#and im so pumped for next season

[guhroovi]

Very messy doodle of the boys. I'm just thriving with them in the latest chapters tbh.

Perhaps will do something with this later but here it is for now

[moon-song-and-star]

Yeah!! Orpheus is Dream's son- oh wait do you think we'll get dbda cameos when we meet Orpheus in Sandman season 2?? God I can't wait this shit's gonna be so cool

So i'm sure a lot of people who've read the comics more recently compared to me (most of the ones i read were so many years ago i don't really remember much) would know this already, but i was reading up about the endless to refresh my memory and i had completely forgotten this:

(this is despair's page)

When we say everything is a clue and nothing is an accident we really mean EVERYTHING. I CAN'T BELIEVE i forgot that in this universe orpheus was related to despair and yes it IS that orpheus. I knew that Edwin's meeting with dispair was more then it may have seemed in the moment, that will inevitably come up again so well if i thought i needed a new season before OH MY GOD do i need it now

[chainestiche]

slowly but surely filling the gaps in my closet i hate having a day job but the 💸cash money💸 is absolutely worth it

[jolalibrary]

in my room

javier peña x f!reader | masterlist

summary: Because it’s an exchange, a two-way thing. He doesn’t tell you he likes your hair and you don’t tell him you fuck him so you don’t think.

wordcount: 6.2k (im so sorry, this was meant to be short)

warnings: explicit. smut + angst. colleagues who fuck for stress relief. grumpy-ish javi. file room shenanigans. unprotected p in v. oral!f receiving, mention of m!receiving. javi’s hand being a necklace. cum eating (by Javi), mild rough sex? mentions of grief (due to canon-compliant death), season two compliant/spoilers for season two. javi has a filthy mouth. joetics (jo and her poetic nature, credit to @/goodwithcheese for the name), no use of y/n but javi calls you princesa/baby.

an: dedicated to javi-edit-anon, hope you're doing okay.

It begins swarmed in grief.

A chest full of conflicting emotions, fingers itching for another smoke. It is all put into motion by the same person who became the catalyst—the match to the flame, the cause of the inferno.

He doesn’t usually wander around the building. But, today was a lot of firsts. Jaw clenched. Fingers digging into his palm at the memory, the realisation—the fucking play-by-play—of how he’d been played, fucked over, used.

Now, he’s left riddled with the knowledge that he’d lost a friend a few hours ago because of something he did. The understanding of it rusting in his stomach, right next door to the place disgrace is building a home where his gut had been.

He’s not thinking, not seeking—a desperation to run and hide, yet has nowhere to go.

And then he comes across you.

Finds you in the hallway like you were sent to save him. To pull him out of the water, pump the liquid from his lungs and smother the flames from burning his skin.

The two of you having stopped, paused in your travels.

Just two isolated shadows in the middle of the corridor—an invisible line being drawn, a noticeable white mark—backlit by sorrow and emptiness.

You don’t tear your eyes from him. Stubborn, even on your loss. Purposefully, intentionally, holding his gaze across the empty corridor.

Usually, you're so put together he feels contempt at how you seem unfazed at being surrounded by the shit they all have to do daily. But now, you look every bit as undone as him—shirt untucked, sadness stitched into your usually tight, rigid frame.

The only thing similar is the way you look at him, just like you did when the hours ticked on during those late nights you were forced to work together.

Files opened, documents scoured. Two eyes fairing better than one in their search. The toe of your shoe tapping against his desk, your fingers circling the rim of your mug full of coffee (never liquor, only coffee), pen clicking and clicking—

It had been Carrillo who had paired the two of you. Handing him a task, a surname—one Javi hadn’t heard—and the option of an extra pair of hands: you’ll see she’s good, and we don’t want her poached.

Then, he’d laid eyes on you.

You who’d he’d seen around, but never the chance to talk to. Had no reason to. You forever moved in any direction but the one he was heading in whenever he came into sight. That had been well over a month ago, weeks now.

In that time, he learnt your snark, your laugh—the way you take your coffee and your petulance for sugar after 8 pm—all proper in how you handle yourself, like royalty.

It’s then he learned that you hated being called princesa. Lips curling when it dripped from his lips, back straightening—all close to fracturing, snapping. So naturally, he called it you more.

It became—like the rest of it—a habit. He dropped the name as easily as he began pushing some of his shit to the side for you, so you had a space, a small corner of his desk you could commandeer when you joined him.

It didn’t mean anything. A thing be recited, thought to himself as he buried himself inside Gabriela—who looked nothing like you.

Then, a week ago, you were already there before he got back. The soles of his shoes had come to a standstill at the top of the steps, staring at the back of you—taking you in.

There was no need to see your face, Javi knew that you knew he was there. Not saying a thing when he seated himself down, the same way he didn’t with each tap of your shoes’ toe against the metal frame and you bit the end of your pen. He’d decided weeks ago, when you wore a shirt you felt the need to undo two buttons off, that if you weren’t paired with him to torture him, he wasn’t sure what else you were sitting next to him to test him for. But he’d find out, work it out.

Then you cracked it—found it, the anomaly, the name, a connection. A semblance of something in a sea of shit. A straw to grasp, to pull—your lips, likely stained from coffee and ink, twisting into a grin, one he couldn’t help but admire.

“¿Cómo?”

Pulling a face, he had only shrugged, feeling you watch him, answering with a, “You’re good.”

“You just realised? You just notice I got tits, too?”

Leaning back in his chair, he shifts his jaw to the side. Watching you stack papers before holding his stare, letting you see him flick his eyes from yours to your lips. Suddenly all unsure how to even begin telling you that he’d noticed you—had done so since they were all forced into this fucking building.

But you’d caught him, snapped him in plain sight with those beautiful eyes of yours. “Resorting to kissing colleagues now. Fucking whores not doing it for you, Peña?”

He had smirked, wider, but it had been tough. Leaning forward, he traced his bottom lip with his thumb. “You heard about that.”

Nodding, you’d smiled—cockily, full of something other than kindness. “Half the women will be lining up if they think you have free time.”

“But not you?”

Then, you’d stood, head tilted, files in the neatest pile compared to the rest of his desk, as you rolled your lips. “No. Not me. Goodnight, Peña.”

That exchange had been before things had gone to shit.

Before his cock had undone it all, left several people dead and the person who’d paired you together, gone. Taken—leaving a widow and children without a father.

Snorting, he focuses on clearing his throat as he replays it all. How much of a fever dream it all feels, his other hand pinching his thigh as he stares at you studying him, not scurrying off like he half expects.

And the fact you don’t makes his fingers itch at his side.

A part of him, suddenly stronger than all other parts, battles to move closer to you—like he needs to see what your mouth feels like on his. Like he’s been without his fill. It’s why even as much as he wants you to close the gap, he doesn’t move. Wants you to have an out—an escape.

A chance to choose whether you want to wake up with regret. Because even he knows sleeping with him ends in two ways, and shame is usually one of them.

“You should go inside your room.”

But of course you don’t. Instead, it’s the soles of your shoes on the floor that get louder, closer.

“Do you want me to, Peña?”

It’s building, rising. His eyes trailing up and down you, mouth chewing his tongue as he gets another taste of liquor, as he finally lets his gaze land back on yours.

“You want me to walk away from you?”

No. It’s final. Gruff. More spat out than said—laced with failure and remorse—but you hear him. Loud and fucking clear.

So much so, your lips twist up, smirking more devilish than he knows what to do with. “Good.”

It’s quick—you’re quick. Yanking him close as he forces you flush against him. His mouth crashes, steals and takes as his lips sear themselves to yours. And he learns, quickly, you’re not soft, but biting.

You are all jagged sweetness that throws a curve ball in how he knows how to handle this. You. Your lips taste of sadness, tears and liquor, all cheap—so very unlike what he imagines for you—and you make a knot tighten in his core as your palm flattens over his hardening cock in his jeans.

“You tested?” he asks, hand cupping your jaw, tilting your eyes up, pulse racing against his wrist—skin warm, scorching.

“Are you!?” you spit, and he almost snorts until your fingers knot in the base of his hair, pulling, likely hoping it hurts.

And it does.

Makes him groan—but he’s quick to smother it in the back of his throat. Flatten it, hide and conceal. Getting his answer for an exchange of your own.

“We should go inside my room,” you say in response to him, pulling down on him, Javi finding he bends with far too much ease as his ear finds itself close to your lips, “I’m not quiet when I’m enjoying myself.”

Twisting you, he flattens your back to his chest, rough, hearing you breathlessly laugh. “You know what you’re doing, baby, huh?”

And you’re silent, brain whirring as he begins walking you, till your chest is almost against your door.

Open it, he whispers, watching your hand dig for the key, his mouth latching to your neck, swirling a circle on your skin, tasting lingering perfume and sweat as he grips your waist.

“Last chance.”

He hears you laugh, low, buried somewhere in your throat just as the door unlocks, all loud, cutting through the silence other than both of your racing breaths. It’s why, he supposes, his words echo in his stare as you turn your head. Rolling your lips. It's all so reminiscent of the stare you gave him at the foot of his desk—but this time, you collide your mouth with his.

Not leaving—not doing anything except turning in the space between your door and him. Those nails, the ones that tapped now scrape across his hair, burying, carding, as you lightly pull on strands—forcing a groan to bury itself in your throat, find a new home, live there.

It's quick, practically animalistic the way he sheds your layers—baring you, finding (unsurprising) that even in misery you still match. His fingers run over it on your hip, rolling his lips, the tip of his tongue swiping across as he admires, as he steals a second to commit you to his mind.

Because he’s not sure if he’ll ever get to again.

“Last chance,” you echo.

Repeating his words, using them against him. Flicking the fabric against your skin, he snorts and he flips you. Sharply telling you to get on your bed, all-fours—bend over, hermosa.

“This how you pictured it at your desk?”

He barely registers your words until he’s behind you, bare, hand sliding between your thighs as he smirks at the noise you make. How you take him, all the way up to his knuckles—his free hand stroking himself to the in and out his other hand sets, desperation mixing with a need to forget—for a moment peace from thinking, existing, being.

And you’re drenched. Practically desperate. Hips moving with his movements and strokes, the air tinged with the littlest whimpers before replacing his fingers with the head of his cock, dragging it, skating it spitefully over your slick folds.

That’s when it meets his ears, those distinct words—ones he doesn’t know will haunt him just yet—I want to feel you inside me, Peña.

It unlocks something—floods him. Taking in a breath before he glides in, burying himself in you, right to the hilt, going deep.

He revels in your tightness. The way you gasp at the feel of him—fingers digging, scrunching them into your sheets, before he wrenches you up off your hands, needing your back flush with his—a move he realises, painstakingly, he’s done before.

Softening his palm anchored on your hip, lips pressing to your jaw—the other hand busy feeling, enjoying, basking in how you swallow against his palm on your neck.

“You like that, princesa?”

You moan as his hips snap, taking him so well, so perfectly—a thing he tells you, a rush of good girl, good princesa taking me like this. And he expects a bite, a flurry of insults—an exchange that would mean this would shift from stress relief to hate fucking.

But it never arrives. Instead, it’s a barrage of chants, all yes, please, yes, painting the shitty room—giving the crumbling paint something to be disgusted at, other than its own despair. The metal legs of the bed squeal against the floor, the headboard hammering, and cluttering, leaving a mess of years of repainting along the cheap flooring.

“Take me so well. Y’know that?”

Fingers just above your collarbone, pressing, feeling your head resting on his shoulder, eyes seeking his, determined to locate them and take something from him for it. He lets you. Briefly, just enough.

“Harder, Peña,” you hiss, shoving it out through clenched teeth, blinking, breaking the eye line.

“Javi,” he hisses deep into your ear, hand sliding down between your thighs—above where the two of you are joined.

Thumb expertly swirling, tracing the letters of his name against your throbbing clit—the sound of his cock fucking into you growing louder, sloppier. Arm thrown around your waist, feeling the way your skin is sheened in sweat, practically a mess from head to fucking toe, all because of him. Crown slid, shattered in a thousand parts across the floor, because of him.

A realisation that almost nears him to the edge, to bursting, to emptying inside your perfect fucking pussy and stuffing you full of him.

Teeth gritted together, jaw tight as he peers at the place your bodies join—watching, in admiration, as you take him, suck him in, barely let him able to leave your tight pussy as your heart hammers against his forearm.

“When I’m doing this to you,” he grunts, teeth pinching at your ear, your hand gripping his wrist—thumb still swirling, the A and V being a favourite from the way you clench around him tighter, and tighter, “You call me Javi.”

It undoes you. It ripples and then bursts through you—clenching all around him, tightening, squeezing him until his vision blurs and your name curls somewhere on his tongue, all set to be spat, spoken, even fucking whispered. Somehow able to swallow it when it unfurls through him, when it shoots up his spine and surges through every nerve and muscle.

The two of you collapsing against the shitty mattress, the squealing bed, as you turn in his grasp—lips finding his, burying words against him, only soft murmurs finding his ears.

He’s hard to avoid.

More so, when a part of you wishes to be a puzzle—a thing he cannot crack. Something that would take time to understand and figure out. Because then you’d be interesting, layered, something that could matter.

All of which, you suspect he knows when he kisses you after having his face buried before your thighs, tongue saturated in you, now licking into your mouth.

There’s something truthful in it, in the way his palm cups your entire jaw and chin, holding you, keeping you rooted for a few moments before you taste yourself on his tongue and can take note of what he’s done to you. For you.

