#about colour coated sheets

[laxmienterprise]

Everything About Colour Coated Sheets & Benefits of Colour Coated Roofing Sheet!

Want to know About Advantages of Colour Coated Sheets & Benefits of colour coated roofing sheet in Vadodara? In this blog, we provides detailed info. The colour coated profile sheet is essential in modern building construction. Also listed some Advantages of Colour Coated Roofing Sheet. visit us!

[laxmi-enterprise-blog]

Everything About Colour Coated Sheets & Benefits of Colour Coated Roofing Sheet!

Roofing is a crucial aspect of any structure, be it commercial or residential. It requires a robust, dependable, high-quality roofing material to safeguard the building and its occupants. Among the plethora of options available, colour-coated sheets stand out as a reliable choice. Their durability, flexibility, and high quality not only enhance their functionality but also instill a sense of security in your roofing solution. In this blog explores everything about colour coated sheets and its benefits and why they are a dependable roofing solution.

What are Colour Coated Sheets?

The colour coated profile sheet is essential in modern building construction. These roofing materials offer durability and protection against external elements, regulate temperature, and add to its visual appeal. The colour sheets have a lining of enamel that serves as a protective layer. It is extensively used in different structures like garages, factories, industries, car parking, store rooms, godowns, restaurants, and more places.

Laxmi Enterprise is a leading roofing sheet supplier in Vadodara. We offer premium quality colour coated sheets in 8FT to 24 FT. We also offer customization to meet your requirements. We also provide GC sheets in custom sizes. Contact us to learn about colour coated sheets technical specifications.

Benefits of Colour Coated Roofing Sheet

The coloured coated profile sheets are available in various sizes, shapes and lengths. They offer a wide range of benefits, as listed below.

Advantages of Colour Coated Roofing Sheet

Lightweight: The colour coated sheets are commonly made lightweight material like aluminiium and steel. They are lightweight, sturdy, and exhibit tensile strength.

Durable: The aluminum roofing sheets are durable and long-lasting. It maintains durability and high endurance even in the harshest conditions. They exhibit high tensile strength at low temperatures and can be reused and easily recyclable.

Easy Installation: The colour cooated roofing sheets are are simple and easy to install due to its lightweight. Unlike other sheets, they are not easily bendable and can withstand extreme weather.

Corrosion Resistant: These sheets are highly resistant to corrosion and moisture. Their high resistance makes them a better material for different types of climatic conditions. The anti-corrosion property reduces the chances of deterioration, extends their lifespan, and minimizes maintenance.

Visually Appleaing: The vibrant colours makes these sheets aesthecailly appealing. They are available in different colours that you can choose as per your construction project.

The coloured coated profile sheets are a versatile, durable and flexible roofing material. They offer various benefits as compared to other roofing materials. Laxmi Enterprise is a prominent Mild steel supplier in Vadodara. We provide a range of MS steel products like MS angles, MS pipes, MS TMT bars, MS flat bars, MS channels, GC sheets, colour coated roofing sheet in Vadodara, and more. If you are considering buying MS products or colour coated sheets, contact us for the best quotes.

[elodieunderglass]

hi! i was just wondering if you’re getting a piece of this pie. https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/voidrealmminis/rise-of-the-eldertubbies?ref=profile_saved_projects_live

Oh my goodness! Haha thanks for showing me! And no, of course, this guy is still selling my dream while claiming it’s totally nothing to do with me. I hadn’t heard about it so thank you.

For those just joining us, here is the saga of the elder teletubbies:

1. in 2017 I posted a dream I had on Tumblr. In the dream I discovered that the childish teletubbies shown on BBC’s Teletubbies are merely the children of a species that grows up to be forest cryptids as adults. The post contained a detailed character description explaining how the children’s simple antennae become more complex antlers; their coats become thicker hair; their eldritch screens are unknowable; here, look:

The adult Teletubbies have more branching, complex antlers and shaggy coats. They are less brightly coloured. They are terrifyingly large. Their strangely human faces, emerging from the thick fur, are unquestionably adult; remote, serene, reproachful. Their television screens are glitchy, esoteric and unknowable. They are cryptids whose public exploitation has undermined their rarity and their strange, alien dignity.

That’s a pretty clear description.

2. The post quickly gained attention and many people drew art, made sculptures, designed in-depth character concepts, and even made DnD character sheets and entries with detailed notes. It was 2017. The post got over 90k notes. It had an extremely clear description of the cryptid in it. This wasn’t at all obscure.

3. The post and four pieces of the concept art, including the first piece by were screencapped and posted on r/tumblr. The post included this art by the now-deactivated @finoliatav which is, I think, the first piece of art. Most screencaps don’t show that it’s animated! Once you see it you can no longer pretend that any more work needs to be done in designing these characters, really - they’re all variations on a very clear theme.

4. A guy called Jars started drawing the BBC Teletubbies as adult Teletubbies. He noted on Reddit that his inspiration for the first one was the r/tumblr post but after that, he considered it entirely his own creative work. He drew each of the 4 BBC Teletubbies as adults using my character description and wrote a little story about how his character had stumbled upon them in the woods. He’s a good artist and his work went viral on Reddit and instagram. Those places being separate from Tumblr by the walls of the enclosure, they quickly believed the Jars was being highly original and praised him for it.

5. jars got carried away by his fame and started merchandising for all he’s worth. He’s selling elder teletubbies placemats. He got a collaborator to help him make and sell plushies.

6. Plushies of my character design applied to BBC characters. Jars sells them. To people. Who buy them. He sells these.

7. I think this is like… his job.

8. It has been years of this. I don’t think he has actually come up with anything else to sell by himself. But given that he now has millions upon millions of views on platforms I don’t use, let alone dominate (Instagram, YouTube, Reddit, TikTok) he seems to have fully subscribed to the idea that this is his THING.

9. After a while I wrote him a friendly email expressing that since my original dream was very much about discomfort with how the teletubbies were being exploited, I didn’t mind him selling his own art but that I wasn’t happy with him selling plushes based on my writing.

10. He wrote back along the lines of it all being his original intellectual property and absolutely nothing to do with me, etc, so jog on and don’t interfere.

11. I’m not entirely sure where the original intellectual property is when taking BBC characters and drawing them according to someone else’s detailed description of how to “evolve” them (branching antlers, shaggy coats, eldritch screens, serene adult human faces) especially having drawn them after seeing four separate detailed reference photos to base your own drawings on; especially when they’re the existing BBC characters from the show and not even your own. Like, Jars, you were given an entire detailed brief, several sets of references, an entire concept and a television show: the only artistic choices made here were to pick up your own personal pen and do the drawing. You have never deviated from my description, which you did not come up with yourself in any way. But okay Jars. You did some real intellectual heavy lifting here, this is Intellectual Property suddenly, and I guess this is your day job!

12. I myself actually have a day job, am capable of generating lots of other original material just for funsies, have never asked you guys for money, and I’m not generally huge jerk I don’t think. Also, I’m uncomfortable but have never been clear on how to stop him - I don’t think I can. So I don’t do much about this, apart from occasionally scream with hilarity with you guys about it.

13. Like this is the opposite of Goncharov. This is a guy making his wage on a 2017 tumblr collaborative shitpost insisting that this is the beautiful fruit of his only brain. And millions of people believe him.

14. There are now YouTube documentaries with millions of views and TikTok lore about Jars, and his lore, the Elder Teletubbies, which apparently he invented. People are making their wage talking about the history of Jars and his teletubbies lore. These documentaries are, if you can’t tell, not especially well-researched, as it is not difficult to find the original elder teletubbies art on the internet, which is all timestamped. Occasionally hilarious people from Tumblr point this out in the comments (thank you, you guys are hilarious) but the juggernaut is unstoppable!

15. Jars is now, apparently, doing a kickstarter to raise money for some kind of DnD sheets using the grown up BBC teletubbies.

16. I will point out that tumblr made and played with DnD teletubbies in 2017 for free and nobody had to pay $3000, but again. The juggernaut is unstoppable.

I have never, ever known what to do about this guy.

I have always been open to advice but genuinely never been able to articulate how it “damages” me, apart from ethical discomfort about how much I hate my writing being monetised by other people, especially when it was about my discomfort with exploitation. The juggernaut is unstoppable though. He fully intends to get thousands of dollars from this. He almost certainly will!

[wolvietxt]

💭 thinking about…

𝗅𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖽𝖺𝗒!

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, crying, kissing, reader’s friends don’t say happy birthday to her word count : 2k

the morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room as you slowly woke up. you reached out, expecting to find logan still in bed, but the sheets were cool to the touch - he’d already gotten up. you sighed, pushing yourself out of bed, feeling a heaviness settle in your chest that had nothing to do with sleep.

it was your birthday, and despite telling yourself not to get your hopes up, you couldn’t help but feel a little excited. but as you wandered into the kitchen, you found logan already dressed, pouring himself a cup of coffee. he glanced up at you with a brief nod, his usual gruff expression on his face.

“morning,” he said, his voice still rough from sleep.

“morning,” you replied, trying to keep your voice light despite the disappointment gnawing at your insides. you waited for him to say something, to give any hint that he remembered what day it was, but he just turned back to the coffee maker, sipping his drink without another word.

you forced a smile, hoping maybe he was just waiting for the right moment, but as the minutes ticked by, the silence between you grew heavier. you tried to make conversation, but your heart wasn’t in it. your responses were shorter, your smile more strained. you felt like a deflated balloon, all the anticipation from earlier draining away with each passing second.

logan, usually so perceptive, didn’t seem to notice the shift in your mood. he was preoccupied with something on his phone, his brow furrowed in concentration. you watched him, hoping he’d glance up, catch the sadness in your eyes, and realise what was wrong. but he didn’t. instead, he muttered something about needing to head out for a bit, and before you knew it, he was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

the rest of the morning passed in a blur. you went through the motions, trying to distract yourself with chores and busywork, but your mind kept drifting back to logan, to the way he’d just… left. your phone stayed silent, no calls or messages from anyone. it was as if the world had forgotten you existed, and the weight of that realisation pressed down on you until it was hard to breathe.

by the time noon rolled around, you couldn’t take it anymore. you grabbed your coat and headed out, needing some fresh air, some space to clear your head. you wandered aimlessly through the city, lost in your thoughts, the cold wind biting at your cheeks. every shop window you passed, every couple you saw laughing together, only deepened the ache in your chest. it wasn’t just that logan had forgotten - everyone had.

you eventually found yourself in a small park, the trees just beginning to change colour with the arrival of autumn. you sat down on a bench, wrapping your arms around yourself as if you could hold the pieces of your broken heart together. tears welled up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall, not here, not in public. you’d already cried enough this morning, alone in your empty apartment.

back at home, logan was busy working on a project when his phone buzzed with a notification. he absentmindedly picked it up, thinking it was just another email or text, but when he saw the reminder on the screen, his blood ran cold.

