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eroselless · 3 months ago

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─────────────── somebody else // 2

series summary: you just work in hospitality for McLaren and he’s their star driver. what happens when your paths cross and you find yourself questioning your feelings for each other? [3.8k]

[lando norris x reader]

masterlist | previously

warnings: language, suggestive content, drunk almost hookup, slightly possessive lando

note: ehm, I absolutely did not mean for it to get that long, my bad guys. I’m trying to update a little faster and write in bigger chunks. I have a trip coming up soon and I’m not sure I’ll be able to update as fast and regularly as I’d like to. But as always, happy reading!

In the days that follow, you find yourself pulling back even more. You stack your walls up even higher as you try to keep that feeling of uncertainty away. You hyper focused on your work, trying to maintain a professional facade but each day that came and went it became harder than ever. Lando was still there, still kind and attentive but he could tell. Your heart was miles away, under lockdown and under constant supervision. He could see it in your eyes, how they would be distant and vacant at times, a haze coming over them whenever he came around. The easy banter had shifted, replaced by a tension that neither of you would acknowledge but could cut with a knife.

One afternoon, after a particularly busy day at the track, you found yourself alone in the hospitality area once again, cleaning up after the last guests had left. You were lost in your thoughts, replaying the events of the last few days and seeing the same image of Lando’s eyes, pooling with emotion as he watched you under the darkening sky.

“Still here?” Lando’s voice is light, but there is an edge to it that catches your attention. It pulls you from the neverending cycle in your head.

You turn to see him leaning against the doorframe, eyes fixed on you. He’s still wearing his race suit, it hangs low on his waist, orange contrasting with the black of his fireproofs. There was an air to him tonight, maybe it was the glossiness of his eyes, the five o'clock shadow beginning to form on his face or maybe something else entirely—it makes your pulse quicken.

“Just finishing up,” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual.

He walks over to you, gaze never leaving you. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

It wasn’t a question. It lingers in the air, thick with the weight of unspoken emotions. It makes you freeze in your spot, a dirty rag trapped in your fingers. His eyes search you for an answer, one you weren’t ready to give. Your heart pounds in your chest, the tensions building to almost unbearable.

“I haven’t—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Yes, you have,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “And I want to know why.”

You swallow hard, searching for the right words. “I haven’t been avoiding you,” you repeat quickly, the lie slipping from your lips before you can fully think it through. You force a smile, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “I’ve just been really busy with work, that’s all.”

He studies you, eyes narrowing slightly as if he could see right through you. “Busy with work?” he echoes, skepticism lacing his tone.

“Yeah,” you nod, looking anywhere but at him. “You know how it is, especially with the season in full swing. There’s always so much to do, and I didn’t want to get distracted.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything just watching you as you stand there. Distracted. It had been a word you had said to him before, a word he was seemingly starting to hate after hearing you say it a second time. Your heart could burst from your chest as he continues to look at you with a piercing gaze. Your mind scrambles to come up with something—anything-–that would make your excuse believable. But under the weight of his stare, any lie you thought of felt flimsy, crumbling the second you even considered saying it out loud.

“Right,” He says slowly. You could tell he wasn’t convinced but were grateful when he didn’t press any further nodding at you he spoke again. “I get it. It’s a hectic time for everyone.”

You mimic his actions, trying to keep your expression neutral, even as your stomach twists with guilt. You hated that you were lying to him, hated the way it made your chest feel like it was caving in and most of all hated how the wall you were building up to keepsafe your feelings was now coming between you. But what else could you do? Admitting the truth—admitting your feelings, that you didn’t trust them— felt too risky, too raw.

Lando sighs softly, running a hand through his damp hair. “I just…missed talking to you, that’s all. You just felt distant, and I didn’t know why.”

Your chest tightens at the shakiness of his voice, the way he sounded, the devastation squeezed at your heart. You wanted so badly to tell him you missed him too, that the distance you had put between the two of you was excruciatingly painful but the words caught in your throat.

You round the table, moving towards him. You drop the rag onto the table as you get closer. “I’m sorry,” you say, the apology sounds hollow even to your own ears. You reach over his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. It's not the first time you’ve hugged. Well, it's the first time you hugged him. You usually found yourself trapped in his embrace, head pressed briefly against his chest. You ignore how his fireproofs are slightly damp and how he slumps into you. He gives in to your touch, his own heartbeat echoing in his ears. “It’s okay,” he says quietly. “I just wanted to make sure everything was…you know, okay between us.”

“Of course,” you reply a little too quickly. You ignore the butterflies that bother your stomach, between us. “Everything’s fine, I promise.”

Lando nods, pulling out of your arms. He seemed to accept your words though he knew there was something else going on. There was a small wave of relief wash over you, not asking any more questions. There's guilt swirling in your stomach as he bids you goodbye, leaving you to yourself once again.

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As time passes, your routine settles back into its regular pace. You still find yourself emotionally distant from him, just more aware of your actions. You reassure him sweetly every day that you’re ok, coming up with more excuses. I’m just a little tired, today was super busy. You make sure not to muddle the mood, keeping up a facade whenever you need to.

A few weekends later, after another high-intensity race, he approaches you with an invitation. “Hey, a few of us are going out later. It’s going to be a bit of a party—want to join?” His eyes are wide, the adrenaline from the race still high in his bloodstream.

You hesitate for a moment, considering all possibilities. The allure of a night out, the chance to let loose and the opportunity to see Lando in a different setting makes it harder for you to decline. “Sure, I’d love to,” you accept, nerves pouring out again. With a quiet squeal you’ve heard from him before, he bids you goodbye, letting you know that he’ll text you all the information. He quickly presses a kiss to your head, which leaves you reeling, before running out and leaving you to finish.

