#I wrote this when I was drunk
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A few silly thoughts abt the domino squad
The domino squad is probaly one of the most important but also somehow underrated parts of the entirety of the Clone Wars series.
The name 'Domino Squad' is like one of the first things that strikes me as something remarkble. It describes the characters perfectly. They are called the Domino squad because they set off a domino effect!
So we start out with their training; they weren't able to work together, which ultimately led to Hevy forming a closer bond to 99. Hevy, Droidbait and Cutup died on Rishi, but Echo and Fives were pushed forward, back to Kamino. Dominos fell and pushed forward their brothers. If 99 hadn't been close to Hevy, he would probably not have been as confident as he was during the Battle of Kamino. This led to his death, the death of a Hero but if it hadn't been for Hevy's influence on 99, he might not have fallen that way.
Echo and Fives became Arch troopers, which led to Echo's death and Fives' isolation. Fives grew closer to Tup and Rex, this made him one of the people Rex trusted the most. During Umbara it was Rex's trust in his men (in the episodes the focus is on Fives) that made him question Krell's decisions. They survived Umbara because of this.
Fives discovered the inhibitor chip, which he might not have if he hadn't grown close to Tup. And it was Fives' words to Rex that were the first thing that Rex remembered during the Order 66. Rex being able to remember Fives and warn Ahsoka in those last few seconds, made it possible for him and Ahsoka to survive.
The last domino fell and revealed a pattern that was twisted and cruel but not unsavable.
THEREFORE, I believe that the name of the Domino Squad is a reference to the roles they play in the Clone Wars. They are the reason there was still hope at the end. They were so much more important.
Thanks for coming to my Ted talk
#i wrote this when i was drunk#a few silly thoughts#the clone wars#star wars#clone wars#arc trooper fives#arc trooper echo#clone trooper hevy#clone trooper droitbait#clone trooper cutup#domino squad#I have never had a normal thought about them#have fun with this
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why wouldn’t you feel nervous n qweezy seeing a girl you were just talking abt exchanging saliva with *^_^*
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Drunk!Satoru thoughts ~ 18+
Drunk Satoru would get wasted off of half a spiked seltzer. This bitch would be white girl wasted, sobbing in the corner of the room asking you if you’d still love him if he was a worm. He’s gonna be a whiny little bitch and so utterly sensitive. Even you caressing his arm will have him whimpering and whining.
You could ask drunk Satoru to sit on your lap… no better yet STRADDLE your lap and he’s doing it with enthusiasm. Doesn’t mater that he’s taller and bigger than you, he will put all of his weight on you and nearly crush you with the force of his love.
Sloppy make outs with drunk Satoru will always lead to sloppy fucking. Sloppy because he’s too far gone to actually be on top in any capacity, he’s relying on you to ride his dick till you’re done and will not be able to assist you in any capacity.
Sloppy because you’re equally as drunk and cannot bounce on his lap without his assistance after a while. So it turns into this wet mess of just half heartedly bouncing while primarily grinding your hip down on his.
Drunk Satoru is practically sobbing as you ride his dick, not stopping even after he has cum because he’s still fucking hard and you want to milk him for everything he’s worth. Either that or you’ll pass out first.
#I should mention I was also drunk when I wrote this#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru imagine#satoru smut#gojo smut#gojo#jujutsu kaisen gojo#satoru gojo imagine#satoru gojo headcanons#gojo satoru x reader#jjk satoru#gojo x reader#jjk smut#gojo x y/n#gojo headcanons#gojo imagine#satoru imagine#gojo satoru headcanons
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i love showering
it’s like okay all clean now
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Had this Headcannon that when Multi-Lingual Dick and Jason get drunk they start singing Ballads in Spanish. Yeah some classical shit like Vicente Fernandez but also the most wild Selena you've ever heard.
#is this a post about Latinx Jason todd? Bitch it might be#Don't ask me about it tho cuz I'll deny it to my core#I imagine jason drunk off his ass belting No Me Queda Mas like he fuckin wrote the song#Dick's got Como la Flor Energy but he has ugly Sobbed NMQS too#they are so infamous for their drunk spanish ballads that they actually rub off on TIm#imagine young justice suprise when the whitest kid you've ever seen wasted on 7/11 liquor is hiccuping his way through a selena song#worst accent you've ever heard sounds like a dog from New Jersey learning to bark and yet the emotion is kinda on point#TIm denies it#refuses to believe he has ever done it#Dick and Jason get a copy of the video and someone edits a mash up of all three of them warble singing that banger#anyway this was a nothing post of nothing I made for myself#fr just for me#DC#Batman#Batfam#Jason todd#Tim drake#Dick Grayson
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“simon?”
pools of amber glide up along the apples of your cheeks until he meets your gaze. he sits lazily on the sofa. the side of his calf rests against his knee and his arms are spread eagle on the back of the cushions as he takes you in.
“everything alright?”
he’d been in a trance this entire time, enamored by the routine waltz you did around your shared space everyday.
“s’nothin’ dove.”
he smells the doubt that wafts off of you, and stands. his big bear paw of a hand encompasses your waist when he walks by, a kiss pressing to the crown of your head.
“jus’ love ya is all.”