“don’t forget: y/n’s birthday today.”

his heart sank, a wave of guilt crashing over him so hard it left him breathless. he’d completely forgotten. the date had slipped his mind in the chaos of everything else, and now, thinking back on how you’d been acting all morning - how quiet, how distant - you’d clearly been hurting, and he hadn’t even noticed.

logan cursed under his breath, shoving his phone into his pocket as he bolted out the door. he had to fix this, had to make it right somehow. he couldn’t stand the thought of you spending your birthday alone, feeling unloved and unimportant. he didn’t know what he’d do yet, but he was determined to make it up to you.

he spent the next hour rushing around, trying to pull together something - anything - that would show you how much you meant to him. he wasn’t good at this kind of thing, never had been, but for you, he’d try. he picked up your favourite flowers, a small cake from the bakery you loved, and a gift that he knew you’d been eyeing for weeks.

when he finally got home, his heart was pounding in his chest, a mixture of anxiety and determination fueling him. he found the apartment empty, no sign of you anywhere. panic began to rise in his throat, but before he could let it consume him, he heard the door creak open, and there you were, stepping inside with a weary expression on your face.

you looked up, surprised to see logan standing there with an armful of flowers and a nervous look in his eyes. “logan?” you asked, your voice soft and unsure.

“i screwed up,” he said, his voice low and filled with regret. “i should’ve remembered. i should’ve been here with you all day, making sure you knew how much you mean to me. but i forgot, and i’m sorry.”

you blinked, the sadness in your chest starting to melt away at the sight of him standing there, so earnest, so desperate to make things right. “logan…”

“i know it doesn’t fix everything,” he continued, stepping closer and holding out the flowers to you, “but i want to make it up to you. bub, you matter to me more than anything.”

you took the flowers from him, your hands trembling slightly as you inhaled their sweet scent. they were beautiful, and you could see the effort he’d gone through to get them for you. but more than that, it was the look in his eyes, the raw emotion in his voice, that made your heart swell.

“you really forgot?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

logan nodded, guilt etched into every line of his face. “yeah, i did. and i hate that i did. ‘m so fucking sorry, baby.”

tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they were tears of relief, of feeling seen. you set the flowers down and stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest. “i just wanted you to remember,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt. “i just wanted to feel like i mattered.”

logan held you tightly, his arms wrapping around you like a protective shield. “you do matter,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “god, you matter more than anything. ‘m sorry i made you feel like you don’t.”

you pulled back slightly, looking up at him with teary eyes. “it’s not just you. it’s everyone. i didn’t hear from anyone today. it’s like i don’t even exist.” you blurt out through your watery smile.

his heart ached at the pain in your voice, the loneliness that had clearly been eating away at you all day. he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that had begun to spill over. “i’m here,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to your wounded heart. “i’m here, and i’m not going anywhere.”

you nodded, leaning into his touch, letting the warmth of his hands chase away the lingering coldness inside you. you didn’t need a big celebration or a fancy gift - just him, just this moment, was enough.

logan leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then another to your cheek, and then another to your lips. he kissed you slowly, tenderly, as if trying to make up for every moment of hurt he’d caused today. you melted into him, your hands gripping his shirt as you kissed him back, pouring all your love and forgiveness into that single act.

“happy birthday,” he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

“thank you,” you replied, your voice thick with emotion. “for this, for everything.”

he pulled you closer, his kisses growing more fervent, trailing down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. each kiss was a silent apology, a promise to do better, to be better for you. you closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the sensation of his lips on your skin, the warmth of his body against yours.

when he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with emotion, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “i’m sorry i wasn’t there today,” he said, his voice rough with sincerity. “but i’m here now, and i’m not letting go.”

you smiled up at him, your heart full to the brim with love for this man who, despite his rough exterior, cared for you so deeply. “that’s all i need,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

logan pulled you back into his arms, holding you close as if he could shield you from all the hurt you’d felt today. you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath you. the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in this moment, wrapped up in each other.

and as you stood there, in the safety of his embrace, you realised that despite everything, today had turned out to be a pretty good birthday after all.

★

the morning after your birthday, you woke up to the comforting warmth of logan’s arms around you. he’d already been awake, quietly watching you sleep, and when your eyes fluttered open, he gave you a soft, affectionate smile. “how about we go to that coffee shop you love so much?” he asked, his voice gentle.

you grinned, the thought of starting the day at your favourite spot lifting your spirits even more. you quickly got dressed, excitement bubbling up as you thought about spending a carefree morning with him. the walk there was easy, your hands entwined as you chatted about everything and nothing, the crisp morning air filling your lungs.

when you reached the café, the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods greeted you, making you sigh in contentment. logan held the door open for you with a small smirk, following you inside as you both headed straight to the counter. he ordered your usual drink without needing to ask, and you couldn’t help but giggle as he confidently added a pastry to the order, knowing exactly which one you’d want.

you found a cosy table by the window, and as you sat down, logan placed the tray in front of you with a mock-serious expression. “only the best for you,” he said, but the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement.

you laughed, playfully nudging his arm. “you’re too good to me.”

he shrugged, his gaze softening as he watched you take a bite of your pastry. “you deserve it.”

as you sipped your coffee, the conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and the occasional playful banter. logan found himself completely captivated by the way your eyes lit up when you talked about your plans for the week, the way you scrunched your nose when you tried to describe something particularly tricky. he couldn’t stop thinking about how utterly adorable you were, and the thought made his heart swell in a way that was still new and unfamiliar to him.

at one point, you accidentally got a bit of whipped cream on your nose, and he chuckled, leaning over to gently wipe it off with his thumb. “you’re a mess, you know that?” he teased, but the affection in his voice was undeniable.

“only for you,” you quipped back, making him shake his head with a grin.

as the morning wore on, you both lost track of time, too wrapped up in each other to care about anything else. the coffee shop, the world outside - it all faded away, leaving just the two of you, happy and content in each other’s company.

[blaydie]

ᥫ᭡ A FOOL’S MISTAKE — “It’s not like him to be so careless.” -> Dan Heng x GN reader.

Word count: 1.2k

Contains: Dan Heng x GN reader, injured Dan Heng, fluff, comfort, affection, reassurance, cuddles, kissing, indirect confession.

Sprawled across your bed, Dan Heng lays there, scrunching his brows when your hand rubs over the wound he received while with the crew. He was sent back to the Astral Express, advised by Himeko to rest for the remainder of this trip. You’ve been here for a while and are accustomed to everyone’s mannerisms, but even an outsider could tell how frustrated he was for letting his guard down so easily. It’s not like him to be so careless.

“I swear I saw you. You were there.” He grunts, his fingers creasing your sheets with the force he grips them. The ointment coats the damaged skin, aiding repair and prevention of infection.

Whatever he experienced out there has led to a set of delusions. He keeps repeating the same words as though he is in denial about the truth.

“I’ve been here with Pom-Pom the entire time. I haven’t stepped foot off of the Express since our last mission.”

“I tried to—”

“Himeko said you ran straight into the enemies. Mr. Yang called you back, but you didn’t listen to him. Whatever hallucination you had wasn’t real, Dan. I’m okay. I never left the Express.” You speak softly, attempting to calm him from his frenzied state.

“…” His eyes fluttered, releasing his clutch on the sheets. His index finger trails down the length of your arm, searching you for any wounds.

“I’m fine, I swear to you. I wouldn’t lie to you, especially not about something like that.”

“It knew how to get to me then.” He mutters, leaving his hand flat on top of yours. “I thought you were going to die.”

“It was a cruel trick. You know the others wouldn’t let that happen so easily though.”

“Hallucination or not, I wouldn’t let you go like that. I couldn’t just watch it happen.”

“In future, please don’t rush into a hoard of creatures for me without double-checking with the others. You’re worried about me dying, but you could’ve been seriously hurt if that fight wasn’t wrapped up quickly.”

“I’m a fool.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am. I’m the only one who was unable to resist their manipulation. That hallucination. Everyone must have seen a different one.”

“You were just worried for my safety. I’m sure if anyone else witnessed one of us in danger, they would have had a similar reaction. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

A shaky exhale left his lips while his fingers locked with yours. His thumb brushed over the bumps of your knuckles, grounding himself from the extensive shock his body underwent. He remembers that day when he swore he would never let anything harm you, how you will always be the first one he saves. There was never a moment you doubted him, fully aware of how willing he is to throw away his own life if it means you get to live. 

“I got you a change of clothes when I heard you were hurt. I had to search through your closet, I hope you don’t mind.” You sheepishly push a fresh set of clothes towards him—the ones you usually catch him lounging in while working in the archives late at night.

“No, not at all. Thank you. I’m glad that you’re the first person I saw when I woke up.” Discarding his sombre expression, his lips twist up slightly. A subtle twinge of colour spreads across his face, scooting you aside while he sits up.

“Is the bandage too tight? I can loosen it a little if you’d like.” You glance at his bare torso, eyes lingering on his abdomen for longer than you’d like to admit. Something was alluring about him in your perspective, something that others may not see. 

“It’s fine. I appreciate the effort you put in to take care of me.” He stands to his feet, turning his back to you as he changes his attire.

When fully covered, he returns to your bed. Propping a pillow against the headboard, he pulls a blanket over himself, seemingly getting himself comfortable. It appears that he plans to stay here for the remainder of the evening, something he knows you won’t protest. Pulling you into his side, your head collides with his shoulder, a shared spell of laughter illuminating the darkness that was once cast in your room.

“I need to tell the group chat you’re okay. They were worried sick about you when you fell unconscious.” You reach for your phone, snapping a picture of the very alive Dan Heng beside you. 

Within a few seconds, multiple notifications flood your screen, mainly March and Pom-Pom, the usual dramatics when something like this occurs. Himeko sends her best wishes while Mr. Yang writes a small lecture. He doesn’t mean any harm by what he said, it’s the instinct of being a parent—he will always look out for you all, whether you like it or not. 

“I’m sorry if I frightened you,” Dan speaks up when you turn off your phone, capturing your attention.

“Don’t be. All I ask is that you don’t die without me.”

“I’ll try my best.”

Weaving his arms around you, he held you close in an embrace, the only sound filling the room being your mingled breaths completely in sync. It’s no mistake that out of everyone on the Express, Dan’s strongest connection is with you. You’re the one he turns to when he feels no one else would understand his woes, you accepted him and his stoic ways into your life without trying to change him. For that, he’s grateful. You understand that not every issue can be fixed with a smile, a snack, or a nap.

Shifting his hand from the small of your back, he pushes your chin up. You grin at him, eyes crinkling as he stares back at you. The outline of your lips is a shape he learned how to trace, now able to reconstruct it using his memory when not presented in front of him.

“I’m glad you joined the Express. Travelling through the stars together is romantic when you view it the right way. I wouldn’t want to experience that with anybody else.”

Sealing his sweet speech, he presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss. Allowing him more space, you open your mouth slightly. Dan adored every inch of you, being granted permission to be so affectionate was merely a blessing. The heat radiating from his palms made your skin clammy, a stark contrast to his usual cold hands. 

Pulling away, your saliva remains at the corner of his mouth while he beams at you, his eyes half-lidded. His chest heaves, your lips more pronounced from the puffiness. The look in his eyes speaks words that he is not yet ready to admit, and you understand them all. When the time comes, he’ll tell you properly in the way he has planned. 

Developing an attraction to you felt like a mistake at first, he didn’t want to let you down and paint himself to be someone he’s not. However, you proved to him that you can handle all of his issues and emotions. Every flaw he possesses you manage to see the beauty—memories which used to haunt him don’t dare reside in his mind when you’re nearby. You ease the pain placed upon him.