You can feel the base of the song in your chest as you step into the club, the heavy beat reverberating through the floor and up into your bones. The lights pulse and swirl around you in shades of blue, purple and red. They cast shadows over the crowd of people moving rhythmically to the music. You find yourself alone, surrounded by strangers, their laughter and chatter blending into the music, creating a vibrant but overwhelming atmosphere. Pushing through the sea of bodies, you navigate your way across the club, your eyes scanning the room for a familiar face. Anxiety prickles at the back of your neck, and you pull out your phone, nervously checking to see if you’ve missed any messages from Lando. But the screen is empty, and you feel a pang of unease. The crowd presses in around you, and for a moment, you’re unsure of where to go or what to do.

Scanning the room over once again, you finally spot him. Lando is standing on a step near the back, surrounded by a group of drivers and their girlfriends. He’s got one arm looped around Max’s neck, the two of them bouncing to the beat of the music, lost in the energy of the moment. The sight of him makes your heart skip.

Lando spots you almost immediately, his eyes lighting up as he waves you down with his free arm, a grin spreading across his face. Max rolls his eyes good-naturedly at Lando’s enthusiasm, giving him a playful shove as Lando nearly topples over in his haste to reach you.

Before you can react, his arms are around your shoulders, pulling you tight against his chest. The scent of Christian Dior mixed with tequila hits you, a surprisingly intoxicating combination that makes your head spin a little. His navy blue button-up clings to his frame, the top few buttons undone to reveal a hint of his tanned chest. The chains around his neck clink softly against your own as he holds you close, his embrace warm and firm. “I missed you,” he murmurs into your ear, his voice thick with the effects of the alcohol.

You let out a shy giggle, your heart fluttering despite your efforts to keep your emotions in check. “You saw me a couple of hours ago,” you mumble into the fabric of his shirt, the words barely audible over the music.

He shakes his head, pressing his lips closer to your ear. “It hasn’t been soon enough,” he insists, his breath warm against your skin.

The sentiment makes your heart skip, and you have to bite down on your cheek to keep from smiling too widely. The weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice, tugs at something deep inside you. Before you can say anything else, he pulls back slightly, his hand slipping down to take yours.

“Come on, let’s get you a drink,” Lando says, guiding you through the crowd towards the bar. He insists on covering your drinks for the night, his generosity both endearing and dangerous. The alcohol flows freely, and soon enough, you can feel your earlier resolve melting away. The tension that had been knotting your stomach eases as the alcohol loosens your limbs and your thoughts, making everything feel a little less serious, a little more carefree.

After a few drinks, you find yourself swaying to the music, your body moving instinctively to the beat. Alexandra and Lily are close by, the three of you forming a small circle as you dance together, shouting the lyrics to the songs that blast from the speakers. There’s a joyous energy between you, a shared camaraderie that makes the night feel lighter, more fun. You’d built a rapport with them over the last few races, their curious faces eager to meet the girl that had Lando disappearing before and after every race day.

A familiar song comes on, and you lock eyes with Alex, both of you squealing in delight. You move behind her, your hands on her hips as the two of you bounce together, laughing and singing at the top of your lungs. The music is loud, the bass heavy, and you lose yourself in the moment, your bodies moving in perfect sync with the rhythm.

Across the room, Lando watches you, his gaze fixed on the way your dress clings to your curves. The orange fabric, vibrant and bold, catches his eye, and a slow smile spreads across his face as he takes notice of the fabric of the dress. Papaya orange. There’s something about seeing you in that particular shade—his color—that makes his chest tighten with a strange sense of pride and possessiveness.

His eyes trail down your body, watching the way you roll your hips in time with the beat, the smooth, sensual movements captivating him. He can’t tear his gaze away, mesmerized by the way you move, so free and confident. The sight of you, so different from the professional, composed version he usually sees, makes his heart race.

Lando finally pushes through the crowd, making his way back to you, his movements slightly unsteady as he navigates through the crowd. When he reaches you, he drunkenly sends Alexandra a nod and a wink, pulling you away from her. His hands find your waist, pulling you close as you continue to sway to the music. His touch is firm, but there’s a gentleness to it that makes your breath catch in your throat.

The ghost of his lips brushing the shell of your ear sends a shiver down your spine. The soft whisper of your name ignites a heat deep in your stomach. His touch is familiar, yet it feels entirely different from anything you’ve experienced before. His chest is pressed against your back, both of you covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and your mind begins to wander to places you’ve been trying to avoid for months. Images of the two of you flash through your mind—intense, unrestrained, his hands gripping your hips as his lips explore every inch of your skin.

A voice in the back of your head urges you to stop, but the alcohol blurs its edges, and you find yourself leaning further into him. His hands slide up your body, fingers curling over your ribs, a possessive touch that cradles the underside of your breasts, drawing a soft laugh from his lips. He presses his nose to your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your perfume. It’s addictive, intoxicating, driving him wild.

He lowers his head, his lips tracing a slow path over the racing pulse in your neck. He pauses just below your ear, murmuring into your hair, “You know you’re driving me crazy right now, don’t you?”

A hum escapes your lips before you reply, “I had no idea.” The words are tinged with a bitter truth, your usual restraint slipping under the influence of the alcohol. His lips resume their slow, deliberate assault on your throat, even as you continue to sway to the beat. You move your hips in time with the music, grinding into him, and he lets out a low, guttural sound, biting his lip as a wave of heat surges through him.

His hands slide lower, settling on the crease where your legs meet your hips. He tries to guide your movements, pulling you closer, but you push back, teasing him. His head begins to spin, the alcohol, the sweat, the heat, and most of all, you, overwhelming his senses. He presses his forehead against your shoulder, struggling to keep his thoughts in check.

A breathy gasp escapes you as his fingers dig into your skin. You can feel him stir, the hard press of his arousal against your back. He pushes your hips away slightly, only to pull you back firmly, the back-and-forth sending your head spinning. Whether it’s the thought of him enjoying the teasing closeness, the drinks, or a mix of both, it only fuels the need burning between your legs.

