#absolute fave and you are so right about them too

[qiu-yan]

2 and 21 for mdzs please?

sorry for the wait!

choose violence ask game

2. a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

in terms of "compelling" arguments, i've got nothing. in terms of bullshit arguments i pulled out of my ass, though....

of course, the easy way out is to argue that jiang cheng is asexual and therefore would never come into sexual contact with anyone. an equally easy way out is to argue that jiang cheng is so rizzless that, even if he wanted to top or bottom, no one would do it with him....that's the easy way out of this question, though.

my own opinion is that, if jiang cheng were attracted to men and/or had a partner who was into pegging, he would have way too much internalized homophobia to give bottoming a try. even if he somehow got over himself enough to admit that he was into men (already impossible), he would still buy into the ancient-greek school of thought on homosexuality, wherein "ackshually it's only gay if you're on the bottom." he would be fully convinced that, if he were to bottom - and worse, if he were to enjoy it - he would become Less Man on an existential level. this would absolutely kill him inside, would make him actively more homophobic than if he were just straight or asexual, and would make him a nightmare for any other man to hook up with.

but of course, the more you adamantly refuse to even consider something - the more you fear something, in other words - the more you end up obsessing over it. if jiang cheng were actually hooking up with men in this scenario (entirely possible because he's like 6ft tall and probably can host because he's rich, which makes him a prime catch in the eyes of like 90% of grindr), he would adamantly refuse to bottom. he'd declare himself a hard top. but would he actually enjoy himself? or would he, as he topped in a lackluster manner whichever men were unfortunate enough to give him a chance, imagine himself in their position - first with disgust, as he told himself he was different than them; then with terror, as he feared that he might one day end up in their position; and then with something else?

because jiang cheng's fear - that he might one day bottom and enjoy it - would quickly mutate into a full-on psychosexual obsession with the concept of bottoming itself. because it's repression king jiang cheng we're talking about, said obsession would eventually become one of those things you're so afraid of that your fear ends up wrapping back around and turning into a fetish. because it's jiang cheng we're talking about, this would then lead to him actually bottoming one day. and then, because it's jiang cheng we're talking about and the universe hates him, he would actually end up enjoying it.

does his mindset change? maybe. or maybe he just becomes Worse.

i feel like i've ended up doing the opposite of answer the question.....sorry.....these are my honest thoughts, though.

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

i'm going to get killed for this, but that's the purpose of this ask game, so i'll be honest....."lan wangji as Love Interest." of course, by this i do not mean to say "lan wangji himself." rather, what i mean is the way in which lan wangji is a "love interest" first and a "character" second. in my view, the story is only really interested in lan wangji as "the guy who loves wei wuxian and is unquestioningly devoted to him," rather than interested in lan wangji as a character in his own right.

of course, the story spills a lot of ink on how much lan wangji loves wei wuxian, how much lan wangji has sacrificed for wei wuxian, how unquestioningly devoted lan wangji is to wei wuxian, and so on. and while this is all true and good, in my view, there are also several other interesting angles in lan wangji's story worth exploring. however, these angles instead seem rather neglected by the story, which appears to only want to discuss "lan wangji's devotion to his One True Love."

some angles i consider to be interesting, and which i felt like went underexplored in canon:

how much of lan wangji's support of wei wuxian is because he believed wei wuxian was right, and how much of it is because he loves wei wuxian and does not want to lose wei wuxian again? where does lan wangji's personal romantic love end and his moral compass begin? the novel equates [standing with wei wuxian] with [being righteous], but it is exceedingly easy to design a situation where the morally righteous path entails sacrificing wei wuxian in some way - how would lan wangji behave in such a situation? if wei wuxian himself had not protected the wen remnants (due to canon divergence or whatever), would lan wangji have spoken up for the wen remnants?

to what degree does lan wangji agree with wei wuxian's actions and consider said actions to be morally justified? comparatively, to what degree does lan wangji consider wei wuxian's actions to be morally questionable, and simply wants to shoulder wei wuxian's sins with him out of love? does lan wangji know and/or believe that wei wuxian killing jin zixuan was a genuine accident? if he does not know, does he care?

what does lan wangji's relationship with his family look like? on one hand, in his failed bid to save wei wuxian, he injured 33 of his own sect's elders, which under confucian principles is a massive wrongdoing. have the injuries of these elders healed? does lan wangji feel guilty? on the other hand, lan wangji's family betrayed both him and the moral principles they espoused, by first nearly whipping lan wangji to death and then joining the first siege of the burial mounds. does lan wangji resent his family for this? does he resent lan xichen and lan qiren, or does he understand that they had argued the punishment down from execution? is that why, after lan xichen's world shattered at the guanyin temple in yunping, lan wangji was able to immediately leave the premises with wei wuxian in tow, without once checking in on his brother?

what does lan wangji think of his late parents? does he want to know why his mother killed his father's teacher, or would he rather not know? does his family keep the knowledge from him, or does he avoid the knowledge himself? what does he think of his father's actions - to him, is his father someone who fell from the path of duty and righteousness for the sake of love, someone who selfishly abandoned his duties and forced his responsibilities onto his younger brother, and/or someone who imprisoned lan wangji's mother against her will and perhaps even forced himself onto her? does lan wangji know whether or not he was conceived consensually? does this bother him?

given the whole history of lan wangji's parents, how does lan wangji view his own, how should i say, sexual interests? lan wangji did once pin down a struggling wei wuxian and forcibly kiss him; would lan wangji make a connection between the nonconsensual nature of this deed and the imprisonment of his mother? furthermore, wang and xian's relationship postcanon seems to have an element of d/s and noncon roleplay to it (which i'm not judging them for, good for them); would that also remind lan wangji of how his father and his father's sect brought about the imprisonment of his mother? or are these two separate things entirely?

in my view, these are all highly interesting aspects of lan wangji's story - and all of these are implied by details given in canon. however, canon shirks discussing these aspects of lan wangji's character in favor of focusing on him as the Male Lead: rather than explore any of these angles, which would further define lan wangji as a person, canon seems far more interested in single-mindedly focusing on how sad lan wangji was that wei wuxian died, how tragic the loss of his One True Love was, and how wholeheartedly happy lan wangji is now that wei wuxian has come back and returns his feelings.

to me, it feels like this guy got sanded down from a "full individual" to a "love interest." it feels to me like the story gives us some details about lan wangji's own life, but then nonetheless insists on reducing him from a person in his own right to a satellite that revolves around wei wuxian (the story's real favorite). because of this, MDZS the novel read as less the wei wuxian and lan wangji story, and more the Wei Wuxian story starring Wei Wuxian, in which lan wangji is a love interest first and a person second.

i forget if i said this before or if i read it from someone else's blog, but it does feel like, if you want to love lan wangji on his own, you have to do a lot of the heavy lifting yourself. or at the very least scrub all the male lead energy off of him first, so that the individual underneath can be revealed.

[cld-n]

Oh Pacific Rim! Guillermo del Toro's baby. With Charlie Hunnam 😍🥵 Rinko Kikuchi is so cute in it too! Always stay to watch it whenever I catch it on TV.

saaaaame, it's my ultimate comfort watch, i can never get tired of it.

[longagoitwastuesday]

One thing about me is that I will stand by basically every bad deed of my favourite characters fully aware of them being bad deeds. I just don't care

[bluebeads-art]

2024 September 14th

Do you ever wish you could beat into a character's head that they're loved? Because I sure wanted to beat Siffrin during my first playthrough of In Stars and Time. Then I thought about that figure of speech too literally, laughed at my own joke, and now here's me using Odile as a proxy to do just that. :)

I absolutely adore Odile's "you will be safe and happy and that is a threat" approach to emotional support. Her and Siffrin's dynamic in general is just chef's kiss.

Sorry about your hat, Siffrin, but it was destroying my panel composition when I tried to put it on your head.

----------

For being rusty with art I'm really happy with this! That last panel in particular was very new territory for me but I think it came out good! I'm happy with the movement between panels in general. And look at me! Drawing backgrounds!! Wahoo!!

I drew these panels incredibly out of order, so you can see my art style and amount of effort fade in and out as you read, lmao. I tried to stay authentic to the game's style, but sort of gave up and let my style bleed through on the action-y panels. It just felt right. Gives it emphasis. :P

I'm new to writing screen reader image alt text, so feedback is welcomed. Sorry again to Siffrin because I forced myself to he/him them only to avoid confusion, but it felt bad! My fellow they/he, I have wronged you.

Time spent working on this comic was...... 33 hours and 18 minutes. I blame the rust, learning how to draw these characters on the fly, and figuring out the perspective on those bricks, oh my god.

Have some close-ups of my fave panels as thanks for clicking the read-more, mwa

[buckymorelikefuckme]

cry baby

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 7.3k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** smut, edging, overstimulation, crying during sex, mentions of flushed cheeks, friends to lovers, misunderstandings, lapslock.

a/n: this is arguably one of my absolute fave fics i've ever written. she is near and dear to my heart :') i've provided the link for ao3 if you prefer to read it there! it's originally posted in two parts but i've combined them here. any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged & appreciated ♡

“the boys are running late,” natasha informs you when you make your way to the table she’s conquered in the busy cafe. “sam texted a couple minutes ago and said he and bucky got stuck in traffic.”

it’s the second tuesday of the month, which means it’s brunch day. it’s a running tradition that’s stood for the four of you since your college days. the time and place has changed over the years, but everyone does their absolute best to attend every time. these tuesdays are your favorite, naturally.

you plop into an empty chair across from her with a heavy sigh. “good, that means i have time to bitch about how fucking horny i am before they get here.”

she snorts, taking a delicate sip of her latte. “what’s new?” she wonders sarcastically.

“you don’t understand,” you begin, leaning into the table, gripping the edge tightly. “it’s been months, and not like, a few, i mean it’s coming up on a year.”

natasha’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “a year? what about that guy you went on a few dates with a while back? didn’t anything happen with him?”

“no,” you grumble, sitting back in your chair and crossing your arms. you huff. “and even if something had happened, i doubt it would have been satisfying. i can probably count on one hand the amount of times sex has been even kinda pleasurable for me.”

“sounds like you’re picking shitty partners.”

you scowl. “i know that, but it’s not my fault. all these stupid men keep promising they’re gonna fuck me ten ways to sunday and not a single one of them can even get me to wednesday.”

natasha laughs. “you poor thing.”

“you’re really not helping me here,” you whine with a pitiful pout on your lips. “you are getting routine dickings, you have sam! i am not so lucky here.” you notice her attention flicks to somewhere behind you, but you’re not finished with your rant. “nat, i’m serious. all of my sex encounters are the equivalent of asking someone to scratch my back and then they scratch literally anywhere but the spot that itches. i want to be fucked so good that i cry, just—completely reduced to tears. is that too much to ask?”

nat is hiding her smile behind her hand, amusement painted across her sharp features. someone clears their throat behind you and you pinch the bridge of your nose. sam and bucky occupy the empty seats, sam next to natasha and bucky next to you. they’re both sporting wide grins, looking far too pleased about stumbling into this conversation.

sam opens his mouth, no doubt to make a smartass comment, but you cut him off before he can get a good inhale in.

“not a fucking word,” you grouse with a finger pointed in his direction.

he presses a hand to his chest, expression offended. “i would never make a joke about your truly tragic excuse of a sex life.”

bucky snickers quietly, but turns into a cough at your glare.

“i’ll murder you,” you promise.

“leave her alone, boys,” natasha says, rolling her eyes, though she’s visibly biting back her own laughter.

you huff, digging your wallet out of your purse. “i hate all of you,” you announce before getting up and going to stand in line to order.

bucky follows a moment later, coming to stand at your side and throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“that bad, huh?” he asks.

you don’t have to look at his face to know he’s probably smirking right now.

“fuck off,” you retort, not bothering to push his arm away since you know he’d only put it right back.

“aw, come on, don’t be like that,” he jests, “you know we just like to poke a little fun.”

you roll your eyes, throwing him an exasperated look. “yeah, but that was something only nat was supposed to hear. i hate talking about sex with you and sam because you two wouldn’t understand.”

“that’s not true,” bucky insists, which makes you roll your eyes again. “it’s not!”

“first of all, sam’s got natasha, so we both know they’re more than satisfied.” bucky tilts his head in acquiescence. “and you don’t have to worry about if you’re gonna have an orgasm when you hook up with somebody. men have it so easy.”

it’s probably not the best thing to talk about in line of a busy cafe (especially since you haven’t decided between a blueberry muffin or the ham and cheese croissant, and there’s only one person ahead of you now and you’d really rather not be discussing your lack of sex in front of an innocent barista) but it sort of feels good to get this off your chest, even if it’s to bucky.

“okay, definitely not true,” he replies with a frown. “i’m not always guaranteed an orgasm.”

you give him a skeptical glance. “i find that hard to believe.”

this time, it’s bucky who rolls his eyes. “whatever, whether or not i come when i have sex with someone isn’t what i was gonna talk about when i came over here.”

the person in front of you finishes their order and then you’re stepping up for your turn.

“hi, what can i get you today?” the young barista asks with a smile.

“a large mocha iced coffee with sweet cream and a blueberry muffin, please.” you pause, contemplating, then add, “and a ham and cheese croissant.”

if you can’t get fucked within an inch of your life then food will become your lover, you reason.

“just a black coffee for me, please,” bucky tells the girl, taking his wallet out of his back pocket and handing over his card to pay before you can stop him.

“i could’ve paid for mine,” you mumble.

“you also could just say thank you,” he replies with a short laugh as he ushers you to the side to wait for your order.

you pinch his hip, pouting. “thank you.”

“why does your gratitude come with violence?” he asks, rubbing the sore spot.

“you know how i am when people do nice things for me.”

“you should be used to it by now,” he points out.

“well, i’m not,” you huff. “anyway, what did you come over here to talk about then?”

bucky reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, uncharacteristically shy all the sudden. “uh, well. i dunno, i just thought… you know, since you’re not—i mean, not that you couldn’t be, just—you haven’t been, so maybe… fuck.”

“spit it out,” you say with a giggle, wondering what in the world’s got him so tongue-tied.

“why don’t you let me?” he blurts, averting his gaze immediately after.

you tilt your head in confusion. “let you what?”

he sighs heavily, working his jaw in frustration. “you know…” he begins, digging his thumbnail into a knick on the countertop in front of you. “let me fuck you until you cry.”

“what?”

just then, your order is called. bucky quickly grabs it and turns to make his way back to the table, but you grab his arm to stop him.

“i don’t think so, you come back here right now and explain yourself,” you demand.

his eyes lift heavenward. “it’s just an idea, okay?”

“bucky, you’re talking about crossing a huge line. you can’t just throw that out all willy nilly!”

“i know,” he replies earnestly. “and it’s not—“ he grimaces at the phrasing, “willy nilly. you’re one of my best friends. i wouldn’t jeopardize that for anything, and i wouldn’t offer this if i thought that it could. this is something that’s obviously affecting you negatively in your life and i’m willing to help. i trust you, and i’m pretty sure you trust me, yeah?”

“of course i trust you,” you say, frowning.

he shrugs. “so, then it’s just… a friend helping another friend.”

“you make it sound so simple,” you muse in wonder.

“think about it?” he implores.

you swallow roughly, biting the inside of your cheek. “fine. i’ll think about it.”

he nods and walks back over to the table where sam and natasha are waiting. you hesitate for only a split second before following.

needless to say, you’re distracted for the rest of brunch.

***

you: what even makes you think you could fuck me until i cry anyway?

it’s been nearly a week, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re actually considering taking bucky’s offer. it’s all you can think about since he brought it up. you can’t lie, you’ve always thought bucky was attractive, but ever since you were gently but firmly placed in the friend category back in university, you never allowed yourself to think of there ever being more between the two of you. he’s a wonderful friend to have and you’d have been an idiot to pass it up. bucky is kind and generous and just enough of an asshole to keep things interesting without it being a problem.

but this… this has left you reeling. why would he make such an offer after only ever keeping things strictly friendly and platonic in your relationship? and more importantly, where does he get the confidence to think he could follow through?

bucky: experience?

you make a face at your phone, furiously typing your reply.

you: ew. do you realize how douchey that sounds?

bucky: well, it’s not douchey if it’s true.

you: says you

bucky: and a few other people :)

bucky: you’d know it too if you’d let me fuck you

you exhale harshly through your nose, tapping your foot on the floor anxiously, carefully thinking of what you should say next.

you: it’s apparently a tall request, and thus far, nobody’s been able to deliver. you can understand my skepticism…

bucky: if i don’t leave you shivering and twitching with aftershocks of pleasure, in a mess of sweat and come, and tears stained on your cheeks, then i will have failed you.

your thighs squeeze together at the mental image that brings you. jesus christ, if he’s half as good at fucking as he is dirty talking then he just might do as he’s promising.

bucky: so? what do you say? wanna give it a try?

biting your lip, you give yourself a moment to weigh the pros and cons in your mind one last time.

it doesn’t take you very long to make your decision.

you: okay. we’ll try.

***

it’s a slightly overcast sunday when bucky comes over with the direct intention to fuck you. it should be weird, but strangely, all you feel is anticipation. maybe it’s because you know him so well and know that, no matter what, he’d take care of you.