[kisstoru]

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . HOW TO EDGE YOUR LOSER BOYFRIEND - SATORU GOJO

word count: 1.5k

warnings: virgin!gojo x gn!reader, hāndjōb, ōrgasm denial, whiny sub!gojo, dacryphilia, cūm eating, bāll sūcking, established relationship, pet names, mdni

note: tum tum don't be mean 🙏🏽 thank you for beta'ing @thebimbopalace lube you x

loose strands of snowy white hair cling to the sheen of sweat coating satoru’s forehead. his chest, tinted over with a rose-coloured flush, rises and falls unsteadily, attempting to flood his lungs with oxygen. his crystalline irises zero in on the pearls of pre cum beading out of his slit, trickling down his length and landing on your hand, which is wrapped around his aching tip. your tongue prods at the velvety flesh in your cheek before you squeeze your fist around him, drawing out a shaky gasp from his plump lips.

“’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that,” satoru chokes out, shutting his eyes momentarily. his beefy arms planted behind him on the cotton bedsheets tremble, struggling to keep his upper body upright.

you’re slotted between his legs, the fingers of your other hand splayed out on the expanse of his muscular thigh. your eyes trail up the breadth of his torso, along the curve of his neck before halting abruptly to meet his blown-out pupils. tufts of his silky hair are in disarray, his lips parted ever so slightly as he opens his eyes once more, a hint of a plea in his gaze.

your eyebrows furrow, feigning innocence. “doing what?” you ask, gathering up the vicious liquid with the edge of your index finger, smearing it messily over satoru's reddened tip. a smirk tugs at your tips when a stifled groan reaches your eardrums.

moving your fist up and down his shaft, your eyes are trained on every little reaction you’re able to coax out of your boyfriend — the slight twitch of his eyebrows, the strained pants, the way his nails dig into the sheets. his jaw clenches, resisting the threat his hips hold out to buck his cock against your cushiony palm. the pink muscle of his tongue darts out to swipe over his lower lip, glossing it over with saliva. “f-fuck, just like that.”

the sound of slick fusing with satoru’s heavy breathing bounces off the bedroom walls. your pace is unrelenting, your wrist twisting as your palm glides up and down his length. satoru’s back arches in response, his chest projecting towards you as a string of desperate whines pours out of his gaped lips. dewdrops of sweat form at his hairline, trickling down his temple. the increasing warmth of his shaft spreads to your palm, a silent warning of his impending orgasm.

“please,” he groans as his nails dig into the sheets, his knuckles losing pigment. “‘m— shit, ’m gonna—”

your eyes flicker up to his face again. a trace of a smile plays at your lips when you suddenly pull your hand away, his cock bobbing about before hitting his stomach with a gentle smack. milky white globs of pre cum ooze out of his engorged tip, smearing across his happy trail. satoru’s eyes widen at the abrupt halt to his climax, his clutch on the fabric beneath him loosening.

“wha—” he chokes out, his lips gaping in blatant disbelief. the way his cock twitches is almost painful, every fibre of his body vibrating in anticipation for the high that never came. fresh tears prick at his waterline, his bottom lip jutting forward in a sincere pout. “what was that for?”

“there’s no fun if you cum this fast,” you retort, a smug expression moulding into your features. “i suppose it’s expected when you haven’t been touched like this before.” you notice the delicate tear running down the apple of his cheek. “you wanna cum, satoru?”

satoru’s urge for release outweighs his composure as he nods frantically, desperation clouding his senses. “please, baby,” he murmurs, holding your gaze in his own. “fuck— please let me cum.”

your eyes light up at his pleading words before looking down at his aching cock, which is now resting on his lower stomach. your hand reaches out to wrap around his length once more, your thumb brushing over his drooling slit before applying pressure more insistently. he hisses in response, his eyes screwing shut as he lets his jaw slack. “fuuuckkk me.”

you rub the slit at an agonisingly slow pace, noting the way the muscles of his thigh flex under your hand. picking up the pace of your movements, your thumb slides seamlessly along it, aided by his pre cum.

“shit— hah, stop teasing,” he rasps out, his nose and cheeks blushing a deep coral shade. a needy little whine leaks from his swollen lips at the lack of friction. “i need it, baby. need you to— mmph, milk me dry.” 

“patience, satoru,” you whisper, your voice holding a familiar gentleness that blankets him into a dreamy trance. “be good f’me.”

your thumb works at his slit daringly faster, occasionally squeezing your fist around him. his thick eyebrows narrow into a rigid frown, his teeth gritting as he feels an ache inflame his lower belly. 

“y-you’re being mean,” he huffs, a layer of his tears drowning out the cerulean hue in his irises. “come on— hngh, please make me feel good, baby. i n-need you.”

finding amusement in his apparent frustration, your thumb now rubs slow, calculated circles around his opening. too lost in your game, your ears perk up at the sniffle mere metres away from you. lifting your head up, your eyebrows raise at the sight of salty tears racing down the edges of his face. 

“‘s too much. hah, t-too much!” he spits out, his words coated with exasperated need as he almost chokes on his overflowing tears. your eyes soften slightly, which contradicts with the heat growing between your legs at the sight of him so vulnerable, so needy. leaning forward, you tenderly kiss away the tears before bringing your lips down to meet his in a heated kiss, holding his bottom lip hostage between your teeth momentarily before pulling back. 

“poor baby,” you coo, a playful taunt in your tone. “i’ll be nice, kay?”

his adam’s apple bobs as he watches you lower your head, your warm breath fanning over the sensitive underside of his balls. your tongue flattens, running along the spongy tissue before latching your lips around a sweet spot, eliciting an almost pornographic moan from satoru.

“hngh! oh my fucking god, hah—” he groans, throwing his head back. his teeth sink into his lower lip, attempting to stifle the unholy sounds blossoming at the base of his throat. his large hand lifts from the mattress, resting on the back of your head. his nails graze your scalp tenderly, guiding you to continue. the slurping and sucking sounds between satoru’s legs are so filthy, that he feels a heated flush scatter across his cherubic cheeks. you relish his muffled whimpers becoming more pronounced.

satoru's silken white lashes flutter as he peers down at you, his nails clutching some strands of your hair into a trap of desire. “yeahyeahyeah, like that— ohhh fuck, mmph,” he mumbles, his honeyed words fueling your actions. “’m close! don’t stop, baby. l-let me cum.”

your cheeks hollow out as you continue to accommodate his tender skin in your inviting cavity. your fingers wrapping around satoru's cock once more, stroking him leisurely to accompany your oral action. a thread of drool slips from the corner of your lip, running down the curve of his ball before forming a tiny puddle on your fresh sheets. you feel the familiar warmth within your hold, indicating that he’s nearing the climax he’s been chasing. the dainty veins running down his shaft throb as his legs tremble, his abs clenching and unclenching as a guttural whine gushes from his lips.

“fuck! ‘m cumming, baby— oh shitttt,” he grunts out, his cock twitching violently before splattering thick, hot spurts of cum across the canvas of his torso and your hair, an artful display of his heavenly bliss. panting heavily, he watches you pull away from his drained-out balls, a satisfied hum buzzing at your lips.

your gaze lingers on the droplets of cum dripping down his softening cock. your eyes glide up to meet his hazy stare. daring him to maintain eye contact, you scoop the remnants with your fingertip and bring them to your waiting mouth, smearing the substance across your tongue before wrapping your lips around your finger. satoru’s mouth opens faintly, entranced by your lewd display — he almost moans at the sight.

sucking off the remnants, you pull your finger out of your mouth with a light pop. you lean forward once more to capture his lips in a languid kiss. your tongue glides over his, painting his taste buds with a heady mix of your saliva and his cum, feeling satoru whimper against you in response, the vibration sending shock waves through your body.

satoru feels your smirk print against his lips briefly before you break the kiss, your fingertips grazing over his tip. he looks up at you with starry eyes, a stupid smile relaxing on his flushed face. “thank you for letting me cum.”

it’s going to be a long night.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

OMG HII I'M A NEW FOLLOWER AND I LOVE YOUR WORK!! May I please ask for HCs or a one shot of Ghost with his s/o being self conscious/ashamed (YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN LOL) about squirting so much that he AND the bed got soaked?? THANK YOU SO MUCH MANY KISSIES MUAH 💋💖

Ghost & König w/ an S/O who is Self Conscious about Squirting a Lot

Warnings: 18+, Sexual Content, Heavy Implications of Smut, Squirting, Insecurity, Embarrassment, Dom Ghost, Dom König, Unprotected Sex, Profanity, etc.

Ghost:

First time it happened, Ghost couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

He just stared down at where his hand connected with your cunt, your cum spattered across his arm, reaching all the way up to his elbow.

The sheets below you were covered, too, a heavy downpour of your juices coating them, soaking them.

“Fuckin’ Hell,” Ghost rasped, licking his lips.

You lay wide-eyed and stationery beneath him, chest heaving with the coat tails of your orgasm.

You’d never done that before.

And the fact that Ghost only looked upon you with a heavy gaze did nothing to soothe your nerves - did nothing to reassure you that what had just happened was normal. Or appreciated.

Sweat-skinned and face flushed with embarrassment, you tried to withdraw, to cover yourself and hide from Ghost’s dark eyes.

They were unreadable. Void of anything discernable.

Before you could pull the soaked bed sheets over you, Simon’s hand tore it from yours.

“Oh no, Princess,” he said. The corners of his lips turned up, not a smile, but one of its off-colour variants, one that spelled devious.

“I’m not lettin’ you go until you’ve covered me.”

Your eyes almost popped out of your head, face burning. You tried to object.

“You…you don’t think it’s weird?” you said, testing. Receding. “I-I don’t think I can do it again–”

“Let me put it this way,” Ghost began. He pumped his fingers into you, four strong, making you squeal, sensitive from your orgasm. He began unbuckling his belt with his other hand.

“We’re not stopping ‘til you do.”

König:

König didn’t stop pummeling into you until you’d finished.

And, upon doing so, your orgasm tearing through you, you ended up spraying.

Hard.

König felt your warm cum shoot against his abdomen, coating him in a thin layer of you.

You noticed, but your mind was far too hazy with the after effects of your high to register it properly.

König finished inside you shortly after, unable to contain himself any longer.

He flooded you, painting your insides white, much how you’d painted him.

Minutes passed, your conjoined, deep breathing filling the silence.

Head somewhat clearer, giving way to distinguishable thoughts, you looked down at König.

He was, simply put, wet.

Not damp, not moist - wet.

And then, the memory hit you.

Your heart sank.

“König…?” you said, voice meek. You watched his chest and shoulders heave, with him bent over you like a bridge, eyes screwed shut.

You went to call his name again, but his lips on yours stopped you.

Between laboured breaths, he muttered dark words into your skin as if they were incantations.

“Why did you hide this from me?” he said, breathless.

You blinked, confused.

“Wha–”

“You thought you could keep this little trick of yours a secret from me.”

He said it as if it were true. The actual truth was that you’d never done that before; not with König, not with anyone.

“I should punish you,” he said, retracting only to roll his hips against yours.

You gasped, a shock of painful euphoria tightening inside you.

“I can make you do it again,” he said. There was no mercy in his eyes. No negotiation. 