His breath is hot against your skin as he starts to murmur directly into your ear. The noise of the club fades away, the music and the crowd dissolving until only his voice and his body remain. The heat radiating from him seeps into you, making you cling to him as the tension builds.

After a few more songs, the tension reaches a boiling point. Lando’s voice is low and rough as he whispers, “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

You nod, letting him take your hand as he leads you through the crowd, weaving between the dancing bodies until you reach the hallway leading to the restrooms. The space is dimly lit, the music muffled, creating an intimate atmosphere that only heightens the tension between you. Your heart races as he closes the restroom door behind you, sealing the two of you in a moment that’s been building all night.

The air in the small restroom is thick with tension as he stays by the door for a second. He pants with his back towards you as if he’s thinking it over in a brief moment of soberness. The muffled bass of the club still pulses through the walls but here, it's just the two of you. His eyes are darkened by desire as he scans your face for a sign, a permission to cross this line that you’ve been dancing around for months.

He steps closer, his body heat enveloping you and you can feel the alcohol fueled courage roll back into him in waves. You’re both silent, the only real sound being the shallow breaths you’re taking as he slowly raises his hand to cup your cheek.

You hold in a breath as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, eyes following how it softly snaps back before locking onto yours.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers, his voice raspy, almost desperate. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes fluttering shut. His breath comes out in pants, mixing with yours. With a small tilt of your head, your lips meet his. One hand comes to wrap delicately around the back of your neck, the other encapsulates your waist, flushing your body to his. The kiss is a release of all the tension that’s been simmering between you, a collision of emotions too long suppressed. It's deep, intimate, charged with so much as his tongue explores the cavern of your mouth. He pushes you up against the sink, trying to get you as close to him as possible, the world outside forgotten. Your hands travel across his chest, fingers tangling in the chains that rest there.

He drinks you in, sucking the air out of you as he cradles your face. Pulling away, he lowers his head to your exposed shoulder, tugging the thin strap of your dress to your bicep. He kisses the skin tenderly, muttering into your skin something you don't quite catch. You trace your fingers up the side of his face, head rolling to the side as he sucks sharply at the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

He slots a leg between yours, pulling one of your legs up to wrap around his waist. You’re almost wide open for him as he rolls his hips against you. You let out a weak whimper as the shape of his cock brushes right where you needed him. You buck your hips up, chasing the mouth watering feeling once again. Just as his hands slide over your bum, fingers searching for the seam of your dress, there’s a sharp knock on the door that has you jumping.

When you don’t move from your spot, there’s another blasted knock on the bathroom door paired with the annoyed call of Max. Lando allows your leg to drop, his forehead resting against yours as he lets out a frustrated groan. The reality of the situation starts to seep back in, and you can’t help but let out a nervous laugh, the absurdity of it all hitting you at once. He sighs, pulling you into a tight hug, as if he’s reluctant to let go just yet.

“We’re coming, geez.” Lando calls out, his voice still tinged with the lingering effects of alcohol.

When he finally releases you, there’s a look of disappointment mixed with something deeper in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes your hand and leads you back out into the now nearly-empty club. Max gives you both a knowing look, his eyebrows raised, but he doesn’t say a word as Lando signals for another round of drinks.

As the night wears on, Lando continues drinking, and while you’ve switched to water, you stay by his side, watching as his playful demeanor shifts into something more subdued. He’s not the loud, rowdy drunk you’d seen over the last few hours; instead, he becomes quieter, his words slurred but gentle, his touch lingering but not overbearing. In your mind, his sudden change only confirms what you had been hearing in the back of your head all along.

“I don’t want to go home yet,” he mumbles when the night comes to a close. He hangs around your shoulders, head lolling slightly as he turns his head to get a better look at you. “Come with me? Just to hang out?”

You hesitate, knowing you should probably just call it a night, but the soft, almost pleading look in his eyes makes it impossible to say no. “Okay,” you agree quietly. “But just for a bit to make sure you get home in one piece.”

The ride back to his apartment is a blur of neon lights and the quiet hum of the city at night. Lando leans against you in the backseat, his head resting on your shoulder as he mutters something incoherent. He fiddles with your fingers, playing with your rings. It's almost as if he’s trying to commit to memory the way your hands feel in his. It's as if he knows that by morning light, everything will be gone and it'll be like a dream you can't fully remember.

By the time you arrive, he’s half-asleep, and it takes some effort to get him out of the car and up to his apartment. Once inside, you help him to his room, guiding him onto the bed as he flops down with a tired groan. He’s still wearing his clothes, and as you pull his shoes off, he watches you with half-lidded eyes, a lazy smile on his lips.

“You’re so good to me,” he giggles, reaching out to grab your hand. “Stay, please? Just... stay.”

You sigh softly, knowing he won’t remember much of this in the morning, but the tenderness in his voice tugs at your heart. “Alright,” you surrender, sitting on the edge of the bed. “But you need to sleep, okay?”

He nods fervently, already drifting off as he mumbles something about how nice it is to have you here. He continues, his words slurring slightly as he tells you what drawer to reach into for a shirt to sleep in before rolling over to wrap his arms around his pillow. You pull the covers over him, watching as his breathing evens out, his face softening in sleep. You change into an old t-shirt of his and slip into the bed beside him, careful not to get too close. Despite the circumstances, there’s something comforting about being here, about being the one to look after him when he needs it. The sobering voice in your head returns, but you blur it out as it slowly lulls you to sleep.

tags: @sltwins @sarx164 @f1fantasys

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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abimee · 2 months ago

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hi i can no longer act coy or hope that a job will come in time so im coming to everyone really embarassingly with my issues

in June I attempted to get fired from/left my job after having a really embarassing public meltdown due to having Rapid-Cycling Mixed Bipolar and the unending stress of that job of 3+ years. I've been struggling to get a job afterwards due to being in CA without a vehicle, and i'm currently working on an overdue commission so could not open up any more.