Except, you don’t meet his eyes. Somehow fearful the space between your thighs has spilled all your secrets to him. Because he’s a connoisseur, likely gifted in being able to decipher the text on your inner walls. Hooked nose dragging along your slick core before coming up for air and seeing how ordinary you were, how boring, how average. He’s likely traced the pads of his fingers over the etchings of all the things that haunt your mind, the things that thrum and go bump in the fucking night.

But he comes back. Again, and again.

And you can't understand why.

You don’t ask either. Instead, you bury any of that against his tongue, and when it’s desperate to come out, a wish to ask him, you instead choose with fluttering lashes and parted lips if you can suck his cock. If he can fuck your throat, if he can stuff you full in one end before the other—

Words can’t escape if your tongue is occupied.

A thing harder to do in the day-to-day. As things around the place return to normal—other priorities sweep over and make people forget their sadness.

It’s why you’re not avoiding him, but you haven’t sought him out.

Too afraid of what you’ll confess when you’re not on your knees. A simple softening of his brown eyes almost forces words to rip up your throat and colour the air.

It won’t do any good. No words will. Not after waking again entangled in an empty sheet. All evidence of his presence gone except the littering of bruises on your hips and thighs and the mess between your legs.

It’s easier, less complicated to keep it like this—a thing you tell yourself as you brush your teeth and wash the leftover tang of him from your mouth.

Stress release, an undoing, an antidote to sadness and a bandage that allows you a moment to heal. You don’t judge him, because he doesn’t judge you either—not the first time, the second or the tenth. Because like recognises like—eyes deciphering how you’re not that different from him.

On the surface, you may pretend to be. Layer secrets and annoyances on top of the other, until it slips into something perfect—a mask, one that any of them can’t peer through and see that you see them all. Because working here is more than hard, it’s more than difficult and often rough.

It’s mornings with your forehead resting on your door wondering if you have it in you and moments alone in dark corners silently wiping away tears.

Most people don’t see your brain, your skills all too quickly forgotten, discarded on the same bit of paper the rest of your history lived when you approached for the role.

You reckon he sees you.

Not because you hoped for it—or because of some teenage fantasy. But, because of the way he looked that night at his desk. Not surprised, but confused as to why you were mainly pushing paper, why you weren’t based where he was, doing what he does. All questions you’ve asked yourself late at night, when your mind doesn’t stop ticking, stop whirring.

You suspect he ticks too. Another thing in common.

While he may have begun his dalliances to gain words, secrets, and stories, you have come to recognise it’s more than that. You know he knows all the names of them—likely lingers in their room. Offering them more than a good time and some money, but something he seeks from them too—companionship, a moment where he’s not DEA and rather something akin to a lover.

From the way he holds himself, Javi doesn’t think he shares that information. But it rolls from him in constant waves when he lights another smoke and drowns his throat in whatever is in his mug. He likes to think he’s effortless and austere, all too weighed down, while being complex, brilliant and wonderful.

It’s why you had wanted to fuck him. Why you had fucked him.

Because, objectively, he is beautiful. All soft in places and firm in others; he has scorching eyes and can offer searing touches. But, under all of that is what made heat blossom up your spine and commanded your thighs to press together for relief.

The way he thinks. The way he shifts his jaw from side to side and traces his finger down the length of his nose. It’s the way he holds himself when he doesn’t have to hold himself at all that makes you want him.

As it makes you feel less alone.

Less like an oddity in how you need to carve your nails into something. Your palm, other people’s flesh; wood, your sheets. All of it just so you become grounded, so there was pain, so there were feelings, so you didn’t float off or drown in a sea of mistakes, regrets and guilt.

It was a combination of both that floating and drowning as to why it happened that first time.

It had been a simultaneous tangling of limbs, a battle, a war both of you attempted to claim—a fight with your mouths, thighs, hands, tongues and bodies. Only stopped when you were both slick with sweat, the tops of your thighs coated with him and your breaths laboured. Your ear to his chest, hearing it—the way he beats, the way he lives. How blood rushes through him, all alive, real, not a fabrication.

Now, though, it’s different.

The grief is lessoned, yet you still find yourself pretending it's as rife as that first night.

A compromise, an opportunity to pretend that’s the reason the two of you do this. When in truth, the reason you don’t judge him, is because you too use sex to feel something. Needed it to claim something, prove something to yourself—that you’re desirable, attractive and fucking wanted. That you’re more than a sharp tongue and a brilliant mind, more than compliments through your way that never land—

That you’re worthy of being fucked to the point you cannot walk straight.

And, he does that so well, twists you, bends you—makes your ears ring with how attractive you are, how good you are, how perfect. A sin that rages a storm in his dreams and a thought he can’t silence.

So you avoid him. Fearful that you no longer wish to feel worthy of being fucked, but be worthy of being fucked by him.

And then he finds you instead.

Palm shoving open the file room door, all loud, like an announcement, before he lets it click into place. Allowing the air to tighten, to squeeze—all so thickening—before he’s charging, so much so the breath is knocked from your lungs with far too much ease when he flattens your back to the wall. The dust blowing from the shelves next to you from the sudden movement, the room quaking, shaking and fucking trembling as his brown eyes flick from one eye to the next.

As though he’s seeking something out.

Some truth, perhaps? A reason, a rhyme.

He splays his fingers across your hip, a hiss trying to escape from your pursed lips as your body threatens to betray you—wishing to curl into him, feel him flush, all warm and easy to escape to. Then, the other finds a home on the wall beside your head, no place to move to, to go—not that you fucking want to.

“I don’t fuck in file rooms, Peña.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. All well-versed, practically a library of quick retorts. “Where do you fuck then? Just your room?”

Surrounded by him, in all the ways that could torture. Nose smothered in the scent that is unabashedly him; eyes unable to look anywhere but him. Slowly, bothersomely, he begins to easily unpick the carefully placed resolve, practically cracking through like it was made of paper and not woven each night as you attempt to stop thinking about him.

Sometimes, it’s easier to think about him.

To snake your hand inside your underwear and ride your fingers with how much you loathe how good he feels. His name is both a curse and a fucking blessing on the tip of your tongue when you come—heat licking up your spine, washing you in something you suspect should be a shame.

But it never is.

Because it’s an exchange, a two-way thing. He doesn’t tell you he likes your hair and you don’t tell him you fuck him so you don’t think.

Instead, you leave that, fold it up, and make it as small as it can be, before you undress for him. Then you fixate on his eyes, on the darkness, the way his pupils swallow the colour you know all the flecks off. You stare, because you hope to see yourself in them—an outline, a shadow, evidence of living, remaining, not chipped away until you’re just stiff work attire and coffee. Something, anything—

Especially when you’re bare. When he stares at you like you’ve been carved for him, by him. When he makes you feel weightless and also like you are never allowed to be anywhere but right here.

It’s an illusion though. A trick of your mind—a delusion where want, need and hope all blend into a concoction that is sold in pink bottles and smells like fruit.

Lifting your chin, you want to chill your eyes and harden your expression. Neither happens.

You’re thrown from your axis, deep brown managing to shroud you, make your mind empty, clear.

“We don’t have to fuck,” he continues, letting it slide from his tongue—slither out, practically hissing. “There’s plenty of ways I can make you moan.”

“I’m sure there is. You’ve paid for the practice, after all.”

His chuckle does nothing to stem the fire—the one out of control somewhere in the pit of your stomach. Clothes suddenly uncomfortable on your skin, your earlier standpoint waning, thinning to the point of transparency.

“Yeah, but I bet you’ve been getting off to thoughts of me—us. How fucking good we are,” he retorts.

Your face blanks, and you hope it’s unreadable.

Because you already have witnessed how skilful he is. Had the unfortunate pleasure of seeing him hold his desk phone since, how he grips his gun, marvelling at the memory of how his fingers feel inside of you, both long and thick. How they engulf yours, practically able to grasp both your wrists in his one hand if he wishes.

But, from the glint in his eye, he’s seen you. Already solved you—cracked you.

“You only had to ask, princesa. Would never leave you wanting.”

You snarl. And it’s that which forces your lips to crash against his, steal more lines from his tongue and tease his mind. Ridding him for once, shaking him empty as your hands clutch the sides of his cheeks. Thankful, more than you care to fucking admit, that his tongue slides past your lips, moves past the back of your teeth—accompanied, and wrapped with it, a groan that vibrates down to your oesophagus.

Bodies pressed together, his mouth slanting over yours as though he’s been wishing to do this for as long as you have. Dizzying, heart-stopping—that’s what kissing him feels like. That’s what indulging feels like.

“I don’t like you.”

Smirking, he runs it over your swollen lips, traces his confidence over your mouth. “Your pussy does though.”

His hand moves, snakes between the two of you—fingers proficient, unwavering from their mission—undoing your trousers, zip sliding down, cutting between the silence as your mouths part, lips ghosting, breaths twisting together in the small gap.

The space is filled with a moan when his hand slides inside your underwear, fingers brushing the delicate nerves that make his name illuminate in your head like it’s been spelt out in light—in candles.

“See? Soaked. Drenched, aren’t you, princesa?”

Your head spins, legs weaken. Body betraying you as it rocks against his movements, curling, craving—desperate and hungry. Because you knew it would be good, that he’d be good. There’s no smoke without fire, and there’d be no discussion over shitty baked cake and decent coffee about his skills if he weren’t best-in-class.

“So fuckin’ needy for me, aren’t you?”

It’s there, ebbing on your tongue, yes, yes yes.

And fuck, you didn’t have him down to be like this. To have you at his mercy, practically dumbfounded, his name and a yes the only things you know, think or say. It falls, rolling from your tongue before his lips busy yours. Kissing you as if he’s starved, as if he wishes to coat his tongue in the way you moan against him—his hand getting slicker, coated in your faux hatred and practised indifference that holds no weight now.

Because you want him. Would gladly let him spin you around and, press your face against a case file box and kick your legs apart. You’d beg for it, want him to hold your hands behind your back as he spears his cock in and out of you, not giving a single fuck that someone could come in—

“Stop thinkin’ about what I could do to you, and more what I am doing to you.”

His eyes on you, blown, full of lust and shimmering with a desire that embeds into your skin until it reaches a whole new temperature. Your tongue is heavy and thick, as your throat struggles to swallow.

If anything, it proves he can listen—just to what he wants. And apparently, that is you. Making it flicker, it suddenly impending, slamming itself onto the track with a focus on its station.

“Think y'like being naughty and letting me do this here.”

Your nerves ablaze, legs quaking as your trousers slide a little further past your knee, pooling at your ankles—his breath dancing across your neck and little hairs.

In vengeance, you nip at his lips, charming kisses that leave him chasing—breaths tangling, teeth biting your bottom lip as you tilt your head. But, he’s resilient, unwavering, hand all but burning inside your underwear, fingers rough, middle and trigger finger calloused and pressed against your swollen nerves as you dig your toes into your shoes so you don’t unravel.

So he doesn’t get to have this so easily.

He knows.

You know he does. Likely knows your brain is firing, tension building, muscles all but quaking in faux-determination. Just barely present to hear what he whispers, but you know it pushes you over.

Gently guides you over the edge as your hips still, throat hoarse as it whispers moans, falling, descending from you as you quickly lose control. He makes you feel alive, full of electricity—blood pumping in your ears as he tastes the way you moan his name. Waves hammering against you, suddenly needing to crash, and they do, they do—

“Fuck, I love making you come.”

His chest rising and falling, pebbled sweat on his brow as he retracts his hand, offers a finger to you—finding you wrap your mouth around it, basking in how he says you’re his good girl.

You suppose that’s why he ends up at your base door past midnight—a silent exchange, a non-verbal promise.

Him and you. You and him.

A brown bag in hand; corruption and a need to not sleep present in his eyes. Drinking you in, lingering his eyes up and down your frame—a sheet clutched against your chest.

You suspect he knows that under this thin fabric, its lace, all ready to be snapped, thrown into some corner, the places they sat covering replaced by the wet expanse of his mouth.

It’s why you let him in, mouth conjoining to his, hearing the door slam behind him as you ruck the leather from his shoulders, down his arms, floor.

“He estado pensando en ti toda la noche.”

A part of you knew he’d come—sensing it. Dressing for the occasion, sliding the lace into place.

Because you know him as much as he understands you.

It’s why you smile, if only to yourself, when he spreads your thighs, coats his cock in your want, and sinks deep into you, rectifying all that is wrong, groaning into your neck as you feel thankful for being full again.

He shouldn’t think you’re a vision, but he does.

Javi learned it quickly, but ignored it at a speed faster than that. Not wanting to be in awe, not wanting to allow himself the chance to think of himself worthy of it.

Except, he’s forever salivating for more of you—desperate for another chance to taste, to hear how your whimpers sound, feel the way your fingers card through his hair, gripping, twisting, pulling.

If someone asked him, he’d confess it on his knees that it’s all he’s thought about. The way your nails feel, how your skin feels. The noises—fuck, the noises you make—and the way your eyes glisten, shimmer, bloom and explode with fucking desire.

“Javier…”

I know, he soothes. The sheet ripped from between the of you, discarded, removed from play as your fingers work his buttons open—more and more skin appearing until he can feel the warmth of your body, your tits against him, nipples peaked as the back of your legs meets the bed.

He’s surprised at the ease you fold for him. Dragging him down, and then you’re under him. Obedient, waiting, needy. He knows it. You know it.

Just like it’s probably obvious that you make him want. That he’s ticking, watching you, unable to tear his eyes away, more so since the other night. Your face close, eyes on the file, cogs turning, brain firing on all cylinders—and when you’d slid your eyes over, he hadn’t been able to not drop his sight to your lips.

The same way he suspects you hadn’t been able to fight doing the same yourself.