(or, maybe it’s because those repressed college-aged feelings are doing their best to resurface, even though you steadfastly continue to ignore them.)

you’d taken a thorough shower earlier to ease the little bit of nerves you had when you’d woken up. cleaning up the small mess your apartment gathered over the last couple weeks helped, as well, and soon you found yourself standing in front of your lingerie drawer with your lips pursed.

you weren’t sure if you should even bother with it, but it felt you wouldn’t be putting in any effort into this encounter if you didn’t at least pick out nice underwear. so, with a pleased nod, you settle on some simple black lace panties and a matching bralette. not too much, but enough to satisfy yourself, and hopefully bucky. you pick out a simple sundress to put on over it, since you won’t be wearing much of anything once bucky gets here. that thought has you flushing, but you ignore it to put on some makeup, just to freshen up your face.

by the time he knocks on your door, you’ve already finished a glass of wine and are pouring yourself a second.

he smiles when open the door, a bit boyishly, greeting you with a quiet, “hi.”

“hi,” you return, just as soft. you open the door wider. “come in.”

he walks passed you, stopping to toe his shoes off and hang his jacket on one of the hooks.

“do you want a glass of wine?” you ask as you head to the kitchen to retrieve your own from the counter.

bucky follows, stopping in the entryway with his hands in his pockets. “no, thank you.”

you nod, taking a sip from your glass, trying to figure out what to say. the air feels a little awkward and you’re not sure how to fix it.

“nervous?” he wonders curiously.

you shake your head. “not really.”

he quirks a brow. “then what’s wrong?”

“i don’t know,” you murmur. “i guess i’m just worried we’re making a mistake.”

he hums. you take a larger sip of your wine.

with cautious steps, he comes closer to you. “what if i promise that things won’t be weird after?”

“you can’t really promise that, though.”

“sure i can,” he says, smiling. “it’s me and you. we’ve been friends for so long. plenty of people have sex and stay friends after.”

you’re not just ‘people’ to me, you think.

you sigh, frustrated with yourself. you can’t deny how badly you want this. it’s all you’ve been able to think about since that day in the cafe. but the thought of losing bucky is heartbreaking, and you don’t want your stupid horniness to be the reason that you ruin a friendship, even if he was the one to offer sex.

“why don’t we go make out on the couch for a little while first?” he suggests after a moment’s pause.

you snort, in spite of your thoughts. “like a couple of teenagers?”

his eyes crinkle on the sides when he grins. “yeah. we’ll just see how we feel about that, and if it leads to more, then…” he trails off, shrugging.

“that’s not a bad idea,” you concede.

“great! finish your wine.”

you laugh and do as you’re told, downing the little remaining wine in one go, sitting the glass down on the counter resolutely as you swallow.

“let’s do this,” you say, determined.

bucky huffs a laugh, grabbing your wrist and tugging you behind him as he makes his way to the couch. he settles slightly facing you as you tuck your legs under you beside him.

“do you wanna talk, or do you want to jump straight into it?”

“if we talk anymore i’m gonna change my mind. just kiss me already, bucky.”

“yes ma’am,” he sasses before doing exactly that.

he cups your cheek with one hand as the other is placed on your knee. he guides your face to his and kisses you chastely. you’re not sure where to put your hands at first, but you tell yourself to quit being a goober about it and place them on either side of his neck, your thumbs brushing under his jaw.

it’s an okay kiss, you have to admit, but it’s not really doing anything for you yet. he has soft lips, softer than you thought they’d be. you’re beginning to wonder if maybe this confirms you shouldn’t go any further when he tilts his head, and… hm.

he parts his lips, taking your bottom one between his, kissing it, then nipping it. you wouldn’t say the sound you make is a gasp, necessarily, but it’s close. his tongue lightly caresses the seam of your mouth and you don’t even think before you open up for him, letting his tongue sweep in, flicking against yours. you hum, scooting a tiny bit closer to him, chasing the feeling. his kisses turn insistent then, teeth biting at your bottom lip and tugging, soothing the ache with his tongue. he kisses you like a man quenching his thirst, like you’re the best goddamn thing he’s ever tasted, and it’s leaving you dizzy. you sway more into his space and he pulls away from your mouth.

“c’mere,” he whispers, gripping behind one of your knees to drag it over his hips so you’re straddling him. “much better.”

you don’t have a chance to process anything about the moment, his mouth back on yours in a blink. your fingers wind themselves into his hair, getting a good grip on it as you lick into his mouth. he lets out a soft noise at that and you try your damnedest to pry it out of him again, pressing your chest to his so there’s not even a sliver of space left between you.

his hands travel, down the sides of your torso to your thighs, back up to your hips where he holds on tight. it doesn’t take long after that before you find yourself grinding into him. you both moan at the same time, breaking the kiss to pant for breath.

you swallow roughly. “okay,” you murmur, “i think it’s safe to say this could work.”

bucky laughs quietly. “yeah? wanna move to your bed then?”

your squeeze your thighs around him, shifting minutely on his lap and feeling the beginnings of his erection beneath you. “yes,” you breathe.

quickly, you rise from your position and step back, allowing bucky to stand, then grab his hand and lead him to your bedroom. once you’re standing beside your bed, you turn to face him. he meets your halfway, pulling you into another, filthier kiss. you reach for his belt buckle, unfastening it and sliding it through the loops, tossing it to your floor. next are the button and zip of his jeans, shoved down his legs until he steps out of them and kicks them and his socks aside. he obediently lifts his arms when you slide your hands under his shirt and begin pushing it up, breaking the kiss to nearly yank it off, making bucky huff in amusement. once it’s tossed with the rest of his clothes, bucky grabs fistfuls of your dress and pulls you into him.

“my turn,” he says against your lips.

carefully, bucky helps you out of your dress, eyes raking over every bit of new skin shown to him. he bites his lip when he sees your lacy underthings.

“you got all dolled up for me?” he asks.

shifting under his stare, you nod. “wanted to look nice,” you admit.

he hums. “beautiful.”

he kisses you again, a little softer than before, but no less passionate. the urgency returns as he backs you up until your thighs hit the mattress. gently, he guides you onto your back, never breaking the kiss as he follows you down and settles over you.

you soon find yourself in need of air and pull away with a gasp. bucky is undeterred and instead presses his kisses down your jaw, to your neck where he decides to bite and suck until he’s left a mark you’ll have to reprimand him for later. he licks his way up to your ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth, drawing a whine out of you.

“bucky,” you whisper, hands gripping his sides as you squirm below him.

“hm?”

you close your eyes tightly when he makes his way back down to your collarbones.

“please,” you whimper.

“please what, sweetheart?” he asks, pushing himself up to look you in the eye.

“t-touch me,” you beg, cheeks flushing.

his lips quirk into a smile. “i am touching you.”

“bucky,” you whine.

“where do you want me to touch you, hm?” he wonders. one of his hands trails across your shoulder and down the center of your chest. “here? or… here?”

when his fingers glide, barely there, over your pebbled nipples, you push into the touch eagerly.

“or…” he continues, his feather light touch making a path down your stomach. your breath quickens in anticipation. “here?” he murmurs as his fingertips stop on your pantyline.

“yes, there, anywhere,” you agree hastily, “just —please. please, bucky, don’t tease me.”

he kisses you again, deep, full of promise. “you beg so prettily for me.”

he rearranges your positions until he’s between your spread thighs, sweeping his hands across the inside of them. he nods to your panties.

“may i?”

“yes, please,” you reply, lifting your hips to help him take them off.

he doesn’t give you a chance to close your legs in shyness, firmly grasping your knees in each of his hands and spreading them once again. the way he’s looking at you makes you feel unbelievably desirable, has excitement crawling up your spine.

“don’t forget,” you remind him, making his eyes flick up to yours in question, “you better make me cry.”

a slow, dangerous smile graces his lips. your stomach swoops eagerly.

~

a whine, high pitched and drawn out, escapes your lips. after you unwittingly challenged him, bucky took it upon himself to torture you—with sex. so far, he’s only used his fingers on you, in you, thrusting them steadily but never enough to bring you to climax. he’s taking his time and being a smug prick about it. you go to complain, again, hoping if you beg enough he’ll let you come, but before you can do more than open your mouth he’s quickening his pace.

“oh!” you gasp, clutching the sheets in your hands.

bucky slides his hand down your thigh, bringing his thumb inward to swipe around where his other fingers are buried inside you to gather your wetness and using it to rub circles on your clit. your back arches, head thrown back against your pillows as you feel your orgasm build. it’s not tears, but damn, it feels good enough.

just as you start to clench around his fingers, legs spasming, he stops.

your eyes open in a hurry, brows furrowing in confusion. “no, please, don’t stop,” you plead.

bucky smiles. “i gotta get the right build up.”

you groan in frustration. he laughs quietly and lets the inferno burning within you simmer down to embers, then starts inching his way down until he’s lying on his stomach, mouth poised above your pussy. the feel of his warm breath makes you shiver, and with no warning whatsoever, he leans in and sucks your clit into his mouth.

“fuckin’—oh my— bucky!”

you’re pretty sure you black out for the next several minutes, the only thing you’re aware of is the thudding of your heartbeat in your ears and the feel of bucky’s mouth on you. you’re lost in a mindless haze of pleasure, unable to think or feel anything else. you feel your orgasm cresting for the second time, and just as before, bucky pulls away before you can succumb to it.

“why,” you hiccup on a moan, wanting nothing more than to just come already, but he’s not letting you.

he shushes you, softly kisses your knee. sitting up to take his underwear off, bucky keeps his eyes on you, expression hungry.

“gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he promises. “just a bit more. you’re being so good for me, yeah?”

“please,” you whimper, feeling completely pathetic.

he makes quick work of putting a condom on and then settles between your thighs. you sigh in relief when he wastes no time and pushes in, being careful not to go too fast. once he’s fully inside you, he pauses, wanting to give you time to adjust, but you’re back to whining.

“bucky, please, please just—fuck me,” you beg, squirming beneath him.

he takes mercy on you, finally, and sets a hard pace. your hands fly up to push against the headboard, moaning and gasping from his harsh thrusts, loving the stretch of him inside you. his thumb is back on your clit and you cry out, clenching hard around him, but his thrusts don’t falter. all too soon, you can feel yourself getting close. you hear your own voice chanting please, please, please, mixed in with bucky’s grunts and the sound of him fucking you.

you whimper, eyes squeezed shut as your climax hits the point of no return, crashing over you in waves. you think you might scream, but it’s hard to pay attention to anything other than the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. part of you thinks this’ll be it, bucky will come now and then you’ll have had one of the best orgasms of your life and he’ll be on his merry way home. but no, that’s not what happens.

instead, bucky keeps thrusting relentlessly into you, dragging out your pleasure to the point of oversensitivity.

“s’too much,” you breathe, gasping for air.

bucky shakes his head, face contorted in concentration. “one more,” he tells you, voice gruff and deep.

unbelievably, you feel tears beginning to gather in the corners of your eyes. bucky’s still rubbing your clit, still keeping a steady rhythm of his hips, and fuck, he’s so beautiful. you watch him fucking you, wondering how the fuck you got to this moment, how you got lucky enough to bear witness to the sight of bucky fucking, let alone be the one he fucks. his body is ridiculous, looking like it’s carved from marble. you know how much strength it holds, as well, know that if he really wanted to, he could probably fuck you against a wall.

it’s with that thought, with the added bonus of the way bucky touches you, looks at you, like you’re something treasured and gorgeous, giving you such intense pleasure, that the tears threatening to spill over finally fall from your lashes.

bucky notices, because of course he does, and he thrusts into you just a little faster, a little harder, and your body seizes up and then you’re falling into another orgasm. it spreads through your veins, slow like honey, making sure this one settles deep into your bones. bucky groans as he, too, reaches climax, hips twitching into you in aftershocks until he stops moving altogether.

you both pant for breath, sweat gathered in every crevice on your bodies. you think you won’t be able to move for the rest of the weekend.

“need to pull out,” bucky says softly, breaking the moment.

you nod and he carefully pulls his hips back, grunting. you poorly suppress a whimper and close your legs, already hating the empty feeling.

“well,” he starts, plopping himself on his back next to you, “i think i deserve some kind of reward.”

when you turn to face him with an exasperated look, he’s got his arms crossed behind his head, a smug smile across his lips.

“how about i don’t kick you in the balls? how’s that for a reward?”

“i literally just did the impossible.”

“what, made me come twice? i can do that all on my own. you’re not special,” you retort with a huff.

he scoffs. “i fucked you so good you cried.”

“you can’t prove it,” you say to the ceiling.

“keep up this attitude and i won’t do it again,” he threatens, poking you in your side.

you wiggle away from the ticklish touch while trying to tamp down on the hope bubbling in your chest.

“oh, we’re doing this again, are we?” you say as casually as possible.

he rolls his eyes. “of course we are. now,” he sits up in your bed, stretching his arms as he stands and picks up his underwear, “i’m starving. wanna order takeout?”

well, you guess if you’d been worried about any kind of awkwardness before, you shouldn’t have. this is bucky, your best friend. he’d never let things change between you.

***

except, things kinda change between the two of you.

it’s not very noticeable at first, changes so subtle you miss them, until one day he showed up at your apartment and greeted you with a kiss. you stood frozen in your doorway as he rambled about how stressful his day had been as he kicked his shoes off. it was only when you heard him calling out from the kitchen that he was gonna eat your leftovers that you snapped out of it, yelling back that you’d kick his ass if he even touched your dumplings.

another day, he facetimes you and asks if you want to go to see that new movie you’ve been talking about.

“oh,” you’d said. “are nat and sam coming, too?”

he’d given you a funny look, replied, “no, i thought it would just be us two.”

“oh,” you said again. “okay.”

so you’d gone to the movies, let him buy you buttery popcorn and peanut m&m’s and a soda bigger than your head. he shared with you, despite your protests, and halfway through the film you felt his hand settle on your thigh. you blinked and stared at it for a beat, turning to him in question. he only smiled at you briefly before focusing back on the movie.

in between all of this, you continued calling him over for sex. honestly, how could you not? as much as you didn’t want to admit it to him, he was the best you’ve ever had. and if he’s so willing, why shouldn’t you take advantage while you can?

a week ago, though, you’d texted him and asked him to come over, replying to his question of what time and then started getting ready. you’d purchased a new piece of lingerie, a periwinkle babydoll nightie, that left very little to the imagination. it had a matching pair of panties and felt soft and luxurious on your skin. you’d taken extra time to do your hair and makeup, wanting to look like sex on legs, and you’re pretty sure you succeeded.

but when he got there and you answered the door in your sexy outfit, he didn’t see it right away. in one hand he held his phone, typing something on it, and in the other hand he held a grocery bag that you eyed curiously.

“i brought stuff to make spaghetti—“

when he did finally look up, his eyes widened and traveled the length of your body several times. you bit your lip, trying and failing to hold back your smile.

“how about we skip dinner?” you’d said, fisting his nice button-up shirt and dragging him inside your apartment. you grabbed the grocery bag from his hand and sat it on the floor, absently noting he was wearing his date jeans.

whoops, you’d thought, hope i didn’t pull him away from someone important.

you hadn’t let yourself dwell on it, standing up on your tippy toes and kissing him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. he’d returned the kiss, licking into your mouth, drawing your tongue out so he could suck on it and made you moan embarrassingly loud.

“wait,” he’d murmured, “we should eat first.”

“or, you could eat me,” you’d retorted with a giggle.

he groaned like it pained him to say no, gripped your hips hard and put a tiny bit of distance between you. the look in his eyes had made you want to find the nearest flat surface and bend over.

“why don’t you be a good girl for me, hm? let me cook dinner for us and after we eat i’ll fuck you however you want me to. okay, sweetheart?”

you whined, but ultimately agreed, knowing he’d make it worth it.

and then there’s tonight, where he came over unannounced, armed with groceries again and promising to cook you the best meal you’ve ever had. to say you were confused would be an understatement, but you also didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

it’s just… well, bucky’s not really acting like a friend with benefits. sure, you hung out alone with him all the time before, but he never once cooked you dinner, and he certainly never helped wash dishes after. you guess the hello kisses could be explained away as part of the new aspect of your relationship, but something about that didn’t sit quite right with you.

after a truly delicious dinner, you find yourself on the couch with bucky as he scrolls through netflix to find a movie to put on.

“what do you want to watch?” he asks.

“mm,” you mumble, shifting closer to start kissing his neck, “don’t care.”

as he narrows down his decision and finally picks one, you make your way up to his jaw, sucking a small mark into the skin there.

“baby,” he protests softly, “let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”

you pull back, confused. first at the pet name, then at his words. he’s never denied you before, which isn’t to say that he can’t, it’s just that he’s always seemed on board. and, you know, you thought that was kind of the whole point of this thing.

“okay,” you reply after a moment.

he gives you a smile and a sweet kiss, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side to cuddle. you can’t help but frown, feeling like you’re missing something, but not knowing what it could be.

it doesn’t take long for drowsiness to creep up on you. before he showed up, you had planned on probably ordering out for dinner and going to bed early since you’d had a pretty rough day. in fact, you remember texting bucky about it just that afternoon. your eyelids get heavier and heavier, finding it harder to keep them open as the seconds pass. your head droops and in the next blink, you’ve fallen asleep.

you’re not sure how much time has passed when bucky wakes you, but you groan, pouting and burrowing into his shoulder more.

he huffs a laugh. “c’mon, sweetheart, let’s get you to bed.”

“don’ wanna move,” you mumble tiredly.

“i’ll carry you,” he offers. “up you go, baby.”

you half heartedly argue about being jostled, but let him carry you to your bed where he carefully places you, helping you out of your sweatpants and pulling your blankets up around you. you sigh in content, feeling yourself already drifting back into sleep. you hear bucky shuffling, but think nothing of it until the bed dips beside you, then feel his warm body slide in underneath the covers and press in close.