#what he doesn't realize is this is the first time he's said he loves you tehe#this was in my drafts and i'm pretty sure i was drunk when i wrote it#cod ghost#simon riley x gn reader#simon ghost riley x gn reader#ghost x gn reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#ghost x reader#ghost x you#simon riley imagine#call of duty#call of duty mwii#simon ghost riley#simon riley#cod mw ghost#cod x reader#cod x you#cod x gn reader#cod mw#cod modern warfare#ghost call of duty#call of duty modern warfare 2#cod mw3#cod mwii#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty mw2#sirin writes⋆˚࿔
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”platonic prongsfoot” they’ve been inside each other
#this draft lmaooooo#i think i was drunk when i wrote this but i was SO right#prongsfoot#sirius black#james potter#marauders
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so hot girl of ronan to get a condition that kills him by making him look like he has eyeliner running down his face
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fool ; jude bellingham
summary ♡ betting on the phenomenon of unrequited feelings, you and jude have never dared to make the first move with the other until a reunion forces new questions to be answered.
pairing ♡ jude bellingham x fem!reader
content ♡ 18+, smut, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, cursing, kissing, both jude & reader are pining idiots, fingering, p in v sex, marking, missionary, unprotected sex (jude pulls out but still pls practise safe sex!!)
a/n ♡ she's baaaack :D but first☝🏽alexa play fool by nct 127 !!!! the lyric "you’re a goddess but i’m a fool, what should i do?" was written for this fic in particular i just know it was :] anyway hehe this fic is based off this request so tysmm to anon for sending such an exciting prompt !! i hope yous enjoy 🫶🏽💗 WAIT P.S this isn’t proofread bc i lowkey am not rocking with it so i didn’t wanna put myself thru having to read it again & again … im sorry for any mistakes :’)
you had just gotten off work to a stream of relentless texts from your best friends’ groupchat — phone pinging off the rails whilst you were on shift, muffled buzzes from your bag making you wonder what on earth was worth blowing up in that whatsapp group on a random friday afternoon.
on the train back home, you tap open the green app, anticipating yourself easily spending the entire journey catching up on the three hundred-plus texts from your closest mates. you decide to start right from the beginning of the influx, thumb scrolling nonstop and eyes blurring from the rapid movement until they focus back on the screen where you stop, finally having reached the destination of the first text that set it all off.
it was from none other than jude bellingham, and you were nearly embarrassed by the way your face instantly lit up upon reading his message. the groupchat’s golden boy had popped up after weeks of minimal contact, asking if he could take everyone for a night out tomorrow to make up for it, stating that he finally has some small gaps of free time between hectic pre-season schedules to allow him to do so.
it honestly warmed your heart that the first thing he wants away from football is to see you all. you’d been a band of good friends since the first year of secondary school, contact not necessarily strained as you all had a lot of love for each other but rather unspokenly reduced after leaving school two years ago and falling into busy university or career ventures.
instead of scrolling through to read and react to the plethora of follow-up texts after his, you ignore them and jump straight to typing your reply to his invitation, casting aside that nagging voice asking you: doesn’t that seem too desperate?
no, right? i’m just accepting his invitation, getting straight to the point, the convo ended half an hour ago anyway. you’re arguing with yourself now, feeling the need to give unnecessary excuses to nonexistent accusations. if you were to be honest with yourself, you were always self-conscious of the way you behaved around jude, even now debating on whether to add your signature heart emoji or if it’d come across as you trying too hard given your feelings for him; albeit them being feelings that no one knows about, not even him. you made sure for it to be that way.
with a mental note to get over yourself, you send an affirmative ‘i’m up for it!’, signature heart included, and quickly shut off your phone. heart beating so rapidly, you scolded yourself for getting so worked up over a mere reply and for definitely not getting over yourself. god knows how you’re going to handle seeing him in person.
a sudden double buzz from your device does nothing to calm you down, instead dampening your hands with sweat when you grab it and see a pair of messages from him.
jude 🌟: heyy i’m so glad you can make it tomorrow :)
jude 🌟: can’t wait to see you!! ❤❤
he had messaged you separately for some reason and he had included two hearts… the overthinking starts for you again, without even beginning to think about what to reply this time, and you question why he couldn’t have just replied to you in the groupchat or why he couldn’t have just left the end of the messages with a ‘x’ like he usually does or why he would even say what he said in the last message. mind frantic and unable to clear itself, you thank yourself for having your read receipts turned off so you can have your mini meltdown without worrying about jude knowing you’d seen his messages multiple minutes ago. god, you were down so bad.
you force yourself to open the messages app and send the most casual reply you can type.
you: can’t wait to see you too! ❤
you try to keep it short, sweet and nonchalant even if your fingers are itching to type more – more about how much you had missed him, more about what he was planning to wear tomorrow night so that maybe you could match your own outfit with him, more about your true, unfiltered feelings for him. it’s pathetic really; you hadn’t seen him in two years and the first thing you wanted to do was throw yourself at him, spilling all the secrets you’d been holding close for so many years. you leave it at that, put your phone on do not disturb mode and head on home, waiting for the long hours of friday evening to pass and saturday night to arrive.
***
and so saturday night rolls around and you just about finish touching up your makeup and smoothing out your dark blue dress before the doorbell rings, and you’re whisked away to the club by a couple of your girlfriends.
as soon as you step your high heels into the building, you’re met with the sight of flowing booze and the noise of noughties r&b beats bouncing around the brightly lit walls. dragged by the hands of your friends, you find yourself standing next to a booth at the back of the club, the rest of the group now welcoming you latecomers with a loud cheer.
“finally, girls. you took your time!” one of your male friends remarks, ushering you all to sit down.
“oh god, what have we missed?” you beam, trying to scan the group amongst the strobing lights to catch a glimpse of the person you were really there for.
“nah, you’re just in time because… first round’s on mister madrid!”
the callout breaks your friend group into a raucous holler as your gaze fixes onto the six foot-one footballer who stands up with an amused grin and a sigh of feigned defeat. your heart quickens and your smile turns into a state of near disbelief over how good jude looks right now – graphic white t-shirt hugging his biceps in all the right places and hanging over a pair of smart-casual black trousers.