Soon after, my mother's car imploded, and a series of incidents related to a used engine and taking out a loan with a friend has left her both needing to pay back the loan and still needing to get a new car, putting her thousands in the hole.

my mother has allowed me to not worry about paying rent while unemployed, but now the person living with us is moving out, so it will be on me and my mother to pay rent, upping mine from $300 to $500 a month. I am currently job hunting with good prospects, but I am still in need of some assistance.

I DO NOT WANT TO ASK FOR DONATIONS WITHOUT GIVING SOMETHING IN RETURN, I have a very bad time taking help from people without doing something in return because I do not want people to feel like they Have to give me money or help me, I want to Offer something in return for that money, even in a situation like this, because I want everyone to come out on the other end feeling fulfilled, so I'm offering some (slow) cheaper commissions I can work on in between the bigger comm I owe.

My kofi is always open for donation sketches ---- you can donate the minimum amount (or whatever you prefer) and get a drawing like this of anything as long as you put it into the donation message!

i cant currently take on big commissions as I have one i owe and the commissioner is a very generous person who has been waiting a good few months for me to finish one during this hectic time, but if you're interested in getting something a little higher quality for a donation, a $30-50 USD donation can get you a ''simple commission'' styled drawing --- that is, you give me a prompt and character refferences (ocs or fanart, up to 2-3 characters depending on complexity), and I draw them like below (color complexity depends on price, the higher the amount the more the color).

You wont have access to revisions to make this as fast as possible, so i HIGHLY reccomend only getting fanart comms of these and to make sure you really like my style!!

this is one of those situations where I DEEPLY reccomend people do not donate unless they want something in return, if you dont wanna ask for a drawing or anything i reccomend going to people in more dire circumstances and helping them out with your donation!!!

but if you want to help me help my mother get out of a bad financial situation and get a little drawing in return, you can do a small dono and att a message of what you want doodled, or you can email me at [email protected] your $30-50 donation reciept and what you would like me to draw, and ill try to get them as soon as I can

thank you so much for checking this post out and keep it real old school!!!!! i promise once this is over and i get a job we'll be back to your regularly scheduled art posting

[EDIT: PLEASE DO NOT REBLOG THIS VERSION. I AM NO LONGER TAKING THE SIMPLE COMMISSION TIER. REBLOG THE ADDITION TO THIS POST GIVING AN UPDATE]

#i usually lock these posts cause i feel bad having a donation post circulate but this one time i wont #i dont know why i jsut feel so ashamed how much ive had to ask for money these past 2 years. i think its been p rare up until recently #but i hate doing it at all because i feel like a teenager again and it makes me feel horrible #so thats why i dont want just donos w nothing attached puh lease let me draw you something 😭😭😭😭

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bogleech · 8 months ago

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Also going to finally make a pinned post for all my stuff:

BOGLEECH - my tumblr blog is named after this website I created around 2002 and still update. Thousands of pages worth of content focusing on creature design as well as real biology. My review of the original Legend of Zelda monsters might be the most straightforward example of my articles. Links to some of the most popular content:

POKEMON REVIEW ARCHIVE: - I rate and review each and every single Pokemon, in Pokedex order, on its merits as a creature design. I also do so as someone whose favorite animals are all parasites.

DIGIMON REVIEW ARCHIVE - same, but more chaotic.

CREEPYPASTA COOKOFF ARCHIVE - for several years I hosted a yearly writing contest before it grew too big for me to keep up with. There are over a thousand user submitted horror, fantasy, sci fi and surrealist stories here emphasizing unconventional, original ideas you seldom see from the "creepypasta" community!

The original "MORTASHEEN" Monster Archive - since the early 2000's I've created and illustrated more than 800 creatures and counting for my own monster-catching world, now set for release as a tabletop RPG setting.

AWFUL HOSPITAL: SERIOUSLY THE WORST EVER (page one): an interactive comedy-horror-sci-fi webcomic I started in 2014 about a medical facility that could maybe be better.

Some of my other internet stuff:

PATREON - constant work makes my patreon updates inconsistent, but the content backlog goes back years with a huge amount of exclusive art and writing. I try to put up new exclusive stuff whenever I can.

ETSY - I design all sorts of original enamel pins like these, plus I sell zero-maintenance terrarium plants (just leave them in a jar!), original books and other things!

COLOR THE ABYSS (available on the above etsy!) - a 30 page educational deep sea coloring book! Includes a few famous favorites like giant isopods and hagfish, but mostly focuses on less popular, often much weirder animals.

UNBELIEVABLE BUGS - also regularly restocked in the etsy store, 30 of the strangest and most surprising arthropods most people have likely never heard of, illustrated by myself and @revretch, written for even the youngest kids to understand (but will likely teach you something new at any age)

My Itch.io and Ko-fi - both sell digital versions of my books, including some creepypasta collections and my first novel, "Return of the Living," about a world of entirely ghosts suddenly dealing with the appearance of ghost-hunting monsters.

TWITCH CHANNEL - I now try to stream something at least monthly, sometimes weekly when possible, from horror games to books and art.

YOUTUBE CHANNEL - archives my twitch streams and other little things.

INSTAGRAM - look at pictures of my huge weird collection of toys and Halloween collectibles

BLUESKY - I'm going to put mainly just updates to my stuff on here. SEE ALSO:

HUMANS-B-GONE - a science fiction animated series by my partner @revretch, about a world of kaiju-size, technologically advanced insects and arachnids to whom vertebrates like us are just pesky little "gubs." Also has a tumblr account @humansbgone FINALLY, HERE'S MY GUIDE AND RESOURCE TO MAKING YOUR OWN INTERNET WEBSITE IN A FEW MINUTES WITH NO KNOWLEDGE OF CODING

#art #pokemon #digimon #biology #animals #halloween #monsters #creature design #creepypasta #horror

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lesbians4armand · 2 months ago

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Do you have any DM fic recs? I feel like there has been so much fic posted since the finale and I can't keep up.