“goodnight, darlin’,” he murmurs.

you’d ask him what in the word he’s doing, but sleep is just far too enticing to ignore. you fall into slumber with bucky’s warmth along your back, his arm draped over you.

the next morning, you wake to the feeling of his fingers playing with the tiny bow on the front of your panties and his lips placing gentle kisses on your shoulder. you hum, eyes still closed, in the back of your mind thinking this is a nice way to wake up. at the sound of you, his touches get firmer, more insistent.

“good morning,” he rasps, breath tickling your ear.

you don’t really get a chance to reply. he dips his fingers into your panties, making you inhale sharply, moaning as you buck into his hand. he fingers you for a while, kissing along the column of your throat, biting and sucking marks into the skin there. when you’re begging him for more, he relents, eases your panties off and lifts your leg to slide in from behind. the angle is so nice it has you gasping.

you clutch the sheets weakly, burying your face in your pillow and muffle your whines and moans. bucky keeps a slow, lazy rhythm, acting as if he’s got all the time in the world to draw this out. it’s good, so good, and you can’t hold back your whimper when he kicks up the pace a little, tells you to touch yourself. you come seconds before he does, shuddering through it and humming happily.

as you both lie there and catch your breath, awareness trickles into your mind. you swallow roughly, staring blankly at the wall as you realize your feelings have grown far too much for this to be only casual anymore.

bucky kisses your shoulder again. “i’m gonna go make breakfast, okay? i’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“okay,” you whisper, blinking rapidly to keep tears from forming.

hearing bucky bustle around your kitchen makes your heart clench with want; want for something you can’t have.

***

bucky: dinner tonight?

you bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at the text. you know you need to cut things off with him before you get anymore hurt than you already are. it’s not fair to either of you if you continue with this arrangement when you’ve caught real feelings for him. you have to tell him, and soon. with that thought in mind, you type out a reply.

you: sure. what time?

bucky: reservations are at 8pm, i’ll pick you up by 7:45.

reservations? where was he taking you? you get another text before you can ask.

bucky: dress nice ;)

with a sigh, you text back an affirmative and try to start mentally preparing yourself for the conversation you dreaded having. you could only hope and pray that he agrees to still be your friend after.

by the time there’s a knock on your door that night, you’ve worked yourself up into an anxious mess. you open the door to see bucky standing there with a single peach colored rose and a bashful grin.

“hi,” he greets, leaning in to kiss you on your cheek. “this is for you.”

he hands you the rose and you feel your heart crack in your chest. you muster a small smile.

“thank you. let me go put this in a vase and we can head out.”

he nods and waits patiently at the door. as you fill a vase with a little water, you take a deep breath, giving yourself a mental pep talk.

this was going to suck.

the drive to the restaurant doesn’t take too long, and when you see where he’s taken you, your eyebrows shoot up. this is one of the nicer places in the city, definitely not on the affordable side. he helps you out of the car, leading you inside with his hand on the small of your back. you’re led to a small booth in a far corner with overhead lighting that feels too intimate. maybe you’d have to wait until you left to tell him…

conversation is light, a bit surface level, and you get the feeling that bucky is a little nervous. you wonder if maybe he’s gonna let you down gently first, hoping that he doesn’t, because you’d rather not cry in such a fancy restaurant.

after the waiter takes your drink orders, bucky sighs.

“okay, let me just… get this off my chest.”

oh fuck, here it goes.

“i know i’ve never really come across at the most romantic guy, especially since i’ve never felt the need to be.” he runs a nervous hand through his hair. “you’ve always been so important to me, and this last month has been so, so wonderful.”

“bucky…” you trail off, attempting to somehow stop him, but he powers through.

“i just—i never thought i’d find somebody, you know?” he says, earnest, gaze locked on yours. another crack in your heart. “especially not somebody who was my friend first, that i already had a solid foundation with. the attraction had always been there, but the friendship meant more to me, and finally allowing that to blossom into this amazing, new, fun relationship has got to be the best decision i’ve ever made.”

did he start dating someone and not tell you? oh god, has he been sleeping with someone else? at the same time? your stomach turns, eyes burning, hating yourself more and more as he speaks.

“so, i guess what i’m trying to say is,” he says, rolling his eyes at himself and smiling, “happy one month anniversary, sweetheart.”

you blink, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. “what?” you croak, beyond confused.

bucky, however, looks concerned. “baby, why are you crying?”

“i…” you blink some more, eyes flitting around the room as if you’ll get some kind of clarity that way to the situation currently happening. “what?” you repeat.

“did i come on too strong?” he asks, looking embarrassed now. “i wasn’t sure if you’d even want to celebrate, but i’ve just been so happy with you—i’m sorry, baby, i should’ve asked.”

“bucky, what are you talking about?” you finally manage, unable to keep the bewilderment out of your tone. “anniversary?”

bucky frowns. “i didn’t get the date wrong, did i?”

“no, i—this isn’t—i’m not talking about—ugh, i mean, when did we even start having an anniversary to celebrate?”

bucky’s face goes blank, sitting back in his chair. your heart is pounding wildly in your chest, so fucking confused, so fucking hopeful.

“we… we’re dating,” he says, slow, unsure. “aren’t we?”

“since when?” you ask probably too loudly, cheeks flushing.

he opens and closes his mouth a couple times. “when i asked you out?”

“bucky, oh my god, you’re gonna have to be more specific before i lose my goddamn mind. when did you ask me out?”

he huffs, his own cheeks flushing. “at the cafe! a month ago, at brunch with natasha and sam.”

your eyes widen in disbelief. “when you asked if you could fuck me until i cried?” you hiss, ignoring the scandalized look on the waiter’s face as he brings your drinks over.

smiling apologetically, you thank him and wait until he’s gone before sending a glare bucky’s way.

“that’s not how you ask a person out,” you seethe.

“i asked if you wanted to give this a try and you said yes!” he replies desperately. “i’ve taken you on dates!”

you pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking of all the times you thought he was being too romantic, more-than-friends type of behavior. you’re a fucking idiot, but god, so was he.

“at no point did you say anything even remotely close about us starting a relationship. i thought we were just fucking, bucky, i didn’t realize it was more than that!”

“you don’t—“ he starts, then stops, looking down at the plate in front of him. “you don’t want to be with me?”

“i didn’t know it was an option,” you say carefully.

“well, it is.” he meets your gaze, cautious. “i just spilled my guts to you. you know how i feel now. how do you feel? about me?”

you lick your lips. “bucky, i… i was planning to end things with you tonight.” his expression drops, even though he tries to mask it, so you’re quick to explain. “not because i don’t like you, but because i do like you and i thought you wouldn’t want anything more than just sex with me.”

“it’s never been and never could have been just sex with you,” he replies, quiet and relieved. he reaches across the table to take your hand in his. “i meant it when i said you’re the best decision i’ve ever made. i want this—the sex, the dinners, dates, all the gross and sappy shit i never wanted before… i want it all with you, if you’ll have me.”

you can’t fight the smile spreading across your lips. “of course i’ll have you, bucky.”

he smiles in return, a laugh bubbling out of him, which makes you giggle, until you’re both laughing so hard and loud that patrons from other tables are sending dirty looks your way, which only makes you laugh more.

“do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, laughter dying down. “there’s pizza and sex calling our names, i think.”

bucky moans dramatically. “i knew i liked you for a reason.”

he leaves money on the table and then the two of you quickly make your way through the restaurant, giggling and holding hands the whole way, even in the car.

[gatorbites-imagines]

I had this idea, because I was doing some crochet.

A reader who had made a lot of crochet stuff for all the X-MEN (most of it was requested from them to the reader) and Logan noticed everyone had something handmade except him. His bratty side kicks in and he wants something from the reader. (though the reader can make him a cardigan cause he is a grandpa or like a glove that has holes for his claws so he doesn't reap them apart) you can go feral with it 👀

Scott Summers, Kurt Wagner, Remy LeBeau, Robert “Bobby” Drake, Logan Howlett

Headcanons

Theres too many x-men, so I just,,,added my faves *blush blush* I also decided to write a little thing for everybody, like my CoD posts.

Crochet was your passion, something to do in your free time when mutant-kind wasn’t in danger. And with online shopping, it was so easy to get all the yarn and different hooks, patterns and recipes you might need.

So, of course you also feel the need to make stuff for all the people you care about. After filling your own room and wardrobe with all the stuff you could crochet, your yarn empire started to fill your friends closets and rooms too.

Scott Summers

For Scott you end up crocheting a couple of hats, and multiple pairs of gloves. Some you already had laying around, and just decided to throw into the pile.

What could you say? You were scared he was gonna freeze his ears when he went around in his visor. This meant you crocheted different hats depending on if he wore his visor or his shades, hats that wouldn’t get too in the way.

It was a little hard for Scott to be a leader in the colorful creations you made, but everyone knew it was just your way of showing you cared. So, it made sense for the leader of the team to get the first gifts.

After a while Scott will wear the things, you make even if it isn’t too cold outside, even working it into his everyday outfits if he needs a little bit of accessories. Sometimes a hat really helps with the look, you know?

Kurt Wagner

For Kurt you make a scarf. It was a crochet of the moment. You two were on a stakeout, which took way longer than planned, in a pretty cold place. So, you pulled out your crochet stuff and started going at it.

Before you knew it, there was a comfortable scarf in your hands. You had been smart enough to dress correctly for the mission, but Kurt hadn’t, so of course the scarf when around his neck. You may also have scolded him a bit for not dressing right for the mission.

Kurt absolutely loves the scarf, and will wear it whenever its even just a little chilly outside. It makes you want to make him even more, especially when he starts getting sad about the first one fraying apart.

In the end he has as many scarfs as Scott has hats. One for every weather, in different colors, so he can match them with whatever he’s wearing.

Remy LeBeau(and Anna Marie)

For Remy you end up making him a hoodie, in his usual colors. It had mainly been a spur of the moment creation on your end, since you just had a lot of yarn in that color laying around.

It hadn’t even really been made with Remy in mind, but our beloved Cajun was quick to swoop in and take it off your hands when you weren’t sure what to do with it. and you, just wanting to make stuff for others, are more than happy to let him.

He wouldn’t wear it every day, but you do see him snuggle up in the warm yarn hoodie whenever it starts to get chilly. Hes also more than happy to use it as an excuse to snuggle with Anna Marie, using it as some kind of silly flirt.

In the end you make Anna Marie a matching hoodie, making it a little too big for her, as well as making it the same colors as Remy, so they can switch hoodies whenever they want. Its kinda like getting to hug Remy, in a way, so Anna Marie enjoys it.

Robert “Bobby” Drake

You make Bobby a blanket, it’s as easy as that. You actually end up making him multiple blankets. You didn’t really have an understanding if his mutation made him even able to feel cold, or if it made him feel extra cold?

So, the first blanket was placed by the door to his room, since you didn’t wanna invade his privacy. Bobby may not feel cold, but he loves the blanket anyways, especially since you try your best to make it in his favorite colors, or featuring different stuff he likes.

Its actually Bobby that asks if you can make him a second blanket, since he needs to wash the first one and has gotten so used to having the heavy yarn blanket on top of his other blankets at night. And you, being the great person you are, immediately get to work.

He ends up with a bit of a collection of blankets over the years, though most of them stay in his closet since he can’t really use all of them at once. He does pull them out when the x-men are doing movie nights and stuff like that though.

Logan Howlett

It took a while for Logan to realize he was the only one who hadn’t been given anything you crocheted. And… He’s not mad obviously, why would he be, it’s just crochet. He’s maybe a little jealous though, somewhere under all that gruffness.

He wouldn’t say anything, Logans way too proud for that, but he does start hovering around a bit whenever you crochet, just to look… nothing else.

There are also of course some jokes from the others about how he hasn’t been given anything, so you must not like him, or it’s because he’s always coming and going as he pleases so he’s never there at the right time to swoop in for the kill (whatever you made).

Of course, he denies hating you, or wanting anything you make. But the jokes just reach you, and it horrifies you somewhat. What if Logan really thinks you hate him? That would be the worst, because of course you don’t. the only reason you hadn’t made anything for him was because he wasn’t in front of your face, and you were a little scatterbrained when you made stuff.

You didn’t want to be too obvious about your plans, so you try to subtly get his measurements, and just kinda go off of that. Luckily the x-men system has some stuff you can use noted down. In the end you make him a nice grey cardigan, with those big pockets on the sides. It does not go above your head that it’s the kinda stuff you’d see a grandpa wear. But you think he would like it anyway.

Logan finds the cardigan by his door, like you leave all your gifts. And no, he doesn’t jump up and down or cheer, but he does give a more positive sounding gruff noise than usual.

He may also have been preening just a little the next day when he wore it, just because it felt nice to be thought about, okay? Nothing else.

It also just makes you happy to see him enjoy it so much, so you end up making him some other stuff too. Who’d have thought he would love blankets and throwpillows so much. It ends up in his “not a nest” bed pile. He also enjoys the gloves with holes for his claws too, so they were worth all the hard work.

[hayatoseyepatch]

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Description: Just some NSFW headcannons for Suo. Character: Hayato Suo Word Count: 1.8k Tags: Fem!Reader, oral (fem!receiving), teasing, dirty talk (it is NASTY), mentions of overstimulation, daddy kink, praise, degradation, fingering, spitting, dacryphilia, masturbating, slight voyeurism, Suo being an absolute menace.  

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a/n: Trying a different style of head cannons, and who better to try it out with than my fave? Let me know what you think and if you wanna see more of this kind of thing. Was this very self serving? Absolutely it was. But hey, figured I’d share them anyway. I hope you enjoy! (˘³˘)♥︎

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•⋅⊰ Hayato Suo is such a tease, he loves making you feel small beneath him, regardless of size. He has mastered the art of mixing praise and degradation. This man’s mouth is absolutely FILTHY. But by far one of his favorite things to do is to completely disregard your words, speaking to your cunt rather than you directly.

“Hayato, please, can’t take anymore, it’s too much!” Suo lets his tongue circle your clit, then alternating to flattening his tongue and applying just the right amount of pressure to the hardened nub, feeling himself getting drunk of the taste of you. Being pulled out of his haze only when your words sink in. He debates filling you with his fingers desperate to get more of a taste of your sweet cunt, but instead he just grins against your center. Ignoring the words that fell from your sweet lips.

“You don’t know what your talking about, love, look at how much you’re dripping for me.” He smirks, groaning in delight as he finally slips his fingers into your waiting cunt, feeling the way your velvet walls wrap around his digits.

“Just look at how she’s sucking my fingers inside, angel.” His eyes are locked on your cunt, eyes not once meeting your own as he buries the rest of his fingers inside.

“Such a good girl for me, look at how well you take my fingers darling. That’s my girl, always so ready for me aren’t you?” He coos, this time it seems his words are no longer being spoken to you. But rather your cunt directly. The sheer fact of him completely disregarding your words, the idea that he was acting like this interaction was entirely between him and your cunt, as if you weren’t there at all had your mind blanking an eyes growing glassy from overstimulated pleasure.

He scissors his fingers inside of your cunt pushing your gummy walls apart, as he spits in the opening he made. His tongue making laps around your clit, sucking harshly on the sensitive bud. Curling his fingers just enough to brush against your most sensitive spots. He’s taking his sweet time, so focused on your heat, overtaken by your taste as he rolls his hips against the plush of the mattress groaning against your cunt.

Suo presses his hips hard against the mattress as trying to relieve himself, even if it was just a little bit. “God you taste so fucking good, you missed your daddy huh? Wanting to just be filled up by his cock don’t you?” He murmurs against your heat, still disregarding your cries as he speaks to your cunt. “Such a good fucking pussy, always making me feel so good don’t you? Want me to stuff you full, hm?”

•⋅⊰ Suo will allow you to think you have the upper hand. Let you believe you have backed him into a corner and that he was finally going to allow you to take control, only to flip the switch back regaining control with ease.

You situate yourself with your thighs on either side of his hips, giving a roll of your own, smirking when you feel just how much your actions had affected him. Ducking your head down to bite harshly on the sensitive spot on his neck that you knew all too well. Moving to lick a fat stripe up the column of his throat before replacing your mouth with your fingers, wrapping the digits around his throat.

“Can feel how hard you are for me, baby. You want more, Yato? Wanna fill my pretty pussy nice and full?” You practically moan into his ear, punctuating your words with another roll of your hips. “You’d like that getting satisfaction knowing it was your come running down my thigh, might just sit on your face after and let you taste us baby, have you eat your come out of my cunt.” You purr, teasingly thinking foolishly for once you had him right where you wanted him.

Suo he looked up at you with hooded eyes, hands coming up to rest on your hips a groan leaving his lips as he ruts his up to gain more friction against you. He leaned his head back to give your more access to his neck, he knew that this wasn’t going to last long like this but willing enough to give you that dominance for just a bit. His hands grasping at the fabric of the skirt that was now bunched up at your hips pushing you harder against his hips rolling up against you once more a deep throaty groan leaves his lips as your fingers wrapped around his neck, looking up at you with faux doe eyes

“Yes ‘Mommy’” He coos a mocking tone taking over his voice, eyes narrowed instead of lidded, letting you know this game of cat and mouse was coming to an end. And he would be sure to make both of your roles perfectly clear. “Please let me stuff your pretty cunt full of my come, wanna feel how wet you are around my cock, leaving that pretty ring of your arousal around my dick, fucking yourself back on me because you wanna reach your peak so badly but I wont let you.” He smirks, seeing the way your cheeks flush at his words, the look of shock on your features as he watches the moment you realize you no longer had the upper hand.