��yeah, yeah, anything for my groupies,” he winks at no one in particular but your brain almost convinces you that he was looking at you while doing it. you send a shy smile his way just in case but what he says next has your mouth running dry. “help us out, will ya, y/n?”
you hesitate for a second too long for your liking, stumbling over your words while your friends peer at you. “uh… uh-huh, yeah, of course.” you answer as quick as you can, standing up on your feet slowly as to not trip over your now-shaking legs and send yourself flying into jude, and to avoid embarrassing yourself more than you think you already have.
he responds with a grateful smile and you follow him to the bar where he places an order for a round of drinks and some shots to be delivered to the group by the two of you. there’s an odd unfamiliarity to the silence between you both and you realise that you aren’t normally this quiet around jude, and neither is he around you; you would always joke that he’d be eligible to talk for england if he wasn’t already playing football for them. he’d retort with a comment about how his ears could almost fall off with the amount of chatting you do, and you’d dryly reply with a ‘well, they’re too big for your head anyway. look at the size of them!’ the pair of you were always as thick as thieves in the eyes of everyone else. which is why you didn’t expect it to be like this, especially after two years of not seeing each other – there was so much you wanted to catch up on from his world and so much you wanted to share from yours. you decidedly gain some courage and take the initiative to spark some conversation, get something going at least.
“soo, how have you been, then?” you’re both facing the bar, your head barely tilting in jude’s direction to indicate that yes, it is him that you’re talking to and not some random like he assumes you are with the way you’re positioned away from him, eyes just about turning to steal a glance of his figure but not to hold eye contact. “how’s la vida española?”
jude finds amusement in your sudden flaunt of the spanish language, a smile breaking out on his face, unseen to you since he’s still facing the same direction that you are, preoccupying his eyes with the myriad of bottles on the shelves while his mind searches for an apt reply.
“yeah, it’s been great, i think i wanna stay there forever,” jude laughs, his fingers tapping on the black surface of the bar. you can’t help the selfish feeling of your heart dropping at his confession. “i miss you, though, y’know… a lot.”
this one confession forces your whole body to turn itself towards him, eyes now chasing after his to seek some form of sincerity, to see if he was just messing about or if he really meant what he just said. he shifts his head to face you now, a bashful look painted onto his features. the expectant silence says it all really; of course i mean it.
you gulp and decide to break the quietness with a sarcastic, jesting “ugh…”, jude’s face dropping at what he thinks is genuine disgust from you. you realise your attempt to denounce the awkwardness has backfired.
“oh my god, you dickhead, i’m joking,” how is it that mere moments ago you were shaking at the sheer real-life presence of him but now you’d transformed into having this confident playfulness? and all of it without a drop of alcohol in your system as well – you’re quietly proud of yourself. “i missed you too, jude… a lot.” you coyly repeat his words.
upon your turn of the confession, the bartender sets down your drink orders and the two of you wordlessly carry the trays over to where your friends are situated, the silence way more comfortable now that you’re both basking in assurance, unbeknown to the other that your hearts were racing at a hundred miles per hour.
***
not even two hours and an innumerable amount of shots later, you’re all a drunken mess; definitely not a surprise to a single one of you. what is a surprise is the way you’re strewn across jude, right leg wrapped around his left, head on his chest, swirling and sipping from what’s clearly an empty glass to any sober, sane person. you grumble and mutter a complaint about the lack of liquor in the booth, taking it upon yourself to head to the bar and order another round for everyone.
“i’ll come with you,” jude announces over the pounding of the music, standing up so quickly that his next five steps are staggered and he has to cling onto your arm to steady himself. “i’m fine, i’m okay.” he assures nobody that asked.
the two of you stumble your way into the path of the bar, determined to drink until the sun comes up and forget every strand of stress until the hangovers come knocking. jude’s soft grip on your arm has you being led in the opposite direction all of a sudden, though.
“uhm, where are we going?” you question, head still turned to where the bar is located, about to ask him if he was so hammered he couldn’t walk in a simple straight line to get to where you’d planned to go. “jude?”
he’s silent, save for humming his way to his desired destination, and you question if he even knows where he’s leading you. before you make the choice of going along with him or leaving his clearly confused self to go cop your next cocktail, you find yourself in the disabled toilets, pushed up against the sink with the door not even shut properly, gasping at how rough jude is handling your body compared to his soft touches from before, and how close his face is to yours, warm breath fanning the skin of your lips. you weren’t strictly against it all but how the hell have you ended up like this? The alcohol and the questions come at you fast, dizzying your brain but you can’t help but feel so keenly anticipative.
“i’m sorry, i just…” he pulls away from you, eyes fluttering closed so he can re-evaluate his actions, exhaling through his nose as if he was letting go of all doubts before continuing. “am i okay to do this?” he places his hands on your waist, pushing himself back into your space, his full lips more or less about to take yours. you have to refrain from letting the effects of alcohol take over your tongue and uttering back with a breathy ‘you can do whatever you want to me’.
instead, you answer with an earnest, eager nod, inviting his lips to finally do that one thing you had been dreaming of for so long, to kiss yours so silly that they’re left with the imprint of him. and jude does just that.
his mouth takes in yours so determinedly, shyness and hesitation now long-dissolved feelings for you both as your hands find home around the back of his neck, pushing his head further onto you, feeling the need to taste him more and more until you’re both consumed by each other.
it’s a messy makeout, noses bumping and teeth clashing, but it’s oh so hot, the way he gasps into your mouth from breathlessness and pleasure, running and gripping his large hands over the material adorning your waist and hips as the need to rip it off you nearly overtakes him. to you, he’s so utterly intoxicating that a gallon of alcohol would pale in comparison to how dizzy his skin on yours makes you feel.
you release a moan at the meagre thought of jude all over your body, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue over yours, filthy noises of wetness and carnality from the both of you reaching high pitch as jude somehow simultaneously pushes you against the sink and pulls you against his chest, his manhandling of you getting you even more hot and bothered before you’re both interrupted by the hub of people passing by and huddling right outside the bathroom, their self-occupied shouts and cheers dragging you out of the bubble that the two of you had wrapped yourselves in, almost sobering you up on the spot.