OKAY dear nonnie I am so so sorry for making you wait so long for a response, I am notoriously terrible at replying to asks. I kept meaning to and then forgetting, but we are here now 🙂‍↕️

Here are some of my favourite Devil’s Minions fics!!

• I'm the Devil's Minion And He Grants My Every Wish

(Series by OracleOfTheSea, gorgeous writing and take on past and present DM in these three fics, I love this one)

• bodice ripper

(by nonfatalinfection, explicit, body horror, true freak DM sex, really enjoyed this one personally but might not be for everyone, so check tags!)

• i’m a man (and you deny it)

(INCREDIBLE work by mercuryhatter, who is on tumblr @armandposting, brilliant exploration on armand’s story and present feelings on Venice, set post-canon as he explains to Daniel who Amadeo really was, mature)

• At Least Death Means I’ll Never Be Afraid of Dying Again

(by MitchieSawyer, mature. I don’t tend to include AUs in recs but this one caught me so hard, it was truly amazing. Modern, Human AU that deals with the heartbreak and difficulties of terminal illness and death, keep tissues on hand for this one.)

• i’m a mess, but i’m the mess you wanted

(by real_enough, explicit. another human au, but one I found myself really enjoying, very sweet)

• red tint my world, keep me safe from my trouble and pain

(by rockwetman, explicit. armand watches rocky horror, once in 1975 and once in 2022. this fic speaks to my rhps loving heart, can’t recommend it enough)

• honey and pineapple

(by duri, explicit. AMAZING fic where daniel and rashid-mand get it on, one of my faves and my favourite genre)

• a haunting just for company

(by valkyrisms, explicit, post-s2 with armand just. living in daniel’s house. very fun, but unfinished as of now)

• two broken souls

(series by serafina20, explicit, post-s2 devils minion. a huge favourite)

• Lie Back And Let Me Unlock You

(by Thunder_Puss, explicit. human au but they’re possibly even more freaks than they are in canon, set in the early 2000s, armand is a cannibal, and daniel is his willing(?) victim. unfinished as of now but updates regularly)

• Dirty Thoughts

(by Yielded Desire, explicit. Daniel is super horny for Rashid and Louis and Armand project images of their coupling into his head to get him off. very fun indeed)

Finally, a little bit of shameless self-promo, by ao3 is ultraviolet_glow, where you can find many of own my DM ideas

#devils minion #fic recs #fanfiction #iwtv #amc iwtv #devil's minion #armandaniel #armandiel #armand #daniel molloy #interview with the vampire #ao3 #asks

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agentleem · 11 months ago

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The latest warframe update just made me realize how hilarious a lot of the worldbuilding for Deimos sounds. To count:

-it is the moon that holds the one power source for your main tool in the game

-it is completely infected by the cyborg disease that turns you into a flesh monster. To the point it has boils and organs

-one of the only safe spots is the home of a family consisting of members of a superhuman race that ran the most oppressive empire possible

-the family are all sticking out of giant flesh flowers and act like a sitcom about the least functional family possibly

-one member of the family helps organize a small guerilla warfare group that regularly sabotages the remnants of a cult that briefly took over the solar system (through what’s essentially future discord/zoom)

-another member bought a series of vents on a space evangelist’s slave colony on Venus so the homeless kids living there don’t have to worry about being evicted from there so they can continue setting up street races

-deep below the surface, the boyfriend of the family’s distant patriarch who discovered a parallel dimension that warps space was snoozing for millennia.

-said boyfriend is currently helping organizing a lab manned by talking animals made to safely send the patriarch to 1999 in order to distract an eldritch entity from the realm he discovered and fight off said entity as he sends his minions to tear the lab apart

-the only person who knows about this lab is a robot servant based off the boyfriend, who has a human skull embedded in him and a split personality that speaks through cracks on his back made to look like a face

-this planet lets you get mechs (with human skulls in the cockpits)

-during the event where a different member of the superhuman overlord race usurped an army of a vengeful robot race to take over the solar system, they completely avoided this moon like the plague (which is technically is)

-upon finding the lab you are given a book of spells

#warframe #deimos #warframe Deimos #spoilers

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lostgirlinthewoods · 3 months ago

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CRAZY STUPID LOVE | park wonbin smau

16. swim meet literally .｡.:*☆

ignore timestamps unless otherwise stated.the swimming terms im using in the series are the words used in my local university. it may be different from where you came from so please bear with me.

notes. my uni will start again this monday and im already dreading it 😭😭 will still try to update regularly. this fic is sorta halfway done anyways. also planning to post some teasers for my wips 🥰

back . masterlist . next

pairing. guitarist!park wonbin x athlete!fem!reader

synopsis. lee y/n, a competitive swimming athlete, just wants to finish her degree as a scholar. no drama. no distractions. and certainly, no romance. park wonbin, a music prod student and the siren’s guitarist, just wants to make music. no crazy fangirls in line to date him. no insane dms from random people declaring their love for him. and certainly, no dating. imagine the shock on y/n’s face when she received a message from her brother, anton, asking “since when did you and wonbin started dating?”

genre. social media au, college au, fake dating, fluff, crack

status. ongoing.

taglist. closed. reached maximum mentions allowed.