“Or Ill even force your face into the mattress and pound into you so hard and deep that you feel me in your throat~ is that what you want babygirl? Is that what my pretty bunny wants? He continues to speak, grabbing you by your throat and using the position to his advantage flipping you over trapping you under his from once more. “Better yet, why don’t I just have you cock warm me after princess?’ He grins, lips coming down to brush against your ear, his hips rolling against yours. Giving you a taste of the delicious friction you were craving arousal building to a fever pitch from his words alone.

“And once I finally let you off, I shove my fingers in your sensitive pussy? Just to have you get a little taste of what I did to you, hm?” He gives you his signature closed eyed smile, that fake innocent chuckle you’ve seen him give over and over again bubbling from his throat. Not matching the look in his eyes as he opens them once more, lidded and serious as he grips your cheeks, forcing your mouth open as he lets a glob of saliva roll of the tip of his tongue and into your waiting mouth “Now be a good bunny and swallow that up hm?”

•⋅⊰ Suo has your body entirely mapped out. Whether he is your first lover or you have had several, he assures he has ruined you for anyone else. No one will ever know you body like he does. No one will ever make you feel the way he does, not even you.

Suo smirks around the rim of his teacup, leaning back in the chair in the corner of your shared bedroom, one leg crossed over the other as his eyes were trained on the bed. He watched with warm brown eyes lidded with lust. Your body writhing on the bed, your fingers buried in your dripping cunt, desperately trying to bring yourself to release. His name falling form your lips, a pleading for him to finally touch you.

He had come home that day, much earlier than usual. His ears perked up while making himself a cup of tea, swearing he heard your voice. As he trudged further into the apartment, the sound of your sweet moans filling the halls of your apartment. With a lifted eyebrow he had made his way to your bedroom. The sight that he was met with had his heart picking up speed, his cock hardening within the confines of his loose fitting pants.

There you were, completely bare, clad only in one of his changshan’s. Buttons undone so it  draped over your frame, just enough he assumes to surround yourself in his scent. Your eyes were screwed shut. One hand buried between your legs, fingers trembling as you rubbed tight circles around your clit. The other tugging desperately at your nipple, Suo’s name falling from your lips. You don’t know how ling you had been there, desperately trying to bring yourself to orgasm.

But you were only met with the stark realization that Suo had ruined you. Your own hands betrayed you, not nearly enough to make you feel the way your boyfriend did. Your fingers were too small, not filling your cunt a fraction of the amount that his large ones did. Frustrated sobs falling from your lips.

You jolt as Suo’s voice permeates the silence of the room. ”Well what do we have here?” He drawls, eyes locked on your form as he takes a seat in the corner of the room. He cuts you off as you begin to speak, attempting to sit up to conceal your naked form. “Don’t stop on my account, darling. Go on, I want to see you try and make yourself cum.”

He grins, knowing already that you had been at it for a while. The sheen of the thin layer of sweat that covered your skin an indicator of that. He watches as you obey, laying back down, parting your thighs to give him an ample view of your drenched center. Your essence dripping onto the sheets below. He sits there for a while, watching fat tears stream down your cheeks. Knowing even your own fingers, ones that had touched your body numerous times, could no longer bring you to orgasm.

“Thats my girl” He praises, watching as you try and fail to bring yourself to the precipice. “Bet you wish it was my fingers buried inside you instead, hm? Wish my cock was filling you up so nice? Angling my hips just right to hit that pretty spot inside that has you screaming my name just right, hm?” He clicks his teeth in faux sympathy, putting down his teacup as he stands. He approaches the bed in long strides. Taking a seat on the edge as he levels you with his hungry gaze.

“Aww, what’s the matter sweetheart? Cant make yourself cum? Poor sweet baby.” He drawls, grinning maliciously at the look of pure desperation that decorates your features.

“Please, Yato, can’t do it.” You beg pathetically. “Can’t make myself feel like you do, baby. Can’t come without you being the one to make me, please Hayato touch me.” He grins the sound of you desperately begging him to touch you has him deciding to put you out of your misery. His large hands slowly dragging themselves up your thighs, inching agonizingly slowly to where you needed him most. “Now who am I to deny such a pretty request? Cant leave my pretty girl unsatisfied, I am a gentleman after all.” He grins, the look in his eyes betraying his words. All you knew was that he had utterly ruined you, never again would anyone make you feel like Suo does, not even you.

ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ

Me posting twice in two days? Unheard of. But the absolute NEED to write an individual smut with Suo consumed me. I cant believe I haven’t written anything specifically for my favorite man is bewildering. I’m a bit iffy on the last one, just cause I have never written anything like that before. But I hope you enjoyed, and let me know if these individual head cannons are something you’d like to see more of in the future. ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

[lxvvie]

On today's episode of Modern Househusbands (pffft), your faves and fatherhood:

Price - He figures he already has kids what with the way the boys (and his furbabies) constantly try his patience and make him proud at the same time so he's the Peepaw (as always) and you and Laswell are the Meemaws. As babies, they loved to pull his beard. Price also trimmed it once and it scared the grandkids (and Soap and you) so bad that he's forbidden from doing it again.

Gaz - If "It's What She Deserves" was a person, his kid would be it. The one who gives an immediate vibe-check. Such a sweetheart unless folks try them. If someone goes low with them, they go to hell. Gaz wonders where his little one gets it from (which earns him a HUGE side-eye from you). You and Gaz have had plenty of talks with teachers and you've had to tell your child to tone it down more than once. You two have also admitted in private that nine times out of ten, they're usually right on the money about these same people, too. At least you know nothing will ever get past them.

Soap - Is the girl-dad of the group. You two have three rambunctious daughters who have their dad wrapped around their fingers. Soap is the one who won't stop talking about his children. Ever. Everyone knows about them before the girls even meet them. One is also named Simone in honor of Simon. He's the dad who has no problem being the princess during tea time, wearing tutus, being on the bottom of the pyramid, having his nails painted, and gossiping with his girls. Oh, and you're all just jealous because he looks absolutely fabulous whenever they put makeup on his face. 😏

Ghost - The one-and-done dad. He has a son who's his carbon copy physically but is a jokester at heart and Simon loves it because he'd much rather his son be that than have his personality. His son absolutely loves to take the piss out of him though. You know the video of the boy laughing at his dad's accent? That's Simon's kid when he asks him to say pasta lmao. You're tickled each and every time and Simon can't help but be amused by it all.

Roach - Has the most adorable daughter who, as a baby, would only really sleep if she was on his chest. The dad who builds pillow forts in the living room for movie night. Thanks to her, he knows the entire theme song of The Backyardigans like the back of his hand. She always makes Roach promise her before every mission that when he comes home, you all will go out for ice cream.

Alex Keller - Has a pair of twins who love to hog your affection from their father, so you're in the center of this tug-of-war between Alex and the kids which makes him roll those big eyes of his. He can't help but be proud of his kids, though, because one stays getting intel and the other uses said intel to kick ass and take names. Yeah, they're pretty much unbeatable as a team. Alex's heart skips a beat every time he walks through the door and they greet him by tackle-hugging him.

Alejandro - The one who has the most kids due in part because he stays getting it in lmao. He loves his big family, though. Has both girls and boys. Alejo's kids expect him home at a decent hour and if he isn't, he's grounded. The dad who absolutely relishes in the hectic mornings because it's all the more reason for him to continue on and it grounds Alejandro the man.

Rudy - The mother hen. Has two kids, a girl and a boy, and you two ADORE them, okay? Rudy can't say no to them, especially when your daughter hits him with puppy dog eyes or your son flashes that beaming smile of his. He's also the one who wakes up at the ass-crack of dawn to make y'all's lunches because they love it when he makes cute little shapes out of the food. Is also the one who leaves cute little notes in your bags, too, especially when he knows he'll be gone overnight. Damn, aren't you glad you wifed him up? 🥹

Keegan - Has a son who he thought hated him as a baby because every time he saw him, the baby's eyes would get comically wide. Then it turned into the baby being captivated by his mask and his eyes and then it turned into him crying whenever he saw Keegan without his mask on. Now they're as thick as thieves and even still, Keegan can't help but be amazed that he has a family now.

König - Has the chonkiest of the chonks yet the baby manages to still look small in his arms. Turns him into a jungle gym as well. König is the dad who is simultaneously amazed by his kid and afraid that he's a horrible father, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary. He also makes it a point to put them in extracurricular activities so they're as well-rounded as possible, especially from a social perspective. Your child also believes they'll be taller than König if only for the explicit purpose of saying they're taller than him lmao.

Horangi - The brains to König's child's brawn. The one who sees and knows everything. Or something like that. The two stay making plans and getting into shit and just being rambunctious kids. Horangi is big on establishing a strong moral foundation for his little one and isn't keen on telling them about his past life at all. Horangi demonstrates his affection more through action than anything. Might be more willing to divulge the truth when they're older but for right now, it's best left unsaid. Whereas König encourages their children's shenanigans, Horangi is more exasperated than not.

Graves - Two words: Boss Baby. His little CEO. While he's not above spoiling his kid, they've also gotta earn that one toy and/or game as well. They are charming in their own right and Graves is very hands-on as a parent, even when he's away. Especially when he's away. Makes it a point to keep his occupation hidden from them and, to your surprise, has expressed that he does NOT want them to follow in his footsteps. He's okay with being the snake if it means his child is protected.

[togament]

as much as i love cute festival fluff with togame (someone else pls send in an ask for it lmao), consider confessing to togame on valentines with homemade chocolate since he’s a big foodie & he, more than anyone, would appreciate the effort 🥰

i can see him maybe not clocking the intention right away either bc he didn’t have friends until shishitoren (+ find it hard to believe anyone would be interested in him like that) & the thought of choji of all ppl making him realize it’s romantic bc the chocolate reader gave him “wasn’t as nice looking as kame-chan’s :<” is soooo funny to me

GHHRHRJRH GNAWING ON YOUR ARM THIS IS ADORABLE!!!!! kinda teared up a bit ngl. imagining a soft blushy togame got me in my feels. i feel like (Also yes pls someone send in a cute festival date hc with togame/any of your faves!!!! I have things to say about our turtle guy in particular but we can do your other faves too. idk i'm in a yappy mood.

“you’re finally ready to confess to togame after mulling it over for months. you even made chocolates for him to (hopefully) immediately devour. things don’t go quite as planned though.”

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : none just fluff, gender neutral reader, reader’s jelly and an overthinker, togame’s in looooove, choji’s a little shit (affectionate)

full story under the cut! fully SFW.

standing at the gates of the ori, you bounce on your heels in sheer nervousness, eyes tirelessly darting around in search for togame with two chocolate boxes in one hand. one smaller one and one huge and beautifully decorated one. god your heart’s beating a mile a minute and your brain’s working overtime. what if he got into trouble? a possibility. what if someone’s confessing to him? of course someone would. he’s tall, handsome, kind, can cook—what’s not to love?

what if someone asked him out on a date? shit.

..what if HE asked someone out on a date? double shit.

oh god. oh no. your form visibly slumps at the thought, doubtlessly breaking your own heart again. but hey, on the bright side, you could eat your own chocolates, right? you made them extra delicious too, making them into flavors you know he’d like. you even snuck in some ramune flavored sweets for him.

…you know you’d hate eating chocolates for the rest of your life after this.

but then, the sun in the form of choji, shines through the dark clouds in your mind. your body visibly straightens back up when you hear his distinct laughter and endless yapping along with the soft crinkles of cellophane and boxes. listening even closer, you can hear togame speak and get promptly cut off by the smaller boy.

breathe. he’s here.

shit— what if those boxes you heard were all his and choji was just carrying them with him? what if he already gave someone a kiss today? what if he’d take your box of chocolates and hand it to his date instead?? what if—

“oh hey it’s bunny.”

you were just ready to walk away when you were stopped in your tracks by his deep voice calling out the nickname he so annoyingly picked for you. even when you’re looking away you could just hear him smiling. you turn, giving both boys a slight wave before you’re met with the absolute mountain of chocolates choji and him are carrying.

you’re not the only one who wanted to confess to him then.

“hey uh-mind adding these to your pile?” you say, failing to mask the sadness in your voice. you catch yourself though, immediately correcting yourself. “got these for you guys. no biggie, really.” you made the chocolates. granted the smaller box’s for choji and it’s way less decorated compared to togame’s. more ‘default’ chocolate box than ‘I have liked you for the longest time please accept my love’ chocolate box. you yap some more, digging your own grave, “these were on sale today so… thought you guys might want a snack.” you didn’t get them on sale. hell you made each and every single one by hand for the both of them to suit their tastes. god knows how much time you and him have spent talking about cooking and food.

but then choji gasps.

“hey! lying’s not nice!” choji chirps at you, dropping the boxes of chocolates on the ground unceremoniously. togame could only look on since his hands are already occupied with even more of choji’s valentines chocolates. the smaller boy looks at you suspiciously, albeit playfully. "you made these, didn't you?"

fuck. he noticed. you stare at choji like a deer in headlights now, too stunned to utter a single word.

he eyes the beautifully painted box in your hands and you pray for the ground to just eat you.

“iiiiis that one mine?” choji points at the larger box, eyes shining. togame looks on though, silent but his mind’s racing too. little did you know the chocolates they were carrying were all choji’s, given by his droves of admirers and friends alike. while togame didn’t mind not getting any chocolates this year and all those years before that, he finds himself hoping.

please don’t let that be choji’s.

“Wh-no! it’s-“ “-kame-chan’s? waaah his box is way larger and prettier than mine is!” he cuts you off, eyeing the boxes as you hold them in your hand. still, he takes his smaller box from you. “why’d you give kame-chan a bigger one? you like him or something?”

a pause.

“is that why you’re blushing?” he prods, wiggling a finger at you. "is that why you're blushing too, kame-chan?", he adds, wiggling two fingers at the both of you.

you could just explode at that moment.

“HUH?? What??? n-no! I mean YES-“ “oh so you do?” choji adds, cutting you off again. Taking togame’s larger box of chocolates from your hands, he shuffles through the chocolate boxes he dropped on the floor, handing the taller, now stunned boy his first legit box of valentines chocolates.

you three are blanketed in silence. with the exception of choji’s giggles.

"choji wait-" “welp, I’ll be in the ori!” he brightly exclaims, swiftly taking all of the chocolate boxes from togame’s arms and off the floor, leaving him with the single, most prettiest one in the bunch.

yours.

choji leaves you both with a playful wink and you both stand there, glancing at each other and fumbling awkwardly.

silently, he opens your chocolate box and is immediately greeted with a beautifully arranged selection of chocolates and sweets. his gaze flits from the box, to your reddened face and back again. you motion for him to eat. and he does.

he didn’t think it was possible to like you even more.

he pops one of the ramune shaped bites in his mouth and his eyes immediately widen in delight behind his amber sunglasses. pushing the glasses up his forehead to meet your eyes properly, you fail to tear away your eyes in time.

“sure you made these yerself, bunny? could've fooled me. these are restaurant quality. ” he says in between bites. his tone’s something he only uses around you and choji. vulnerable, safe, gently.

your heart’s beating way too fast for your own good.

“mhm. thought you might like that one because y’know… ramune and all.” you respond, “your favorite, right?”

with an acknowledging hum, he closes the box, twisting and admiring the beautifully decorated container, a forest green box speckled with gold and ornate lines. you really set the bar way up high for him. he smiles softly to himself and you swear you see his cheeks redden a tint.

“…can ya teach me to make them?” his voice grows softer, just enough for you to hear him. “how’s next weekend?” as soon as the words escape his lips, his heartbeat rises up to his throat. what if you didn't want to? he's never done this before, making the first move. he still can't fully grasp why you'd go so far as make something for him, someone who's only respected out of fear, someone who's wronged so many for just one cause. it haunts him sometimes. the Shishitoren could forgive him but he can't forgive himself. why would you?

you'll convince him soon enough. make him see what you see in him, what others see in him.

now's not that time though. your mind’s already in another dimension, thinking about him giving his date YOUR dessert with the recipe YOU made for him. letting out a soft disappointed sigh before opening your mouth, you respond, “maybe I could.“

“Maybe huh.” he echoes you, arching a brow at you with a small frown ghosting his lips.

“yeah, maybe. I could send the recipe over to you if you want. you could try making it with your date-“

“date? I want to make them for you next month, doofus. only you.” he retorts, wanting to get his point across. he realizes you're overthinking again. he's assuring you. meeting your eyes, he sees the shade of red on your cheeks darken. you look like a fish out of water, mouth agape and eyes wide. extending a hand towards you, he nudges your chin up with his knuckle. “y’know what that means right? I like you.”

a small gasp escapes your lips.

“you do..?” a pause. “why?”

he laughs, playfully pinching your cheek.

“I just do, cutie. always have. I take it you like me too?”

you nod. do it properly this time.

“yeah. I really do.”

he smiles, dimples deepening on his cheeks. he looks so relieved you like him back. you swear you feel like you’re on cloud nine — is this really happening?

“it’s a date then." he says as he reaches over to pat your head. "you better not flake on me, bun. Else I’d take that imaginary date of mine out instead.”

scoffing, you push his chest and he lets out a soft 'oof'.

“you wouldn't dare—“

“ARE YOU GUYS DATING YET??”

choji screams from the distance, the entire Shishitoren gang’s staring at you both from the ori, desperately waiting for the both of you to finish. they've been watching you both the entire time with bated breath. his friends are all cheering him on.

a pause.

togame reaches over to hold your hand, intertwining his long fingers through yours. hoots and hollers echo as he waves them off with a hand.

you could only smile up at him, squeezing his hand into yours.

he squeezes back.

a/n: hehehehe self doubt togame making me soft. MAKE HIM FEEL WORTHY GOD DAMN IT. DATE HIM AND DATE HIM HARD.