you push jude out of your way, gentle but abrupt, and give him a look of apologetic regret. “i-i’m sorry,” you say, jitterily walking past him and exiting the room without a second glance or word, heading straight to the booth where your friends are hollering and hurraying, occupied with shot-drinking contests.
your girlfriends offer to go home with you when you lie and tell them you’re not feeling very well, but you decline them, instead telling them to have fun on your behalf and letting them know that you’ll try to text them once you get home safely. you can tell they’re confused by your shaken state and the absence of jude but you grab your bag and make your exit before the interrogation can even begin to brew.
you manage to grab a taxi back home, surprised by how competent you are despite the alcohol in your bloodstream and confusion in your brain. on the way there, you can’t stop the bouncing of your knee nor the racing of your psyche, asking yourself how and why whatever went down with jude went down like that. you curse at yourself for being so impulsive in starting and finishing the whole ordeal with him in the way that you did – you don’t know if it’s the empty, depressive drunk thoughts or just clarity from the whole jude thing that makes you feel like there’s no coming back from this at all. you feel like crawling into your bed and never coming out from it ever again.
the taxi driver has to call for your attention multiple times until you reach earth again and pay him the journey’s fee. you go skulking all the way up to your front door, only letting out a breath that you feel like you’ve been holding since the beginning of the night once the door shuts behind you.
the rest of the night is quiet and orderly for you, telling yourself to not invite any more chaos into your brain and to simply drink some water and to go to sleep. waking up tomorrow morning is going to be painful in more ways than one.
***
you spend the rest of the weekend nursing a ferocious hangover and a frazzled heart, only contacting your friends to tell them that you got home fine and to joke that you probably need a century or two for this hangover to be gone. you thank the high heavens that they don't bring up the topic of you and jude
you try not to think too much about jude, you really do, but sunday night has a couple of taps landing you on the instagram app and you learn that he’s already back in spain, pictures of him in training sliding across your phone screen on his story along with selfies with his teammates. usually, you tap that small red heart at the bottom and hope that he sees it amongst his millions and millions of notifications, a tiny ritual of yours that now has you feeling so pathetic that you don’t dare to do it anymore.
running a hand over your weary face, you set your phone down and opt to nap the night away, finding comfort in the non-intrusion from your friends and the no contact from jude, hoping to keep yourself busy and distracted with whatever the work week brings.
a ring from the doorbell rips through your flat just as you’re organising your pillows, forcing you to stop what you’re doing and ponder who could be at the door on a sunday while the clock ticks some minutes past one o’clock. you don’t recollect ordering any food nor are you expecting a delivery, especially not this late.
trudging your way to the front door, you open it to find jude bellingham standing there and you feel an instant pang of regret, wishing you had peeked through the window to see who it could be, wishing you had pretended to not be in, wishing the ground would open up right now and swallow you whole – anything to escape the confrontation that you’re now having to face. your face heats up with embarrassment and nerves but you manage to rupture the silence before your mouth can turn dry.
“j-jude, hi,” you try and keep your greeting as polite and cordial as you can, even when all you really want to do is to chase him off your doorstep. “what are you doing here?”
your query has jude visibly gulping, hands fiddling with each other as he attempts to hold eye contact with you, his vision a bit blurry from exhaustion. “y/n… sorry, can i come in?”
you oblige, holding the door open wide before you guide him to the living room and invite him to sit down on the plushness of your sofa, settling yourself on the opposite end of it. you silently prompt him to say what he came here to say with a nod of your head.
“uhm, i’m sorry for turning up unannounced, and so late…” ever the courteous. “i had to sneak away from the lads and catch the last flight to here so it was all a bit down to the wire.” he lets out a small, uneasy laugh.
you cut off his rambling with a curt “what do you want, jude?” you don’t mean for it to sound so rude but you still hold the attitude of wanting to get this over and done with, already feeling annoyance at yourself for even letting him into your home.
“right, yeah, i actually wanted to talk about what happened on saturday,” he goes back to fiddling with this thumbs, eyebrows furrowed but he avoids looking at you this time. not that you can blame him because your own vision shifts to anywhere but his direction. “i’m so sorry for making you uncomfortable a-and please tell me if this is inappropriate, but i haven’t stopped thinking about last night, i haven't stopped thinking about you, i-i’m sorry, i know this is all so silly and you probably don’t even feel the same bu-”
you stop him right there, this time with good reason as you can’t bear holding back your real emotions, not when he’s practically given you the green light to spill the contents of your heart.
“no, jude, i didn’t feel uncomfortable at all,” you assure him, gaze now on the footballer in front of you and you almost can’t believe the words leaving your mouth right now. “i wanted it to happen, i’m glad it happened, you know, i think i’ve had dreams about it happening,” you try and offset any tension with a timid chuckle before turning quite pensive. “i really like you, jude, i have for a long time… god, sorry, this is so embarrassing.” you return to making light of the situation you’ve put yourself in, the timidness sinking back in as quick as the relief lifts you up.
jude moves closer to your now-cowering body, knees touching as your heartbeat surges with worry and self-consciousness all wrapped up into a tight, miserable ball. he puts his sweat-dampened hands into yours and squeezes in silent assurance before raising them up to his lips and laying a chaste kiss on the heated skin.
he can’t help but break out into a sweet smile, eyes threatening to crinkle at the edges. your face is still sketched with tension and now confusion has joined the mix.
“i can’t tell you how long i’ve waited to hear that from you, how much i needed to hear it,” your eyes meet his, widening in surprise a little. “i’m a fool for not telling you sooner… i like you, y/n, i really like you.” he repeats your own words back at you, leaning in with a smattering of amusement dancing in his vision.