@molensworld @wonychu @yoursyuno @siuewnb @gyehyeonist @binoyu @secretiny @started-with-f-ends-with-uck @seokton @fae-renjun @nujeskz @i03jae @daegale @kyusqult @riki-shenanigans @revehosh @nctrawberries @wonbins-black-cat @parkwonbinie @saranghoeforanton @tommina @chuutaroo @000rpheus @p-d1ddy @starwonb1n @ikiqui @taroddori @blossominghunnie

@aloverga @brachioswrld @toriblogkk @miyawwn @intakstars @naviiy @bebubilu @soheendo @otblous @katarinaesqa @intakstars @yla-aira @i1uvc4ke @maleegayuh @renjuneoo @whoisgwyn @hakkkuu @endtostartbreathin @yngjngwon @flaminghotyourmom @deonuism @film-sea @babigriin @ssweetreveries @bunni @wiggledingle

@onlyhyunjin @adoresoapy @donutswjam

asks. for any thoughts, messages, and feedbacks; or even just for a conversation.

likes, reblogs, comments, or any type of engagements are appreciated. thank you <3

#riize social media au #riize smau #riize imagines #riize scenarios #riize reactions #wonbin social media au #wonbin smau #riize x reader #wonbin x reader #kpop smau #riize #park wonbin #riize wonbin #wonbin fluff #wonbin scenarios #wonbin imagines #blue: csl

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guiltyasdave · 6 months ago

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nothing lasts forever

chapter 4 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You're both worried about the prospect of you leaving soon. Also, just a lot of filth lol

word count: 5.3k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, somewhat unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks big time), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that Dave grabs, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, alcohol consumption, unprotected p in v, oral (f & m receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, biting, semi-public sex, orgasm denial, use of restraints, pet names, let me know if anything is missing!

a/n: co-written with my angel @joelscurls, throwing around these ideas with you is so fun, i love you <3

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jess’ masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

David is becoming a problem.

When you’re not with him, you’re texting him, having evolved from mostly suggestive messages and pictures to sharing almost every thought that pops into your heads with each other. He knows your friends’ names, your favorite subjects. You watched his favorite movie, sending him your every reaction in real time.

When you’re not texting him, you’re thinking about him. About his broad hands, about how good he feels inside of you, about the filth he spits into your ear, but that’s not all of it. More often than not, you’re daydreaming about how good his arms feel wrapped around you, engulfing you in his scent, about the feeling of his chest when you rest your head there. About the way he sees you, hears you, makes you laugh. Makes you feel important.

You’ve pushed the fact that you’re gonna leave again soon into a far away corner of your mind, but as the end of your break is steadily growing nearer, it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore.

You haven’t talked about what you are to each other, but you’re not delusional enough to think that he’s gonna wait for you. Gonna visit you once every few months and exchange late night messages in the meantime, like you have some kind of future together, like he’s your boyfriend.

He already has a life, has done all the things that you have yet to experience, is miles ahead with no way for you to catch up. You know all this. Which is why it was supposed to be just one time. Until it turned into two times and now into more times than you can count and into something that has grown strings, attaching you to each other.

No one’s ever had you before, not like this.

You’re lost in daydreams, sometimes about the things that you’ve done together, but mostly about the things that you wish you could do. Going out together, without worrying about being seen. Cuddling up on his couch for movie nights, cooking in his kitchen, sleeping in his bed. Things that he doesn’t let you do. Because, unlike you, he hasn’t lost sight of what this is.

You’re so deep in your thoughts, filling the days when you don’t see David with nothing but fantasies about him, that even your father notices. The resulting lecture about focussing on your studies, working on job applications, and to under no circumstances become lazy over the break, washes over you. You nod obediently, promise to get right back to it, not bothering with excuses that you know he won’t listen to. Then you retreat back into your daydreams.

Dave has fallen into the pit much deeper than he had planned to, deeper than he had thought possible, honestly. He’s in his forties, not some lovesick schoolboy, but that’s exactly what he feels like.

Once he’s started seeing you regularly, talking to you, thinking about you, he finds himself unable to stop. He likes talking to you, likes the way you actually listen to him, the way you seem to care about every single thing that he has to say. You’re funny, and smart, and quite frankly the only person that he really likes being around these days. Seeing your eyes light up when you tell him about your interests, laughing about the way you almost constantly outsmart him, knowing the person that you can be when you feel safe enough for it, with him, has his heart clenching in his chest.

He still can’t shake the knowledge that what he’s doing is wrong, the feeling that he’s taking advantage of you. You’re the vulnerable one and he’s the adult and he should be the one who makes reasonable decisions. For both your sake’s. It’s just– you make him happy.

He can’t quit, not when you look at him with those wide eyes, your lashes fluttering, so often flustered about the things he says to you, the things he makes you do. Not when you remain so open and trusting of him, so willing to please. It’s a heady feeling and he can’t seem to let go of it.

You have plans this Friday, something about drinks and dancing with your friends, and you roll your eyes at him telling you to be safe, but there’s something else too, a sadness below the surface that gives him pause. He briefly wonders if your father doesn’t make you promise the same thing every time you go out. Probably not, he bitterly thinks to himself.

He doesn’t necessarily dislike Jim, not really. Jim hasn’t been a bad friend to him, not in the way that Dave is with what he’s doing. He just can’t witness the way you’re being treated and like him, either.

“Do you want me to pick you up? You can stay over if you want.”

He had been battling himself on this one, but he doesn’t think he can go through a repeat of the last time you were out late and couldn’t go home. He watches your eyes grow almost comically wide on his phone screen.

“Y–you would do that?”

He knows you’re thinking back on the last time too, on how he turned you down and he hates how small your voice sounds once again.

“Of course, sweetheart. Just call me, okay?”

You nod eagerly, thanking him profusely, a smile slowly growing on your face in unison with the warmth in his chest.

A little after 2 AM you do call him, all giggly and sweet and just fucking adorable.

His heart swells when he sees you stepping out of the club, hugging your friends goodbye and exuberantly waving in the direction of his car before you make your way over. Your heels are clicking against the pavement and he can’t keep his eyes off your approaching figure. Off the way your dress is hugging your body so tightly, off the expanse of your bare legs, and least of all off your beaming smile that only grows when you can make out his face behind the car window.