[inf3ct3dd]

ellie headcanons pt 4.!

warnings: literally nothing

content: loser!ellie x reader

authors note: brewing a full length fic in my mind rn… this might be the last hc post 😓!!!

pt.3. taglist!

- loves matching with you. keychains, shoes, outfits, literally anything. if you have dyed hair, she’d dye a piece of hers to match you.

- makes up elaborate plots to kiss you bc she’s too cool and nonchalant to ask for a kiss 😕😕

“ugh, my lips are just sooooo dry…”

“didnt you literally just put chapstick on 5 minutes ago?”

“yknow chapstick these days…so…low quality.”

“is this your weird way of asking me to kiss you?”

“noooo what!!! thats craaaaazy i have nooo idea what you’re talking about!!!”

smooch

“you’re so stupid.”

“i feel sooooo moisturized right now”

- always fidgeting with something. probably has a rubix cube keychain 😕🔥🔥

- speaking of, she has an excessive amount of keychains. like so many.

- covers her eyes and peaks through her fingers every time you change infront of her

- definitely audibly said “woah” when she saw ur boobs for the first time

- has so many dumb socks. dinosaurs, minecraft, pickles, literally anything she likes she has a pair of socks for

- scarily good at roblox obbies. you literally can’t play with her because she’ll be done in like 5 minutes 😞

- loves those papas cooking games. her faves are the taco mia one and the sushi-ria

- arizona green tea 🗣️🗣️

- will put on awful accents for hours on end just for fun 😞 esp the italian accent. it’s ridiculous 💔💔 or that frat dude accent

“suhhh dude”

- definitely built her own pc. put a picture of you in it too ☹️☹️

- calls you “dude” or “bro” on accident sometimes

- absolutely constantly argues w ppl on the internet. if she gets bored she just tells them to kts and blocks them 😕

- MAKES THE BEST PASTA EVER!!! it’s literally her favorite food and she’s constantly cooking it. even makes her own sauce 🔥🔥

- tries to do tricks while she’s smoking and just ends up a coughing mess

- her default pose in every picture is just her doing a thumbs up and looking at the camera like this 😐 but whenever she takes a picture with you she is absolutely CHEESING

- randomly takes 0.5 pictures of you constantly. has a whole album in her phone of all the pictures

- barely ever uses instagram, and all her posts are just pictures of you.

- “i could take a bear in a fight.”

- loves balancing things on your head when you fall asleep around her. one time you woke up to like 20 cheerios falling on your lap

- whenever she’s home alone she puts on insanely random outfits and then forgets she’s wearing them. one time you came home to her sleeping on the couch in a full suit

- lets you stand on the cart in the grocery store so she can stand behind you and push it around

- has had the same backpack since the 5th grade. she’s had to sow it back together 20 times and she refuses to throw it away because its “special”

- stalks all your reposts on tiktok when she’s bored

“was this about me???”

- absolutely disgusted by like…any type of canned food. she will not go near it. ESPECIALLY SARDINES

- makes a million typos every time she texts you. her messages are like ancient scrolls you have to decipher to read

“sre tou comungw over todqy ??”

- every time she wears a hat she wears it backwards

- hates sharing her food, but will constantly eat yours

“just a little bite!!!” and she eats like half of it 😒

- has the julien baker rainbow guitar strap

- literally loves apples. so much. apple juice, apple pie, apple cider, literally ANYTHING that has apples in it/ is apple flavored she will DEVOUR IT

- whenever she cooks for herself, she just eats it straight out of the pot/pan.

“whats the point?? ‘s just more dishes to wash 😒”

taglist: if ur name is crossed, i cant tag u :((

@princessguardian444 @mina-281 @leatheredhearts @r3wbeef @dinaissoprettyoml @forelliesposts @lov3lylotus @melissabarrerass @greencacty @as2rid @kingofmylastkiss @dollietes @ellieslilsIvvt @pl9ys @bbygrlshelbs @gayh0rr0r @sawaagyapong @paran0id0blivi0n @bubs-world @mag-mfm @bearieio @slutshies @horror-whoree @calystas-morning-tea @ilovaffles @fr3sh-tragedies @iloveeyousblog @maris-koffin @emonopolyman @elliesgflol @girlwonderchloe @brunettedolls-blog @beestar120 @ddreabea @ibloom4u @elliesmellsbad @thecowardwrites @owmoiralover @yuyans-stuff @minixmel @ellesslutt @swtsuna @saggykneecaps @4rt3m1ss @clouded-whispers @baldph0bic @elleatethat @certifedcrybunny @staxz8 @astridnyx31 @0rb1t-s4turn @amandla111 @kalia31 @spinnyshark @cewcumbers @urnewghostfriend @dinasmoon @teeveegirl @iwantsoda @lunascerebro @matildalee @rach-0000 @er-or101 @our-horse @armins1ut @syrenada @seventeenelliesgf @jellysangelstar @f3r4lfr0gg3r @ilovelyby @people0know @sapphicsstars @hi2647 @mousymaven @echostinn @bratydoll

[mickyschumacher]

𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: being in a secret relationship with lando norris has been a journey in itself. but nothing comes harder than the moments where you both struggle to keep your hands off one another.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors DNI), unprotected sex (wrap it before your tap it lol), cumming inside, voyeurism, fingering, slight handjob, boyfriend established but secret, cute cringe couple humour, obvious pining, poor knowledge of pr specialist things, mentions of mental health and stress, mclaren in itself needs a warning, mention of fave menace w*ll b*xton (simply ew), allusion of future marriage

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lando norris x mclaren’s pr specialist!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: this is based of taylor swift’s ‘dress’! okay, so i’m giving you lovelies this one and some others while i study for my last exam 😔 i actually have some requests which are exciting and nerve wrecking but i'm gonna try my level best to do them after my exam. although i’m also supposed be on a plane not too soon after. anyways, thank you so much for your support and patience ♡︎

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆  •°.  。  .°•  ⋆

As a PR specialist, things were constantly changing. For example, for a certain amount of time you were assigned to Fernando Alonso when he was under McLaren. Quite honestly, it was a nightmare.

There was nothing wrong with Fernando. For the time you had spent with him, he was rather sweet. But the media had painted him out as some sort of tyrant of McLaren, claiming that the F1 team belonged to him as opposed to being owned by Zak Brown. Then again, you supposed the Spaniard’s lack of care for listening didn’t help either.

When learning that Fernando was leaving, you could only hope that whoever you were assigned to next was less work than him.

In came Lando Norris, a young driver with ambition and humour, and lucky for you, little work.

Somehow he just knew the right things to say. And if he didn’t, he was always asking you beforehand.

Between the both of you there was only a two year age gap so of course it was easy to befriend each other. You were always talking about something to the other.

His passion for DJing, his childhood or your love for travelling and the gossip of certain celebrities. How you were absolutely certain JLo and Ben Affleck was a PR couple because who on earth had a nude portrait of themselves above their bed?

It wasn’t until almost a year ago where you realised you liked him more than just a friend. There was just something about the way you two communicated that left in trailed sighs, awkward laughs desperate to talk more and grins that got your hearts pacing.

Or perhaps it was the way you had poured your hearts out to one another. As happy as Lando looked, he was one under a lot of pressure which affected is mental health. You were there for all of this ups and downs. You were his number on speed dial for everything.

And when things got a little too much for you, Lando did his best to not only be there for you but to cheer you up. Stupid jokes, random flowers and, teddy bears.

How were you not supposed to like him?

Surprisingly, Lando had been the one to confess his feelings to you. Well, only after one of the engineers from Mercedes was openly trying to court you at an F1 dinner.

Lando had gotten so jealous that he had pulled you aside that evening and begged you to not think of anyone else but him. That you were only supposed to smile like that at him… with him.

At first, you were thrilled and kind of shocked that Lando felt the same way. But that happiness and smile he liked so much quickly faded when you thought about your job.

‘F1’s Lando Norris is dating his PR specialist’…

Yeah… the implications of that sounded terrible. You could imagine it already. What was Lando hiding to date his publicist? Is Lando that good of a person?

And while you and all the people knew the truth, those types of rumours would’ve undermined your job in the first place and honestly, you were sure that McLaren wouldn’t exactly be jumping with excitement that you two were dating.

So you mentioned this to Lando with the suggestion of being secret about your relationship for now.

You could literally see some of the shine in his eyes fade. He was gutted but he understood what you meant. He’d rather be with you secretly than not at all and without his best friend.

our secret moments in a crowded room

they've got no idea about me and you

there is an indentation in the shape of you

made your mark on me, a golden tattoo

Your relationship with him had been a roller coaster. Neither of you had been in a secret relationship and neither of you could deny how fun it was.

Take right now for example. Today was the McLaren’s car launch for the 2023 F1 season. The room was filled to the brim with all sorts of people: journalists, publicists, engineers, marketers, social media managers, the new driver next to Lando, Oscar.

Yet with all those people, Lando and you found it impossible to not find each other. You were constantly meeting each others eyes, especially when you were nearby for his interviews.

There was a thrill, you must admit, about no one knowing about the two of you.

A rush of adrenaline at the thought that no one knew nor expected you to be in Lando’s bedroom this very morning before the launch.

“Remember to be sort of vague about the car and, well, everything. I mean obviously but I don’t think Will’s going down without a fight,” you reminded your boyfriend with an annoyed sigh.

Will Buxton was not only a F1 journalist but a man who got under everyone’s skin. You couldn’t fathom why people liked him in the first place.

Lando, who was leaning on his elbow on his bed, gave a hum of response. He only had half of his mind present as he watched you get ready. “Surely, this can’t be fair,’ He asked.

You raised a brow at him through the mirror. “What?” You queried before putting on a necklace. Sorry, attempting to. You weren’t exactly sure why the clasps of necklaces were made so poorly.

Lando got up from the bed and walked up behind you. He grabbed the necklace from your hands with an amused expression before bringing it to your neck. With one hand, he pushed your hair to the side and joined the clasp to the metal ring. He rested his fingers on the back of your neck, slowly rubbing the area as he met your gaze in the mirror.

“I mean, you get to wear this,” Lando started. His hands ran over the satin silk material of your black dress. It was fairly casual, landing mid-thigh. Perfect enough for you to blend into the crowd. Although, it didn’t matter for Lando. He could always pick you from the crowd. Especially, if you were wearing this. “And I wear this? It doesn’t seem fair,” he whispered into your ear.

You let out a small laugh, eyeing his new uniform for the season. You turned to face him, rubbing your hands over his chest and pretending to dust it. “I think you look quite good, love.”

Lando narrowed his eyes. You felt his hand travel up your neck and to your lips. “When did you even buy this? It wasn’t even in your closet?”

Your heart started to pace when you caught that knowing glint in his eyes. His mended brows seemed to ease when you didn’t respond. Sometimes you didn’t need to open your mouth to say anything. Instead, you let your eyes talk.

A small grin came to his face. He turned you to face the mirror. His hands came alive, roaming your thigh and waist. “Just for me, huh?” Lando smiled.

“Lando,” you warned weakly. You had a feeling where this was going. Honestly, you weren’t opposed to it. But the both of you needed to clock in soon. “It’s supposed to come off after the launch.”

Lando pursed his lips, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck and meeting your gaze. “Oh, it supposed to come off too? Jesus, I don’t think I can’t wait that long.”

Lando could feel the perfume he has come to love so much infiltrate his nose. God, this dress and now the perfume. How on earth was he going to get out of here?

“Fuck,” He murmured out. He closed his eyes and rested his chin on your shoulder. He needed to get himself together. But the thing about your skin was that it was so inviting… so warm.

You felt his his arms wrap around your waist as you added some finishing touches to your look. Lando pouted at you through the mirror.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You cooed, squishing his cheeks with your free hand.

“I don’t think I can leave this room. I can’t,” Lando groaned, starting a line of kisses on your neck.

“Lando…” You whimpered out pathetically, feeling your neck stretch out even more willingly. You could feel him close in on the one area near your ear.

“Fuck, Lando. Not there,” You swore but with no effort to stop him.

Lando’s greed seem to increase upon your exclaim. He furthered his attack on the spot, sucking enough of your intoxicating skin, not only to get his full but leave a fresh purple mark.

Now he was satisfied enough to leave the room.

You watched his lips leave your skin, almost leaving you to pour for a second before that dark spot on your skin caught your eyes.

You gasped. “You didn’t,” you said in disbelief, whacking your boyfriend.

Lando’s blues twinkled at you as he planted a cheeky kiss to your cheek. “I did.”

Now you were in a room of all these people. It was exhilarating for Lando to know that he had given you a tattoo of some sorts. To attend those interviews and know that behind your carefully placed hair, he had given you something no one else would ever… yeah, he was aching to leave.

It wasn’t any less for you. Even last night you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You were walking around with the fact that you knew what was underneath the damn racing gear. The scratches and indentations of your hands on his skin caused by the will to bring Lando even closer to you.

all of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

my hands are shaking from holding back from you… ha, ah, ah

all of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting

my hands are shaking from all this… ah, ha, ha, ha

Lando was looking at you probably more than one should look at their PR specialist to the point he was sure you could feel his eyes on you.

But he couldn't help. Every little thing you did in that dress had caught his attention.

Your pinky-red painted lips covering the champagne glass you held. Those lips he wanted for himself. On him. Everywhere. Now.

The occasional brush of your hands that sent shudders he had to surpress.

The lights of the venue practically spotlighting you so everyone could see how beautiful you looked. So Lando could see exactly how nicely the dress clung to everyone of those damning curves.

The polite smiles you offered every single person you met. A gesture that sent his heart racing.

The forced polite laughter and chuckles you gave to the people that flirted with you. A gesture that made him both proud and frustrated. Proud in that you were clearly faking it because he knew what your real smile and laugh was. Hell, he had the pleasure of making it everyday. And that people clearly found you as beautiful as he did. Frustrated because people were clearly into you and he could do nothing but watch in silence.

Lando couldn't blame them either. If he was them, he too would've stopped to impress. But he didn't need to. Not when you were his entirely and he yours.

The more he looked at you the more his hands shook and his patience wore thin. His hands ached for this day to end, for him to take you to his room, and remove that goddamn dress.

He could imagine what his former teammates Carlos and Daniel say. Something along the lines of "stop staring at her like you want to eat her".

Which, in all honestly, wasn't true.

Lando didn't want to eat you. He wanted to devour you. Slowly and gently. He wanted to appreciate you... all of you. So much that only his name was falling from those beautiful lips of yours.

say my name and everything just stops

i don't want you like a best friend

only bought this dress so you could take it off

take it oh, ha, ha, ha-ah

carve your name into my bedpost

'cause i don't want you like a best friend

only bought this dress so you could take it off

take it oh, ha, ha, ha-ah

Lando couldn't imagine the poor luck he had. The event was finally over and he was home. Without you.

You had become slightly tied with some last minute discussions with the reporters and journalists, even your dear favourite Will.

Which meant for the past hour, Lando had nothing but his thoughts. Thoughts that consisted only of you, that dress, and what he was going to do with you.

What was he supposed to do?

Unbothered to put on a new change of clothes, Lando was in bed only in his boxers which had a very obvious bulge.

Lando let out a sigh, his hand brushing over his clothed cock. "Fuck," he muttered out through a clenched jaw. If it was any other day, he would've lost all self-control and jerked off to his thoughts of you. But you were going to be home soon and he desperately wanted to feel you.

"Lando? Honey, I'm home!" Your voice echoed through his house, teasing him.

Lando whipped his head up, feeling all his thoughts and emotions briefly stop as he darted towards the entrance.

You were taking of your heels when you saw Lando stand in all his glory almost naked. You couldn't help but laugh lightly. "Oh my... I thought we discussed you not walking around the house naked, Lando."

Lando said nothing. Instead, he took a step towards, eyes searching your face and arms encircling your body closer to him.

The hairs on your body stood straight while goosebumps started to sprawl across your skin. Lando's thumb brushed across your bottom lip. "You were later than expected," He said in a tone that almost neared a whine.

You let out a sigh, kissing the tip of his thumb. "I know. I'm sorry, baby."

Lando grinned. "It's okay," He quipped before scooping you up in his arms.

You let out a yelp before smiling as Lando ventured to your bedroom. You could soon feel the soft sheets of your bed touch your skin while Lando hovered over you.

"You have to tell me what the deal with this dress is, love," Lando whispered. His finger slid under the strap of your dress before trailing all the way down to your bare breast.

You opened your mouth to answer but not even a hint of a sound came out as Lando's finger circled your nipple gently. You met his eager blue eyes, waiting for answer.

"I only bought this dress so you can take it off. Simple as that."

Lando let out a low exhale, feeling his cock harden even further. God, were you even real?

"Yeah?" He hummed, pushing the straps of your dress down your arms. He pushed his face down lower, wrapping his lips around your nipple as he continued to pull your dress down your body.

Your back arched on the bed, pushing yourself into his mouth even further. Without a word, you lifted your hips up and Lando had fully taken the dress off.

His other hand reached your other nipple, paying it an equal amount of attention. He rolled the pebbled mound between his thumb and index finger, giving it a slight squeeze.

You let out a small whimper. Your hand navigating through his short curls. You could feel your core tighten and your pussy become slick with your arousal.

Lando unlatched his lips from your breasts, using both hands to gently thumb your nipples. "Tell me want you want, love. I want to hear it from these pretty lips."

God... you couldn't even decide. "I don't know. I want your lips. Your fingers. Fuck, I want it all."

Lando couldn't help but grin as a he felt a surge of energy rush through. "I can do it all," He chuckled before bringing his lips to yours. His tongue darted between your lips and into your mouth. His hands trailed up and down your waist while a muffled moan came out of his mouth.