It’s why he fucks you with an increased pace, skin slapping, moans more deranged than usual. The drenched fabric between your legs pushed to the side as he drags moan from your lips, wringing them out, stuffing them into some cabinet in his mind that he only opens when he can’t have this, you, writhing, squirming as he fills you to the brim, stuffs you.

“Gotta taste you.” His tongue slides a line down your breastbone, eyes on you, fixated, waiting. “Can I?”

He’s fucking grateful that you nod. Moving, sinking to his knees on the hard floor of your base room—cock hard, dripping, all but throbbing and practically fucking angry. Fingers teasing the fabric, his mouth latching, lace and the taste of him and your desire singeing on his tongue.

And you’re heavenly—a rolling thought which appears as he licks, hearing you react, capturing it all, pocketing it.

Waiting, and waiting, until he feels it—you carding your nails through his hair, tracing lines you likely already suspect others have walked themselves. He wonders if you’re thinking it must be nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary for him, except it was, is.

Because it’s you, they were your fingers—your nails. The ones that type up his reports these days because he can’t type for shit, now typing a story into his scalp, leaving a tale for him to decipher when he tried to sleep later.

He doesn’t look up, too fearful of the sight that he’ll find and never be able to rid of. He keeps his head buried between your thighs, focused, panties still hooked on one thigh, hanging there, pointless and occasionally catching on his palm as he grasps and squeezes your leg. All focused, moving his tongue, working it on you, in you, as though attempting to sort out a kink in the chain—attempting to unravel you in the same way he has done others.

Except, Javi learns, you’re not like them. You’re not something linear, you’re not easy to understand, and there’s no transaction at the end. You’re more than a concept, more than a thing he can undo and figure out just with his tongue, but fuck, he’s sure you would let him try—or at least, he hoped you would.

Right now, he’s enamoured with a task that he finds more rewarding than asking: making you come.

Tongue sinking in, tasting you, coating all of his mouth that he can with you as your hips buck into his face. Nails all perfectly manicured and in a lighter shade than when it was wrapped around his cock last week, drag through his hair. The air punctured with his name—all Javi and Javier’s, not Peña’s and Putas.

He wonders as he spells it on your bundle of nerves, whether you feel it too. This thing—this pulsating, breathing, existing thing that is there all on its own.

A click of his jaw when you laugh at someone else; a flex of his fingers when he finds you in the heart of danger.

Javi reflects—thinks.

But then it goes, fades from mind like dust when you tug on him to move closer, so close your thighs are trembling—likely dangling on the edge of release.

“Need your cock, Javi.”

He doesn’t think about feelings, emotions or the flame he carries for you again—not until you’ve left, leaving him alone, sated, the memory and scent of you being all he has.

The base of his palm presses against his forehead, kneading, cigarette billowing in his other hand because it’s all a fucking mess. From the fact that the fantasy has turned into a reality; the dream has coloured itself until it has become true.

He knew this was real, not concocted by some blackened part of his imagination looking for an escape because you say his name more sweetly than you do in his reverie.

It’s a secret—not known, a thing kept unseen. His walls and sheets know, but not a living soul. And he suddenly wants to change that. Says so much as he moans that you’re mine.

Eyes widening as they stare down at him, hands poised on his chest, hips steadying as you remain seated—filled with him, tits slowly not bouncing.

So he repeats it, “You’re mine.”

No question, no ask.

Watching you swallow, painted in yellow-light which makes the sweat shimmer like glitter.

Rolling your hips, you hold his gaze, consider it, likely question your own goddamn sanity. But then you say it:

“Yours, Peña. I’m yours.”

And he knows he liked it. More than he’ll ever admit. Coming so hard and so quick inside of you once your mouth has twisted into an O and your nails have branded lines into his chest. Hearing it, over and over as he spills into you, relishes in it.

It’s only after, when Javi runs his knuckles along the underside of his jaw, thoughts populating, appearing and popping like balloons, he realises he doesn’t just like it.

It’s more than that.

And that’s why, more than he likely should, he wished he’d asked you to stay. To remain beside him. Let him hold you and make your morning a little better.

Javi could ask. Could half-dress and hammer his fist on your door.

But he doesn’t.

There’s always next time, though.

an: grins wickedly, thought i'd try something new.

[ln4swiftie]

Snowfall

💌 lando norris x reader

💌 hot tub ski trip smut wc: 0.9k

💌 Warnings: smut (p in v), unprotected sex (DONT DO THAT!!!), swearing

💌 author note: hi this is my first ever fic so please be nice to me !! enjoy lovelies <3

The cold winter night surrounded your upper body as you’re sat in the hot tub at the cabin in the mountains you rented along with your boyfriend, Lando and a couple other friends. The formula one season starts soon and you all wanted to spend some time together before you and Lando are in a different part of the world every other week. 

You came out to the hot tub after dinner to wind down since you’ve been skiing all day and the jets work wonders on your muscles. You rest your head on the tub looking up at the ski and breathing in the cool air from the snow sat on the trees isolating the cabin. you shook out of your thoughts to the sound of the door latching and turn your head to see your boyfriend in nothing but his swim trunks and the dark green crocs you bought him for Christmas. 

“Hi my love!” he smiled as he shrugged his crocs off and placed his towel right next to yours on the lawn chair slightly covered in snow. “Did you leave our friends in there all alone?” you teased as he climbed into the hot tub and settled next to you. “Not entirely, Max and P were cleaning the kitchen from dinner so I'm sure they’ll find something to do.” he said while his hand moved to wrap around your shoulders. He kissed your cheek “I haven't seen you all day, how were the slopes?”

“They were okay, boring without you though.” Lando had meetings about the upcoming season so he couldn’t join you and your friends. “Third wheeling is hard.” you whine while lying your head to his shoulder. 

He laughed “well now we know how Max felt for 2 years” he pulled you into his lap “we weren’t very subtle babe” he mutters while his hands find your hips and eventually make their way to your ass. He starts kissing your neck and you can feel himself growing underneath you. 

“wow you really missed me huh?” you tease as your hands find themselves tangled in his curls. “you know it.” is all he says before your lips smash against his. 

In minutes your kiss becomes very heated and soon Lando is catching your moans in his mouth trying not to disturb your friends who’s window is looking out to the hot tub. Lando’s sure that they are doing the same thing as you two but the thought of his best friend catching him like this makes him want to throw up. The second your lips touch his neck his worry fizzles away out of existence and his focus shifts solely on you. 

A quiet whimper leaves his mouth as you find his sweet spot on his neck. “Fuck, baby. ” He mumbles, moving his hands from your waist to come in-between you. He gently moves your bathing suit bottoms to the side and slides a finger through your folds. He quickly glances at you with lust in his eyes, asking for permission, you nod “use your words, love” your head falls to his shoulder in anticipation. 

“Please Lan” you practically moan. Without hesitation he pushes two fingers into you and slowly pumps. moans fall from your mouth as he curls his fingers hitting the spot that makes you see stars. Fuck Lando loves the sounds you make when he’s inside you. His hard cock is begging to be let free from his trunks as he feels your contract around his fingers. He moves his thumb to rub your clit as your breathing gets heavier. “Lan Im so close” you whimper into his shoulder and begin to lightly kiss it, digging your nails into his biceps. 

“I know baby, I know” he speeds up his movements bringing you to your high and finishing on his fingers. You grab his face pulling him in for a kiss causing him to whimper in surprise, bucking his hips into your core to find release for himself. You tug on his swim trunks releasing his cock and start to stroke it. Lando throws his head back with a groan “I need you..” he moans and that’s all he needs to say for you to sink onto him. Both your jaws fall slack as you adjust to the size of him. “holy fuck” you mumble as you begin to rock your hips back and forth. 

Lando is kissing you like it's the last thing he’ll ever get to do “I'm close baby” he says into your lips causing you to increase the pace of your rocking. it's not long before you reach your second high and his cum fills you up, moans fall from both of your lips. Your head falls to his shoulder as you both catch your breath. Lando grabs your chin and makes you look at him “love you” he simply states and places a kiss on your forehead. “Love you too, can we go make hot chocolate?” you ask with an innocent giggle “Of course my love” he smiles, helping you out of the hot tub and wraps you in your towel before wrapping his own around his waist. You two quickly change into hoodies and sweatpants, you choosing to wear one of Lando's quadrant hoodies from his suitcase before heading to the kitchen to make your cups of hot chocolate and sit by the fireplace while you drift off to sleep in Lando’s arms while watching your favourite Christmas movie, Elf. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Be nice to me this is my first ever fic, idk if ill write more i probably will because i had fun writing this

[kombuuuu]

miles deflecting is so GOOD he makes me ILL!!!!!! i love ur writing <3 do u think we cld have like a short continuation 4 it?

Deflecting on you.

42!Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

“Would you hurt me?” “Never again.”

continuation to this C:

im infecting people with the 42!Miles propaganda cough cough 🗣️ ly2 pookie (also this is definitely not short)

A few days had passed now, and Miles had stayed his previous level of civil, bordering caring, with you.

He wasn’t glad with how easy he had let the two other kids get off. But when they were reduced to cowering forms in darkened corners whenever he was around, it brought a pinch of justice, pride to his chest. Although, James had a rather decent punishment, in his opinion.

Word had gone around that he’d gone insane, smashed his head against a desk in an old , deserted classroom until he’d passed out. Mangled his own skull, intended to stab someone, but couldn’t get up from the damage to his own self.

A tip to the cops surveying the scene, and the rumour was spread a little wider.

He had been wary with you, from the moment you both sat staring at the city life below you, in his bed.

In his room, his house with his Ma just outside. The domesticity of the moment making the ache in his lungs suffocate his heart. Squeezing and pumping out as much blood as it could, heart rate trying to keep up with the lack of air.

He’d thought back to it too often in the mere days since occurrence for him to simply brush it off, but he sure tried.

—

He tapped the rubber of his pencil along his desk, staring at the page below him. The words being said had been drowned out by his racing mind, something he fully knows would get him in trouble eventually for “lack of effort”. But it was maths, there wasn’t a single thing being told that he didn’t already know.

What had his current attention, was the faint sketch of you on his gridded paper. He hadn’t meant to draw it, he’d just—, spaces out and it was there when he snapped back.

Now he was at a standstill with himself, use the currently tapping eraser to get rid of the drawing, or live with the faint lines hidden between pages. It was obvious, rub it out. But the thing, the most difficult aspect—,

—Was how utterly gorgeous the drawing was.

How your hair framed the page, the shape of your eyes being shaded in led. The soft look you’d given him that night being practically pulled from his mind and placed on the cheap paper. He’d recreated it perfectly, he could feel the apprehension, the uncertainty.

But despite how bitter those words sounded, uncertainty was still consideration.

You were considering him. Not as an enemy, or a nuisance — as a stranger.

You can get to know a stranger.

You can get to know him.

Miles closed his eyes and groaned under his breath, rolling eyes at the hope rising in the back of his neck.

He flicked to the next page, promising to never open to it again.

If it ended up cut out of his book, folded neatly and stuffed in the hidden latch of his desk drawer, no one but him would know.

—

You hadn’t forgive him, of course you hadn’t — you’re not that naïve.

He hurt you, cause you an entire season of torment, sleepless night and stress filled days.

You tried to stay quiet, like you always had. Passing by crowds unnoticed and surfing under the noise with a cotton stuffed ear.

And he’d started a ruining of that.

Trying not to draw attention to yourself, despite him so clearly trying to put you in spotlight.

This whole ordeal was a domino effect from that damn kaleidoscope, and he was just another finger flicking the next tile.

Until he wasn’t.

And he’d near killed a man for you. Taken care of you, feared for your life.

He’d found you, from nothing but a gut feeling.

The way he would stare now, was less vindictive. His gaze no longer that of anger but of a man conflicted. Like he couldn’t tell what to think of you.

You lay over your ruffled sheets, quilt and bedding under you to not overheat yourself. You window was wide open, airing out your humid room. The soft sway of leaves sprouting from the vines crawling over your building was pleasant. Digging their roots in the crevices of your window sill like Miles had been digging into the crevices of your mind.

You put a hand over your head, stretching your back up and listening the the crack that came from it.

Dropping back down and huffing, you continued to watch your ceiling in mild disinterest, trying desperately to reach the essence of sleep, and let the way Miles’ lips curled into a smirk fall from your mind.

He hadn’t realised it, but his small rebuttal to your teasing that night in his room had made a permanent statement in your head, no longer able to forget about it.

“No, just you —,” Your mind hadn’t cared to supply the rest.

Every single thing about that scarring night had burned its way into your temporal lobe. Like giving it a searing kiss with memory stained lipstick.

A small clicking had caught your attention, like fingernails tapping glass. The clinks were rhythmic, had the coordination of a spiders legs.

Your focus on the plain ceiling was now broken, a curiosity replacing it.

You approached the open window without caution, Moonlight spilling through the glossy panes. Placing your hands on the sill, you leaned forward, and felt the small rush of wind over your shoulders, the breeze cooling your heated face. An urge to close your eyes and take it in almost over-reigned that new curiosity, but your self preservation thought better of it. Checking left and right either side as if someone was going to be waiting right there for you. Because that was a completely rational and not at all ludicrous thought. You scoffed to yourself, glancing at the skyline with glistening eyes before turning and heading back inside, to finally — maybe, fall asleep.

—

Miles released a quiet breath, braids swaying from his suspended position hanging from a rooftop. Your rooftop, of your building—.. Where he was watching you. It was coincidence, really. That somehow, running from guys he stole a cure his Momma needed for a patient from. And when grappling from building to building, using clips and hooks and zip lines to get away from them, he’d stumbled into your street.