“can i kiss you?” the question leaves your lips faster than you can even process it in your brain.
jude wastes no time in replying with a firm pressing of his mouth on yours, deepening it within seconds, the need to cement his feelings for you being told through the way he cradles your head in his hand, leaning you back onto the arm of the sofa to further intensify the kiss. your lips move along with his, the soft weight of his body pressed against yours making you whine into his mouth in ecstasy.
he lifts off of you with a puckering of his swollen lips, the both of you taking the chance to draw in some air and attempt to regulate your breathing pattern.
“please take me to the bedroom,” you beg, breathless from the sheer sight of his dark eyes and pretty pout. there’s no fight nor denial from jude as he picks you up and prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, quickening his pace once you point in the direction of your room.
he lays you down on the bed so gently, lips latching onto yours once again before they travel down your jaw and over the warm skin of your neck. the light touch of his fluttering eyelashes married with the pressure of his soft lips has your head spinning, hands tentatively laid on top of your sheets since you don’t trust yourself to not grab his head and bring it back to your lips. his fingers tinker with the waistband of your pyjama trousers, stretching it off your skin before he asks permission to peel them down your legs.
once they’re cast away in some corner of your bedroom, jude divides your legs by the underside of your knees, tucking himself into the now available space between them, turning onto his side and resting on his left forearm. he leaves a small kiss over your covered cunt and you try your best to not just clamp his head in between your thighs and smother him with your growing wetness here and now.
“need to get you ready, baby,” the sudden mention of the petname has you throbbing, squirming even more when he traces a line from your clit down to where there’s a small damp spot forming on the dark material of your underwear.
“jude, please,” you whine out, lifting your hips in a desperate bid to get the boy to strip your lower half completely.
he shushes you in his own charming way, making sure to comply with your demand by getting up onto his knees and discarding your soaked panties in a matter of seconds, the cold air generated by his large hands whipping them off you hits your exposed pussy, making you hiss through gritted teeth.
jude returns to the gap between your spread legs, sitting back but still on his knees, his higher position causing you to shift onto resting your body weight on the palms of your hands in order to peer at his actions – which start with him re-tracing that same teasing line from your aching clit to your hole with his thumb, the feeling now so intense on your unclothed skin. he hums in what sounds to be satisfaction when you throw your head back in pleasure, taking it in his favour to slip his index finger into the tightness of your pussy.
you release a guttural groan at the feeling of finally having some part of him inside you; you of course don’t want this to be the only part but you’re still so very grateful, so fucking grateful he’s now rubbing at your clit in delicious rounds, thumb tracing circle after circle while his fingers form a pair, pistoning in and out of you so easily due to the way your cunt douses itself with every move of jude’s.
“fuck, baby,” jude moans at the sight of his soaked digits every time they barely pull out of that pretty pussy, his thumb torturing your sensitive bud increasingly so, the cries and whimpers spilling from your lips an incentive for him. “feel so good and tight around my fingers, can’t imagine how you’ll feel around my dick.”
his words have you absolutely reeling, writhing against his hand to try and chase that moment of release.
“please, jude, i’m so close,” you’re warning and demanding at the same time, almost begging him to not stop or even think about moving his fingers out of you. “god, please, i need it,”
jude suddenly retracts both of his hands, leaving you bare and empty. “no way, baby, need to have you cumming on my cock or not cumming at all,” he comments with a shake of his head, denying you the opportunity of leaking your cum over his hand. upon seeing your bewildered face, he makes up for it by putting on a show of licking your juices clean off his fingers, the digits popped inside his mouth and dragged right back out with a low moan, him praising the way you taste.
“move up the bed for me, angel,” he orders, watching you while he stands up and unclothes himself as quick as he can. you scoot backwards, legs still spread open like they’ve been locked in that position, before pulling your oversized t-shirt off of you, chest void of a restricting bra . “good girl,” he praises, crawling up to hover his body over your laying one, cock in hand as your legs come to wrap around him. “are you still okay with this? we can stop at any point, okay?”
the sincerity of his voice has you melting. some would remark that the bar is in hell for you but the truth is that you hadn’t been with anyone like this for more months than you could count on your hands. you've been touch-starved and lacking words of affirmation for so long, and you needed something to be only about you for once.
“i’m more than okay with this,” you smile up at him, nodding to make your approval fully known. “and yes, i know i can stop you if i need to.”
jude reciprocates the same smile before leaning in and smothering your lips with his, pushing his cock into your tight wetness, so tight that your pussy almost pushes him back out, not used to being penetrated by something so thick.
“oh my god!” the feeling of tightness/fullness has you both gasping out the same thing at the same time, erupting into quiet giggles when the two of you realise your matching reactions.
jude’s mouth finds its way back home in the embrace of your lips and you swear this is heaven, the way his cock slides in and out of your sopping cunt, set at such a perfect pace, the slight friction causing you to grow even wetter – the filth of it all contrasts so well with the sweetness of his muffled moans and tender kisses on your neck, moving down onto your collarbones and tits.
a particularly harsh thrust of his cock has your back arching, chest pushed up to his heated face, and he takes this golden opportunity to wrap his lips around your erect nipple, spending a good while sucking and tugging on the skin around it. you’re amazed at how his cock doesn’t relent inside you, the speed still so quick and consistent even when he’s so occupied in painting splotches on your tits with his mouth.
“there,” he pants out, pulling his head back and marvelling at his own creation. “now, there’s no doubt that you’re really mine.” the smile he gives you is a killer.
you whine at his declaration of you belonging to him, scratching at his shoulders and calling out his name to indicate that it’s all too much for you, that you’re so, so close to cumming on his cock and really giving him what he wants rather than pleasing yourself. you figure that’s you gone now; you’re more willing to put the boy above your own needs because you’re down that fucking bad for him.
“fuck, jude, i’m gonna cum!” you sob, your moans becoming more frequent and higher pitched, legs starting to shake from the intoxicating mix of exhaustion and delight. you’re frantically chanting “please, please, please” into his mouth which parts to swallow your whimpering, wet lips kissing your trembling ones.