You kissed him back with the same intensity of fervor, bringing your hands around his neck, willing him closer to you.

Lando could tell by the slight squirm of your legs, you were getting impatient down there. Slowly, he trailed down your waist and reached your panties. His own lips quirked at the damp material. Pressing his fingers into your core, he could feel a shudder overcome you.

Lando continued his assault on your lips as he rubbed you through your panties.

You removed your lips in a gasp for air. "Don't tease, Lando," You moaned out, clenching your thighs so it trapped his hand to your pussy.

Lando chuckled. He used his free hand to brush over your swollen lips. God, he wanted those lips around his cock. Maybe tomorrow morning. Or maybe in the shower tonight. Right now, he wanted to focus on you. "Say please. A good girl should always use her manners, no?"

This good girl thing had always infuriated you. It felt childish. But then it paled in comparison to the tingling and blossoming sensation of Lando's fingers rubbing your clit.

But of course, if you were going to be a good girl, you were always going for extra credit.

"Please, Lando. Fuck. I need your fingers. Please. I love the way they fill me up. The way they feel in me. Please."

Lando wanted to grin. But all he could do was groan in response. How could he not reward his dear overachiever?

His fingers pulled down your panties, snatching down the damp material past your legs. A guttural sound of pure sin fell from his mouth as he saw your pussy. It glistened in front of him, almost as if it was flooded. Sliding his fingers down those soaked folds, he watched you writhe under him and whimper.

Lando kept his eyes on you as he pushed two fingers into you slowly. He could feel your core envelope him and welcome him graciously. He watched your back arch once he began thrusting into a pace, feeling your walls clench around his fingers.

"Shit," you moaned, reaching for your breasts to both add even more pleasure and bring some sort of sanity. "Faster, baby. Please."

Lando sped up the pace of his fingers, bringing his thumb to rub your clit. His eyes flickered to your pussy. He licked his lips. You were swollen and engorged. Your puffy lips continuously took him in and it was almost paining his cock that he wasn't inside you yet.

A new intense wave of euphoria settled over you. Your body convulsed with a buzz that provided the almost silent moans from your mouth. "Fuck.... I... I'm gonna come," You moaned out, head falling back as your mind became clouded with pleasure.

Lando's cock throbbed from not being touched. He could do it no longer.

The whine you released when Lando took his fingers out of you almost made him want to put them back in. But instead, with a speed he had never even found in his car, he took off his boxers and hovered over your body.

"I know. I know," Lando murmured, pressing his lips into yours to silence your begging plea.

You placed your own fingers in your mouth, drenching them in your saliva. Removing them, your hand travelled down his waist, brushing past his v-line before circling your hand around his cock. You could feel Lando moan into the kiss, briefly stilling at your touch.

Slowly you rubbed him up and down, dangerously thumbing the slit of his cock. You watched as your saliva lubed him, giving him a unique shine. Your shine.

"Jesus fucking christ," Lando moaned out. He was sure if you kept up like this, he was going to cum in your hands rather than inside you.

"Fuck, as much I love your hands and touch. I need to be in you, baby," Lando sighed, removing your hand from his cock and slowly pressing into your body to slide his cock up and down your pussy.

You moaned at his words, feeling his lips wrap around your nipple once again.

"Stop teasing," You panted. The buzz created by the tip of his cock rubbing your clit was almost paining and torturous.

Lando didn't even mean to tease. But even just feeling your pussy felt like a different type of high. He groaned, pushing the tip of his cock into your swollen lips. A rush of warmth surged through him as he laid in you for a brief moment.

Your pussy was a safe haven. A cocoon made for his cock. This high... this pleasure... he could feel it with no one than you.

You sobbed in ecstasy. Lando was almost bring cruel. You raised your hips, fucking yourself onto your cock.

Lando had to keep himself above you, almost collapsing at your action. He let out a small laugh at your impatience before he started to move in you.

As he thrusted into you, you could feel his cock glide through your folds, reaching those familiar areas of arousal. You clenched your walls around him teasingly, silently urging him to speed.

"Fucking hell," Lando hissed out, speeding up the movement of your hips.

Sweat and arousal doused the both of you as the room was full of your pants and the obscene sound of your skin slapping.

"I'm gonna cum soon, baby," Lando said once you clenched around him once again. This clenching action always drove him overboard. It pulled him in even further into you and pressured his cock to pulse inside of you.

"It's okay. Cum with me," You moaned, bringing him into a sloppy kiss.

Your muffled moans became impossibly higher as Lando rutted into you at a merciless speed. The wave of pleasure and euphoria that had sprawled across the both of you was inexplicable. A transient unearthly state of mind. A paradox of what was holy and unholy.

Your hands had found their way to Lando's back. Your fingernails dug lightly into the smooth skin of his back. You dragged them down as your hips bucked higher in the chase of the climax.

"Fuck! Lando!" You cursed.

Lando could feel his cock twitch and throb inside you. The nails. His name. Your lips. It was any second now. "Fuck. Say my name, Y/N!"

'When your eyes had started to roll, you blinked focusing on the most beautiful boy in front of you. God he was a sight to behold. Blue eyes hooded with lust, lips swollen and puffy... albeit sweaty, but handsome nonetheless. 'When your eyes had started to roll, you blinked focusing on the most beautiful boy in front of you. God he was a sight to behold. Blue eyes hooded with lust, lips swollen and puffy... albeit sweaty, but handsome nonetheless.

"Lando!" You moaned, "I love you so much, Lando! Fuck!"

Your loud groans disturbed the quiet peace of the air as Lando and you felt the wave of euphoria hit you hard, his hips stilled within you. His body shook, warming your walls and folds with an influx of white.

Lando let out a soft moan, chin falling into your shoulder while both your sweaty bodies pressed together. You could still feel Lando's cock within you, giving every last dribble of cum to you.

"I love you, I love you, I love you.," Lando's hoarse voiced mantra made it's way into your ear. He planted a lazy kiss onto your shoulder before turning his body to face the ceiling. "Fuck, I love you so much, Y/N."

You turned on the side of your body, leaning on your hand. Your eyes were weighed with exhaustion but nevertheless you smiled at him. "I guess I should buy more dresses often," You joked.

You could feel Lando's body rumble with a gentle chuckle. His hand reached to move your sweat-ridden hair behind your ears. His blue eyes trailed over your face, in awe of how he had gotten this lucky in his life. The woman he loved so much was right next to him and he hoped forever.

Lando smiled at you, bringing your fingers to kiss them. He briefly thought backed to the small box he had managed to hide away in his closet. Three podiums. He was going to get three podiums and make sure that ring adorned your finger.

"Love, I'll buy all the dresses you want. And I'll take them off for you too."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

991 i hav emerjenci

Wow, what an absolute dumpster fire, right? *gestures broadly* ↓Below the cut↓ are some specific things as a reader/mutual/friend/etc you can do that will make things a little better.

You come across someone posting/using someone else's work without express permission to do so:

INFORM THE ORIGINAL CREATOR/POSTER (OP) DIRECTLY ════════════════════════════════════════ ✧ Let OP know BEFORE you attempt to engage with the person on their behalf. ✧ OP will probably want to lay eyes on the situation, and, if the person stealing their work is tipped off, they might proactively block OP and/or remove posts before they can be verified as stolen. ✧ Do not harass the person who stole the work. It might be coming from a place of wanting to stick up for OP, but it ultimately doesn't help the situation.

OP is experiencing a hate brigade, nasty anons, or trolling over their fic:

PRIORITIZE ACTIONS AND BEHAVIORS THAT KEEP THE FOCUS ON SUPPORT FOR OP ════════════════════════════════════════ ✧ Reblog the fic in question with a glowing recommendation or just leave a comment under it expressing your appreciation for it. Both actions will boost the work in question as well as show direct support for OP. ✧ Reach out privately through DMs if you have that sort of relationship, or send a supportive message through asks. Keep it simple and short as they are probably overwhelmed with the shitstorm at certain points. ✧ Speaking up with a supportive comment or post for OP isn't necessarily a bad thing, but arguing back and forth with the trolls/hate brigade/etc. - even if you are doing it with intention to support OP - only fuels the fire, and some of them are doing it for the attention anyway.

OP seems down / isn't motivated to write / is expressing considerations of leaving fic writing altogether because of the current climate on this hellsite:

GIVE THEM THE SPACE OR TIME THEY NEED, BUT ALSO LET THEM KNOW THAT THEY ARE VALUED ════════════════════════════════════════ ✧ For the love of god please don't bombard them with asks about when xyz is going to be posted. This is a hobby for them, and they have jobs, families, and other life responsibilities that come first. Many would love nothing more than to sit and write all day, but that just isn't the reality for 99% of fic writers. ✧ Show their older works love, too. Many fic writers take the time to curate an organized masterlist of their works, and many have been writing for a while. There is a trove of wonderful content that can be read or re-read while you patiently wait for your fave to update. ✧ If you're waiting for an update on a specific fic, go back through the older chapters/updates and leave a comment saying you love it so much that you're coming back to visit older chapters while you wait to see what happens next in the story. I guarantee it will give them a boost of motivation for that story in particular. ✧ REBLOG AND COMMENT. Yes, do both of those things. I want you open up a fic you love and scroll down to the bottom where you can see likes, comments, and reblogs. I want you to look at the disparity between likes and comments/reblogs. Clicking a heart button is pretty much zero effort, and it comes across as such to many writers. It's not how Tumblr operates. This is a REBLOG site. That is how things make their way around. That is how posts get engagement. That is how other people can discover the fic writers you enjoy. Look, I even made a meme to show you what it feels like when after hours and hours of writing and editing you finally post a fic and then somebody only hearts it:

Even a simple "I loved this so much and can't wait to read more!" does wonders. A quick reblog that mentions your favorite part in the story is like a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow for writers.

You come across people trashing a writer you like:

CONSIDER IF IT'S HELPFUL OR NOT TO ADDRESS IT ════════════════════════════════════════ ✧ People are allowed to have negative/differing opinions about things. If they are expressing their dislike, even in a nasty way, they are allowed to do so. ✧ If it is a genuinely harmful/disparaging conversation, look to see what sort of traction the conversation has. Sometimes it's better to just let something die down before it can even take off. Examples of genuinely harmful/disparaging conversation include but aren't limited to: accusing OP of something egregious without any evidence to support it, framing rumors/gossip they've seen about OP as factual, deeming them criminally or morally corrupt based off a personal opinion they have of OP/their works. ✧ Remember that while serious concerns (like the above point) might be good to share with OP, not every instance of negativity or hate needs to be brought to their attention. If it's just some random jerk on a different platform talking about how much OP's writing is amateur hour, you should probably just leave it be. OP is a person at the end of the day, and sometimes things can be more hurtful than helpful for them to see.

OP isn't acting / responding in a way that you like:

REMIND YOURSELF THAT THEY ARE JUST ANOTHER PERSON IN THE FANDOM AND ARE NOT AN INFLUENCER ════════════════════════════════════════ ✧ OP isn't in this fandom to be put on a pedestal (of course there are always exceptions, but I'm not talking about those people) and treated like an influencer. ✧ OP creates works in the fandom because that is how they choose to engage with the fandom. It is one of many ways that people can come together in a community and celebrate an actor/movie/series/etc. ✧ OP is not a content farm. They are writing and sharing because they genuinely enjoy it. They are not being compensated. They are not being endorsed by anybody or any company. They are a normal person trying to take part in a fandom they enjoy. ✧ OP is not obligated to address or comment on a situation, an interaction, discourse, etc. They are not an influencer and aren't equivalent to the parasocial relationships that influencers (aka people who make a living off the internet) have with their followers. OP is not required to "use their platform" for something. It's not a platform. It is OP's personal account where they engage and post in fandom. That is why it exists. OP is not some mega entity that has to speak on something because you demand or expect it.

OP blocked me:

THE CALL IS COMING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE ════════════════════════════════════════ ✧ Listen, I know it can be hurtful/confusing if you are blocked, especially if it is a writer you really like. I guarantee you that it was not done out of spite and for no reason. ✧ Take a look at the circles you run in, the posts you like, the sort of comments you leave, etc. Many writers are quick to block these days because the climate of this hellsite is very charged and exhausting. If OP sees your username cropping up again and again in fandom drama or you liked a discourse post with a shitty take or your chummy mutual is going off the rails with some bullshit, you might just get caught up in the Block Party. ✧ Don't go through another channel/account to ask why you've been blocked. No, you aren't entitled to a reason. OP is allowed to protect their mental health and peace, and they don't owe anyone an explanation of why and how they choose to curate their experience on this hellsite. ✧ If you believe you were blocked by mistake (which, again, is very unlikely), just take the L, homie. I know that's not what you want to hear, but that's just how it is.

If you took the time to read this, share it, or just in general intend to apply it to your interactions, ✨thank you✨!

Here is a Pedro gif tax for your time and attention. 💜

[chronically-ghosted]

i wonder if you stopped his world like you did mine

rating: teen

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 5K

summary: watching the woman he loves be with someone else is killing him, but for your sake, he manages. But when Benny's birthday loosens him up, he can't help but bear his soul over a phone call. Too bad you don't pick up and he's forced to leave the evidence in a voicemail.

tags/warnings: pining, light angst, idiots in love, country music as a catalyst, romance, tw alcohol, tw drinking, hangovers, ultimately very fluffy

a/n: Happy Valentine's Day @toomanystoriessolittletime! I hope you receive and give all the love you need and want! I've had this idea for a while, but once I saw that Frankie was your fave, I knew I had to do it!

one day i’m gonna do the series of all of my favorite country songs with a Pedro boy. This is one of them: Singles You Up by Jordan Davis. Had thoughts of Me and My Kind by Cody Johnson for our ever-fantastic Jack Daniels and Hurricane by Luke Combs for Joel. One day, my loves, one day. 

🤍Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Frankie Morales has a problem.

Given the life expectancy in his line of work – all things considered – it really wasn’t that bad of a problem. Sure, his knees were busted, his shoulder aches when it was cold out, and his ex keeps hounding him for money he doesn’t have. But on the flipside, his little family unit of friends and brothers united by combat are (mostly) all alive and healthy. He has a steady job and his little girl, whom he loves and adores, thinks the sun shines out of his ass. All things considered, there’s not much else he can ask for. He’s far better off than some of the men and women at Will’s talks, or in Santiago’s field teams. 

So – really, truly, seriously – all things considered . . .  he can’t classify this as a bad problem.

In fact, this is a problem he would willingly have. Gladly even. Not quite joyously, but if it’s a choice between this problem and not having the problem at all, he will choose having this consistent, thorny, kind-of-hurts-to-breathe-sometimes problem every single time.

And right now, it’s wearing a dress.

Uh, well, you’re wearing a dress. An off-white, hinging-on-cream, dress that sits above your knees, cuts flat and wide across your chest, and puffs out into cotton sleeves that remind him of those conchas his abuela used to make. Sweet, fluffy, and absolutely forbidden. 

Until the time is right, at least. His abuela always made him wait to eat until the time was right.

He calls it – you – a problem, when in fact, it’s the opposite of a problem. There is nothing he would ever want to change about the warm, engulfing feeling that starts somewhere in his stomach and rises like conchas up his spine until it’s somewhere in his ribs, then under his breastbone, right by his –

He would kill anyone who tried to take that feeling away from him. It’s when he feels most alive, most present, most out of his head – like these things in the dark and sleeping corners of his mind that nip and bite at him can’t find him. He’s thrown them off his scent in his search for you and, even for a brief moment, he can step into the light.

There is no problem, in how you look tonight, how you look every night, with your bright shining smile, sweet-smelling hair, cowboy boots, glass of whiskey – you had such a fantastic taste in –

Wait. 

That’s not whiskey. Not even a whiskey glass. 

That’s –

“White wine?” Benny yelps as he leans forward and his chair legs clatter against the concrete floor. “If that’s Moscato, I’m calling the cops because you’ve been replaced by an equally hot body double.”

You roll your eyes as you sit down and take a long drink from your glass, as if to make a point. Frankie’s eyes are drawn to where your dress hangs over your crossed legs, exposing the curve of your thigh. 

“It’s not fucking Moscato, Benjamin,” you say, eyes narrowed, completely side-stepping his compliment, like you always do. “It’s Chardonnay. Nick recognized the vineyard on the menu so he recommended it. Thought I’d give it a try, because I like trying something new, Benjamin.”

He rolls those beautiful blue eyes and leans forward towards you at the table, that grin that brings grown women to their knees plastered across his face. He knocks back his cowboy hat with a tap of his knuckle. 

“Well, excuse the fuck outta me.”

“The fuck outta you is excused.”

You tug his hat back down over his face, smirking back at him, just as Nick saunters over – with what looks to be a wine glass of his own. 

Okay, in hindsight, you’re not the problem. 

His real fucking problem is Nick. 

Your boyfriend. 

Frankie, who has decided to only drink beer around you since The Almost Incident, takes three long pulls so he doesn’t have to watch Nick and his stupid hands slide across your exposed back and sit down in Santi’s empty chair. 

“Happy Birthday, man, thanks for inviting me out.” Nick says briefly, raising his glass to Benny. “But I gotta say, I was a little worried when my girl here said your party was gonna be at a country dance hall. I’ve never been to one of these. I had to buy cowboy boots just for the occasion.”

He sticks his leg out, and rotates his gator-skin boot back and forth as if to illustrate how important to him this whole thing is. 

But Benny doesn’t look down, doesn’t approve the boots, or Nick’s attempt at fitting in. Instead, he just smirks, his smile growing fat and lazy, a bit of the warmth fading from his blue eyes.