He’d lie to himself and say it was just the street his Ma’s favourite Paella was made, but the one time he’d seen you, exhausted from school—, drag yourself into an apartment across the street from that very place..

His opinion hadn’t changed, so to speak. But there was an added motive, that’s it.

And he’s hiding, it’s not his fault if your apartment is high up. Or his need to see you is growing at alarming rates, or his heart was beating so loud in his ears that he hadn’t heard you approach the window.

So when your fingers had softly scraped along the sill of your window, he’d pulled himself above you — and prayed you wouldn’t look up.

You hadn’t, thankfully.

He’d watched the way your skin had shone under the city lights, your features illuminated and accentuated by the chaos the streets. You were so unbothered—, so calm, even amidst everything he (and everyone else) had put you through.

Like a stubborn stone keeping the whole wall from collapsing.

His admiration for you had grown, not only from the past months — which he realises is slightly sadistic — but from your tenderness that had only lasted mere minutes. Even the glimpse of a softer you, not the one covered in a satiated rage, hands squeezing lemons until the bitterness dripped not from the fruit broken skin, but from your own. The sting of acid only making your bloodied finger feel more justified.

Not that.

What he saw was a woman free of woes, no need to split her skin when her heart was already so vulnerable.

And he craved for a mere glimpse of that again.

Like old, your anger had satisfied him. Gave him those doses of you he’d fiend for, and had excited him to no end. Now, he’s found something stronger.

He can’t let you go.

He watches you scoff at yourself, his mask retracting from his face. You look towards the city’s edge one last time before turning and making your way back inside.

He sighs, adjusting his position on the buildings ledge, and grabs the waterspout running the side of the building, crawling back to the shadows.

His claws clink, like nails tapping glass.

—

There wasn’t a day of peace in the last fortnight.

You were still suffering the effects of your previous injuries. People knowing that something had gone down between you and James, seeing as he hadn’t showed up in two weeks. And the near-healed bruises on your face were a well indicator of your involvement.

So when you stumbled upon Keith, someone you’d basically owed your still-intact-body too, scrambling out of an alley. Bloodied and bruised, nose broken and face almost as busted as your was that day. Safe to say you weren’t exactly confused to what was happening.

He looked up, eyes meeting yours almost eerily fast, the blood from his nose coating his teeth a deep crimson. A sick chill ran down your spine and you stumbled back. A wet gasp for breath was heard, diverting your attention towards its gruesome origin.

Turning your body towards the darkened alley, vision blurring at the edges. Your breath escaped you.

Keith had started speaking, and over the ringing in your ears he’d begged for your forgiveness, scraping his knees while he clawed to get away from his friends continuous spluttered coughing.

“What—..”

Mathew was lying on the floor, avidly trying to protect himself using only his bare hands. While a figure you could only see the back of punched in a strict, repeated pattern — like they’d done this before.

“Miles?”

The man whipped his head towards you, blood dripping down a cut on his cheekbone, and a snarl over his face.

Said contortion quickly smoothened out, a rather *confronted look replacing it.

Keith was long gone by now, having dragged his bloodied body away from whatever mess you were now a part of.

“Chiquita, don’t freak out.”

The way your lungs seemed to refuse oxygen kind of refuted that command.

You were frozen still, eyes stuck on the barely conscious body beneath the subject of your recent intrigue.

Mathew was barely recognisable, eyes puffed up in bruises and bloodied flesh. Miles had taken near no damage compared to the other men.

“[Name], c’mon.” He was getting up now, shuffling off his opponent with a tone of apprehension.

Only when his movement shifted your frozen eyes, did you see the key details you’d missed.

Braids, Nikes, Jacket, Collar, Claws.

A spray painted logo you’d only ever seen one man branding.

The Prowler.

"No te precipites, Ma."

“Don’t act rash, Ma.”

Right as the endearment left his mouth, you turned on your heel and ran.

"[Name], Por dios — quedate aquí."

“[Name]! Oh my god — stay there.”

He waved nonchalantly to the definitely not-going-anywhere boy on the floor. Shifting his foot back and jumping at a wall, claws digging in and gripping the ledge to the roof, swinging himself over it and keeping the momentum in a run.

Darting through corner stalls and confused pedestrians, you tripped over yourself to get away.

A strong, persistent mantra of ‘Holy fuck.’ was circling through the forefront of your mind, and yet everything else was hyper aware.

Not a fault in your step as your grace seemed to come out in times of dire panic, like a dancer following their cues, every movement made around you was an instructors yell.

You turned into the alley leading to your apartment, a shortcut, when you heard someone drop down behind you. You spun around, fast enough to dizzy yourself, and gave one look to the neon mask of the vigilante before going to run again. A small noise of panic escaped your shaking form.

“No corras, por favor!”

“Don’t run, please!”

Your heart beat fast, reaching the door to your apartment complex, swiping your key card and launching yourself inside, the scuffle of shoes being heard just outside the slammed shut door.

“Please, [Name], let me in. We can talk this out, Ma.”

Miles begged, knocking on the complexs’ back door.

"They were gonna jump you, [Name].”

“I don’t believe you.”

Your voice came out shaking, confused and *scared. You’d known he’d been capable of violence. It was adamant in the way he wouldn’t flinch at a hit, or the scars that coated his exposed skin.

But this? A man who’s killed people? Who was going to do it again had you not been a witness.

“I—“ You whined, voice giving out and tears finally breaking the surface of your waterline. “I’ve seen you—,” The back of your head hit the metal door and you sobbed silently. “,—On the news.”

Outside the thin steel, Miles sighed, guilt weighing his chest down heavy. He got sloppy, and paid the price. His anger, rage toward these men. And what they’d planned to do to you — he’d say it was justified. You’d say it was monstrous.

“You kill people, Miles.”

His heart broke at the tone of your voice, the quiet sniffles and shortened sobs. The way your voice cracked and broke under the pressure of your open heart.

“Ma, I—“

“I don’t wan’ hear it.”

His hands rest on the cooled metal, forehead pressing against it as he sighed.

“Please let me in.”

“I can’t.”

“[Name]. Chiquita, por favor.”

He’d begged, ready to get on his knees and stand out in the 40° (104°) heat, and wait until you opened the door. Even if it took days.

Although,

“I’ll break in.”

“Wha—,” you cut yourself off in a sobbing laugh, rubbing at your tear tracked face. “Miles, That’s not a very good bargaining chip.”

He smiled, closing his eyes and loving the sweetened tone you held. You weren’t scared of him, you were scared of the Prowler.

“‘Made you laugh.”

His accent thickened over the words, dragging them out in a rasping hush. Something only for you to hear.

Your resolve was breaking, lungs slowing to a calmed lull as the adrenaline left your body. You didn’t break though— couldn’t.

“I can’t—,” You looked to the ceiling of your apartment’s ground floor, standing in an empty back room. “,—You’re not good, Miles.”

“You helped them, before.” Your brows furrowed, not of anger, but of betrayed desperation.

“You.. You just watched—“

“I know, baby, I know.”

He opened his eyes again, staring at the door like it had attacked you.

“Go upstairs, yeah?”

“Why—“

“Just go on, Ma.”

You huffed out a slow breath, fight draining from your being. You wanted to yell, to scream at him how wrong of a man he was. How he couldn’t risk everything he had for you, not now. Not as the estranged people you were.

You wanted to show the anger you never could, reach that brink of anguish until you’d finally given him what he’d wanted since your moment of meeting. But he no longer wanted that.

He’d always wanted you to break, now he just wants you.

“Okay.” You were breathless and tired, coerced.

He lifted his head quickly, hands splayed against cooled metal curling into fists, an excitement running through him like that of a promise.

—

A minute later you were opening the door to your apartment, and locking it behind you. Anxiously making your way to your bedroom, worried to see what was inside, When you stepped inside, you weren't exactly surprised when your eyes landed on Miles' face, what had surprised you though — was that he was hanging off your window sill with a sheepish smile on his face.

"Now will you let me in?" His voice muffled through the glass and you breathed out a quick gasp, "You— Miles, get down!"

"Down?" He smirked, letting one of his hands drop from the wooden sill. "Oh my god!"

You rushed towards your window, discarding your phone on your bed carelessly. You slid your window up, as Miles laughed, swaying from his one hand. "Jesus Miles— are you trying to kill yourself?!"

He crawled through and you grabbed his free hand, dragging him inside. "Get—.. get." Giving up on your scolding half way through, you quickly ushered him towards your bed and turned to close your window.

"When you said 'Go up.' I didn't think yo—"

"I'm sorry.'

Your hands were left floating above your windowsill, shaking in still air. Miles had come up behind you, hands resting over your hips, toying with the hem of your shirt. His face lowered towards your ear voice dipping with it.

"I know you're mad— hate me, all that. 'S okay. I know—,"

He slowly moved his arms further around your waist, watching your breath hitch and the feel of your pulse under the blow of his breath.

",—And I'm sorry."

"I don't hate you."

"You don't hate anyone."

You relaxed into his hold, tears brimming forth again.

"You keep—" "Scaring you." "Yeah." He dragged his left hand down, trailing his fingers over the skin of your arms and watching as the bumps rose along your flesh. You were entrancing.

"Are you scared now, Mami?" He grabbed your wrist in a gentle hold, swiping his bloodied thumb over your smooth skin. Your hand twitched, and his thumb stopped.

"No." You flipped your hand into his, linking your fingers together, careful to not agitate his bruises.

"Would you hurt me?" He reciprocated, closing his fist over your own, the flick of pain felt like nothing— not when the aching in his chest was finally being calmed.

"Never again."

—

DUDE MY PHONE IS FUCKING BROKEN LOLLL

no ending image today im on my laptop (fucking cries)

translator (bbg) @sataraxia

taglist!! @red-riot-rat , @stvrfir3 , @erensbbg , @umawooma , @wisteriaflowersss , @inejsknifes , @meowsannie , @manduse , @rainy-darling , @riya1161 , @key-zee , @toasttew , @em711 , @starsval , @gemma42 , @lovelymiaablogs

[paigebueckersmommy]

team dinner - n.m

nika mühl x uconn wbb player (fem)

warnings: fingering, semi public sex

coach geno wanted to take the team to dinner after an amazing season, he couldn’t be more proud of the girls. you and nika had immediately clicked freshman year and had been inseparable ever since, but this past season, some feelings started getting in the way of your friendship. you felt like there was always sexual tension between you and nika you were both craving to satisfy.

the restraunt was pretty fancy, so you and all the girl were wearing dresses. we were sat at a long table with chairs on either side of the table, while walking to the table, you glanced at nika while slightly turning your head, asking her to sit by you. she accepted with the sweet smile you loved, and sat next to you. on your left was nika and on your right, ashlynn, who you had also become pretty close with this past year.

tonight, you felt bold. so while nika was talking to paige across the table, you out your hand on her thigh, a hitch in her breath. “u okay N?” paige asked, noticing her breath change. “yea P i’m good” after nika and paige had finished their conversation nika turned to you with a expression which you couldn’t tell if it was confusion or happiness. “what was that?” she asked with a grin. “what? you didn’t like it?” you say, attaching your hand to her inner thigh through her body con dress. nikas mouth opened slightly just before she told paige and me she would go to the bathroom and be back soon, but i knew what she meant.

paige turned to me and asked, “hey is nika okay? she’s acting diffrent tonight.” “oh uh yes i think she’s fine. speaking of that im gonna go check on her.” you make your way away from the table and turn to a hostess, “excuse me mam where’s the bathroom?” she points, “thank you!” when you get there, you find out it is a one stall bathroom. you knock, then bring your face closer to the door and whisper, “hey nika it’s me,” she opens the door and smiles.

“u okay hun?” you ask her, closing the door behind you. “after putting your hand that close to my pussy, ofc im not okay im soaked,” nika says with a smile, pulling you with her hands around your neck into a deep kiss against the door. you push you knee in the space between nika legs as she moans into your mouth with satisfaction. you move your hand from the back of her head to start pulling up her dress, only to discover she had no panties on underneath. “no panties? ur such a slut,” you pull away from her face to shove two fingers in her mouth as she keeps eye contact with you while swirling them with her toung.

you bring them out of her mouth and down to her lissy with entering them into her. nika gasps, while holding eye contact with you the whole time. you start pumping in and out of her, earning so many moans from nika. you start to curl your fingers deep inside her throbbing cunt, “fuck yes oh my god right there,” nika moans out. “shhh angel, you don’t want anybody from the team hearing you, do you?” nika shakes her head no. “that’s what i thought pretty girl. your gonna be quiet for me?” nika moans out, “fuck yess omg i’m gonna cum,” when nika realesses under you, you bring your fingers to her mouth, then yours. she tasted so good.

while nika was cleaning herself up, you say to her “ baby stay her i’ll be right back then we can leave okay? back to my apartment.” you rush out of the bathroom and over to the team, “hey guys nika is throwing up in the bathroom right now i’m gonna take her home, she said she had so much fun beforehand tho!” you hear the teams murmurs, “aww okay bye!” “tell her i hope she feels better,” “tell her to call me later!”

you make your way through the bathroom and knock and tell nika, “let’s go N,” you say with a smile. she followed you out with the same smile.

a/n: tbc??

[papaya-twinks]

Hi kika could u do a lando x reader smut fic where reader is in uni but keeps procrastinating her work even tho its exam season and lando has to force her to do her work by like being a tease and only promising her what she wants after she does her work? Thxx love ur work ❤️

Warnings: Smut, 18+, teasing

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - I’m making Y/N a law student coz im working towards my bachelors and I only know about law 😭 I’m using my flipping sociology textbook

“Lando there’s so much,” you groaned, rolling your eyes at the amount of work. There were stacks of books, textbooks and papers on your desk, your laptop open, flickering with a video as you spun your desk chair round, whining. Lando looked up from his phone, he was lying on the bed, on his stomach, wearing nothing but a towel hung low on his waist - a thin golden chain dangling on his tan chest. 