“Hi David,” you giggle, plopping into the seat and pulling him into a kiss almost instantly. You’re rarely bold like this, letting him take the initiative, but he likes this, likes how uninhibitedly you want him right now. Your mouth tastes sweet when your tongue flicks against his, a combination of fruity cocktails and the remnants of your lipgloss.

When you finally part, you’re panting, your lips are already swollen and your pupils blown wide. His cock twitches with interest at the sight.

“Let’s get you home,” he suggests, not missing the way your lips part wider at the breathless husk of his voice. You nod wordlessly, eyes still glued to his face.

As he starts driving, you’re fidgeting in your seat, stealing glances at him, biting your lip.

“What is it, baby?”

You avert your eyes, teeth digging deeper into the soft cushion of your lips. Still so shy for him. He raises an eyebrow, throwing you a hard glance.

“Tell me.”

The short display of dominance is enough to force a whimper up your throat. You gingerly reach out towards him, running your hand over the curve of his belly before you cup his length through his sweatpants. He sucks in a breath, rapidly hardening under your touch.

“I want to– I want to suck your cock. Please.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, all soft and needy.

Chuckling, he grinds his hips up into your touch.

“Of course you do. Such a desperate little whore for me, aren’t you?”

He does his best to appear unimpressed, to play up that persona that he knows gets you both off so much. Still, his cock is already rock hard, leaking at your eager nod in response to his words, at how much you want him. You look so gorgeous right now, your sparkly skirt slowly inching up your thighs, and there’s no doubt in his mind that you could have had anyone in that club. And yet, here you are, begging to suck him off.

He relaxes deeper into his seat, reaches out to fist one hand in your hair and tug you closer.

“Well, if you need it that badly. Fucking greedy.”

You whimper again, louder this time. Your body is pliant under his touch, following the direction of his hand pushing your head down to the pronounced bulge in his lap. With your fingers sneaking under the waistband, you throw him a cautious glance.

“Can I–?”

The proud smile he gives you in response has you glowing.

“Go ahead. Good girl for asking.”

He raises his hips slightly to help you slide his sweats down enough to let his cock spring free. You audibly moan at the sight, and it drives him wild, to elicit this reaction from you.

Your mouth sinks down on him eagerly, enveloping him in wet heat, and it takes everything in him to keep his eyes and at least part of his focus on the road. He feels the way you’re squirming, can picture the way your thighs must be rubbing against each other right now.

You swirl your tongue around his head before you start sucking, and he hisses through his teeth, his hold on your hair tightening further.

“Fuck,” he groans, head falling back against the headrest. “You’re so fucking good, baby.”

You whine in response, sinking your head down further, until he’s nudging at your throat.

When Dave pulls up to his building, he’s already embarrassingly close to coming. Reduced to nothing but burning want by your mouth within mere minutes.

You’re insatiable as he’s leading you up the stairs to his apartment, hands frantically grabbing at him. He tuts at you, but there’s no bite behind it.

Once the door falls shut behind you, you’re on him, your lips seeking his out with heated intensity. You only pull back when he tugs your hair sharply, forcing you to look at him. You look wrecked, your lips still swollen and tears sticking to your lashes, pure desire written all over your face. It gives him an idea.

Grabbing your shoulders, he turns you around abruptly. You whine in protest at losing the proximity to his mouth, but still obey willingly, letting him direct your body until he has you in front of the full length mirror in his hallway.

You’re a vision, watching with wide eyes as he looms behind you, his fingers trailing over your scantily clad body. Your ass presses against his front, grinding against the hardness of his cock when he circles your nipples over the fabric. A high pitched whine escapes you and your eyes slip closed, your head falling back to rest against his shoulder.

He clicks his tongue, his hand finding the back of your head and forcing it up again. Your eyes flutter back open and your brow furrows in mild confusion.

“Watch,” he purrs into your ear. “Watch how beautiful you are, all desperate for me.”

You gulp, but your gaze obediently meets his in the mirror. He smirks, the corners of his mouth curling upwards as he wraps one hand around your throat. Only applying a hint of pressure, but you melt into him, your eyes glued to your reflection.

“Look at you,” he coos, his grip tightening. He nips at your earlobe, relishes in your responding shudder. “Want you to see how beautiful you are.”

You nod weakly, and he knows how far away you already are, how hazy with pleasure you get when he has you like this. Still holding onto your throat, his other hand splays over your upper thigh, causing the hem of your dress to inch up higher and higher as his fingers dig into the supple flesh. He lets his hand climb, expecting to find your panties soaked with your arousal, but instead he’s met with nothing but bare skin, coated with your slick. He can’t stop the growl building up in his chest and you grind against him harder.

“Fuck, have you been like this all evening? Whoring yourself out, huh?”

It doesn’t bother him, at all. The idea of you surrounded by people, with nothing underneath that little skirt, and still patiently waiting for him, has his blood running hotter. He feels you swallow under his palm, feels the movement of your throat as you try to form words, the small shake of your head.

“T–took them off. After I called you.” You bite your lip, your pleading stare searching his reflection. “I wanted to be ready for you.”

Dave’s head falls forward at that, his groan muffled against the soft skin where your neck meets your shoulder.

“Good girl,” he sighs, lips moving against your body. “You’re such a good girl.”

His fingers toy with you, featherlight touches caressing your cunt, giving you only the tiniest bit of friction. When he brushes over your clit, you respond with a needy little sound, akin to a sob, that goes straight into his cock. Rutting his hips against yours, his touches get more intense, fingers nudging at your entrance.

“Please,” you whine, your eyes falling shut once more as you get lost in his touches.

“Nuh-uh,” Dave tuts, his fingers pausing their ministrations. Landing a slap on your clit instead, one that has you jolting in his arms. Would have probably made you scream too, if he wasn’t holding your throat so tightly. “Thought I told you to watch. If you can’t listen, I’ll stop.”