“go on, baby, cum for me, cum all over this cock,” he groans out, eyes squeezing shut when the feeling of your pussy clamping down tightly on his thickness proves too much to handle, face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. he knows you don’t need his permission, he would’ve let you orgasm as many times as you wanted to, would’ve let you use him like your own personal sex toy, but the words were only there to keep you going when his hips felt like faltering – he needed you cumming on his cock like he promised before, and he wasn’t about to fuck it up himself.
a final scream rips from your throat as you cum hard around jude, pussy clenching and pulsating around his cock so sporadically you thought you were having two orgasms at once. jude can’t handle it anymore, pulling out with a myriad of moans as he pumps his shaft with a hand, decorating the expanse of your lower abdomen with warm, white liquid. you’re still squirming, slowly trying to wheeze out the remaining whimpers from your lungs which you’re finding hard to do with the way jude pants and moans above you, the boy so spent he can’t help but breathe like he hasn’t had access to air for the past hour.
he flops down by your side, arms and legs sprawled like a starfish, chest rising and falling as he attempts to recuperate from the mindblowing sex you two just had. the image is so unserious that you can’t stifle your giggles but you decide to take another step of courage to lay on your side resting your head on his shoulder, fingers stroking his abs and playing with the curly hairs of his happy trail.
the room is quiet now with the scent of sex wafting through your nostrils on occasion but it’s the most comfortable silence you’ve experienced with jude, the feeling of his hot skin on yours so soothing to you.
after a period of panting, jude clears his throat and your ears prick up at the presence of sound. he turns his head towards you and you lift yourself up and off him out of instinct – you want full attention on him.
“i don’t want this to be a one-time kinda thing, y’know,” he proclaims, biting his lip from saying too much in one go.
“what, is this your way of saying you want round two already?” you joke, nose crinkling at the way he rolls his eyes playfully.
“shut up,” he delivers a poke to your side. “i mean, well, i don’t want either one of us to see this as a spur-of-the-moment thing, i just…” you look at him expectantly, silently telling him to continue. “i want you to be my girlfriend, y/n.”
you’re nearly knocked back by his words, wondering if they’re real or if you’re simply just hearing things. you thought dialogue like that, coming from him, was only reserved for your imagination, kept secret and only spoken to you in late-night mental scenarios that would comfort you on your way to slumberland.
you let out a laugh that’s an odd mix of relief and disbelief, quickly replying “yes, yes, of course” to his awaiting face, which releases a look of relief itself before jude captures your lips with such passion you’re both knocked back onto the plush pillows, giggling into each other’s mouths until your hands find themselves running down the defined muscles of his abdomen and over his hardening cock.
#girlies i’ve never had alcohol in my life so i hope the way i wrote reader & jude being drunk was ok !!! 🫶🏽#then again i’ve never had sex in my life and i write extensively about it so u know . 😭😭😭#guys imagine if before every smut fic i wrote a disclaimer like ‘guys i-i’ve never had sex before but i hope i did okay with this 🥺🥺' LMAO#ALSO omg im sorry abt the inconsistencies in tone + tempo i legit wrote this over a 5 month period + came back to it at times when i didnt#feel like writing + i was just tryna get to the good bit iykwim ( ͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °)#˗ˏˋ 📝 ˎˊ˗#˗ˏˋ 💬 ˎˊ˗#jude bellingham#jude bellingham smut#jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham x fem!reader#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham x you#jude bellingham x y/n#football imagine#footballer smut#footballer imagine
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When gameboi wonwoo isn't giving you enough attention so you take the matters in your own hands. (smut, MDNI, mild spanking and degradation)
Wonwoo had been spending a lot of time gaming recently and you know he isn't ignoring you on purpose, he probably isn't even noticing how little time he's spending with you these days and that's something you could change. You definitely could make yourself more attractive than Wonwoo's stupid games, right!?
You sigh dramatically as you enter Wonwoo's room with a mop. You put almost no effort into mopping, but Wonwoo is staring the fuck out of you. You try to ignore the tug at your lips threatening a smirk. You gotta be discreet.
"Y/n? What are you doing?"
"cleaning, why?" Wonwoo had muted his mic and had stopped smashing his keyboard, meaning your plan was working.
Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. "And what are you wearing?"
"An apron! Couldn't get myself dirty, y'know."
"and nothing underneath that." Wonwoo stated. He got up his chair, no longer bothered to win whatever game he was playing and walks up to you. You giggle when he holds both of your wrists and hold them above your head, the mop falling down.
It was that easy to get Wonwoo's attention back to you. All you had to do was roam around the house naked and he would come running to you like a dog coming for his food.
He's kissing you aggressively now, breathless as he shoves his tongue in your mouth. His other hand reach to untie the damn apron which hid nothing. His large hand roamed around the bare span of your body, from your back to your ass to your thighs and back at your ass, groping and squeezing the mass their. His mouth detached to yours and found itself on your neck, biting and bruising and marking. You moaned out his name as he began abusing your bare nipples now.
He then swiftly turns you around and pushes your face against the nearest wall, so that your ass was to him. He untied the strings of his sweatpants and took them off with his boxers in one go, his hard and big dick now throbbing against his torso. You are wet enough for him to slide in two fingers easily and he works them to scissor you open and prepare you for him.
When you re ready enough and give him the go, he plunged his dick in you. His glasses are fogged up as he fucks you fast. You moan and whimper his name everytime he hit your sweet spot. He spanks your ass a few times, calling you out for disturbing him and ruining his match and probably making him lose. Not that he really cared about those things when he was balls deep in you. Punishment sex was just sexy.