“How much do you have left?” Lando raised an eyebrow, your tired expression tugging at hid heartstrings. “Twenty questions,” you looked at your medical questions. “Lando, I can’t,” you groaned, standing up from your chair, your gaze flickering down to his bare chest, small water drops clinging to his body. How were you supposed to work with him looking like that? 

“You’re staring, Y/N,”  he said simply, still laying down, resting his head on his hands. “Let’s make this easier for you,” he took your hand, leading you back to your chair. You whined, guessing he was gonna make you do the work anyways, your head slumping in disinterest. However, your eyes widened as he undid the towel, dropping it to the floor, and sitting on the chair. 

Noticing your bemused expression, he smirked a little, taking your hand, tugging your skirt down. How were you gonna get your work done now? His finger teased at your wetness, gliding along softly before he pushed in, pumping you slowly as you moaned, eyes wide, before they squeezed shut. “Feels good, yeah?” Lando smirked, his thumb teasing at your clit. He pulled you onto his lap, his hard length between your legs, before he shifted your body.

“Lando, fuck,” you gasped as he sunk into you, sitting you on his lap, your juices dripping down him. “First question,” he said, making you turned to him, confused. “What was the name of the man who invented Marxism?” Lando asked, his voice almost demanding. “Karl Marx,” you replied, still bemused. “Good,” he said, his hands on your hips, lifting you so his cock nearly slid out of you,before he slammed into you, a loud moan leaving your lips. 

“Next question,” he said, sitting you back down as you gasped, recovering from the movement. “When did Max Weber die?”. You thought for a second, cheeks bright red as you wriggled, sitting on him still. “1920,” he let out a noise of approval, slamming into you again. “Good girl,” Lando smiled, asking the next question. “Which country was slowest on the industrial revolution?”. 

“France,” you answered instantly, hid hips hitting harder against you. “Oh fuck Lando,” you gasped. He asked the questions til he got to 17, your cheeks bright red from the questions. “Who influenced Weber’s views?” he asked, your mind going blank. “I said, who influenced his views?” Lando asked again, his hips slamming into yours almost as a wake up call. “I-uh, Durkheim,” you answered, eyes blurry as you gasped.

An almost disbelieving scoff left his lips. “And you were doing so well,” Lando shook his head. “Who influenced Weber’s decisions?” he asked again, slamming his hips into yours with each word. “Lando, fuck, I- uh, Karl Marx!” you shrieked, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Right answer,” he said. 

You didn’t get any wrong afterwards, your cheeks flushed red, lips parted. “Oh, look who’s done all their questions,” Lando smiled, your body squirming for more. “Desperate,” he said, hands on your waist as he held you up, hips thrusting upwards into you as you moaned. “You deserve it,” he groaned, “doing so well for me,”. 

You nodded, your hand reaching backwards to rest on his thighs, your knot undoing as you shrieked, his orgasm spilling into you and down your thighs. “You better pass, girl,” he smirked, pressing a kiss to your neck. “If I pass, I think you’re gonna end up putting kids or something in me,” 

[wileys-russo]

going off the one where less teases reader about her biceps, maybe a fic where reader gets back at lessi by teasing her the next day?? yk, reader showing off her toned quads by rolling up her shorts reallyyyyy high and even moaning whilst in the gym for weights during leg day. j a small idea i thought you'd like😁

mhm mhm im here for this energy

big flexer 2.0 II a.russo

"-so now if i asked you what your favourite taylor swift song is you would say..." viv trailed off hopefully, having spent the last 48 hours filling you in on everything and anything swift lore you made sure to take your time thinking carefully about your answer.

having made the mistake of saying you only knew we are never getting back together when asked the same question for the team tiktok, this had started vivs entire journey to educate you.

"cardigan." you finally answered, viv sighing in relief and patting your shoulder. "this is much better. and why is that your favourite song?" the dutch woman asked as you glanced over her shoulder toward alessia who was deep in conversation with viccy and lotte at another table.

"no reason." you answered with a small smile, your tender gaze not missed by your friends sat around you at breakfast. "disgusting. like a lovesick puppy!" leah mockingly gagged before she shoveled a spoonful of fruit into her mouth.

"pipe down karate kid." you shot back quickly in reference to the black headband she'd chosen to sport today, causing laura to snort in laughter from beside you, leah narrowing her eyes. "you best watch your back today." the blonde warned lightheartedly before she was pulled into conversation with lia.

"does anyone know what we're doing today?" you asked curiously as you finished your plate, pushing it away from you with a satisfied sigh, sneaking a strawberry off laura's plate as she batted your hand away with her fork.

"i know the focus is lower body later in the gym, i heard them talking about it earlier." steph revealed as half the table groaned in annoyance but you pumped your fist up happily, grabbing your plate and standing to your feet.

you grabbed kim and jens empty plates as well, leaving your friends to finish up eating as you made your way inside, handing the dishes back to the chefs with a glowing review.

"good morning gorgeous." arms circled your waist as you smiled at the familiar accent, turning your head to peck your girlfriends lips softly in greeting before the two of you shared a tight hug. "sleep well?" alessia asked with a cocky smile and you smacked her shoulder knowing what she was insinuating.

"just fine thanks." you rolled your eyes as the two of you separated, a ten minute call being given the two of you decided to head to the pitch for your first training session of the day.

"gonna be a hot one today ladies, hope we're all ready to sweat!" beth beamed as she wedged herself inbetween you and your girlfriend, slinging her arms over your shoulders as the three of you fell into conversation.

~

and a couple of hours later you knew beth wasn't lying it was boiling today, and as you all raced around on the grass you were positively melting.

so as most footballers did when running around desperate for some sort of reprive you'd rolled your shorts up in an attempt to try and ease some of the heat waves rocking your body.

the seemingly innocent move not gone unnoticed by your girlfriend who incredibly similar to you yesterday found herself distracted by the longing to admire your toned thighs.

same as she had put an emphasis on working on her upper body strength this season you never missed a leg day, and christ alessia really hadn't taken enough time to appreciate the results.

"russo heads up!" the blonde dragged her eyes away from you just a millisecond too late as a ball smacked her in the back of the head, katie racing over with an apologetic wince.

"sorry, i called heads up!" the irishwoman grabbed the ball back and with another apologetic smile went running off back to her group, lotte ripping into the blonde about the small accident as alessia shoved her away with a playful roll of her eyes, rubbing the back of her head with a wince.

but another person who hadn't missed the small accident was you, having caught the italian clearly checking you out just moments before tragedy struck, and with gears turning in your head you formulated a fool proof way to get back at her for the teasing yesterday.

you rolled your shorts up even further as jonas started to split everyone into teams for a final 11 on 11, tossing you a pink bib as alessia caught a blue one, you sending the taller girl a wink as her eyes flickered down toward your tanned legs out on display.

alessia tugged on the bib and wasted no time clearing the distance between you, the sight of her boots in your eyeline as you knelt down to re-tie your own making you smile. "hi baby!" you greeted with a happy smile, a frown etched into the taller girls face.

"less!" you laughed as she reached forward and unrolled your shorts, pulling them down firmly as you shoved her away. "leave them." the blonde pecked your lips quickly before running off back to her own team, unknowingly only have given you more ammunition to rile her up.

with a shake of your head you made your way to your team, huddling inbetween stina and frida as katie lead the tactics talk and you all cheered as the whistle blew to start. getting into position you caught alessia's eye, rolling up your shorts as high as they could go and winking in her direction.

squatting down a little you watched on victoriously as her blue eyes widened somewhat at the obvious way your quads flexed, missing kick off as the whistle was blown and she hurried off to catch up with the ball.

~

it only got worse for alessia once you finished up lunch and headed for the gym, the blonde having spent the entire break teased relentlessly by lotte and gio for the obvious way she was so distracted by you during training.

you'd managed to escape, ducking off for a meeting with the physio about an old shoulder injury that twinged a little today, assuring your blonde lover that you were okay with a soft kiss and grabbing your lunch to go you'd not been seen since.

so alessia sighed quietly in relief seeing you already waiting in the gym, chatting away to the trainers as everyone was paired off and assigned different sections of the circuit to begin with.

much to both alessia's joy and dismay you and steph were assigned hip flexors as your warm up stretch, and with your shorts once again rolled up alessia's body burned with desire watching you repeatedly thrust and stretch, causing all the different muscles in your lips to tense, flex and ripple.

"oh fuck!" alessia swore as you caught her eye mid stretch and winked, causing the striker to lose her grip on the medicine ball she was squatting with, dropping it on her left foot with a groan of pain.

the italian was hurried off by the medical staff for a quick check up, shooting a murderous glare toward a snickering gio who knew exactly why she'd slipped up, her porcelin cheeks flushed red scarlett with embarrassment.

you watched on with concern as your girlfriend was assessed, gently pushed back into your exercises by an understanding but firm steph that you weren't helping anyone by standing around watching.

alessia was ordered to ice and elevate her foot and dismissed early from the session, limping out of the gym with an assuring glance sent your way that she was okay.

warned firmly but with care by kim that you were still expected to finish your workout you weren't happy but followed your captains instructions, trying your best to distract yourself with flickering from conversation to conversation with your teammates, shoulders heaving in relief when the session was finally called to an end.

you wasted no time in rushing off toward alessia's room, ignoring the trainers shouts after you about recovery options, only stopping when you were outside the strikers door.

having borrowed lotte's key you let yourself in, not wanting your girlfriend to use her foot anymore than entirely neccessary before it could be assessed again by the trainers and physio's tomorrow.

"only me less." you smiled as you stepped into the room, face softening at the pouty frown sent your way by the blonde laying in bed with her arms crossed, foot iced up and resting on a pillow.

"this is your fault!" alessia accused right away. "you and your stupid toned thighs." the striker continued bitterly with a glance at your still rolled up shorts which had only ridden up higher after you'd practically sprinted here.

"that is so not fair! you had no issues teasing me yesterday with your stupidly big biceps." you rolled your eyes playfully before kicking off your trainers and taking a seat beside your girlfriend on her bed.

"i didn't cause you bodily harm!" alessia gestured toward her foot which you gently adjusted noticing the ice pack had slipped off, smiling apologetically as the taller girl hissed quietly in pain.

"neither did i, it's not my fault you haven't realised how long your legs are clumsy." you teased, your girlfriend pinching your thigh for the comment making you grin. "actually so much for those big biceps too, couldn't even hold up a tiny little medicine ball." you pouted mockingly as your girlfriend scoffed.

"you're lucky i'm injured or else i'd be slamming you around like a medicine ball with these big biceps." the girl rolled up her sleeves, flexing her arms teasingly as you yanked them back down with a roll of your eyes.

"god please no, not another gun show."

[malfoyfarms]

She Wanted You

JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

Word Count:1.4k

Warnings:none

A/n: angst bc im boycotting watching season three LOL, not my gif

“What do you mean she left?” JJ questioned, dumbfounded. He didn’t realize it, but he was walking into a war zone. The Chateau no longer had the same feel. It was like someone sucked the air out, and pumped smog in. 

With tears in his eyes, John B pointed towards his sister’s room. Sarah and Pope were lingering in there, but JJ had no idea why. The room was oddly neat, incredibly out of character of the girl who resided there. Her closet was emptier than usual, the three picture frames that once had pictures of her with her family and friends were empty. What caught JJ’s eyes next, made his mouth go dry. His breath was no longer there. The navy sweatshirt he had given her years ago was folded, on the bed, next to the pillow he always claimed during their relationship. Atop the sweatshirt was a ring from a gumball machine, an orange and green friendship bracelet made of paracord, and a pile of notes written on scraps of random papers. Every other personal belonging was missing from its spot. 

JJ tore through the girl’s nightstand, and when he realized the box of her life savings was gone, he let out a string of colorful words and kicked the stand.

“Here, you should read this.” Sarah handed him a neatly written note. By the tear stains on Pope’s face, the somber tone from the kook, and JB’s raging anger, it was a farewell. 

He took a deep breath, and swiped the letter from Sarah. The familiar handwriting was already pulling at his heart.

J,

I’ve rewritten this letter four times already, and I still don’t know how to put my thoughts into actual words. Firstly, I love you. I love you until the waves stop coming in. I love you so much that I knew I needed to leave. I’ve known since you wandered home with John B in third grade, and gave me all the answers (even though they were wrong) to my math homework that if there was going to be another boy in my life, he was going to have to fight you for that spot. From 7 years old, I only ever wanted you. But over the last two years, I can see that I’m not the one for you. And that is why I’m leaving. One of the only things that got me through my day was seeing you smile, but I understand that there is someone else who causes those crinkles by your eyes.

I have to leave because it’s too painful. I need time to have all your kisses leave my body, I need to leave because I can’t smell the ocean, listen to Akon and Konvict, or even wash my fucking clothes without thinking of you. I see you in body language, in the waves, in every damn aspect of my life. Not only are we ingrained on this island, but you are ingrained in me. If I’m ever going to come home I need to remove every trace. 

I told you last week, I’d always be on your team, even from a distance. I need you to pursue Kiara because there is nothing more I want for you than happiness. Deep down, I know it will always be her. While that sentence feels like a shot, I’m coming to terms with it. 

Don’t try to come find me, either. I won’t be going to any of the places we’ve ever talked about, I do have my secrets still. Not Yucatan, not Tybee, and certainly not Jekyll. Take care of my brother.