“Your first time at a cowboy hoe-down? I had no idea.” 

Nick grins, because he doesn’t know Benny well enough to see the dig for what it is. But you do. You know him and you know he’s ragging on your boyfriend. You narrow your eyes and shame coats Frankie’s chest. Because he knows also Benny and he knows why he’s giving Nick such a hard time.

See, the problem isn’t you, or even your boyfriend – not really. 

Nick is actually a decent guy. He treats you right, if a little delicately, but he buys you drinks, takes you places Frankie could never afford, in a car Frankie could never ever afford. Sometimes, you’ll say something, or tell a story and it’s obvious Nick doesn’t really understand you or your jokes, but he smiles along anyway. He makes good money and supposedly he keeps in touch with his mom. Nick is the kind of guy any brother would want his sister to date.

So the problem isn’t that Nick is a bad boyfriend, but that he’s your boyfriend.

The problem that Frankie Morales has is that he is painfully, achingly, in love with you.

And he’s your friend.

Maybe that would change, if he ever could work up the guts to say something. For fuck’s sake, he’s killed people – asking you out can’t be that much worse (as Santi often reminds him). But if the guys you’re into are like Nick, or even Nick-adjacent, then what fucking chance does he have? He never thought money was important to you, but apparently it is and that’s something he definitely can’t give you.

Or maybe you like the stability of a high-paying job with fucking miraculous health-care. And that’s two things more he can’t offer: stability and health-care. 

So, maybe, maybe his problem isn’t with you or Nick or the fact that Nick is your boyfriend. It’s that he never could be. He, with one failed marriage already behind him and a coke rap sheet, has nothing to give you . . .

And you deserve the world.

You deserve more than he can offer you. You deserve better than him.

That’s his real fucking problem. And one he can't ever fix.

Will couldn’t get off work to come to this, so he owed Benny a beer and a nice steak dinner – according to Benny. Santi, despite absolutely swearing up and down for a week he wouldn’t be caught dead in cowboy boots and a hat, showed up tonight in full gear, belt-buckle included because he lost a bet with Benny over the Thursday night game. Santi, like everything else in his life, researched the hell out of the two teams, their past history, older statistics of both the players and the coach. He was confident, so confident, that he put his pride on the line. 

Never a good idea with Benny Miller. 

I don’t know, Benny said at the sports bar when his team was whooping Santi’s team’s ass, I just had a good feeling. Presumably, Santi did three shots before leaving and with another two in his system at the bar, all anger and frustration and embarrassment and inhibition had melted away and now Santi was doing what Santi did best, especially when drunk: dancing with beautiful women.

“The son of a bitch can dance, I’ll give him that. ” Benny muses as the three of you watch Santi, who despite having been taught the moves three minutes ago by two gorgeous blondes, complete a perfect line dance of Copperhead Road. 

“Oh, shit, I could never do that.” Nick shakes his head. “Not even after a hundred classes.”

“Ah, I find that hard to believe, Nicky Boy. You seem like a natural,” Benny smirks over the lip of his beer bottle. He finds Frankie’s eyes and winks. 

You are not amused. You glare at him over Nick’s shoulder for the second time tonight. 

“It’s really not that hard,” you smile tightly and squeeze Nick’s shoulder. “I can teach you.” 

“Oh, yeah, don’t you know your girl here?” Benny leans back in his chair, balancing against the rung of Nick’s chair by the ball of his foot. “She used to put all of us to shame. Dancing the night away, leading the crowd in line dancing. In fact, if I remember correctly, she and Frankie used to get into all sorts a-trouble on the dance floor. Isn’t that right, Frankie?”

Now he drew a glare from you and Frankie. 

Don’t, man, just don’t. 

Benny shrugs, swallowing his smirk with another sip of beer, hands raised. Just trying to help out. 

Over the speakers, the song winds to a close and the crowd does their final spin. Across the dance floor, Santi bows, his hat sweeping the floor, to both of the girls who giggle like high schoolers. 

“I’m gonna go get Boot Scootin’ Boogie over there some water before he up-chucks all over those nice ladies.” Benny stands and fixes his hat. “You guys want anything?”

Frankie shakes his head, his own hat that Benny insisted he wear, making the line of sweat across his forehead itch. You and Nick decline as well. You’ve barely even touched your drink, Frankie notes with a certain level of satisfaction. 

As Benny walks towards the bar, the next song starts up and you let out a squeal. Bring on The Good Times has been one of your favorite songs since college. And Frankie should know – he introduced it to you. 

“This one is the best! A classic!” You grab Nick’s forearm, but he almost immediately pulls it back. 

“Ah, babe, my first line dance is not gonna be in front of strangers! I’ll embarrass you and me. Why don’t you ask Frankie?”

Fuck, why could Nick just be a raging, flaming asshole? This would be so much fucking easier. 

Frankie swallows his beer empty, an excuse for a refill prepped. He hates cowboy hats, but he’d fucking set fire to the sky for Benny – he just hopes he immolates himself in the process. The giant brim makes him feel like he’s got a neon sign over his head that blinks, I Am A Giant Dork. Only further proven if he gets anywhere near that dance floor with his two left feet. 

Your eyes are unreadable as he tries to coax your boyfriend into taking you dancing.

“Nah, man, you got this. Your girl’s a great teacher.” By some cowboy miracle, his voice is steady as he says those two words. On the table, your fingers curl in, your wine glass still untouched.

Nick makes a face, eyes flitting back and forth to the dancers as they start the dance.

“My feet are already killing me in these new boots. Besides, this isn’t really my song.”

Over his shoulder, you find Frankie’s eyes. He knows that look on you – he knows everything about you – and you’re trying to hide how hurt you are.

He’s on his feet before he knows what he’s doing.

You and Nick stare up at him, surprised by how he practically bounded to his feet. 

The sweat at the ring of his hat runs down the back of his neck. Frankie does the only thing halfway-normal and extends his hand.

“Alright, princesa, I’ll fill out your dance card.”

He doesn’t care, or even really register, the darkly confused frown Nick sends him when you stand up, take his hand, and smile at him. He feels warm all the way up to his chest. 

“Thanks, Frankie. Let’s boogie.” 

That was a mistake.

This whole fucking night is a mistake. God help him, he loves Benny like a brother but he should have just said no and promised to take him out later like Will. He would have bought Benny any drink, any ridiculous chicken wing plate he wanted if Frankie didn’t have to be here, right now. 

Because right now, right now, that wall of self-control that he uses to stem the reservoir, to stem the flow of whatever you cause to pour out of him, it’s leaking. It’s busted holes and now he’s drenched with it – with the scent of you, with the memory of hair down the length of your neck, the heat of your skin overworked and flushed, the sweet taste of your breath in his mouth when you leaned forward, into his space, his senses, and whispered,

“C’mon, Frankie, you’re a better dancer than this.”

But in his defense, he couldn’t feel his feet, much less make them move when he watched you with your skirt rucked up high in your fists, your cowboy boots kicking like fish in a stream, and that smile – that fucking smile – brighter and sweeter than all the whiskey in the world. 

C’mon, Frankie, you’re a better dancer than this

C’mon, Frankie, you’re better than this.

C’mon, Frankie, tell me you love me.

Kiss me, Frankie. Kiss me now.

His restraint, his resolve that he will never, ever have you – he can feel it throb beneath his palms. Shudder and wobble under the thundering of his heart. It’s so close to breaking. Too close. This is why he doesn’t drink anything harder than beer around you. This is why he rarely drinks around you at all. 

When Nick finally calls it a night because he’s already got a blister from the new boots, you don’t put up much of a fight. You’ve danced with Benny, you’ve danced with Santi and his gaggle of girls, Nick himself went up for a slow dance or two.

Frankie only ever asked for one. 

He knows he disappointed you, has been disappointing you because you can feel him layering you away, brick by brick by brick. One of his oldest and longest friends, barely visible now, and he’s going over it with caulk to make sure you can’t touch this fragile, weak, emaciated thing he calls a heart. 

The instant you walk out of the bar, Nick’s arm across your tense shoulders, he all but rushes for the bar. 

“Six tequila shots, please.”

You wake up where you went to sleep: curled up on your couch, your giant Florida Gators blanket wrapped around you like a mentally-supportive straight-jacket, with Golden Girls reruns on the TV. The empty bottle of 19 Crimes explains the sticky, dry feeling in your mouth and the thundering headache accompanying swollen eyes and cheeks. You’d rather get hit by a train than have to move out of this position, but Nick has always been punctual.

Which, you assume, extends to picking up his stuff from your apartment first thing in the morning, his final threat that ended your conversation last night. 

The sooner, the better, you mother fucker. 

You blindly grab around for your phone, knowing that it’s most likely shoved into the deepest cracks of your couch, hoping against hope Panera delivers on a Saturday morning. There’s a distinct possibility you might start swinging if Nick shows up before you get a baguette and a coffee into your system. 

The things he said about Benny and Santi last night on the drive home. This break up was a long time coming, but fuck, if this is what he’d been sitting on about your friends, what the fuck did he actually think of you? 

And the things he implied about Frankie – how Frankie was in love with you and you were willingly not seeing it – ridiculous.

You fight the rancid taste of hope that anything Nick implied about Frankie might even remotely be true when you close your fingers around the shape of your phone at the far end of the couch. 

22%

Just enough to order then yeet this fucking thing into another room because there is no way in hell you are answering Nick’s calls.

But, as you scroll through your notifications, maybe you should have answered Frankie’s.

He had called sporadically, starting about two hours after you and Nick had left the dance hall, all the way until four in the morning. 

One text at 1AM: com e hang out wit us.i mis s you u 

You smile, despite the obviously drunken text. Frankie rarely texted, only if it was dire need – and apparently, you continuing to party with the boys at 1AM was very, very dire. Judging by the eight missed calls.

Eight missed calls, but only one voicemail. 

Like you’re about to settle down for some good TikTok scrolling, you lean back into the pillows, rubbing your eyes to clear the hazy fog, and press play. 

First, there’s noise. Lots of it. Country music and people laughing and singing. Clearly still at the dance hall. You wish for a minute it is a video instead because you’d pay hand over fist to see those guys falling all over each other.

But then comes Santi. Over the years, you’d picked up some Spanish here and there, mostly enough not to embarrass yourself if you ever went to Miami. 

But whatever Santi is saying, you’re not entirely sure it is Spanish, or any human language. 

“Comotuamiga, teruegoqueselodigas porfavornopuedo hacerestopormucho mástiempo. Estaríasmásfeliz y ellaestaríamásfeliz. Nomemiresasí, sabesqueloúnico quequiereesqu labeses y la beses y luegohagasotrascosas – ¡Estúpido! ¿La llamaste?”

There’s a shuffling, hushed voices, the music still far too loud to make anything out.

“Déjame en paz, dude.” Frankie. Frankie, very very very drunk. “I’m gonna – I’m gonna say – voy a decirle. Ella lo sabrá. She’ll get it. I know–,”

“Then say something now because you’re leaving a voicemail!”

“Ah, mierda – um, baby?”

In two words and two filler words, Frankie’s whole demeanor changes. You can almost picture him curled around the phone, his hand cradling the phone to his ear as he rests his head against a wall. 

“Baby, listen – fuck, sorry, I’m starting all wrong. I shouldn’t even call you that – I shouldn’t call you ‘baby’ because you’re not mine. You’re not my baby or anyone else’s because you’re so fucking independent and I love that about you but I wish you were. Mine, I mean. Not a baby.”

You don’t even remember sitting up, but your feet are on the ground. You’ve dropped the phone onto the table in front of you, staring at it as if it’s been dripping poison into your ear. Your heart is pounding. 

There’s silence from Frankie for a second, the music still loud, but it’s dampened. You can hear Frankie breathing, swallow, and start again.

“You looked so fuckin’ good tonight. You look good every night but fuck, baby, that dress. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Even for a second . . . he doesn’t tell you that you look so fucking good enough, you know? You should hear it all the time. I wanna tell you – tell you all the time – he didn’t say it once. Not once and that’s a fucking crime. He makes you drink white wine when I know you fucking hate it – I know you, baby. I know you more than I know myself because you’re all I fucking think about. You’re in here, all the time, all up in my chest, my throat, my gut – and you can have it. You can have it. You can have all of me, if you just . . .”

His voice breaks and your fingers clench around the edge of the cushion. 

“If you just . . . look, I know this is so fucking outta line and I wanna say it to your face and I’m gonna but . . . when that fuckin’ moron forgets how good he has it, I’m gonna be there. Gonna be right there. Because –,”

And then like someone shoved a speaker right up against Frankie’s phone, as clear as day, you hear Benny yell:

“IF HE AIN’T HOLDING YOU TIGHT, IF HE AIN’T TREATIN’ YOU RIGHT, I’MA BE THE FIRST ONE CALLIN’ HIM CRAAAZY–,”

“Benny, fuck off!”

And then the call drops, along with it your stomach. In fact, it slides out of your body, slouches off the couch and melts into the floor.

Oh, Frankie, do you even mean a word of it?

The hangover rubbing your nerves raw, tears spring into your eyes, the silence and fear and terrible hope tightening like a band around your head and infinitely increasing the pressure in your temples. You want to cry but your eyes already feel too puffy. 

You’re stuck, frozen by every single possible outcome or single next step spinning out like chaotic webbing you can easily catch yourself on. 

This was a mistake, it had to be. He didn’t mean to call your phone. He had accidentally called you when he meant to call another girl . . . also with a boyfriend named Nick. Frankie, sweet Frankie, who you’ve all but outright begged to take an interest in you – said it with your eyes hundreds of times – Frankie couldn’t actually have feelings for you.

Not like you had for him. Not like the ones you’ve slowly plucked out of your ribs over the years because god, even just looking at him seared a scar across your heart. 

Fuck. Fuck!

You snatch up your phone, wiping your teary eyes and frantically hoping he might have said a name or anything – he couldn’t possibly have meant you – when three loud bangs on your front door sends your phone into the air and your heart into your throat.

The way he calls your name is frantic, verging on hysterical. In a daze, you glance at the clock. 9:04. Frankie’s had about four hours of sleep, if any at all.

“Please, open the door! We gotta talk – there’s something – there’s something on your phone you shouldn’t hear – please, baby, open up –,”

You stare at the phone on your floor. 

Don’t they always say you can’t tell the moments that irrevocably change your life until after they’re gone?

Not this time.

You open the door and either way, everything changes. 

“C’mon, please, let me explain.” His voice has quieted, no longer shaking, softer as though wounded. “Just five minutes and I’m gone. I swear. We can forget the whole thing –,”

You open the door to a hungover Frankie Morales, still in the same outfit you saw him last in, but his eyes are rimmed with black circles, his patchy beard even more patchy as if he had rubbed the bristle clean off. He reeks of beer, peanuts, and cigarette smoke. His shirt is loose, wrinkled, his belt isn’t even on all the way, and he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“What if I don’t want to forget it, Frankie?”

You see the realization strike him through the eyes, the throat, the chest, his gut, his brown eyes swimming with shame and horror. He leans over as if kicked and presses a hand against your doorway. His thumb rubs the corner and he swallows.

“So you listened to it already?”

“Yeah, I did.” He closes his eyes briefly, hanging his head, every apology in every language he knows sitting right behind his teeth. “But did you hear what I said?”

He frowns at you through those thick eyebrows. “What?”

“When I opened the door, did you hear what I said?”

“You said –,” that beautiful bottom lip parts from its sensual top and Frankie blinks at you. The oily blackness of shame has evaporated from his eyes, but that stormy fear rages on. 

You inhale, breath getting caught on every knot in your spine, and step back.

“We need to talk.” 

He glances once over his shoulder, as if taking in the hallway to your apartment for the last time, and he steps inside. Immediately his height and broadness fill out every empty space in your tiny living room and you’re launched back into the memory of when the boys came over for Christmas and there was hardly enough room for anyone, but somehow you all made it work and after four rounds of DDR, everyone was so tired and drunk, you passed out pillows and blankets and you spent your first adult Christmas at what could have been mistaken for a thirteen year old’s slumber party. It was one of the happiest times of your life.

His thick fingers clench and unclench when Frankie spies your phone on the floor, like a bomb waiting to go off. 

Your brain struggles to default to hostess mode because you can’t think of anything to say.

Do you want coffee?

Do you want some cereal? 

Do you want to– 

“Tell me what happened last night.” You surprise yourself, Frankie, and your whirring brain by cutting right to it. As with the first question when you opened the door to him, there’s something inside of you that has taken on wings, spread them wide, and threatens to soar out of your body. Frankie’s here, he’s here, and he said he wants you –

He called you baby.

You breathe in, trying to scrape up some courage from the bottom of your lungs, wishing in the back of your mind under everything else that you’d chosen literally anything else to go to bed in than your Tweedie Bird shirt from Six Flags. 

“I don’t understand, Frankie. Please help me understand.” 

With a monumental sigh, he rubs his wide hand across his face and up into his hair, his other hand lifting his cap up off his head so his fingers can dig into his curls. It’s only then that you realize Benny’s cowboy hat he wore last night is gone and his tried and true Standard Oil ball cap is back. Meaning he must have gone home at some point. When did he realize (or remember) that he’d left you that voicemail? 

“I’m gonna get my ass kicked,” he murmurs, eyes darting like a fox to your bedroom door. “Maybe that’s exactly what I deserve.”

“He’s not here.” This great thing arcs between you, the emptiness a presence and clarity all at the same time. 

“What do you mean? Where is he?”

“We broke up.”

“When? Why?”

“Last night, after we left the bar. We got into an argument. He doesn’t like the way . . .”