“And I will.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[with-my-calamitous-love]

IN A WORLD OF BOYS HE’S A GENTLEMAN

chuuya x reader

thoughts about how chuuya acts in a relationship

inspired by slut!

chuuya nakahara, who comes home in the middle of the night to find you softly asleep in his bed. sometimes your all wrapped up in the sheets, protecting yourself from the cold trying to replicate the heat of chuuya's body. other times you fall asleep with an open, unfinished book laying on your stomach or your still blaring phone in the balm of your hand. your hair is messy, comfortably sprawled out on the satin pillow. maybe you're in a lacy, black cami he bought for you- more for himself than for you- or you're in your favorite oversized hoodie you would never wear around anyone but him. it smells like him. you insisted. either way, you were in a world of peaceful slumber, and chuuya couldn't wrap his head around how lucky he got.

chuuya nakahara, who buys you flowers every week. he can't always pronounce or even remember their names, and it sometimes irks him how easily they wither in the wrong conditions, and how they always seem to attract an annoying buzzing pest that acted like it owned the place. but chuuya loved the way your face would light up whenever he hands you a bouquet of delicate, brightly coloured petals. he adores the way your cheeks bloom with roses, the way your eyes glow like lillies swaying in the wind. so he always stops by the florist every friday on his way home from work. the owners are a nice, old elderly couple, the husband a lively old man who knows the trick behind charm. the wife was a sweet, gentle loving old woman who would sometimes treat chuuya to freshly baked muffin or cup of brewed tea. he saw the two of you in them, as if it ere some kind of time machine. they made growing old not seem terrible.

chuuya nakahara, who takes you out to fancy dinners once a month. he doesn't let you spend a dime, just wanting to flash around his fancy black card to the waiter to let him know how much he spoiled you. and afterwards he'd take the long way with you back to his motorcycle, arm wrapped protectively around your waist. he thinks you look beautiful in the moons gaze, happy with his coat around your shoulders. he both laves and hates the stares and attention you get from bystanders- he hates their glaring eyes and the thoughts that run through their heads- but he loves spite of jealousy that flickers through them when they see that your his.

speaking of his motorcycle.... chuuya nakahara, who loves to take you for joyrides late into the night. he knows you place all your trust in him, and he knows that he would never let not even a hair on your head suffer any harm. he loves the way your hands grasp around his abdomen, clutching his muscles through his shirt. he sometimes will place one hand over yours, assuring you that you're safe and that he's got you.

chuuya nakahara, who will never be sent away without a goodbye kiss from you. he takes off his hat, holding it behind your head as he presses his lips to yours with fervent need. his job requires him to be away from you, as much as it hurts your heart. he kisses you as if he needs to reseal your love on his skin, keeping it around him no matter how far you are. and he calls you every night, knowing that you can't sleep without his voice. little do you know, he needs this nightly phone call just as much- if not more- than you do. he chuckles to himself as you ask him about your favorite hoodie, unaware of the way chuuya presses it to his face because it smells like you. he's desperate for that, desperate for you when you're away.

chuuya nakahara, who wants nothing more than to grow old with you. to see you asleep, waiting for him to join you just like every night to buy you the same flowers every friday and place them in the palm of your wrinkled hands, his own face painted with age lighting up with joy at the sight of yours. to retire with you, living a comfortable life with you at his side. to laugh at your cute yet angry face as you scold him for still wanting to drive a motorbike at his age. to kiss you, kiss you like he just met you, kiss you like he's loved you for 20 years- because he has and will. chuuya nakahara wants to love you forever, or for as long as you'll have him.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

It started with a broken cookie.

Three valentines ago, when you were single and sad about it, angry that it got you upset, morose that you couldn’t help but feel that way.

Working in the bakery on Main meant that you spent the whole week leading up to the holiday handing out heart shaped cookies with the names of different girls and boys in the center, the sugar icing all shades of pink and red. Your fingertips were stained cotton candy by the time the day arrived, hands aching from piping cursive, loops and swirls and glitter and sprinkles stuck to your skin.

You complained about it when you visited the video store on your lunch breaks, bringing in half decorated cookies that hadn’t quite made the cut for sale, handing hearts to Steve and Robin with an almost petulant look on your face. You didn’t have a valentine and there you were, still delivering treats to the ones you loved most. Robin bit into hers with a sigh, red icing on her lips, a smack of a kiss pressed to your cheek in thanks and maybe that was as good as it was going to get.

And when Steve asked you what was wrong, you shrugged and scuffed the toe of your flour coated sneakers against the old carpet and tried not to sound too mournful when you simply said, “love sucks.”

The boy had snorted and nodded, agreeing whole heartedly before he snapped the sugar cookie in half, splitting the baby pink icing down the middle. Sprinkles scattered everywhere, dancing across the desk and messing up his delivery sheets but Steve didn’t seem to mind. He handed you half, a small smile on his face and when you took it with surprise clearly written across your face, Steve turned as pink as the cookie.

Valentine’s Day came and went with a fanfare of heart shaped balloons and a too big crowd outside of Enzo’s, a replaying of The Princess Bride at the cinema bringing in couples in love, young and old, first dates and forty years married.

You’d resigned yourself to an evening on the couch in front of your TV, maybe with a pizza delivery and some microwave popcorn to soften the blow. It was a complete surprise when you found Steve by your car, his own shop keys still hanging from his pocket, his Family Video vest still on over his t-shirt. He was holding a bunch of flowers, pretty as they were small, the pastel colours of the tulips making up for the quantity. They were wrapped in brown paper, tied with a bow that was a little lopsided and Steve Harrington was positively rose coloured.

“Hi,” he greeted, his voice almost a little too loud in the empty parking lot. He offered you the bouquet, the smell of spring clinging to them. “These are for you.”

You blinked, even though it had been obvious. He was waiting by your car after all. But still, the sight of him and the unprompted gift made your chest feel like goo, an affection as sticky as marshmallow clinging to your insides, coating all the bitter frost that had once wrapped around your heart.

“They are?” You took the flowers, cheeks burning, wondering why the prettiest guy in Hawkins was giving you a gift on Valentine’s Day. You didn’t mean to sound blunt, or ungrateful, but you could help but ask. “Why?”

Steve bit back a smile at your surprise, your wide eyes and plain words. He shrugged, leaning against the hood of your car, looking unfairly handsome even under the orange glow of the street lights. “Pretty girls deserve flowers, right?” He shoved his hands in his pockets, boyish and suddenly shy. “It’s Valentine’s. Maybe I’m hoping you’ll let me be yours.”

—————

The next year Steve bought you more flowers, a bigger bunch, hand picked and wrapped in some newspaper, tied with a red bow that he made Robin help him with. He dropped them into the bakery for you, still pink cheeked even after eleven months of officially being your boyfriend and he didn’t break character when he ordered a heart shaped cookie from you.

You’d rolled your eyes, all affection, his chin resting on the countertop display as he watched you work with big, brown eyes. He gave you your own name, blinking all innocent, grinning when you scoffed but wrote it all the same, swooping letters that made your cheeks burn. He thanked you politely when you handed over the box, your ruby stained fingers meeting his as you took his dollar bills and Steve held onto the cookie for all of six seconds before he gasped like he’d just noticed it was you for the first time.

“You look way too pretty to be workin’ on Valentine’s Day,” he told you smoothly, bringing the flowers to rest under his chin. More tulips, mixed with peonies and some wildflower sprigs. “You got a date for later?”

You laughed at his antics, face burning as Mrs Rochester cooed at the two of you from over her coffee cup. You tried to glare at the boy but it wasn’t much use, not when he was looking at you like that. Like he wanted to never, ever let you go.

“I might,” you told him suggestively. “I’ve had a few offers,” you joked.

“Yeah?” Steve grinned, brows raised. He pushed your cookie back to you, the flowers with it, the bakery suddenly smelling like a meadow. “Can I earn some points in my favour?”

—————

It’s five years later and you’ve got an old shoe box under your bed, the one you share with Steve. It’s got the dried, pressed petals from each bouquet of flowers he gifted you, the ribbon from a cookie box, ticket stubs from your first date to the cinema, a napkin from Enzo’s with a smiley face drawn in eyeliner on the corner.

There’s jewel coloured candy wrappers from the time he brought you sweets when you were sick, a postcard from his first trip away from you, dozens of Polaroids, each one dated.

A keyring, from your first apartment. Plane tickets from your first vacation together, a photobooth roll of film from your third anniversary, a velvet ring box from your fourth. A box filled with memories and keepsakes and gifts, little things that Steve would bring you when you least expected it, all of them cherished, all of them loved.

And when time ticked by and ten years had passed, you found him in your kitchen on Valentine’s morning, your daughter clinging to his knee as he tried his very best to keep a steady hand. The heart shaped cookie he’d baked was a little lopsided, iced with baby pink frosting, the sprinkles he’d let your baby girl take control of were almost taking over the cookie.

But he’d written your name in the center and just like the first Valentine’s Day you’d spent with him - almost accidentally - you split the cookie down the middle and handed half the heart to him

[greer2301]

My Mothers Keeper

Daemon X Fem!Reader

|Step father x step kid fantasy taboo|

Reader is of age!

Smut! MDNI !

He looked so good, his blonde hair cut short, brows pulled together as he leant back and took a sip of his wine with his free hand thudding his fingers along the edge of the table.

I know what those fingers feel like. The euphoria they bring me when he plays with the bundle of nerves between my legs, I know how they fit in my mouth and how my juices taste on them. Daemon Targaryen, my step father, my mother’s keeper and the only man to know what I truly desire.

He sat conversing with Jace about his swordsmanship, he didn’t give away if he noticed my hand creeping up his thigh. Having been leant against his chair for quite some time now no one questions when I lean in a little more. Mother too immersed in what Luke has to say to pull away her attention, I work my hand over his clothed length smirking when I feel him harden in my palm and his body slightly tenses. I loosen the lace on his pants just enough to pull him out, slicking my hand with his seed as I begin to stroke him slowly. I take the opportunity that no one’s paying attention, slipping beneath the table as I keep working his cock.

I wait a moment for someone to notice, my core throbbing as I stroke his thick cock knowing anyone could catch us if they paid any attention. I take him in my mouth, licking from his base to the tip swirling my tongue and tacking him in fully hollowing out my cheeks, bobbing my head quickly and stroking what I can’t reach while twisting my wrist. Daemons hand moved from the table to hold my hand that rested on his clothed thigh, squeezing at times to let me know it feels as good as I think it does. His hand moves to my hair and he shoves my head down without warning, my gag reflex triggers as he blows his load in the back of my throat I swallow and pull off slowly. I clear my throat after I sit back in my seat, taking a sip of wine and placing Joffrey on my lap as his nurse maid brings him in.

Slowly everyone disperses from the dinning area, I step into my room to take my bath, the boys are gone down to the dragon mont, Joffrey is off with his nursemaid and I have no idea where mother and Daemon went. I strip of the days clothes and get into the bath, unbraiding my hair as I breathe in the rose and vanilla oils in the water humming a tune from a bards ballad. I was washing my hair when he came in through one of the old tunnels, quietly sitting at the table across from me and pouring himself some wine as he watched me finish bathing. As I was ready to get out he brought a drying sheet, extended me his hand helping me down the steps while admiring my bare self.

“You’re truly an amazing creature” Daemon started “A little fox, sneaky, beautiful and vicious” Daemon teases as he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close and kissing my neck. Running his hands around my damp curves as he walks us to the bed, his lips molding with mine before he removes my towel and lifts me onto the bed. Daemon wastes no time as his fingers immediately make contact with my aching core, my slick coating his fingers as he skillfully manipulates my clit. “You’re such a pretty whore, a whore for your daddy huh” Daemon grumbles out, his voice thick with lust as he looks into my mixed coloured eyes and watches the look of pleasure on my face.