All my love, 

Y/N

“When did you and Y/N break up?” Sarah asked. JJ couldn’t even think straight. Y/N and the boy broke up about a week ago, for that specific reason, JJ thought there was something there with Kiara. He didn’t think the girl would pick up her stuff and bolt. Leave her brother, her best friends, and the life she claimed to love. 

“I, uh, initiated it last week or so,” he stuttered, “it wasn’t definite or anything, but it was insinuated I guess. We had a conversation about it, but I don’t think I ever could have said it out loud.”

“Oh,” she thought. “You know she really loved you with every bone in her body.”

He sucked in a deep breath to try to keep his tears at bay. How could he walk out to the front room and face John B. He was the reason the youngest Routledge had left. With Big John gone, she was all he had left. Hell, with Luke gone, she was all JJ had too. In some form he robbed his friends of a family member. 

JJ laid down on the neatly made bed and latched onto the sweatshirt that smelled just like her. His memory flooded with images of Y/n in that sweatshirt. From it covering her bikini when they went night swimming, it being the one sweatshirt that was specifically for after she came home from school, the one thing that grounded her when she was having a rough day. JJ felt his chest start to tighten, and his hands were clammy and shaking. 

“I thought you said you’d never break her heart!” JB screamed. Impeccable timing. 

“John B don’t–” Sarah tried to interject.

“No Sarah, he promised. He promised me almost three years ago that if I gave him permission to date Y/n, he wouldn’t hurt her. He knew he’d be breaking more than just her heart. And now I can’t even help her pick up the pieces. I can’t fix my baby sister, the way she fixed each and every one of us!” 

“Bro, you think this is what I wanted? I had a conversation with her. Nothing was definitive. It’s not my fault she took her shit and ran!”

“When has Y/n ever not taken her feelings and ran? Name one time!”

JJ sat there in thought, and there had been one time she didn’t run, and he had promised that he wouldn’t tell. He was going to anyway.

“When you disappeared. I held her while she cried herself to sleep for nights on end. So don’t act like I never treated her right. You know I did.” JB ran his hands through his hair and left the room. 

“Until you decided you may have feelings for the girl who is like her big sister.” That stung. 

“What’s going on?” Kie asked.

“She’s gone.” John B said. “‘Cuz JJ’s in love with you.”

~~

JJ sat in the hammock, wearing the navy sweatshirt he hadn’t worn in years. It smelled just like her. He could even feel the marks of where she rolled the sleeves and dug her thumbs into the side. 

He barely remembered last week’s conversation about Kie, but never did he think that it would cause you to disappear. Y/n was so incredibly loyal. She wanted him. Every. Damn. Day. She wanted him when the clouds were out, and the usually blue sky was gray. She wanted him when he was bruised and beat up, she wanted him when he was crabby after a 14 hour shift, she wanted him at every hour of the day in any way she could have him. 

It was just a conversation, he thought. He never flat out said that he was leaving her for the tanned, wealthy kook. 

He felt so fucking stupid. He felt so much self-hatred. He remembered when they were 12 and 14, and Y/n wanted to walk to the gas station a few streets over, but John B wouldn’t go with her. He remembered what she usually bought. Peach iced tea, sour straws and a bag of munchie mix. Every single time. 

He remembered when the girl got drunk for the first time and dialed him to come get her. God, she was so inebriated. She clung to the boy, giggling profusely. That was the first night she ever told the boy she loved him. Y/n never knew it, but JJ kept that memory locked in his head. 

He pondered the time she was ready to give him her virginity. He remembered how nervous she was, but how much she trusted him. 

It had grown dark by the time he wandered back into the Chateau. He was surprised JB didn’t kick him out, he fully expected to be out on the streets by now. As he stumbled towards the bedrooms, he went past his own, and fully dove into the light purple sheets he had come to love. She’ll come back, he thought. She has to.

[viandclintbarton-supremacy]

All Star (Millie Bright x GN Reader) Featuring WSL + BPL players

Warning: Swearing, Mature content

Sam Kerr XL VS Erling Haaland XL

A massive day in English football that was arriving. The Women's Super League and The Premier League were in a agreement to have a All Star match. Both teams made up from Stars of the WSL and the PL and the week would draw a lot of inspiration from the NBA all star week, Contests, Celebrity match, etc

Even though their was some concerns about the players playing too much, the game would be in off season and players had a choice to play if they wanted too. The idea of playing with some of the best in the country and friends was a exciting idea so when where contacted to be apart of Pep's side you jumped at the chance

Much Excitement was gathering for the event, especially since you was contacted to be apart of the Haaland XL and would take on the Kerr XL. The days following up to the event was press, media and training with the teammates for the match. The likes of Haaland, Mead, Foden, Son, TAA, Leah Williamson, Walker and more. Whilst the other team would have Sam Kerr, KDB, Russo, Millie Bright, Daly, Ederson and more.

During training camp you met with friends like Mead, Leah and Heung Min Son and new like Haaland, Lauren Hemp, Thiago Silva just to name a few.

Training camp was filled with banter, fun and energy. You loved being around the league's top stars that sometimes it you had to pinch yourself to see if this was real.

"Ok team, this will be the line up for the game. everyone will have time on the pitch. Even though this is a game of fun, I'm sure we all don't like to lose" Pep said in a light hearted tone which was responded with smiles and head nods. The slide would show the line up and you study it.

GK - Mary Earps

DEF- Walker, McCabe, Le Tissier, Sliva

MID - Williamson, Son, Foden

ATT - Y/N, Haaland, Hemp

You smiled at the line up, This team looked good and the bench was good too. You felt a nudge behind you to see Haaland and received a high five turned into a fist pump. Hemp who was sitting next to you also did the same. Leah, Son and Foden would just be magic. the back 4 screamed hard work and aggression and Mary had that passion to motivate the entire team. You, Hemp and Haaland is a dangerous trio. Hemp with her pace and quick thinking, Haaland is well Erling Haaland and you were the Top Goal scorer in the F.A cup and Champions league last season. This Team was powerful.

The meeting went on as Pep gave game plans and who would most likely deal with who. Like the defence and Mary having to hold off Sam Kerr and Salah. Midfield up against Rice, KDB, Cuthbert and Toone.

"Y/N, Hemp,Haaland. You will most likely be up against Trippier" You rubbed your chin, he can be a challenge "Steph Houghton" You lean forward excitement filled you as you go up against a lioness legend "Harry Maguire" You smirked at the easy challenge "And Millie Bright" Your smirked turned into a full blown evil smile, Not only would you a Arsenal Striker go up against a Chelsea captain but you LOVED challenges and Millie fitted that category. You looked at your attacking teammates who also looked intrigued and ready untill "I got a tenner on F/N making one of them break" you hear McCabe say from the back who made the room laugh, you turned to her with you smile on show. What did McCabe mean by her bet? Well you had a reputation..............for being one of the biggest shit talkers there is.

Whenever you were marked by a defender you just talked...and talked.... and talked until you were in their head or made them so irritated that they would try and two foot you and not be able to focus most of the time you catching them off guard and finding yourself through on goal

One thing that everyone knew about you when playing

No one could shut you up.

"I SAY TWENTY!" Hemp shouts taking the bet on you gave an eye roll

"THIRTY AND A ROUND OF DRINKS ON ME IF IM WRONG!" You had to double take as Son jumped in on it which threw you off "SONNY!" you said flabbergasted as the rest of the team were taking that bet

"HUNDRED!" You turned to Pep and gave him a really look

"I HAVE ONE FOR YOU F/N!" you turned back to Leah " Millie is a tough one and won't be easily broken" You tilted your head a little bit, interest building "If you can get Bright to break, I will be your assistant for a 24 hours" The room filled with oohs as you crossed your arms leaning back, biting your tongue, feeling a nudge from Hemp as Son put his hands on your shoulders and shock you "Go on!" Son said "Yeah you can make her suffer" Hemp said You smiled at your friends

"And if I don't?"

"You would my assistant for a full day" You smirked and leaned forward "And then McCabe's for another 24 hours" Your smirk dropped god knows what Katie would make you do. The Team were enjoying every moment of this after the brief thought, You knew you were the best at it when it came to cracking people. You turned to Katie who had the most terrifying smile you have ever seen in your life and past lifes. Leah walked over to you with a smug and extended her hand "do we have an accord" she said in a posh accent

"I Accept" You stood up and shock to the team clapping and voicing excitement. As Leah back to her seat you gently pulled her towards you with a evil smirk "Sonny!" You said gaining the Korean's attention "Yes?" "You don't happen to have a spare Tottenham shirt i can borrow right?" You asked in a innocent voice to which Leah's grin dropped and the blood drained from her face as the room started to giggle. "Yes i do, Why would you need one" He said smiling innocently "Just thinking Leah suits white and black clothing" Leah gave you a glare before returning to her seat.

The bet was on!!!!!

After many training sessions, interviews, social media posts, recordings for tv and youtube

The day was here, The team arrived at a sold out Wembley Stadium. Fans were on a high to watch football, see interactions they thought they would never see. The whole team was excited and determined to have a great match.

The team would go out for the last training session on the field before the game, it was there you would see the other team on the other side of the pitch and there she was. Your challenge Millie Bright, you looked at the Lioness she was quite the looker and you shamelessly checked her out. But then had an idea that hopefully would work, It was simple. She just needed to look at you. and thankfully she did.

She caught you looking at her and she nodded at you but frowned at little when you didn't nod back. She waved but all you did was smirk and went back to warm up. You were all ready trying to get inside the Chelsea captain's head.

The match was about to start, you walked out to the field with your team and waiting to shake the enemy teams hand and say good games and such. As you looked around you had to admit. Being in Wembley, on the pitch in front of that crowd was something.

You felt like a immortal everytime you played there, the cheers, the atmosphere. To you Wembley was the stage where legends made. And you know that after you scored the last minute goal for arsenal in the F.A Cup final against West Ham last season. You loved it here.

You were shaken out of your thoughts as you saw Sam Kerr approach you, clasping your hand and both winking at each other before saying "Have a good game" and this would continue down the line until you held Millies hand and gave a smirk which made frown a little bit.

As the match kicked off, you went to your position and found yourself marked by Millie. You glanced at Hemp who gave you a smile and raised her eyebrows at you

"This gonna be a great match" you said to Mille "Yeah it's crazy it's happening" She said in a happy voice

"Too bad i didnt get the male chelsea captain to deal with"

"Ooh is that How's it gonna be?" Millie replied in a amused voice as she glanced at you as you just gave a smirked.

A couple minutes later, you would find yourself running through on goal and was heading towards goal as you feel Millie trying to push you off the ball as Eddison was ready to challenge you. As Millie tried to kick the ball away she ended up dragging you down but you got a kick out of it but Eddison's fingers tip skimmed the ball enough to divert it to the post.

Next thing you knew you hit the ground hard as you felt someone fall on you. You looked at who was on top of you and was Millie "Sorry if that was a bit rough, you ok?" She said with her own smirk trying to get back at you. You couldn't help but get hot under the collar feeling her hot breath fall on you as she was on top of you but you remained composed

"Nah I'm good. I like it Rough, especially in the postion" you said in a flirty voice as you looked Millie up and down who responded with a flabbergasted face before she quickly got up and brushed herself off. You evilly cackle to yourself loud enough to hear.

Later as your team received a corner you would take your postion and felt a strong presence behind you. You glance to see Millie. She stood next to you as she got ready to fight in the air. You felt her hand on your waist.

"Oh Millie" You said in a fake shock but flirty voice. To which Millie give you a seconed look and glared at you. But heard McCabe cackle and you saw Kerr in front of you starting to chuckle. And a friendly bump on the arm by walker. But at that moment you heard the whistle and the ball was kicked in by Hemp and you locked on to the ball and was about to jumped but saw Haaland jump into the air for the header. You would jocky agaisnt Millie and you managed to throw off balanced so she couldn't challenge Haaland who buried it into the net.

Thr crowd cheered as the team chased Haaland but before you ran, you looked to Millie who was in the ground.

"That wasn't the brightest idea, Brighty!" You said before running off. Not noticing Rachel Daly heard the pun and couldn't help but feel proud at the pun. "It'd beginning to look like you gonna be wearing that spurs shirt Leah" Daly said as he walked past a worried Leah. Millie was being broken down slowly.

The game was 1-1 and you weren't slowing down with the jabs either, you tell Millie irratation was rising. "You seem to not be enjoying the match Millie. What could be wrong?" Nothing. You were standing behind her and couldn't see her face as you started to walk in front of her getting ready to make a run for the ball as the counter attack was coming "It's a nice view by the way Millie"

"What?"

"You backside"

"E-excuse me!" You heard her say in a shock voice as she stuttered the sentence out. In that moment before she could register you sprinted off towards the goal as Son lobbed the ball towards the goal as the chased it. "LITTLE SHIT!" You heard Millie shout trying to chase you down. The sentence threw her off long enough for you acceleration to get distance on her. You saw Maguire coming in for a tackle to which you did a Ronaldo chop to the left sending Maguire sliding in embarrassment. The crowd rained oohh and cheers, as you continued but the slight delay of the move let Millie catch up and you then would pull off a Cruyff turn which resulted in something the world rarely saw with Millie Bright. You sent Millie falling face first onto the ground, you didn't looked back as you ran towards the goal you were one on one with Eddison. Calm and collected to curled the ball past the Brazilian into the goal which led to cheers and claps as you ran off to find Son to thank him for the assist. "LETS GO SONNY BOY!" As you embraced each other and felt others join the bundle. Not knowing Bright was at her limit

Half time would come along and you would walk back to the locker room not before noticing a glare from Millie

You sat down waiting for Pep to talk about the game plan and you felt hands on your shoulders "I can't see much from my postion but I think you winning this bet L/N" you hear Mary Earps say. You turn to her "yeah I feel bad though, hopefullyshe doesn't kill me" you grimaced "Oh she is gunning for you. I saw her face and know what that face means. Whatever happens Just apologise after the game. Hopefully you haven't pushed her too far that we never see you again" She said patting you in the back. Rest of the team walked in over the next couple minutes.