You mutter a sorry and your not builds up in your abdomen hearing him degrade you, calling you a needy slut. You know he's close too, from the way he stutters in speech and how his breath hitches. His fingers find your clit, giving you just the right stimulation to align your orgasm to his. He pulls out just in time, giving his dick a single jerk before he's nutting on your ass, painting the reddened flesh white.
He has to hold you from collapsing after you reach your high, your skin still tingling from the dopamine release. You both are panting.
"maybe next time you can just tell me when you want to fuck so I don't pop a boner while talking to my friends."
"Maybe next time don't go as long as three hours without giving me attention."
"Maybe next time you should sit on my lap and cockwarm me when I game."
#svt#seventeen#svt smut#svt x reader#wonwoo#wonwoo smut#wonwoo x reader#gamebo1 wonwoo#yea the reader was t given attention for 3 whole hours#3 hours is equivalent of 3 months#reader is just hungry for Wonwoo's attention#i am reader#jeon wonwoo#seventeen smut#svt imagines#ceecee thots#i was a little drunk when i wrote this pls
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NO BC LISTEN.
WIRO REACTING TO HIS CRUSH/LOVER WEARING A SUIT. LIKE IT FITS THEIR FRAME SO PERFECTLY AND SNUGLY AND WDYM “WHY IS HE LOOKING” OFC HE’S LOOKING LIKE HELLO???
I can’t tell if he would shameless let his eyes roam or would avoid looking at them KDIDKSKSK WIRO BRAINROT IS SO REALL
KAJNSDSA BROOO OMG okokokok something along the lines but 👀
Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!
You're fiddling with the cuffs of your suit as you exit the changing room, a frown on your face. You're nervous— of course you are! It's not often that you're invited to a high-profile, black-tie event like this, and you'd rather not stick out like a sore thumb.
Wriothesley, who sits comfortably in a plush armchair, has been invited before though. But time and time again he's turned down the invites with some of the most ludicrous excuses. 'A monster is attacking the fortress' is one of his most used ones, closely followed by 'a bird shat on the shoulder of my suit.' But you wonder why he's accepted this time, despite his distaste for the limelight. Well, you shrug, pocketing the thought for later. At least you won't be going alone.
"What do you think?" You pose the question to him, still frowning as you look down at yourself. Did you look okay? Was the fit alright? Did this color wash you out? You had splurged on this (well. Wriothesley splurged on this, technically. He had said it's a gift) and had the suit custom-done, so it should fit your measurements to an exact, but... you frown, not able to shake off the nerves.
And it doesn't help that Wriothesley hasn't said anything since you've stepped out, either. Merely stares at you, eyes roaming your figure. Even at your question, he acts like he hadn't even heard it. Does the suit look that bad?
"Wrio?"
That seems to reach him, and he blinks, finally registering that he's been staring at you— and that you've begun to stare back.
"Oh, uh. Yeah, it looks nice on you. The tailor did a very good job," he says, glancing away, hoping you don't see the red tinge to his cheeks or his ears.
"Really?" You ask, evaluating yourself in the mirror with a frown. "I don't know. I feel like I look like a mess."
"if you look like a mess, then I dread to think what I look like," he says, glancing at you for a second, getting an eyeful of you in that damn good suit, and feels his mouth dry up again. Wriothesley turns his eyes to the corner of the room, finding the fake palm plant there incredibly interesting. Barely more interesting than you. In that very flattering suit. It emphasizes your body very well, he thinks. Makes him see just enough of you while still leaving some to the imagination. And the color you chose for it... red and black, to match what he'll wear, you said. He sighs, troubled, because just the mere memory of it has his heart racing and his palms sweating.
You keep criticizing your reflection for a while longer, and it takes just enough time for Wriothesley to work up the self-control to look your way. "You look good," he says at last. Then clears his throat. His face feels hot. "Better than good, even. You don't have anything to worry about, I promise."
It placates you, because you finally give your own reflection a rest. You back away from the mirror, humming. "If you say so. Thank you, Wrio," you tell him, flashing him a small, shy smile just before you back up into the changing room once more to take it off.
Once you're out of the vicinity, Wriothesley drops his head into his palms, groaning softly.
if he's this much of a mess around you at a fitting, he wonders how much of a fool he could make himself at the actual event.
#astronetwrk#「 🐈⬛ 」 catcze.desserts#wriothesley x reader#genshin impact x reader#cw gn reader#genshin impact#wriothesley#Fun fact he alr rejected the invite before he learned you were also invited & would attend lmao#as soon as he knew you were going he wrote up a follow up letter going smthn like 'NO WAIT EXCUSE ME CHANGE OF PLANS I WILL ATTEND'#babe i will b so honest im drunk as a skunk rn so if its bad im so sorry ill edit come morening ily mwah mwah#<-tag from last night when I was planning 2 post drunk but decided to hold on to it HAJJDS dw dw i edited it alr
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if you want actual like on god for real actually exist you can see the papyri/tablets very incredibly cute egyptian letters absolutely go read translations of the amarna letters between king amenhotep III and his absolute bestest best friend in the whole wide world king tushratta of mitanni
#an fyi before you do: egyptians said 'i love you' and were very dramatic about it VERY freely#this isnt a 'haha they were SUUUHC GOOD FRIEEEEEEEENDS' moment egyptians were just like that#amenhotep was INCREDIBLY drunk on loving his wife juice to the extent his secondary wives were merely ceremonial positions#by all accounts he was monogamous and incredibly cute about his (commoner) wife#but he and tushratta referred to eachother as brothers and tush was DEVESTATED when amenhotep died#and wrote to queen tiye saying that he would love his son (amenhotep IV aka akhenaten) as if he were amenhotep III#because his best friend lived on in his son#and was basically like 'my son now i love him so much btw'#and then akhenaten completely fucked it by leaving him on read forever which is so sad and also biggest dick move#akhenaten apologists dont interact
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You better love the women on doctor who because if not I’m fucking coming to get you.
