say that she also thinks you’re pretty.”

Both woman turn to stare and him, Chrissy with big eyes and the other woman with a smirk. She speaks, “Well, it must be my lucky day.” She turns back to Chrissy, “I’m Robin.”

The two get talking and Eddie is happy for his best friend, he really is, but where are all the hot men?

He’s about ready to call it quits when he sees a fucking god, running with a ridiculously stunning dog.

Hot people own hot dogs, he supposes.

This guy is—fuck. He’s sweaty from running, and his hair is fucking gorgeous, even after activities. Thats a green flag. Eddie is just shocked.

This is the dog daddy of all dog daddies. He’s wearing tiny fucking red shorts that expose thighs for days and—

“Jesus fuckin’—see?” Eddie doesn’t even care that he is interrupting the girls conversation cause this guys is—god damn. “He could slap a collar on me and walk me like a dog.”

Chrissy balks. “Eddie. We are in the company of a new friend. Robin doesn’t deserves this.”

Eddie simply shrugs and Robin laughs, “No. I think it’s hilarious which guy caught your eye?”

Oh, he likes Robin. “I like her. Get her number—“ He smiles big at Chrissy, before gesturing towards the fucking Adonis in tiny little running shorts. “Anywhozle. That one, look at him. On my knees in a second.”

He ignores Chrissy’s eye roll, and watches as Robin takes in the guy, before busting out in a laugh. “Oh my god—Steve?”

Oh shit.

“I—do you—“ Abort mission. Abort abort.

“Oh yeah, remember that best friend I was telling you guys about?”

She is still laughing, and Chrissy joins her before handing Robin her phone.

Eddie feels like he just got bamboozled.

“Chrissy, babe, I’ll text you. Eddie? I’ll see what I can do.” She smiles at them both before running over to ‘Steve’ and his—their?— gorgeous dog.

“No wait I—“ Eddie tries but she’s already over with Steve who is listening intently to what Robin has to say.

Oh god, oh no. Oh god.

Chrissy is just laughing softly into her hand, which turns into full laughter quick because Steve turns to look at them, smiles and winks.

[brighteuphony]

I LOVE your Sakura AU, thank you so much for making it 🥹

Even though her ending is supposed to be “good”, I always thought that canon didn’t do her justice and threw any character development she had out of the window so she can be with Sasuke

I SO wanted her to finally move on and just let go

And I don’t have anything against Sasusaku

But I think it’d be much more beautiful if Sakura long let go of her feelings by the time Sasuke came to his senses and they developed their relationship TOGETHER from the START

And, once again, your work is AMAZING and I can’t wait for next pieces ❤️

Btw, can I ask a question?) Will we see Naruto’s and Sasuke’s reaction to her condition (maybe flashback to before she left the village?), if not, can you please tell me a bit about it? I can’t imagine them to ignore her after the incident, especially considering that they are at fault as usual

Thank you so much for the kind words! I've also never been a fan of how Sakura ended up. I have no beef with SasuSaku, but my biggest issue was that we never saw Sasuke try to make up/connect with Sakura in the same way we saw him do with Naruto, so their romance in Boruto just felt so...abrupt?

As for what happens to Sakura and her friends....

Sasuke was essentially put on probation/jailed, but broke out and defected to Otogakure as canon. This devastates Sakura, as she's both in deep denial about his contribution to her injuries and also the fact that she basically threw herself in there for nothing. Kakashi shuts down completely. It's a nightmare replay of his own past, including the female team-mate being horrifically injured by the chidori. The guilt of everything is eating him alive so he basically withdraws into himself and uses her demotion to civilian status as a way to trick himself into thinking that if he just 'rips off the bandaid' and cut ties, she'll be able to move on more easily.

Naruto is the only person who is really able/willing to face justice. After the incident, he was basically also put on probation/awaiting trial but busted himself out to join Jiraya.

So for context, Sakura got clapped hard by the Rasengan/Chidori combo (hearing gone, nerve damage, eyes shot etc) and basically had to be put in a coma to try and stop the damage from getting worse, but unfortunately none of the medics in Konoha had the ability to reverse anything but the most superficial damage. So Naruto joined Jiraya in an attempt to find and bring the only person in the world who could give Sakura a sliver of hope.

I felt like this worked well with canon and the desperation to get Tsunade to be hokage and Naruto basically begged her on his hands and knees to help Sakura. Tsunade made it there in the nick of time managed to save everything but her eyes.

But Sakura's life has fallen apart, her career is over, her parents dead from Konoha Crush and her eyes gone...and Naruto is the most convenient and available person to take out all her rage on, so...while he deserves a lot of that rage..she is essentially punching down on who she perceives to be the cause of all her problems.

Lee is in the same boat as her, but while he tries very hard to be there for her, Sakura can't stand to be with him right now, as it just makes the reality of life hit that much worse- especially when she finds out there's a surgery that might give him a better chance than she'll ever have.

And Ino visits often at first, but then it's awkward...and painful as the weeks go by. They have lunch and gossip but at some point, there's not much a shinobi and civilian have in common, especially after the shortage of manpower post Konoha-crush has Ino entrenched in the shinobi life more than ever before.

I hope this answered some stuff! Thank you so much for the questions and the interest! I love Sakura and I just wanna give her the development and power she deserves!!

[fox-guardian]

[ID: Two digital drawings showing Colin Becher and Teddy Vaughn. Each image has a bust and a full body drawing of each of them on a gray background. Colin is a skinny white man with short blonde hair and a receding hairline, a scruffy mustache and patchy beard, arm hair, blue eyes and eye bags. He's wearing silver stud earrings, rectangular glasses with yellow lenses, a pale blue button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, blue cuffed jeans with brown plaid knee patches, a brown belt, blue and white striped socks, and brown sneakers. He also has a pen and an ID card hanging from his shirt pocket. His brow his furrowed in frustration in both drawings and his hands are balled into fists in the full body.

Teddy is a fat bald black man with dark brown skin and a goatee and mustache. He is wearing small gold hoop earrings, a pale yellow button down, gold tie, gold and brown argyle sweater vest, dark brown trousers, and a brown belt and brown shoes. He is smiling in both drawings and he is waving in the full body. end ID]

~~~~

drew the guys. baldy rockin baddies for the win.

and i have already updated my colin since drawing this one so that is soon to come!