After the talk about the game plan and getting ready to go back out, you see Leah "You seem quiet Leah" Leah sighed

"Cause she bit off more then she could chew" Foden cheekly said as he grabbed a drink "Are you really gonna make her wear a Tottenham shirt? Couldn't be me" Declan Rice said giving you a friendly punch on the arm Leah groaned in annoyance "I'm getting annoyed here" She voiced in the room "So is Bright, You gonna be a good assistant" hear McCabe say as you and her step put of the locker room "ATLEAST I DIDN'T GET BOOKED A YELLOW!" You hear Leah shout at Katie before the door shut behind you, leaving you and Katie laugh as you walk back to the field

You were running into the box as a counter attack was on and Rice lobbed the ball into the box and you went to for the ball but felt a pain in your back sending flying as you jumped and just narrowly missing the goal post and falling to the ground. You gasped the wind was knocked out of you and winced "Jesus" you said sat up and saw Millie staring at you "Oh are you ok? I didn't break you did i?" She said in a sarcastic tone. You smirked "Yeah I deserve that one" you winched as you sat up "Yeah ya did brat" as she walked towards to you and extended her hand. You accepted her hand "Though I must say, You hit me so hard I started to angels. Then one helped me up" You winked at her "Oh for the love of"

*Whistle blows*

You notice the sub board

You run off to the sideline not before clapping and sending love to the crowd, high fiving the team and the enemy team

You glanced at Leah and wiggled your eyebrows. You won the bet and she looked miserable and fearful for that 24 hours

You approached your replacement Bethany England who became a close friend of yours during the All star team training.

You doubled high fived her "She all weared down for ya Bethy" She smiled and shook her head "GO GET ONE" You shouted to the the Tottenham captain

The match ended 5-3 to your team. You would shake hands and show respects

"Oi Millie!" You saw her coming towards you, You put your hands up as a sign of meaning no harm "You really a tough defend-Oof" She shoulder barged you into a stagger and walked to her team. You looked at her leave and then glanced at Daly who gave you, you are in trouble and I fear for your life look. You were shaken from your thoughts by two Tottenham players calling you. You turned with a smile and jogged to Son and Bethany for the trophy lift.

You be lying if you said you didn't feel bad about Millie. You admit you did a bit much especially in efforts for a bet. You found yourself in a secluded area of the hotel both teams would away for the night. You asked Leah if you could have Millies contact details in efforts to apologise. To which she did even after the endless teasing from the team after losing the bet. The team all agreed that Millie cleary let you in her head. You messaged the lioness

"Hey Millie, it's Y/N. Leah gave me your number. I wanted to apologise for my actions I got carried away and went to far in my shit talking today and I am at the hotel and I wanted to apologise in person. If you want nothing to do with me I understand"

"What door number and I will you at 11 pm"

You responded with the door and was left on read thus leading to you waiting outside your door with it open with anxiety building

"OI L/N!" You eyes snapped to the voice and there she was a furious lion that was Millie Bright marching towards you that you would say was murderous intent. Oh she gonna kill you. You put your arms up in defence

"Ok Millie, I'm sorry I really messed and you are very right to be piss-" You were cut off by Millie shoving into your room sending you stumbling. You hear the door slam and felt Millie grabbed you and put you agaisnt the door. You breath quicken as her face was inches away from yours as her breath was heavy and her eye were starring into your soul.

You gulped

------------------Mature Content-------------------

She grabbed both your wrist pining them above you head as she aggressively captured your lips with hers, shocking you, you tried to fight out of it. but couldnt help kiss back. She put her hand under your shirt rubbing your abs and grinded against you. You couldn't help but submit to this lioness. The frustration you gave her today made her lose it

You started to moan as she controlled you like her own toy. You could feel Millie smirk before slipping her tongue in your mouth. You were in bliss, Millie was pushing all the right buttons like you pushed hers on the field.

She stopped for a breather "Holy-"

She then kissing your neck lightly making you shut up tried to fight back moans.

"Such a brat" her kissing became harsher and harder making you curl your toes and move you hands against Millies hold but she was freakishly strong.

Millie stopped and locked eyes with you

"You are going to make up for today" you looked at her helpless as you felt her hand move from your waist to your backside and she grouped. "I can't wait to see that view." She said in a devilous voice as she grouped your backside You were in a trance, you couldn't look away from her and you were still trying to control your breathing.

"But since I didn't get a trophy today, I'm going to take another one and mark it" She said lickling her lips before biting down on your neck and sucked on it. Making your wide eyed. Squeezing you fists and your voice caught in your throat. You let herself submit under her control as she continued to grope and pull you towards her grinding movements. "F-fuck M-millie" you said as you felt her mark your neck

"We will" She said grabbing you and throwing you onto the bed and pinned you down. You were still trying to process what was happening.

"What's wrong? I thought you like it rough?" She said in a seductive voice lifted up your shirt to your neck. "And this postion" you placed kisses from the top of your abs and went lower

Making you feel scared but filled with excitement

She went Iower

You moaned as you closed your eyes

She went lower

It was at this moment you was Millies trophy for the rest of the night

-----------------Mature Content End--------------

You eyes fluttered open as you felt a hand play with your hair and stroke your head. You turned into the body you were intangled with and pressed your face into thier chest.

"Morning my Trophy" you heard the voice of Millie as you felt the vibrations of her speaking and looked up to her still half asleep. You felt her move strays of hair out of your face "You look cute when your all tuckered out" she said teasing you giving you pleasant flashbacks of the events of last night. "You say it like I didn't enjoy it" you gave a weak smile "Oh I know you enjoyed" She sat up slightly and drew you closer to her as she pecked your lips "I heard you enjoy it" You started to sheepishly smile, she pecked you again "I felt you enjoy it" you hid your face in her neck, pecking her neck and ribbing you face trying to hide

"Looks like I figured out how to finally shut you up"

The End

Well that was a different type of story I'm used to writing well the end part. I hope you guys enjoyed it and got a laugh and a gasp out of it.

I really wanted to write a story involving male and female footballers and I tried to make it work. Please let me know if you liked that idea btw

Please send feedback, If you want more Millie imagines request them 😁

[smicksstuff]

lets go racing in Jeddah! its the second race of the season and it is packed with twice the amount of drama you could have expected! drama unfolds, trophies passed around like hot potato and secrets spilled like red wine on a white dress. what has yn gotten herself into ? is all this worth it ?

read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 here

The PitBox Crew Series

Land of Pizza and Pasta

(f1drivers x yngasly)

a/n: sorry for the google translate french and italian. please note this is a work of fiction.

20 March 2023

yngasly

Jeddah

liked by lancestroll, estebanocon and 982, 792 others

yngasly i guess everyone is an aston martin now ?

view 791 comments

fernandoalo_official Vamos Yn !! 💪🏼

yngasly congratulations on P3 !

fernandoalo_official are you sure?

yngasly congrats to george then ?

yngasly someone help this is more confusing then trigonometry 😫

sharl she is so real for this

pierregasly what is with the memes

yngasly arent they cute !! i love Pear Gasly, gonna be your new contact now 😎

pierregasly no why?!

yngasly why not?

pierregasly at least its better than the current one

pedrogaseoso pls tell us what the current one is !! i need to know !!!

yngasly hint: its his spanish name 😉

pedrogaseoso NO WAY !!! MY USERNAME??! i have made it 😍

formulauno can someone tell me where to sign up to be yn’s friend ?

yngaslyfans SAME !!! drop the signups here 😃

charles_leclerc why am i a red flag ?

yngasly gee i dont know charles, maybe the fact that all my dates ditch me the second they find out i know you ? 😤

charles_leclerc well they weren’t good enough anyways 🤷🏻‍♂️

sharl where can i get a bestie like this ?

lancestroll green is definitely a good colour on you!

liked by yngasly and 67 others

lancelot ummm 👀 je suis pardon ? (translation: im sorry?)

f1fandom not another colour debate 😂

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20 March 2023

charles_leclerc added to their story

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24 March 2023

yukitsunoda0511 added to their story

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26 March 2023

yngasly

Italy

liked by isahernaez, lilymhe, katerinaberezhna and 799, 793 others

yngasly Mi è mancato questo posto! Bello essere tornato ❤️ (translation: i have missed this place! great to be back ! )

view 799 comments

isahernaez come to spain next !! i miss you 😫❤️

yngasly buying my plane ticket to spain after the race!!

carlossainz55 you dont miss me this much 😧

isahernaez i see you too much 🫢

carlossainz55 WOW

isahernaez come on i only see her at races or during breaks ☹️

carlossainz55 fine 😕

isahernaez im planning our date as we speak !! keep a whole day free babes 😘

yngasly you can have the whole week 😉

ybfusername GOD I MISSED YOU SO MUCH !! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

yngasly ME TOO !! 😭😭😭 you need to come to UK next

ybfusername planning my trip to UK rn

landonorris if you need a tour guide, you know who is the best ! 😎

yngasly thanks lando for the offer! @maxfewtrell when are you free ?

landino oh no she did not 😧

maxfewtrell anytime mate! text me and ill bring my chauffeur too 👍🏼 (hint: he drives a mclaren)

quadrantmania not max joining in too

yngasly sounds like a plan 👍🏼

landonorris lando has left the chat

lilymhe im obessed with your outfits babe!! we need to go shopping together soon!!

yngasly awww thanks lils!! i learnt from the queen herself 😉 a shopping date is a need !!

alexalbonfans yn calling lily “lils” my heart 🥹❤️

charles_leclerc 10/10 for the maranello tour

yngasly how are you so sure

charles_leclerc what is your rating then ?

yngasly tour is a 10 but the the tour guide……

carlossainz55 i was so much better

charles_leclerc not trueee

yngasly he made me coffee !!! thats like +10 points

charles_leclerc 😧

yngaslyfans OMG this comment section is getting me pumped for the rest of the season!! cant wait for all the potential dates yn has !! im so excited!!!

emmainmilan this is just a phase. you dont even know the real yn! if you knew her, you would make sure these people dont mix around with her.

yngaslyfans no one asked mate

emmainmilan its just a friendly heads up. i know the real yn, to her this is just a game. when she has got what she wants she will bring them down instantly.

emmainmilan i was one of her closest friends and let me just say she is a real piece of work.

username7 pls i agree, i heard from a friend that yn is such a brat! im amazed her family took her back after all she did

user6 spill what happened

emmainmilan when she moved with her family to italy, it was all great until the passing of AH. she became a wrecking ball after that, she partied all night, skipped school, and did all sorts of nonsense. pierre and her got into many fights and it got to a point they didn’t talk anymore! she would come home black out drunk and she got into many fights in public too. her family kicked her out and she ended up staying with me. after that she dropped out of school and lived off the money in her trust fund.

user6 WTF i can’t believe i looked up to her

emmainmilan it gets worst, one night she got so drunk she got into a fight with a stranger and ended up in the police station, her parents were called and they had to bail her out ! thats the first time they heard from her since she left their family house 1 year before that. man she begged her mum and dad to take her back. and i honestly can’t believe how her mother took her back.

user5 if that was my daughter, i would have left her to rot in the cell. she deserves it.

emmainmilan same! after her parents took her back, she dropped me like a fly and never looked back! honestly she thinks that she can just forget all this but hell nah im not going to allow that.

yngaslyfans PLS STOP! this isnt your story to share ! its hers!

emmainmilan pls i suggest you find a better person to be a fan of, yn gasly is just an entitled brat!!

yngaslyfc Hey Yn!! if you read this, please know that we still love you so much!! and if this is all true, we are proud that you got better !! dont let these nobodies bring you down❤️❤️❤️

liked by yngaslyfans and 69 others

username8 what a suck up!! she doesn’t deserve it

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26 March 2023

charles_leclerc

Maranello

liked by yngasly, carlossainz55 and 1, 893, 727 others

charles_leclerc Maranello Tour ‘23 🏎️

yngasly thanks for the tour! got to admit i really liked it 😍

charles_leclerc happy to hear that! what was the best thing ?

yngasly well carlos was amazing and i really liked the coffee and merch! im ready for australia now 😃

charles_leclerc and me ?

yngasly you could learn how to make coffee ?

carlossainz55 give it up charles, she is a chilli fan 🌶️

charles_leclerc 😞☹️

yngasly omg i love both ferrari drivers equally !

sharl when will it be me !!!!!

f1fans charles and carlos need a better friend to be honest. just stick with pierre.

liked by 3789 others

scuderiaferrari thank you for visiting us Yn !! Come back soon! We love hanging out with you ❤️

yngasly Thank you @scuderiaferrari definitely loved hanging with you too ❤️

alpinef1team stop stealing our Yn ✋🏼

yngasly no need to fight, @alpinef1team you will always have me 😉

comments have been limited

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27 March 2023

yngasly posted on their story

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27 March 2023

carlossainz55 have posted on their story

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taglist: @fangirlika @threedalla @sticksdoesart @ophcelia @gothicwidowsworld @nmw-am @h0e-xoxo @inthestars-underthesun @tyna-19 @champomiel @pitconfirmbutton @clcspeonies @67-angelofthelordme-67

credits: all pictures are found from pinterest and instagram

a/n: thank you for reading this far !! If you have any suggestions send them to me!! I would love to hear them ◡̈

if you would like to be tagged when new parts are released, drop your usernames in the comments!! 😁

[the-head-ancho-chilli]

Demon Slayer Characters and if I Think They Can Walk in Heels

I SWEAR IM NOT DEAD

Now that I’ve moved into my new place, I’m just trying to get some stuff sorted out so apologies for the delay, I swear I’m working on your requests T_T

In the meantime, here’s this post that I finished a few days ago that I started during finals season

Enjoy!