#threat <3#but yeah why hate them when they’re beautiful and funny and cool#hate yourself not the amazing women there#haters gonna hate#but im coming to get them#No haters in Sasaland#sorry wrote all this while drunk lol#but forgot to post it#but yeah i still agree with me#sasa rambles#doctor who#dr who#13th doctor#thirteenth doctor#jodie whittaker#martha jones#rose tyler#donna noble#amy pond#river song#clara oswald#clara oswin oswald#yazmin khan#bill potts#mandip gill#billie piper#catherine tate#karen gillan#jenna coleman#ruby sunday
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#im sorry i was drunk and confused when i wrote this tag bc it clearly shouldve been its own post.#morgan le fay#arthuriana
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usopp drunkenly rambling about the veggie kids, talking about how much he misses them and reminiscing about how they used to play pirates together all the time. Sanji (a lightweight) interjects with "oh haha you used to talk to inanimate objects to make up for your lack of friends too? i had a pumpkin girlfriend for a week!" and usopp has to pause for a second and then explain that the veggie kids are actual children who just resemble vegetables ,,, and asks sanji "...do you wanna elaborate" (sanji runs away in shame)
bonus: the next time usopp sees sanji cutting up a pumpkin for a dish or smthn he yells "SANJI HOW COULD YOU DO THAT... SHE WAS GOING TO BE YOUR WIFE ONE DAY" (he goes red in the face and chases him down with a knife)
#i love drunk shenanigans<3 last time i posted one it was mean and angsty so here's a sillier one#anyways yeah ofc sanji used to talk to vegetables#he'd carve a face into a pumpkin to make it a little better BFJFHSKD#SORRY </3#op#one piece#sanji#usopp#vinsmoke sanji#black leg sanji#god usopp#sanuso#usosan#TO ME. I WAS THINKING OF THEM WHEN I WROTE THIS OK#usopp pirates#veggie pirates
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My understandings of what Primarchs are currently alive and dead, what their status' are: Loyalists: Leman Russ: Running butt ass naked in the Warp, if the armour if any indication. Probably a Wulfen and horribly mutated like Corvus. Possibly could be fine. Chances very slim for him not be a mutated wolf thing with viking braids. Anyway his sons are mildly disturbed by the armour they keep finding Lion: Alive and pissed. Commits so many war crimes behind Guilliman's back. May or may not be making it his personal goal to give Guilliman as many grey hairs as possible. Roboute Guilliman: Stressed and thinks humans can't rule themselves. Asshole. Needs a break and to actually spend time with humans and actually thinking about the fact it's been ten thousand fucking years. That's impressive for an empire. Corvus Corax: Fucked up bird man in the warp. Probably learning that feathers suck to get blood out of and questioning how the fuck his white winged brother kept his feathers so fucking clean even though said brother routinely caused blood baths in life. Has probably pecked someone to death. Vulkan: Probably alive. Somewhere. Might actually be in a volcano somewhere. His death goes against his lore so who knows what the fuck is going on here. Jaghatai Khan: Also in the warp, has no idea where the fuck he is and isn't stopping for directions. Honestly he's actually existed the warp couple of times he was going so fucking fast. Probably also slowly getting mutated. Might be fine though. Probably passed a naked Leman a couple of times and is really confused by the fucked up bird thing calling itself Corvus. Rogal Dorn: Could be dead, could have a sick ass prosthetic hand. No idea what's going on with him. Sanguinius: Incredibly dead. Probably a good thing that he is. Otherwise he'd probs be a traitor primarch too with the Imperium in its current state- Ferrus Manus: Also very dead. Probably was seething mad at being killed by Fulgrim. Very likely died seething mad. Traitors: Fulgrim: Is a four armed winged snake thing. Having mad sex and doing way too many drugs. Probably also eating a lot too. And then sleeping it off because snake. Has a chunky boyfriend if Tumblr is to be believed. Magnus: Trying to rebuild, also an arrogant prick. I support him even if he's a dick. If only because what happened to Prospero was a travesty of the highest order. You go my weird rainbow nipple horned demon prince. What is your obsession with titty horns??? Mortarion: Depressed but has family. Is infected with diseases that are probably not even invented yet. Probably also not a skinny rail of a man anymore courtesy of Papa Nurgle who is a better dad then the Emperor ironically. Probably can't stand to look himself in the Mirror. Angron: Angy, so very angy. And obsessed with blood. Even if he wasn't immortal by virtue of being a demon prince, he'd probably be too angry to die. Not entirely sure if this is actually better then being dead. Lorgar: Not entirely sure, but I assume he's somewhere in the warp spreading the word of chaos like some sort of messed up anti jesus or something.
Alpharius /Omegon: One's dead, the other is alive. Which twin died and which one is alive is a damn good question. Possibly neither are even dead. Absolute bastards (affectionate). Perterabo: Grumpy old man wanting to be left alone and forge. He yearns for it. Mostly content to just make stuff and burn his skin off. Good things he's a demon now I guess. Go make stuff, have a hobby that's kinda healthy. Sort of. Konrad: Pretty dead. Saw it happen and let it happen. Probably for the best because dear god this man as a demon prince is terrifying. Horus: Also very dead. Might actually be even more dead then Sanguinius considering Horus' soul was probably destroyed.
#I was quite drunk when I wrote this so take it with a grain of salt#also haven't read any of the books#literally mostly know it through tumblr#Leman deserves to run around naked#feel free to add on#as I said#very drunk right now#warhammer 40k#warhammer 30k#primarchs#magnus the red#rogal dorn#mortarion#horus lupercal#sanguinius#leman russ#fulgrim#Perterabo#konrad curze#lorgar aurelian#jaghatai khan#alpharius omegon#Angron#ferrus manus#lion el'jonson#roboute guilliman#vulkan#corvus corax#enjoy my rambles
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