Frankie – physically, mentally, emotionally, fundamentally – overwhelms you. He’s across the room in an instant, closer than you think he’s ever been before. But maybe this is the first and only time you’ve ever allowed yourself to enjoy it. Revel in his closeness and let this caged feeling in your chest break free. You touch his chest with the flat of your palm, the size of it, the breadth of him, staggering. You literally feel weak at the knees. 

“He doesn’t like the way what?” His voice luxuriates in his throat – warm, deep. He sounds like what you imagine a hot spring feels like against your skin.

“He didn’t like the way I looked at you.” Your fingers make circles where they did into his shirt. His hands have found their way, after all this time, to your waist. “The way I always look at you, Frankie.”

His breath, subsequent to the ghost of his lips, across your forehead is so gentle it makes you close your eyes, to block out one sense to encourage another. 

You feel him swallow even though he’s a foot away from you.

“Why –,” he stops, and starts again, just like on the phone call, “why do you look at me . . . when you have him?”

“Oh, Frankie.” His grip on your waist tightens as if you’re about to disappear forever. “I took him because I can’t have you.” 

You blame the tears on the hangover, the headache, and the way he takes your chin between his thumb and knuckle. 

Grateful.

He’s looking at you, eyes soft, mouth curved into a disbelieving smile, with gratitude. 

“He’s the furthest thing from you because I tried to get you out of my system – I did – I promise. I can’t lose our friendship, Frankie, but it’s killing me . . . not having you. Nick said it was obvious the way I felt about you and that was a problem for our relationship, so he tried to make me choose between you and him and every time, without a doubt, I’ll always choose–,”

This is the right time, he supposes. 

Hand over your cheek, he holds you still in silence to press his mouth to yours. The final word of your sentence dies on his tongue, muffled by a soft groan of surprise. Your breath is terrible, your skin is oily and damp, he knows he stinks like the bottom of a wet bar, but he can’t find himself to care. Your mouth opens to take him and the hand on your cheek sinks to your neck as you both move past the initial shock of I’m finally getting to do this and you’re not pulling away and into an actual, proper, deep kiss that sends sparks into his toes. Your tongue marks the bottom of his mouth, your arms going around his neck like you want more – you need more – and Frankie pulls back.

Not only because he’s slightly dizzy but because he a) won’t fuck you for the first time on your living room floor and b) absolutely will not do it hungover. 

“Breakfast. Do you like . . . uhm, breakfast?” He can’t quite focus on a single spot on your face, eyes half-lidded and gaze blurred.

You giggle, letting his beard tickle your nose as you sneak your face into his neck. He sways a bit with you, his arms around your back, and you don’t think he’s even realizing what he’s doing.

“Yes, Frankie. I like breakfast. I eat it almost every day, in fact.”

He grunts, neck suddenly flushed, embarrassed. “Sorry, I mean –,”

“I know what you mean, baby.” You lean back and run your fingers through the thatch of curls at the back of his neck. Both of you are so grimy but you can’t care. “I’d love breakfast.”

Frankie smiles his Frankie smile and the thing in your chest is illuminated in gold. 

“How do you feel about conchas?” 

Translations:

Como tu amiga, te ruego que se lo digas. Por favor, no puedo hacer esto por mucho más tiempo. Estarías más feliz y ella estaría más feliz. No me mires así, sabes que lo único que quiere es que la beses y la beses y luego hagas otras cosas. = As your friend, I beg you to tell her. Please, I can't do this for much longer. You would be happier and she would be happier. Don't look at me like that, you know all she wants is for you to kiss her and kiss her and then do other things.

¡Estúpido! ¿La llamaste? = Idiot! Did you call her?

Déjame en paz. Voy a decirle. Ella lo sabrá. = Leave me alone. I am going to tell her. She will know.

[simpjaes]

i saw ur threesome ask and ME! I AM WHO U ARE LOOKING FOR OMG IM SOOOO INTERESTED U HAVE NO IDEA HON! i was going to ask for u to do an mtl but don't you think all of them would be most likely? how about instead of that i ask

what would a ffm threesome look like between the members of hyung line and u?

oh, yes yes yes. you're so right! i have two or three other asks regarding an mtl for it but i agree, i think they'd all play with two baddies.

hyung line + ffm threesome

this one is for my fellow lgbtq+ babes!

★ heeseung: oh man, put heeseung between two girls and he's not only gonna be rock hard but probably struggling to figure out what he wants to do first. not at any point would he just be sitting off to the side and watching, oh no no. probably the type to have you and the other girl making out and bumping clits with his cock between you :( would absolutely pussy swap back and forth, as in, fucking you deep before pulling out and stuffing the other girl full just to feel the difference in grip and need. he'd also do a lot of guiding, probably while you're busy taking his cock deep down your throat he'd have the other girl by the hair and pushing her tongue into you. would fucking be in lovvvvvvvvve with having two hotties to ride him at the same time. his fave position would definitely be you bouncing on his cock and her sitting on his face. mostly because if he's gonna be cumming in anyone, it's gonna be you.

☆ sunghoon: i think sunghoon would be more inclined to pay attention to you over anyone else at first, and would always need confirmation to do more, more, more. eventually though, he'd understand the circumstances and something in his brain would just...break. a full on fucking porn star he'd become. never leaving anyone out, always offering pleasure to the both of you, with his mouth, cock, hands, whatever. i'm talking the type to have you under one arm, and the other under his other arm, with both of his hands finger fucking deeeeeeeeeeeep just to feel two mouths sucking on his neck at the same time. he'd also love fucking one of you on your back (with your/her legs wrapped around him), while the other props herself up in front of his face, spreading her legs wide just so he can lick and suck however and whenever he pleases. everyone leaves satisfied when sunghoon is involved.

★ jake: throw back to the original ask about this but like I said before, jake would go fucking insane having two girls make out while he pushes his cock between their mouths and mess of tongues. all three of you guys would be fucking feral. not a single person would be left unfucked or not covered in cum. you'd be all over her, you'd be all over him, and likewise for jake. likewise for the third girl as well. there would be so many instances of jake + her pleasuring you with their tongues, and vice versa. hell, jake would probably get down on his knees just to eat both of you out at some point too, always swapping his mouth to his fingers just to mix the flavor of both cunts in his mouth. would be soooooooo hungry for it too. there would be a lot of oral and oral fixation in this situation. just a lot of...tasting each other before the eventual fucking takes place. and mannnn, would jake be in heaven at that point. having two girls fight to sink down on his cock is one thing, but having two girls agree how much of him they get is somehow even better? Opting to pay more attention to the one not riding him into oblivion at any given moment just to make damn sure that everyone is moaning and feeling just as good as he does.

☆ jay: probably a little bit of stage freight at first, seeing you and your best friend grinding on each other fully clothed, patting the bed as if to invite him to join. Which, i mean, of course he would need to join, you did this for his birthday lol. jay would become the ultimate service top, which for you can be a bit jarring considering how well he manages control when it's just the two of you. in this circumstance, he lends most of the control to you. he's also definitely the type to make small comments like, "can i watch you eat her out first?" just so he can lay back and reeeeeeeealllly enjoy the show before joining himself. and he would enjoy it, honestly, like his cock would be fucking weeping by the point you lunge for it with your best friend in tow. much like jake, jay would also go insane seeing two pretty girls with their sparkling eyes blinking up at him as they both work their tongues against his cock :/ like i'm talking his eyes would be fucking crossed at how good it feels. and, well, by the end of the night (which arguably, this would take place for hours because his stamina is....intense), he'd have already fucked you both with his tongue, cock, and hands well past the point of satisfaction.

[lmskitty]

The JJk fandom has some INCREDIBLE writers and artists and I just felt like showing a bit of love so here are some of my fave Satosugu fics!!!

Audience by @c-valentino

"Three years after the KFC breakup, Satoru caves and visits his old friend late at night with a problem. They are far from what they used to be, but when he hopes they might get a second chance after all, assassins show up to hunt down Suguru."

As you like it by planetarypedxng

"Ieiri Shoko has laid down the law: the three of them will hereafter hang out only at Geto’s place, because Geto is the perfect host, and because Shoko refuses to clean up after anyone, least of all men, and because Gojo’s room always disgustingly reeks of sex.

Gojo had laughed at that, a little too loudly, perhaps, and curiously did not have a single comment about it. What can he say? The truth? That he was still a virgin?"

Falling in love is easy. Admitting it is not. By @ellionwrites

"At 20 years old - sharing an apartment and joint Jujutsu missions - Geto and Gojo are inseparable. But it takes Geto going on a first date for them to start to figure out their feelings."

Two sorcerers chillin' in a hot tub (five feet apart cause they’re not gay) by @hollow-lime-green

"Geto Suguru has almost two decades of practice pretending not to see things that are clearly there, and Gojo Satoru has a well-documented history of being the most socially-stunted motherfucker alive.

That’s how they got here.

Love is in the hands by @thequeenofsarcaasm

That’s also why neither of them know where the hell they’re going with this."

To be a woman by @sadgreekboys

"After getting kicked from his home for being queer, Geto Suguru comes across his old best friend/first love, in a gay bar. He finds a new home in him."

close your eyes (nothing changed at all) by themoonisdead

"Satoru is the strongest. She is a woman. She is not meant to be those two things at the same time.

VIRGIN GETS WRECKED BY BEST FRIEND [FREE PORN VIDS] (18++) WATCH NOW!!!!! By Daisy__dupes

"That day in xx village, suguru makes a call" -what if Suguru had called Satoru for help that day?

Over the Threshold by @fushiglow

(Satoru gets hit with a sex curse and asks Suguru to help him!!!)

4AM by damiselart

"Larger than life K-pop idol, Satoru, approaches introverted record producer, Getō Suguru, to collaborate on his debut Japanese-language studio album. They both get more out of the experience than expected — for better and for worse."

(Tattoo artist Geto and model Gojo. Hot as fuck.)

Post-It Notes by monochromevelyn

"Shoko was sick of watching her two best friends pining for each other. Don't worry, she had a plan to move things in the right direction."

The Two-Headed Calf by malneiro

"Gojo gets a knock on his door late at night: Getou is sick and Mimiko and Nanako don't know who else to turn to."

Vows to Amida Butsu -

" Gojo has a great idea. Geto thinks his classmate should at least ask him cutely instead of just announcing his intent. Consent is important, after all."

and Long Bitter Autumn - both by Daphnerunning and Galiko

"Five years after his best friend left Jujutsu High to become an evil overlord, Gojo Satoru can't sleep. And there's not THAT much difference between a butt dial and a booty call, semantically speaking."

There are so many amazing satosugu fics and most of the writers listed here have multiple incredible fics but these are just some of my absolute faves!!!

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[bookishdreamer28]

Giving Gojo the silent treatment

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It all started because of a fight you had the previous day. He's been working so hard lately, that the only thing you wanted was to make his day, somehow better by making dinner, having some good time for yourselves, drink wine and many more.

___________________________________________

It was 9 p.m and you had already set the table, with Satoru's and yours fave dinner. You were all dolled up and waiting for your fave boy's arrival.

When you heard the lock on the door, you instantly stood up from the couch and when to greet him. You could already see his small frown on his face and you wanted nothing more but to make it go away right away.

"Satoru my love, welcome ba-"

"Yeah yeah nice to see you too." He stepped back from your hug and walked away. Just walked away.

You knew how hard it was to be a sorcerer, but it wasn't necessary for him to act his way. You tried to brush it off, but the sting was still there. It hurts that he avoided hugging you.

You followed him to your room and saw him getting in the bathroom, ready to take a shower. You sighed and decided to sit on the bed and wait for him.

Once he got out, he didn't say anything to you and went straight to your closet.

He could feel your eyes on him but he still didn't say a thing.

"Uhm, I have dinner ready love. I made our fave! Since I know how much you liked it last time, I thought about making it again and after dinner I have planned an amazing night for ourselves, since I know you've been working s-"

"I don't feel like eating right now. I thing I'm going to bed early after I drink some tea." He said in a monotone voice.

"Really? Oh...but baby I just wanted to make you feel better. I know things are not ok out there but in here I want you feel safe and good-"

"CAN'T YOU JUST STOP TALKING ALREADY? I told you. I'm not in the mood for ANYHTING but sleep." He turned to you looking pissed. You absolutely understood him but the way he spoke to you is definitely Not ok.

"Well you don't need to be such a jerk you know. I just wanted to take care of you and this is how you talk to me?"

"Whem you're being pushy, what do you expect me to do? I had the toughest week ever, I need sleep and I need you to leave me alone." He said raising his voice a bit.

You tried so hard not let tears fall down. It broke your heart knowing that you were basically a burden to him now.

You felt your hands trembling and took a deep breath. Once you closed your eyes, you felt them. Tears were rolling down your cheeks. But you didn't really care.

Satoru didn't notice your tears since he truned away from you, to make tea.

After you calmed a little, you changed to your pajamas and went to collect the food from the table.

You saw satoru watching tv while drinking his tea, and you felt anger rising up again. The fact that he was so chill with all this made you so mad. You had many tough weeks too. You went through so much bullshit too. And you had bad days too. But you never thought, not even once, take it out on Satoru.

You cleaned the table and put the food in the fridge for tomorrow. You felt so exhausted. You went in yours and Satoru's bed, to take a blanket and a pillow, since you pretty sure he doesn't want to sleep with you.

Satoru was washing his mug and he didn't saw you when you went to take your place on the couch. With not more words exchanged, Satoru left the kitchen and went straight to your bedroom.

And without noticing, you started sobbing.

....

The next morning, Satoru woke up and when he saw you weren't next to him, he panicked. He got up alarmed and went in the living room.

"Y/N!? Sweetheart where are y-" when his eyes fell on your curled up figure, he released a breath he felt he was holding for too long. He thought about yesterday and immigrated felt like he wanted the ground to open a wide hole, and swallow him in.

He approached silently and crouched down next to you. He raised his hand and took a small strand of your hair and placed it behind you ear. He kissed yoyr forehead and stayed there for a while. He felt your body stirr and lookedat you carefully. You slowly opened your eyes and when you saw Satoru hovering above you, you frowned.

"Y/N baby, why did you sleep here? Didn't you get cold? Are you feeling cold now? Cause I'm going to make you tea and some breakfast for you to eat baby." He whispered.

You sat a little, rubbing your eyes. And then stood up and left, leaving Satoru there. He watched you walking away till you disappeared in the bathroom. He rubbed hos forehead thinking how much he messed up and cursed himself.

.....

The next morning, Satoru was in the kitchen making breakfast. He was humming your fave song, while making eggs and puring some juice on your glass. The smell woke you up and when you reached the kitchen, you stopped in your tracks. You wanted to smile at the image, but you couldn't forget what happened yesterday. You opened the fridge and grabbed one bottle of water and went back to the couch, grabbing your book with you. He felt his hwart breaking because the onky thing he wanted was to feel your warm body pressed against his. He wanted your kisses. He wanted you, moee than anything else. He looked at you and turned his back to you again, not wanting you to see his tears.

....

"Hey baby, how about we watch this series you talked to me about last week? You said season 2 is out, so I thought about watching it together. I brought snacks, sodas, i have your fave blanket aaand hugs!" He said cheerfully. But when he saw you not paying him any attention, his smiled dropped. You were laughing at a video you were watching. Oh how much he missed this sound. And how much he wished was the one making you laugh like this.

.....

That night, you returned home from a coffee with Shoko and decided to take a shower. After that, you were ready to to watch your fave series on the couch and then go to sleep. Satoru saw you there, and he started walking to you. When you heard his footsteps, you rolled your eyes and pretended to be asleep.

He sat on the floor next to the couch and stared at you with those blue eyes.

"Baby, I-" he felt like his throat was close. He couldn't speak. His voice was hoarse from crying.

You turned your head away, because you couldn't take it seeing him that way. But the fact that he hurted you with his choice of words, was something that made you very upset.

"I'm so so so freaking sorry my love. I messed up so badly and I know saying sorry won't change the fact that I hurt you. But I want you to know that you mean the whole world to me." He voice was shaking his fingers reached to touch you. He needed to feel you so badly.

You looked at him and listened carefully to what he had to say.

Once he saw your eyes beautiful eyes looking at him, he felt so relieved. He missed you so much.

"Please baby, please forgive me. I know I'm in no place to even ask that after the way I spoke to you, but I can't take this anymore. Being this close to uu and not having you pains me. It pains me so damn much." He felt his eyes sting with tears.

You cold expression turned to a sad one, and you felt like hugging him so tight, but you were still unsure of what to do now.

Satoru's head dropped to the floor and he rubbed his eyes trying to not let anymore tears roll down.

"Oh Toru." You whispered. At the sound, Saotru looked at you, woth widen eyes.

"Baby, I- it pained me so much seeing you so upset and cold. Remember when we promised that we will be each other's anchors, and that we'll talk about anything that is bothering us? Well, you didn't do it. You just let your anger speak for you. And it was messed up."

You rested your right hand, on his softly.

"But I love you too. And this will never change. But please, mext time just talk to me ok? Of course there will be days that something will upset us and ruin our moods, but at the end day, all that matters is that we're each other's home." You rubbed his cheek softly, wiping his tears away.

"Can I please hug you?" He asked with a low voice.

"Of course baby." You moved first and he caught you in his arms fast. He felt alive again. And so did you. That was all you needed.

"Now, how about we watch my series and eat something to cheer us up hm?" You asked smiling, and leaned to leave a soft kiss on his lips. When you tried to pull away, he grabbed your face and kissed you more. And harder.

Well now you know that you won't be watching anything.

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Here's a new Gojo post caused missed writing something with him!!

Thank you for reading ♡♡

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