Word count: 1.4k~

Part 1 (you're here!), Part 2 (coming soon), Part 3 (coming soon)

Modern au-ish...

Mitsuri Kanroji

She doesn't really wear heels unless she's going out somewhere

Mitsuri will wear heels if you take her to a club, a date, a restaurant, and any other nicer event

But honestly, she prefers running shoes!

They're convenient, comfortable, and they tend to match their outfits more often than not

Do not get me wrong, Mitsuri can definitely rock a pair of heels

I would say that the highest she can go is six inch heels and that's it

Anymore than that and she's wobbling

Mitsuri's favourite pair of heels is a knee high gladiator sandal that's all gold, and maube about 4-5 inches high?

It pairs lovely with her favourite dresses and skirts, especially when she's going out of her way to turn a few heads

I also think that she's the most graceful out of everyone here

Overall 9/10 she absolutely slays this

Obanai Iguro

He thinks it's stupid that he needs to clarify this at all

Can Obanai walk in heels? Without a doubt

Your next question should be if Obanai chooses to wear heels

And shockingly, he does

I think that Obanai will sometimes wear a two inch loafer heel just for some added height

Hella confident in them too, look at him go

Obanai will totally wear them to work, class, or anywhere he feels like putting on a little bit of effort into what he's wearing

I think on more fancier occasions, like a high end date or club, he might wear some pointed toe stilettos with a nice pair of slacks

Honestly he's not really one to exclude heels from his wardrobe, he's just weirded out by how fascinated people are on this topic

8/10, nailed it

Tengen Uzui

Do I think Tengen can wear heels? I know for a fact he can

But I just think that he never does because he can never find any in his size

Poor guy

To be fair, this man is fucking huge

I even have problems finding boots that fit my calves, deep down in my heart I know that Tengen has it so much worse

Cause even if he manages to find something that fits his foot, it might not fit the rest of his leg

He's actyally really devestated about it

All he wants is a nice pair of pumps to match Hina, Suma and Makio

And maybe a pair of lobster claws...

3/10, a slay in theory but not in practice

I WILL GIVE HIM THIS, if he manages to pay for a custom pair of heels, he will probably rival with Mitsuri in who looks the best in heels

Sanemi Shinazugawa

He says he can walk in heels

But I assure you, he cannot

I think that Sanemi is lowkey intimidated by the results of the other Hashira on this list and now he's in too deep to back down

So when asked if he can wear heels, he will lie to your face

"Obviously, you think I'm gonna allow a pair of shoes to get the best of me?"

Sanemi, you've got a big storm coming

All his machoness goes away the second that he puts them on

Why is he walking with his knees out...

He's not even wearing stilettos, no

Sanemi's wearing three inch cork wedges

They don't really suit his style so he'll never go out of his way to wear them

I think after embarassing himself like this, he's never going to want to learn how to walk in them

-2/10 Sanemi you fucked around and found out huh

Shinobu Kocho

Can absolutely strut in six inch heels no problem

I think that Shinobu wears heels often, especially if she's going to be out in public where she is certain she's going to encounter someone she knows

But I don't think she enjoys wearing them

In some way I think Shinobu wears heels on a semi-daily basis to compensate for her short stature

She wants to be on equal standing with others and in a way, this is her way fo tring to achieve that

Two inch boots aren't going to stop her from being taken seriously

She does try to find some light in her circimustance though

Her favourite pair are these cute mary janes, and she has another pair with a platform sole

So even if you see her wearing heels, please don't mistake that she finds them powerful to wear

It's more of a social thing really

7/10, I wish she had a better experience :/

Kyojuro Rengoku

I am going to say this as nicely as I can

Please be patient with him, he's learning T_T

He can still get to where he needs to go, he just looks a little unstable???

Kyojuro would really appreciate if you held his hand a little

Though I will say, he is enthusiastic about learning!

In a few months he can probably walk just fine in them

I don't think that he would wear them to work or on a date, but he might if he's going to a particular event where you try to look better than usual

Like a high end club or exclusive event, he'll probably wear something classy

I think his go to is wither a pair of corset heels or high blocks

Obanai is lowkey jealous because Kyojuro doesn't really need the extra hight

4/10, keep up the hard work :)

Giyu Tomioka

My first instinct was to immediately put Giyu on the 'Not Allowed' list

A hunch just told me that he would somehow cause more trouble if he wore any

But I considered it further and came to this conlcusion

Giyu can and will walk in heels, just nothing above three inches

He tried walking in four inch platforms and he was nearly tripping every two minutes

And if Tengen sees him exiting his apartment wearing them again he will not hesitate to put those things back where they came from

Giyu does like wearing heels though, even if he's not allowed to wear very high ones

Only wears them if he's going to a club though

His favourite pair is a professional looking pair of blue, beige and black slingbacks with a three inch heel

5/10, but he's walking on thin ice

Gyomei Himejima

I don't think that Gyomei could walk in heels smoothly, but he can certainly get from point A to B

He just can't do it gracefully

If Gyomei walks in heels, he won't ever admit that he's struggling and he'll insist that he's walking just fine

But he has his arms outstretched like he's walking on a tightrope

It's honestly just not his thing, and I don't think he would be able to incorporate it with his current wardrobe

Even if he had the desire to learn, I think he would hear the struggle that Tengen's going through and just give up

He already has to go on a lengthy search to find anything to fit him regularly, let alone a pair of heels

2/10 I can't say I would recommend this for him, no

Muichiro Tokito

You know those pictures of kids wearing their mom's heels?

And their foot barely fits in the shoe?

And they just look so awkwardly out of place?

That's Muichiro

Poor baby

I think he has some growing to do before he's going to learn how to walk in them

But Muichiro definitely wants to learn!

Given how his sense of style is usually baggy or loose fitting clothes, I can see him maybe going to Obanai for style advice in the future

Probably nothing high or flashy either, just probably a pair of classy heeled boots

I just don't think it's for him right now, at his current stature

Muichiro just looks a little bit out of place in them right now though...

1/10, maybe when you're a bit older buddy

꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚

Thanks for reading! I have two more parts of this prompt with the slayers and demons so I should be sending that out in a while. I’m also working on a Kyojuro request and I’m hoping to have it out soon, so stay tuned lovelies ^^

Also thank you all for 200 followers, I swear I’ll work harder so I can post more often! I’ll be working on some requests in the meantime :)

Asks and requests are still open, just please read the rules before submitting anything ;)

[mydollsaregay]

@americangirlruinedmylife asked me if i had seen AG’s website today and for a minute i was so wrapped up in the revival of Julie’s floral jumpsuit that i straight up didn’t even see the other historical drops 😅

anyway i love this fit SO much. i was devastated when i got back into collecting and saw how expensive it was, so i am very pleased to be able to have a version of it (though they changed the sandal color for some reason?? it’s odd but im fine with it - I have some tan ones I’ll switch them out for).

the other thing I’m definitely going to be getting is Addy’s birthday dress- my Addy only has her pjs so i’m pumped to be able to get another fit for her!!! also I just love her birthday outfit. her snood is super fun, and I LOVE the checkered apron.

(I kinda wish the book was sold separately though, as I believe I already have a copy and. Y’know. Money.)

i actually LOVE the idea of the limited drop IF they end up doing what I think they’re going to do. they dropped just the birthday/spring outfits and books during the season when they take place….

I think they might be doing a seasonal release of each book and accompanying outfit??? 🤔

based on how much got left hanging around on sale for molly and kit, i think they might be trying to broaden the audience while limiting the amount they have to stock by doing these three girls at once - they could be planning to rotate out items as they add each new book and accompanying outfit, which I actually think is an extremely cool idea. there’s no way to know for certain until we hit summer and the next wave would release (if im not totally off base), but we’ll see 👀

[bittersweet-adagio]

SEASON 39 | ROUND 12

assassination(?)

THIS IS REAL FUCKING ASS I PUMPED IT OUT IN 15 MINUTES IM UNPREPARED THERES LIKE NO LORE PREPARATION FOR THIS FEEL FREE TO SEND ASKS. IM SORRY also this is gonna be so fucking embarrassing if people end up voting for flor in the last hour or so…

This is how it was always meant to end. 

Vera will admit, she doesn’t really want to do this. She knows it’ll haunt her for the rest of her life. Unforgiving, burning like a flame deep in her stomach, searing through her lungs and throbbing at her heart.

Ellie won. Part of Vera wishes she had lost, just so she wouldn’t have to do this herself.

Ellie was Vera’s best friend. Her first love. Her universe. Her everything. Guardian Kora would never approve of it, and she knew that very well.

Vera doesn’t have very long. It’ll be over soon. She lets the sound of her heels reverberate around the stadium, watching as both Flor and Ellie turn around at the sight of her in her bloody wedding dress. Flor must be shocked she isn’t dead, surely?

Guardian Kora requested there be a wait before the execution on stage. No security guards are currently present. They will be, soon. This means that Vera has to go through with it. She has to, otherwise she’ll die with Flor and disappoint her mother. Her family. She’ll die with no honor.

“Vera?” Ellie asks, her voice barely above a whisper. Her pink dress flows in the wind. The bun in her hair had gotten a bit messed up in the performance, but it’s still pretty. Isn’t it?

“Close your eyes, Ellie.” Vera walks closer, hand behind her back. 

“Why are you here? You- You can’t be here. You need to get off the stage or they’ll—“

“Close. Your. Eyes. I don’t want you to look at me, please. Please don’t look at me, I’m so sorry.” Both of her hands drop to her sides. She carries a gun, heavy in her palm as it trembles in her grip.

“What? No, what are you doing? What’s happening? Vera, you’re scaring me, this isn’t your performance, get off the—“

The gun is immediately pointed at Ellie’s head. Vera’s hand shakes, and it’s like the world disappears around her. Nobody else exists but Ellie. Her love, her princess.

Vera hates death. She hates dying. So why did Guardian Kora have to send her out to ANAKT Garden for this purpose? To spread the name of her channel, to spout rumors and clout? All press is good press, after all. But is this really what she had to do?

The guards are coming.

She can’t do it. This is what it was always meant to be like. Vera was scared of befriending Ellie, her target since the beginning, much less fall in love with her. It didn’t help what they did together in ANAKT. Vera had said, “I’d like it if you lied to me, just this once, and kissed me as if you wanted me. I really love you, Ellie, I do.”

And who was Ellie to refuse?

It had always been that way. Ellie never felt anything for Vera, and that’s what made it hurt. She lied because Vera wanted her to. And now, Vera couldn’t explain anything to Ellie. Or to Khoi. Or anyone, for that matter. She’s gonna go fucking insane.

Vera turns over to Flor, smiles, and tells her, “Congratulations on making it to your next round,” before shooting Ellie straight in the head and running off the stage entirely.

She can’t see, but she can hear, all the 

murmurs and the running of the guards. This probably was a shock to them, huh? Bet they wondered what all this was for, especially from a guardian that was neither of the current contestants.

Do they regret it as much as Vera? She should’ve just said no and run away back when Kora told her what she had to do. For the buzz, she said. For the popularity of the channel, she said. For the health and wellbeing of Vera’s siblings, she said.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She just fucking shot the love of her life because she can’t bear the thought of all those lives on the line. Why couldn’t she say no? She could’ve ran, escaped, taken Ellie with her. They could’ve been happy.

Tears stream down Vera’s face, hot against her skin. She doesn’t know how long she has to run. She knows she can’t see her siblings again. She knows that now her life is going to go to absolute shit and that she probably won’t live for even a day after this event. The Agency for the Recovery of Escaped Pet Humans is probably going to track her down. She won’t live. But isn’t that what she wanted?

Deep down, she knows that isn’t true. She wants to live, desperately.

That will never happen now.

She’s sorry. She really is.

She drops her gun on the floor and sprints for her life, teardrops and bloodshed staining her beautiful white dress as she hopes that she can live as long as she possibly could. That way, at least the love she had would live longer than the person she felt it for.

not tagging lore people bc i think everyones finding this… but i will tag @sotogalmo to say that flor’s reaction is vague on purpose so you can add what she does and also @season39 so yk what i uh… what i did…

[poppy-metal]

beefcake jordan comes to ur dorm after they workout just to show off their pump. flexing their muscles in the mirror like “i hit a new pr today, babe”. now thinking about himbo jordan

HIMBO JORDAN?!?!?!? thinking of how buffed up jordan might be next season - I'll naw my hands off, i really will. fuckin.... big ass arms.... guh.

need them to lift me up and down on their dick - their strap - with out any effort. dont even break a sweat doing it, just tunneling into that tight pussy like you're a fleshlight, muscles flexing under the skin of their arms. on their thighs too - god. id ask to give them head right after the gym idc if they're all sweaty and gross I'll eat them out THROUGH their boxers - all damp with sweat - let them hump my tongue till they squirt. ill burry my face in their balls and sucks them like ripe juciy fruit till they have to shove inside my mouth and pump a hot load down my throat - im so serious i need them to use me like a ragdoll its not even funny to me.