“Only for Daddy” I tell him with a tremble, gasping as he inserts two fingers in my aching cunt and starts ruthlessly thrusting into me. “Mmm- you were fucking made for me” Daemon says as he moves over me, removing his hand from me and placing his mouth on my clit, his tongue drawing shapes as he applies more pressure. “S’good daddy, please don’t stop, fuck” I moan out as he places his fingers back in and sets his pace again his mouth slurping my juices relentlessly as he shakes his head with a moan. “Need yo- your cock, Daddy please” I moan arching my back as I feel my climax coming. Daemon just moans in response pressing his head against me harder, with one last flick of his tongue I cum. Shaking and sweating, hands holding his head in between my legs moans flowing loudly out of my mouth as he rubs my thighs his tongue slowly helping me ride out my high.

“Now you’ll take Daddy’s cock you little slut” Daemon demands as he unlaces his pants, pushing them down and rubbing his hard length between my lips collecting my slick, without warning he thrusts into me, my hand finding his hip and our eyes locked as we both moan at the sensation. Daemon is ruthless in his speed, slamming his hips into mine with each thrust squelching sounds being heard around the room as his dick forces my cunt open. Our moans are hardly held back, his hands holding my legs bent and pushed back as one of mine plays with my nipple and the other grips his wrist. “Daddy feels so good!” I moan out, back arching off the bed as he thrusts deeper, his head thrown back a little before he looks back at me with a smirk “This is Daddy’s perfect fucking pussy. I’ll burn any man who tries to claim it” Daemon groans as he lets go of my leg and moves to wrap his hand around my neck, cutting off blood flow with the new position his pelvis slaps my clit with each thrust.

“Gonna fucking cum Daddy” I moan out as I scratch his wrist, my pussy tightening around his cock as I start to see stars. “Cum on Daddy’s cock sweet girl” Daemon demands, speeding up his thrusts and pushing me over the edge, shaking as I choke out a moan and cream all over his pretty cock, Daemon moans as he spills his seed in me and stays still for a moment. “You’re going to bare my child, you will never know another cock” Daemon says breathlessly, walking to the basin and grabbing a damp cloth coming back to wipe me off and then himself. Daemon says nothing else as he crawls into bed and holds me close, caressing my shoulder as I snuggle into his side. “We are not naming him fucking Aegon” I tell him finally realizing what he said. “On that we agree” Daemon says with a chuckle.

[cheriladycl01]

When at work - Lando Norris x UniStudent! Reader Part 2

Plot: Lando has known you since you were born, literally childhood friends. You went to every karting weekend with him until he started to travel more. As childhood lovers who have been dating for 8 years what happens when the general public find out about you?

You'd been taken home by an officer in his car. He'd attempted to calm you down offering to stop at a petrol forecourt and get you a snack to help you blood sugars come back up.

Apparently you looked ghostly pale.

After a Wispa chocolate bar and a Lucozade was brought for you, and you sat in the car just chatting they pulled out and went back onto driving you home.

Once you'd been dropped at the door of your place that you shared with Lando the officers asked you a final few questions. Just if you had good security systems, or someone to stay with you tonight so you weren't alone.

They also explained that you would no longer be safe working there, and even a transfer wouldn't be safe. They asked about your income and whether you'd be able to afford the loss.

Obviously you and Lando would have to talk to each other once he came back to the UK to see what you'd both do and if there was anyway Red Bull or McLaren would take you early as a work from home sort of offer until you graduated and could commit to the seasonal travel.

You shut the door after the officers left, making sure to lock it with the bolt. You sloppily chucked your keys into the dish that was on the cabinet in the entry way before hanging your coat up in the cupboard and kicking your shoes off.

You run straight up into the bedroom, the ensuite door was open and you trudged through staring at yourself in the mirror for a few seconds. Your mascara and eyeliner had run, and you resembled a Panda right now.

You jump into the shower, wanting to wash the days grot and smell of coffee beans and marzipan away. You make sure to wash of the makeup from your face before getting out the shower and wrapping a towel around your hair and body.

You start to go through your skincare routine, making sure to add your little yellow star pimple patch on at the end. You walk back down to the main room where you and Lando spent most of you time in the house.

You grabbed a large blanket from the hamper wrapping it around yourself before curling up on the sofa into yourself.

You sat there silently for a little while before the hot tears started to roll down your face.

You couldn't tell why you were getting so emotional over it. It was scary yes, but it was over now and the police had been very quick getting to the scene.

After 20 minutes of your own mind and a large nap, you woke around 2am. You felt awful knowing that you'd slept on the sofa and had missed dinner. You decided to make yourself a 'breakfast dinner' as you and Lando would sometimes call it depending on his sleep schedule.

You did some chores around the house, like the laundry from before Lando had gone to Australia and washed up the dishes you'd just used and changed the bed sheets. And finished off with some studying for some upcoming exams you had.

As the clock hit 5.30am you started to prepare yourself. You knew seeing Lando race would make you feel much better. You caught yourself up on positions using the F1 app to find out where Lando and Oscar would be starting. You made yourself a tea and got some of you favorite snacks before seating yourself up all comfy on the sofa.

Once you hear the 'It's lights out and away we go' all your worries seem to just melt. You keep your eyes on both the Papaya coloured cars. Only breaking away to message Lily, you had actually met her somehow before you met Oscar which was very strange but you hit it off immediately and would no stop text each other throughout races if you weren't together.

Lando ended up coming 6th, Oscar only a car between them in 8th. The Mclaren didn't have pace this year and you could really tell but both the boys were pushing it as hard as they could without breaking it and messing up their races.

And just like that, 2 days later, Lando was on his flight home. You'd prepared everything for him. Got food that you knew his trainer would approve of, but he would as well. You made sure that everything was perfect.

You drove to the airport in his car, you wanted to see him as soon as possible so picking him up seemed like the best option.

You got through security easily, Lando had phone ahead telling them to let you into the private part of the airport, not wanting to risk crowds around you again.

You waited for him, as he came through the door you couldn't help but run up to him, flinging your arms around him. He knew you well enough that he braced himself for your launching hug, being able to catch you and hold you up as you wrapped around him like a koala does to a tree.

"Baby i missed you so much" you sob, pushing your face into his hoodie covered neck as you cry into him. You hold him so tightly and he squeezes you back, whispering little things to you to get you to calm down.

You hear people walking around, you know its his team, taking his bags away so you didn't knock them over and just to help him in general.

"Okay baby, lets go home" he smiles and he keeps a hold of you sighing as you look at him with a pouty frown and a shake of you head.

"You don't want to go home? Then we cant cuddle on the sofa and have food" he smiles down at you. You let out a small huff before untangling your legs from around his waist before placing a dainty peck on his lips.

"Do you need help?" you politely ask the Mclaren worker, offering to take some of Lando's bags to which she thanks you shaking her head explaining that you didn't have to help.

"I parked the car not far. Airport security were very helpful!" you smiled taking his hand while dragging his suitcase in the other.

"Yeah I asked for them to come meet you. I didn't want a repeat of the other day" he frowns, and looks at you in the eyes. You knew what this meant, he'd want to talk about it the minute you got home.

The drive home was quiet but comfortable. He left a hand on your thigh as you concentrated on the driver back home.

"So, we should talk about why you felt in necessary to get a job" he says squeezing you leg lightly as he looks over at you.

"I- I didn't want to give the fans another reason to assume I'm leeching off of you. And i feel bad asking my mum and dad, like I'm supposed to be an independent adult ... I'm 22" you say sadly and you hear him sigh.

"Baby, 22 is still so so young and you shouldn't have all that pressure on yourself ... please" he begs.

"I've been talking to Zac and Christian about an opportunity i could do from home with them. Even Suzie reached out to me about F1 Academy" you explain, knowing you had options that didn't involve Lando and his finances.

"Baby, I know you don't want to be seen using me for my money, but holy shit you've got so much pressure on yourself right now. You don't need to add to it. I dont know how you did it for as long as you have been... how long did you work there?" he asks, having no clue how long you'd not told him you had a job for.

"About 3 months" you say, checking the wing mirrors before turning left down your road.

"3 MONTHS?" he asks in shock, you were nearly finished with university, surely you could have held out until graduation.

"Baby, you've only got like a month until you've finished all your exams and you'll join me!" he frowns, you pull up into the driveway with a sigh and a nod of acknowledgement.

"I know, i know! And I'm sorry i didn't ask for help and I'm sorry I didn't tell you I'd got a job" you say tears brimming your eyes before he pulls you into a hug over the gear stick.

"Oh, my sweet sweet girl. It's okay, I understand but please never ever feel like you cant ask for me to help you. That comes in the job description of boyfriend" he smiles at you, kissing your forehead making you melt at his touch.

This is what it felt like to be loved and cared for by Lando Norris.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416

[chrollogy]

MY TURN

— hisoka morow x f!reader

syn: Hisoka turns into a complete mess all because of a strap on.

18+ MDNI; explicit smut, pegging/use of strap on, anal (m), bottom!hisoka, top!reader, porn without plot, just pure filth im so sorry, hisoka gets his shit rocked, pet name (baby), not beta read.

word count: 1.5k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. im running away . a quick lil smut warm up :3 i actually enjoyed writing this heh (oki see u on november !)

Hot. Damp. Filthy.

Hisoka’s pornographic moans filled the thick atmosphere of the room—they had no restraint whatsoever, ribbons, and ribbons of colourful curses tied with your name slipped past his wet lips; both coherent, and incoherent, each lust-filled noise came out of him with every merciless thrust of your hips. Face down, ass up. That’s the position you currently had Hisoka on, with his back unnaturally arched to take the strap even deeper.

How pathetic. A big strong man capable of killing anyone seemed to lose it at a mere silicone cock.

With Hisoka’s head turned to the side—he figured it’d be such a waste to muffle his melodic moans—he stared straight at you from over his shoulder; light amber gaze coated in pure carnal desire.

It held a hint of amusement deep beneath the brightness of its colour as if to tease you even though he’s the one getting railed into oblivion with a faux cock.

You clicked your tongue.

Even with that expression on his face—brows tightly knitted together, lips unceremoniously parted, and a glob of saliva rolling from the corner of his mouth paired with a deep crimson blush—Hisoka still managed to rouse a sense of superiority with just his eyes.

You gripped his hips, nails digging into the bareness of his pale skin before driving the strap-on cock deeper into his hole. “Mhm—aah! Yeah, that’s it—ngh!” The ivory sheets beneath his sweaty palms crumpled under his touch, eyes rolling to the back of his head as the tip of the faux cock kissed Hisoka’s sweet spot.

An icy shudder kissed up his arched back, leaving trails of goosebumps on his bare skin. Hot tears lined his pretty eyes, you watched as it rolled down his face, and onto the silk pillowcase beneath.

God, the sight before you was absolutely immaculate, downright filthy yet oddly enough, there was something so beautiful about it—the way Hisoka’s expansive back muscles flexed with pure pleasure, veins that decorated his arms bulged from the tightness of his grip on the sheets.

Not to mention how his muscular body jolted back, and forth from each merciless thrust of your hips. Bright red hair that was normally slicked back now fell onto his neck, damp, and stuck to his sweaty skin.

Hisoka looked like an absolute whore beneath you, and you lived for the sight.

If he was being honest, he couldn’t think properly anymore; his mind was nothing but a lust-filled mush, hungry for more, more, more pleasure until it pushed him into the brink of complete insanity. Pure ecstasy engulfed his body from head to toe, causing him to shake from the mind blowing sensation.

Oh, what an amazing feeling it was, if only he could live in this state forever. Sounds of wet squelches mixed with Hisoka’s shameless whimpers, and moans were like music to your ears—a sinful melody reserved for you only.

With your palms flat against his shoulder blades, you shifted your weight to your hands, using his back as a leverage to angle your hips better, and reach deeper inside him. Hisoka panted in unison with every thrust, the weight of your body on top allowed him to enter a blissful haze from the lack of oxygen in his lungs—almost like a drunken state but paired with lust.

His toes curled at the foreign sensation, relishing in the way it made his body feel limp yet stiff at the same time. The familiar feeling deep inside his stomach was slowly rising to the surface—he was near his orgasm, and you knew from the way Hisoka moaned your name like a broken record.

Ah, but you weren’t quite finished with him just yet.

“Turn around for me, will you?” You panted, hastily slipping out of his hole which earned a pathetic whimper from the man before you.

Nonetheless, Hisoka obliged, and swiftly so—as though mere seconds away from pleasure was going to cost him his whole life. He adjusted himself, bare back flushed against the sheets beneath, uncomfortably sticking onto his sweat-covered skin. A bright hue of red surrounded Hisoka’s head like a sinful halo, his hair was splayed onto the pillow which made him look all the more majestic in his raw beauty.

His hard cock slapped against his abdomen, it stood proudly, and leaked of a pearlescent pre-cum which you were tempted to get your tongue on, and relish at the taste of him. You wrapped your fingers around the back of Hisoka’s knees, bending his long legs, and bringing them to his chest before slipping the faux cock back inside his hole, earning a high pitched whimper from your lover, followed by a muttered curse.

Without letting him adjust, you returned to the swift pace you had set mere moments ago, pulling louder moans, and groans from Hisoka. At this point he was long gone, drunk on pure pleasure without an ounce of sobriety left inside him, letting you do as you please with his body as long as the feeling of ecstasy was what he received—a win, win situation.

Light amber eyes slowly dipped beneath his heavy eyelids, his stare held nothing but empty lust. As odd as it was, Hisoka’s fucked out expression allowed pride to bloom across your chest, a feeling of accomplisment that you, too, were able to reduce your lover into nothing but a common whore who eagerly chased after pleasure.

After all, it was always the other way around—Hisoka never shied away from taking you in many sinful positions, rendering you cockdrunk, and unable to form a single coherent thought.

You bent over him, palms placed on either side of his head, a smug smile painted on your sweaty face, “My, my, what a scandalous sight. God, I love that expression you’re making.” You moaned—a fake one to tease him. That was usually Hisoka’s line when he’d fuck you, he always loved to comment on your fucked out expression; per his words, it fuelled his sex drive like gasoline on fire.

Hisoka could only reply with a bite of his lip. Another set of fresh tears rolled down his crimson coloured cheeks as electrifying shocks of pleasure washed over his body. With the harsh jolts of his body, and tears clouding his gaze, he couldn’t even see you properly but that didn’t really matter since he could feel you perfectly fine.

“Fist your cock for me.” You breathed out.

Hisoka snaked a shaky hand down to the apex of his legs where his cock remained untouched, and hard. He wrapped his deft fingers around the shaft, back arched off the mattress at the added pleasure, “Aah! Fuck, that feels so—ngh! So good!” Hisoka’s lips curled into a crazed smile, a breathy chuckle erupted from his throat at the feel of his hole, and cock being simultaneously pleasure.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Everything felt too fucking good, he couldn’t help but feel amused.

Completely letting himself go, Hisoka eagerly fisted his cock in time with your thrusts. His body stiffened under the immense pleasure he felt, a series of incoherent sentences flowed out of his mouth as though he spoke another language.

Hisoka was close.

So fucking close to his orgasm  as the knot inside his stomach threatened to snap with each passing second—with each thrust of your hips.

The only thing grounding him right now was his free hand curling around the ivory sheets, and if he were to let go, he might actually start floating as though on cloud nine.

“Ah—! Mhm! Yes! That’s it, baby don’t stop!” 

And you didn’t, you kept the same merciless pace despite the resistance of his walls making it a little harder to thrust inside. Hisoka panted like a dog, bare, sweaty chest heaving up, and down as if his life depended on it; his precum-covered thumb deftly rubbed at his sensitive slit—up, and down, up, and down, fast, tight circles along the tip of his cock head.

Pleasure gnawed at Hisoka’s very bones, his body trembled with immense pleasure; mind completely blank, and in a lust-filled haze. Every muscle inside his body stiffened as climax neared, all four limbs tingling with a foreign sensation as though a million butterflies kissed his bare skin.

With one last thrust from you, and a few more tight rubs on his tip, Hisoka unceremoniously came with a loud moan of your name while pressing his head further into the pillow beneath.

Ribbons, and ribbons of thick ivory spurted from his hardened cock, and onto his chiselled abdomen—Hisoka’s face contorted in pure pleasure, completely lost in the sinful sensation.

Fuck, it felt like his head was spinning.

The two of you stayed still for a moment, allowing him to bask in the serene aftermath of an earth shattering orgasm, heavy pants from both of you quickly replaced Hisoka’s lewd moans. After a heartbeat, he opened his eyes, and you were met with a cold amber stare, full of predatory intent, and carnal desire,

And with a sinister curl of his lips, Hisoka breathed out, “Now then, it’s my turn.”

—

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum & @pixelcafe-network !

[luveline]

Hi, I’ve never sent a request before so forgive me if this sounds weird I’m still learning how to use Tumblr lol but what if Eddie and reader go to Roan’s school for parent-teacher conference and her teacher shows them something Roan wrote or made expressing how much she loves her new mom and her new little family🩷 and reader cries from how happy and loved Roan and Eddie make her feel🥹

ty for ur request, it doesn't sound weird at all! eddie and roan —you and eddie attend roan's PT conference, stepmother!reader, 1.2k

You hide from the biting winter wind in Eddie's side. “Is it supposed to be this cold?” you ask. 

“You sound surprised. It's December,” he says, though he puts his arm over your shoulders to cover as much of you as he can. “I told you to wear a coat.” 

“The coat ruins my outfit,” you say. 

“You being cold ruins the outfit.” He nods towards the step up into the school building. “You could say the outfit ruins what's underneath–” 

“What's wrong with you?”  

“An appreciation for my wife?” 

“Stop saying that, you're confusing people. Steve asked me last night if we got married in private–” 

“You're always talking to Steve,” Eddie complains, “he doesn't even call me anymore, he just wants to talk to you.” 

He'd called to ask if he was still babysitting, actually, but Eddie wouldn't know that because he and Roan had been playing monsters at the time, speaking to each other in gruff tones while they made sandwiches for dinner. 

“You have a problem.” 

Eddie can't decide whether to bicker or dote, squeezing you tightly, a promise about new problems lost to the growing ruckus of the elementary school after hours. Some parents have brought their children, but the majority stand chatting in lines to see the teachers. You and Eddie have come through the main entrance of the building rather than the side door where Roan enters, and the walk to Mrs. Lundy's room is longer than usual, though far from unpleasant. Light shines through the windows where a rainbow of creatures have been painted, leaving glowing shapes of apricot, cerulean, and lilac on your skin as you pass. 

“You're like a Christmas tree,” Eddie says. 

“I just need some tinsel.” You point at the decorations hanging from Mrs. Lundy's doorway. “Like that.” 

“You want some tinsel? I'll get you some tinsel, baby, just give me a minute. And maybe distract her.” 

You refuse to help him steal from Mrs. Lundy, and spend your time in line waiting with his hands held firmly in yours to prohibit any theft. Eddie moans about being jailed but is otherwise content. He quite likes it, actually, rearranging your fingers to stroke your knuckles. 

Mrs. Lundy is smiling, happy to see you and brag about your girl. She starts with Roan's general education, her behaviour, her grades, though this young she doesn't have grades so much as milestones. Roan is smart but no wizz kid (not that you care), she's kind (but not always good at sharing), she's loud, and rambunctious, a great artist, and she's very, very happy. 

“She talks about your wedding all the time. Every day. She tells us she's going to be the flower girl, and the best man, and that she has a beautiful dress.” Mrs. Lundy beams. “She's walking on sunshine.” The teacher's smile turns soft, almost wistful. “Well, she's Roan. You know what she's like better than I do.” 

Your cheeks ache with pride. 

“She's a good kid,” Eddie says. 

“Yes!” Mrs. Lundy reaches across the desk for a turquoise-coloured folder. “There was actually something I wanted to share with you both… You know we have creative writing assignments, and obviously we help them with making real sentences, but what she has to say is very much of her own volition.” 

Mrs. Lundy pulls a sheet of paper from the folder and puts it down in front of your hands. “The prompt was what makes you happy,” she says. 

The first sentence is simple. 

My mommy. 

A drawing of you decorates the page above the lines, so clearly you, your smile wide and pink. 

My mommy is kind and I love her. Dad sayd the wedding is speshul becase he loves her, but she will be my mom. She makes me so happy. Mommy says she loves me all of the time, and she brushus my hair. My best part of the day is when Y/N comes home and hugs me. We are so happy, and Lucky gets dinner. I love my dad too, and Uncle Wayn. 

Her spelling errors have been corrected in green pen, and her backwards letters are written forwards for her to copy. You read the entire paragraph in a blur, thinking about how long it must've taken her to get it all down, nearly an entire page in her bubbly handwriting, big letters running off of the page. 

“Needless to say,” Mrs. Lundy says, “that most children write about their families, or their pets, or their toys. But Roan was extremely focused on the word love. She's clearly going home to a loving home every night.” Mrs. Lundy smiles at Eddie. You nearly miss it, reading the paragraph again, and then a third time. 

“Can I take this?” you ask, clearing your throat, tears brewed and bobbing on your waterline, desperate to be shed. “Is that okay?” 

Eddie laughs and elbows you in the arm. “Come on, it's hardly news.” 

You wipe your eyes before you can cry in front of them both. “I'm sorry, just– can I?” 

Mrs. Lundy beams again, emphasising the well-worn smile lines at the corners of her lips and creasing beside her eyes. 

You hold it together well for a little while. Eddie talks over your wobbly silence, a hand on your shoulder, assuring Mrs. Lundy that you're all, in fact, very happy, and he's just glad that Roan is being a good student and friend to her classmates. Mrs. Lundy's kindness and Roan's love letter to you has knocked you entirely off kilter, and you're crying before you've reached the car. They're happy tears. 

“Come on,” Eddie says, taking the paper you've folded carefully from your fingers as they clench. “She's said nicer to you in person.” 

And sure she has. Roan loves hitting you with the saccharine when you're not expecting it. Drying her hair after bath time, totally distracted, she'll kiss your cheek and say, “You're so pretty.” She sprinkles I love you's wherever they'll fit like her dad does, and she shows it with little gifts and cuddles and invitations. Y/N, do you want to have a fashion show with me? Y/N, can we have ice cream in bed? Can I do your hair, please, mommy? 

“It's different. It's different,” you insist, scrambling to find the words. “She's…” You rub your eyes. Your makeup is smudging, but you can't help it. “I don't even know what to say.” 

Eddie shrugs. Lean shoulders, a loving arm behind your back, the car in sight but getting no closer, he comforts you in the middle of the parking lot while the passing headlights kiss your shoes. “You know how much she loves you, babe. This is a good thing, right? You're not upset?” 

“Not upset,” you clarify. 

“Okay, good. Is this a bad time for me to say that I am profoundly jealous right now? I used to get all the drawings and cards, I used to get Mother's day gifts. I have a mother's day card up in the attic… might have to get it out,” —he kisses your cheek— “just to cope.” 

You laugh through a sniffle. “Let's go get it,” you say. 

He presses Roan's assignment back into your hand. “You can keep that one, but don't get it out around me. I'm serious.” 

[ectologia]

have you ever tried a makeup smear fic? one where the yandere makes her wear like lipgloss and eyeliner then smears it over her face like she’s lowkey a whore lmao

♱ ˖ ࣪࿐ 𝒫𝒜𝐼𝒩𝒯𝐼𝒩𝒢 ؛ 𝓀𝒶𝓉𝓈𝓊𝓀𝒾 𝒷𝒶𝓀𝓊𝑔𝑜𝓊

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 ؛ dubcon ﾉ noncon ﾉ humiliation ﾉ mocking ﾉ forced cunnilingus ﾉ name calling ﾉ bullying ﾉ crazy bakugou ﾉ mean bakugou ﾉ profanity

“Awh, look at you..” Katsuki coos, popping the cap of your eyeliner and holding it between his teeth. Your eyelids are pulled back to the hilt by his thumb, leaving you a teary mess as he oafishly free hands a string of ink across your lash-line. He pulls away with a triumphant grin, admiring his handy work as you blink away the black seeping into your pupils. The dainty pen is snapped in his fist, discarded onto the floor much like the rest of your make-up, shades of pink and brown left crushed into your carpet with their cases in fragments.

“Who’s a pretty girl?” He sneers, ruffling your hair with a big palm before taking hold of your bound ankles.

The metal clinks as he tugs the chains over his neck, allowing your trembling feet to rest on his shoulders, gracing you no escape.

“Wish I could say the same about this filthy little muff though..” Katsuki tuts, pressing your pussy-lips down to inspect your distorted hole. He slides a finger through the sticky webbing, flicking off at your clit. “Tsk.”

You don’t get a chance to reply before he’s dipping down, snorting like a pig. Engulfing with teeth and a fat tongue as he sticks it to your wet slit. Immediately, he’s shaking his head side to side, nuzzling his creased nose into your swollen bud as he sucks on your cunny hole with an unjust violence.

You cry out an incoherent plea, writhing in the stained sheets smudged with concealer and lipstick, the same colours he’d just finished caking your face in previously.

His head bobs up and down, routinely hacking a glob of foamy saliva onto your folds only to slurp it back up again.

“There we go...” He scrubs his chin of any fluid, sniffing his fingers as-well in a subtle fashion. “Nice ‘n’ sloppy.”

He stays preoccupied with slapping his heavy cock-head against your twitchy clit, even as you snivel into your shoulder, wincing and jerking beneath the heavy weight of his tip spanking your puffy pussy up and down. Pearly teeth bare at the wet splatters that jump from where you connect, spitting back up at him.

“You gonna’ behave?” He questions, leaving his stiff erection to flop onto your stomach as he raises two hands towards your face. Your skin is rolled and tugged on by a set of invasive digits, smudging black clouds of ink from your eyelids to your ears. “You gonna’ be a good little prostitute for me?”

You can’t feel your toes where they’ve gone numb from their ascended position, kicking up into the air as he sheathes his length into the pocket of your choke-hole.

Even as you scream raw from your throat, he can’t help but froth at the pair of pink glossy lips crying out for him. All shiny and glistening in the light, specks of glitter jumbled about inside the glass-like coating that paints them corner to corner. It turns him on, the thick globules of transparent gloop looking all to familiar to something else.

He’s compelled to spread the stickiness around, creating an exaggerated ark over what would usually be your smile, leaving a stripe of gloss in it’s wake.

“Awh..” He chuckles through his nose. “Such a lil’ cutie, you like getting your pussy fucked? Yeah you do, look at that smile.”

“Ngh.. ‘suki..” You keen, jostling the chains keeping your leather-cuffed wrists pinned to the headboard.

“Oh, ‘suki! ‘suki!” He mimics you as you sob, turning his mouth down and squinting his eyes in the same pitiful way you do, only without the crystalline tears dragging pounds of blush and bronzer down your cheekbones. “Please make love to my pussy harder!.. Yeah? ‘s that what you’re tryna’ say you little bitch?”

Even as you shake your head, he ignores you. To busy flicking at the artificial eyelashes he’d shoddily stuck to your lash-line, dramatic and bold like butterflies, nothing you’d ever dare to wear yourself, were it your decision.

“Please Katuki! It hurts, you’re hurting me!”

Your attempt to reason with him falls on deaf ears.

“Oh, I’m hurting you am I?” He only responds by pressing your knees back further. “Good.”

[goingmerryfics]

❤️ Your Blog. Can I request something? 🙏 Id love about Law and reader who is very affectionate and caring, e.g. brings him snacks in his office when he's working late, cheers him up when he is upset. All in all reminds Law alot of Cora.

Kind and caring S/O w/ Law

Content: Gender Neutral reader, SFW!

Notes* I love this idea! I got a lot of good ideas when I sat down to write this and it all pretty much amounts to “this man truly needs a break.” which means I went a little haywire with it. Spoilers for Dressrosa/Law's backstory

Happy reading :)

Law

Dating you was absolute bliss for Law

If he was shut up in his room working, he knew he could count on you to come visit eventually

Even if, after responding to your knocking and saying that he was busy, you still enter

You’ve got some lemon water and specially made Onigiri by your own hand all set up pretty in a tray

He tries not to smile too much while you set it down, kiss the top of his head, and quietly urge him to take a break- or at least stand and stretch because how he’s sitting can’t be good for his posture

Normally he wouldn’t pay that any mind, but you had an effect on him that he couldn’t explain. You gave him a special sort of feeling in his heart- a feeling that only one other person had ever given him in his entire life

Law gets up to stretch and to reach for you, that way he can press a kiss to your cheek and tell you he loves you

You’ve noticed he’s softer around you, though he never could quite tell you why

You also notice that whenever you two are sitting close or lying together, it doesn’t matter what you’re doing- he likes to look into your eyes as much as he can

He can’t explain it- it doesn’t matter that your eyes aren’t exactly the same colour as his. They’re kind, they’re caring, just like he is

One day, the heat on the submarine gives out and you seek Law out to ask a favour

“One of my sweaters? Yeah, you can borrow one. Just don’t ruin it.”

The warning means nothing, he knows you wouldn’t destroy any of his things on purpose

So you head for his room while he returns to helping the others fix the heat, shivering in your suit

Law’s room is an organized mess of books, clothes and sheets. He was never the type to keep anything clean for too long, but then again he was a busy man. You didn’t mind it, but you do know how he appreciates it when you can help him out with the little things. First, a sweater. You swear that you’re about to start seeing your breath from how cold it’s getting.

You dive into his closet and sort through his things for that yellow one you like, when you notice something interesting. Something hung up, obviously important since it’s in one of those zippable clothing protectors. A suit, maybe?

The thought of Law in a suit makes you squeal a bit. Now you have to see it.

Carefully, you take the hangar out and your first remark is at how incredibly light it is. It’s not heavy enough to be a full suit set, so you start to unzip it to satisfy your curiosity.

A few loose, black feathers hit the ground before you can figure out what you’re looking at. It’s a full feather coat. It looks like it’s been tailored- the collar has been cautiously cut with a loving hand, which makes you remember the strangely similar style of feather collar on his blue sweatshirt. There are also some messy holes in the back of it.

You hum curiously, and put it back into the protector bag for the time being. Then you grab the sweater you’d come here for, take the hangar, and bring the coat with you back to your room.

The heat returns. Heart Pirates huddle around the heat and try to warm up quickly, but Law has a better idea in mind on how to warm up. He also just really wants to see you in his clothing. But he spots something as he’s headed down the hall that makes his heart drop. A single black feather.

He’s wearing his blue sweater and he hasn't touched the coat. So why…

He rushes first to his room, throws the closet door open and his eyes widen at the missing coat, so he makes a B-Line for your room

It’s not that he thought you would wreck it, but it’s something he’d rather keep safe. Those feathers fell off every time he touched it, and he wanted so desperately to preserve the last item he’d ever have of his beloved Corazon.

When he reaches your room, he barges right in without knocking and finds you holding it up, looking it over. Your room is a mess of loose thread. Your desk has sewing scissors and a little ball with various sized sewing needles poking out of it, and your sewing machine is on.

“See?” You hold it up to him, showing off your handiwork. Slack-jawed, he scans over the once bullet holes that have now been expertly closed and repaired. “I’ve never seen you wear this, but I guess it’s because all those feathers kept falling off, right?”

He’s silent, but he knows just what he wants to say. It just takes him a moment.

“Law?” You ask, smile falling a bit, thinking maybe you’d done something wrong.

“Put it on.”

“Huh?” You take another good look at the coat. “You sure?”

He nods, and watches how you pull it over your shoulders. It’s way too big for you- did a damn giant wear this!? -but you still strike a pose, holding up a peace sign next to your face for Law and grinning wide.

“Do I look good?”

He takes a few steps forward. You open your eyes again and get the quick glimpse of tears in his eyes before he pulls you in for a hug tight enough to crack your spine. You can hear his quiet sobs and gasps in your ear, and it breaks your heart to think that maybe you’d done something wrong.

But he whispers that he loves you, and then he whispers it 3 more times just to be sure. You tell him you love him too, and he takes a deep breath to pull himself together.

“Are you ok, Law?” You ask, eyes glued to him. “I can put it back if-”

“No, just…” He wipes his face, then takes your hands. “I think there’s someone I’d like to tell you about.”

[momotonescreaming]

Part One | Part Two

Jeff felt like he was the only one who actually tried to do some study during his free period. Granted, this was mostly because he didn’t share his free period with anyone, but hey. He’s still counting it. It felt easier than studying at home — no mom to knock on his door every few minutes to ask him something, no annoying younger brothers. Just annoying students constantly getting shushed for talking too loud in the library. At least they listened when the librarian scolded them, unlike a pair of certain younger brothers.

So every day he could, he claimed the same table off to the side of the library, spread out his books, and tried to get some work done. Work on an essay, do some math sheets, sneak in some DnD research when he had the time (and wasn’t worried about the other teens trying to vandalise his papers). It meant he had more time at home to do things he actually liked. DnD. Guitar. Watch some TV.

It was calm, it was routine. No one else sat at his table, and it was better that way. No one wanted to hang out with one of the freaks. It was better when the cliques of Hawkins High didn’t interact. It was also easier said than done. A voice clears — light, high, and almost tentative. Right next to his table. Jeff looks up and sees the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Chrissy Cunningham.

His heart skips a beat, butterflies flutter in his stomach, every single lovesick cliché. Jeff felt them all. Feelings swirling in his stomach like honey. Sticky sweet and coating all of his insides. It was inescapable. Unavoidable.

She was cute, and he could swear he could smell her floral perfume and strawberry shampoo. Chrissy was that close and it was a silly little thing he had dreamed about. Being that close to the head cheerleader, his unattainable crush.

Her hair was tied up in a lilac scrunchie, ponytail perfectly curled, with matching lilac eyeshadow. He was close enough that he could notice these things, could see how the colour matched the purple tint in her ruffled plaid skirt.

Jeff smiled at her, almost unconsciously, trying not to seem too much like a freak. Just another normal guy. He didn’t want to scare her off. He listened to Eddie rant about conformity all day, but smiling at a pretty girl to make her more comfortable doesn’t seem so bad.

“Hi, um,” Chrissy starts, clutching a stack of books to her chest. There’s a subtle flush to her cheeks, rosy red, and Jeff can’t quite tell if it’s makeup or if it’s just her flustered over him. She continues before he can start over thinking about whether it’s a good flush or not. Does he make her nervous. “Can I sit here? Everywhere else is taken.”

Jeff looks over, and finds that Chrissy’s right. All the other tables are full, students littering the tables with books and papers with no room for anyone else. All tables, except his. It’s sort of telling, that the only table free is his, and no one else's, but he’s trying not to think about it too hard. Not when it’s led Chrissy to him, cutely and shyly asking if she can sit.

“Of course,” he replies, a little hurried, maybe a little too desperate sounding. He bites back a wince, and moves some of his textbooks out of her way. “Totally.”

And she smiles, something soft and small, just for him — as she thanks him and slides into one of the seats opposite. He smiles back, heart fluttering within the confines of his ribcage. Looking back down at the notes he’s been working on for his English essay, it suddenly doesn’t seem a appealing. Not in the way that it normally does. The words blur into one another, drift across the page, as Jeff tries to keep his gaze firm on the page and not sneaking upwards to glance at Chrissy.

At her perfectly coordinated outfit, preppy and cute, without looking too frumpy. At the way her bangs frame her face, highlighting her cheeks, her shining eyes. At the subtle gloss on her lips, tinted a faint pink. Jeff wonders what it tastes like. What it would feel like against his lips. Is it cherry flavoured, or strawberry — to match her hair. Would it be sticky as their lips meet? A thread of lip gloss and saliva stringing between them as they pull apart.

Shaking his head, willing that particular train of thought to leave his head, he closes his English notes and pulls out the math sheets that Mr Mundy gave them this morning. Grips his pencil tight and tries not to think about how Chrissy is right there. He can hear her organise her books, unzip her bag and take out her things. The scratch of pen on paper. The flip of the pages turning.

It’s sort of soothing, the soft sounds of Chrissy working, a nice noise overlaying the background noises of the library. And not just because it’s her. It’s nicer than the other teens whispering and giggling about being told off by the librarian, it’s better than the annoyances he gets at home. The subtle noise of someone working in tandem with him. It’s nice. Just keeping him company. Even if Chrissy just wanted an empty table, and not him specifically.

Jeff tries to concentrate, and works on his math sheets. Tries to speed through them without totally beefing it. Math isn’t his favourite subject — that would be English Lit, funnily enough —  but he’s not totally terrible at math. DnD has admittedly, helped. Which was part of the reason his parents let him continue with it (the other part, of course, being that he enjoyed it).

So he thinks of DnD, and of math, and tries to focus on Mr Mundy’s worksheet. Except it doesn’t go all that well, because of course it doesn’t. He’ll work through a problem, sneak a glance at Chrissy, at the matching purple shade she’s painted her nails, and look back at the worksheet only to find he’s worked through the problem all wrong. Sighing, Jeff erases what he’s done, and looks at the equation.

“Excuse me, um,” Chrissy starts quietly, whispering as to not invoke the ire of the already stressed librarian. “Do you have a spare pen, mine’s ran out of ink.”

Jeff looks up, throat hitching, lungs holding air as he locks eyes with Chrissy. Clear blue, deep and inviting and looking at him. He tries to hold himself back, to try not to smile like a loon, and he’s not sure if he’s successful or not.

“It’s Jeff,” he starts, clearing his throat, before digging through his pencil case for a pen he can spare. “And sure. Hope blue’s okay. I know O’Donnell can be a real stickler about black pens only.”

"Blue’s fine,” Chrissy giggles. Fucking giggles. Pressing a hand lightly to her mouth, her soft lips — the other reaching out for the pen Jeff retrieved. “It’s not for O’Donnell.”

“No worries then,” he replies, automatically holding his breath as Chrissy takes the pen, her fingertips brushing against the skin of his hand. Her skin is soft, moisturised, and feels like silk against his. What would it be like, Jeff wonders — retracting his hand, not letting himself linger — if she were to hold his hand. Not just a mere brush of fingertips. Would she entangle their fingers, clutching tight? Would she link their pinkies, swinging their arms in between them as they walked? Would she hold his hand over the table, where everyone could see, so they could work and stay connected at the same time?

“Thank you,” She says, shaking him out of it, uncapping the pen. She jolts a little, eyes widening. “Oh! I’m Chrissy by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jeff replies, smiling and tilting his head at her. He can feel all his insides melting inside him, conjoining into one horrible feelings-filled blob settling in his stomach. Clawing up his ribs, growing likes vines. It was everywhere, it was growing, no amount of smothering was going to kill this crush anytime soon. Not when Chrissy was there, looking the way she did, smiling at him so sweetly. Being kind to him.

—

At the end of their free period they went their separate ways, shaken out of their quiet camaraderie by the ringing of the bell. She had smiled at thanked him as she left, face flushed and ponytail swinging behind her.

Jeff felt like he was going to melt into a puddle, but he still, tragically, had class to go to. So he quickly packed up his things and headed to his next class. He shared it with Frank, which was nice as they actually got to sit next to one another. But the guy was scarily perceptive, and Jeff kind of wanted to keep that moment to himself for a little bit. Wrap it up in tape and hold it close, tucked into his chest. Just him, and Chrissy, and the way that she smiled at him.

But if Jeff knew Frank (and he did), he’d read Jeff like a book. Hopefully he could read him enough that he knew Jeff wanted it unsaid, just for the moment. Not counting Eddie, of course. He was his best friend, and he got it, with his insufferable crush on Steve Harrington.

He’d tell Frank eventually, of course he would, but not now. Definitely not on school grounds, while everyone was still there. If a cheerleader or god forbid — one of the basketball jocks — heard Jeff say he had a crush on the head cheerleader? He’d throw himself into the deep end of lovers lake, never to be seen again.

So he sighs, and enters his next class, hitches his bag further up his shoulder and heads towards his assigned desk. Frank arrives shortly after, messenger bag slung on one shoulder and they lock eyes. He tries to keep it casual light, but he’s sure he sees something on his face. See the like and love and ooey gooey feelings seeping out of his pores.

“Did Kaminsky quiz you again?” Jeff asks, hoping to draw the attention away from his traitorous heart. Frank immediately groans in exasperation, tilting his head to the ceiling, and Jeff just laughs. A wash of relief rushing over his tangled emotions.

—

School dragged on, as it always did at the end of the day, and all Jeff wanted to do was go home and lock himself in his room. Maybe wallow in his emotions for a bit, let them settle, and learn some love song on the guitar. Use it to work through his feelings. Sort through them like puzzle pieces. Pick them up one by one, and carefully slot them into place.  There’s gotta be some good metal ones he can learn.

Jeff lets his mind drift, thinking of songs, and of guitars, and of learning a song just for Chrissy. Lets the class wash over him, absently writing down notes, entirely without thinking about it. He should care about this stuff, should want to take notes, should want to pass. But all of a sudden it really doesn’t seem like it matters. Not when Chrissy sat with him, had talked to him, had borrowed his pen. She forgot to give it back in the end, in the rush of the bell, but Jeff didn’t mind. Not when his crush now had something of his.

Ripping his gaze back towards the blackboard, towards the teacher, he lets the subconscious smile he was sporting drop from his face. Drifting his way through the end of class until finally, finally, the end of day bell rings and he’s free. Packing up his things as fast as he can, absently chatting with Frank as they exit class along with the flood of students.

It’s not Friday, so there’s no Hellfire. There’s no Corroded Coffin practice, he doesn’t have to drive his brothers across town to soccer, or some other lesson they’ve been begging their parents to go to. He just needs to get them, go home, and then he’s free to lock his bedroom door and melt into the carpet.

“You need a ride?” Jeff asks Frank, furrowing his brow as he turns towards his friend. The pair of them slowly walking to the student car park.

“Nah,” Frank replies, hitching his bag further onto his shoulder. “My mom’s picking me up so she can take us shopping for my dad’s birthday. Thanks though.”

“All good man,” Jeff replies, and he can’t help but be quietly relieved. That he doesn’t have to make more small talk, that he won’t politely have to invite Frank in to hang out (because he would, of course he would). That he can leave the school day behind, go home and spend some time alone. He needs it, every now and then, to centre himself. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Frank claps him on the shoulder as he says goodbye, before heading over to the pick up zone. Jeff sighs, lets all the air out of his lungs, before going to wait by his car.

It used to be his dads — an old white ford —  but passed onto Jeff when he upgraded on the condition that he help them drive his brothers around. Jeff had agreed, was desperate for his own car — just little bit more freedom — but he was not a fan of being asked to cart his brothers around like a chauffeur.

So at the end of school Jeff would loiter next to his car until bis brother Vincent came over from the middle school, before driving through the truly terrible pick up line at Hawkins Elementary for Kenneth. It wasn’t that bad, usually. If Vincent didn’t take his sweet time chatting to his friends and being annoying. Making Jeff late. Because of course he did.

He had some time, is what he was saying. Absently scans the parking lot, seeing if there’s anyone he knows, anyone interesting he can people watch. If Chrissy is out here somewhere.

Does she take the bus? Does she walk? Is she staying late for cheer practice? Does she drive, or get a ride from someone else? Her mom, her best friend, Jason. Does he walk her to his car after school, does he hold her books or open the door for her? Does he drive her home with his hand resting on her thigh?

Would she let Jeff do those things. Smiling at him out of the corner of her eyes, giggling when he turns to look at her too. Would she hold his hand over the gear-stick, letting her hand be moved along with his?

“Why are you smiling like that?” Vincent says, entirely too close to Jeff for his liking, making him jolt in place — just slightly. “Weirdo.”

Jeff frowns, looking down at his younger brother to find him giving him a look. Jeff knows that look, he’s seen it on his shithead brother’s face entirely too often. He’s thinking he knows something, is jumping to conclusions, is being a know it all. And if his brothers start talking about how he’s lovesick, has a crush, a girlfriend — it’s all over. He won’t hear the end of it. So he deflects.

“Nothing you need to worry about Vinnie,” Jeff replies, ruffling his brothers hair — because he knows he hates it. “Grown up stuff.”

“You’re not a grown up!” Vincent exclaims indignantly, just as predicted, as they both get into Jeff’s unlocked car. It’s all too easy. A good distraction. “You’re still in high school!”

“I’m closer than you, squirt,” Jeff retorts easily, buckling his seatbelt and starting the engine. Drives off to the sounds of his brothers ranting, and thoughts of Chrissy.

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Part Four | Part Five