You sob again, desperation lacing the sound, but you force your eyes back towards the mirror. He sinks two fingers into you while his thumb swirls over your clit. Your lips part in a loud moan, your frame trembling against him.

“Look at how good you are for me. Watch yourself falling apart for me,” he grits into your ear, tightening the hold on your throat, forcing you to the edge with his touches.

Your breath catches, your pupils dilate, before you both watch you shatter around his fingers. Your knees buckle, body collapsing into him. He holds you tightly, helping you ride out your high, transfixed by the image of you, falling apart for him so beautifully.

When you come down, he turns you around in his arms, lips seeking each other out, a mess of tongues and teeth. Devouring each other. He wants you like this, this close, this open. His. Always his.

“Come here,” he murmurs against your lips, tugs you into his side and holds you close as he finally, finally opens his bedroom door for you.

He should have done this sooner, he thinks to himself, as you’re on top of him, your gorgeous tits bouncing with every movement. Should have had you in every possible position, should have let your presence fill every corner of his place, should have committed it all to memory.

He knows that the image of your head on his pillow, drifting off into sleep with a content smile on your face, will be burned into his mind forever, even after you’re long gone. He wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Shit!”

Dave stirs awake to your voice, frantic and nervous now, so different from the sounds he pulled from you mere hours ago. You’re sitting beside him, hunched over your phone.

“What’s going on?” he asks, inching closer to you, one hand rubbing over your back in an effort to soothe you.

You wordlessly turn your phone screen towards him. It takes him a few moments of squinting before he’s able to make out that you’re showing him your message thread with your father. Several missed calls, several messages demanding to know why you’re not home.

“But–” He furrows his brow, his brain only slowly kicking into gear. “Did he not know you were going out?”

“He did,” you murmur, eyes still glued to the device in your hand. “I’m just gonna–”

You tap the screen and hold the phone to your ear, anxiety still painting your face. Dave sits up beside you, unsure of what to do. You’re both feeling it, he thinks, the sudden realization of how fragile this thing is that you have. How quickly it could go up in flames around you.

He doesn’t agree with Jim on a lot of things, but he can’t stop his mind from thinking about his own girls, about how quickly they’re growing up. About how, in a few years’ time, the roles could be reversed. How murderous he’d be if he ever found himself in a similar situation.

“Where the fuck are you?” your father’s voice barks through the speaker immediately when he picks up, interrupting Dave’s train of thought.

You flinch at his tone, your shoulders hunching forward.

“I went out with Jess and Kristen last night. I– I told you.”

He huffs, a dismissive sound.

“That’s not what I asked, is it?”

Biting your lip, you shoot Dave a wide-eyed glance. He reaches forward, hand coming to rest on your knee, desperate to comfort you in some way.

“You– last time you said you didn’t want me to come home drunk, so I figured I’d just stay over–”

Your father interrupts you with a loud sigh, like you’re making him carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. Dave silently watches you deflate further.

“You realize that we wouldn’t need to have this conversation if you didn’t get plastered every weekend, right?”

“I’m not–”

“I don’t know why I’m spending all this money on your education when you act like you can just waste it. That’s not how I raised you.”

“I’m on–” Defiance sparks in your eyes for a split second before you exhale sharply, your head bowing down. “I know. I’m sorry dad, I’ll be home soon, I promise.”

Without bothering with a goodbye, your father hangs up. You stare at your phone for a second, sighing deeply.

When your eyes find Dave’s again, they are flooded with shame.

“Sorry you had to hear that,” you whisper. You’re concealing it well, but he’s seen and heard enough of you by now to recognize the slight wobble in your voice. “He’s right, I shouldn’t have… I’ll just get going.”

You sit up straighter, scrabbling to get out of his bed, your knee slipping away from his touch.

“Sweetheart–”

David’s voice is raspy, still thick with the remnants of sleep. He reaches for you, one arm wrapping around you and pulling you into his chest. You feel so safe, so comforted in his embrace, sinking deeper into it immediately. He kisses the crown of your head and it takes everything in you to not start crying.

You don’t want him to see you like this, to experience first-hand how incapable you are of standing up for yourself. None of this can possibly be what he desires from a relationship, from a woman.

“You did nothing wrong,” he mutters into your hair.

You don’t know if you agree. You’re being selfish. Too reckless for your own good, too quick to believe that nothing would go wrong, that there’s no way your father could find out what you’re doing. And you’re pulling David down with you.

You believe that he likes you, that he enjoys being with you. You have to believe that. But in moments like this, you wonder if a part of why he keeps meeting you is that he pities you.

Shrugging him off, even as your heart is screaming at you to sink deeper into his touch, you get up and start getting dressed.

“I can drive you home,” he offers softly, his eyes following your every movement.

When you look up at him, you could swear that you see something like hurt on his features. You’re probably mistaken though. It’s much more likely that he’s just annoyed with the sudden complications that being with you brings.

“No,” you murmur, your voice thankfully more steady than before. “That would be… suspicious, I guess. I’ll just call an Uber.”

He hugs you tightly before you leave, slotting his lips over yours. They always sting, the small goodbyes. Especially knowing that they’re gonna evolve into one big goodbye soon.

At home, an extended version of the lecture your father already gave you over the phone awaits you. You let it wash over you, nod at the right times, apologize over and over, promise to do better. No point in arguing.

Only a few more weeks.

Before David, that prospect would have filled you with joy. Now, it’s not that simple anymore.

Once Dave’s had you in his bed, he’s addicted to it just like every other facette of you. You’re reluctant to sleep over again, always slipping from his arms eventually, and while he understands, he hates it.

Still, he has you in it as often as he can. The golden hue of the late afternoon sun is falling through the open blinds, bathing the room in warm light, painting your skin with it. Another image to add to his collection of memories. Another image that he hopes will never fade.

You’re writhing underneath him, spread out over his sheets, your fingers digging into the fabric in a desperate attempt to ground yourself. He loves when you get like this. All rational thoughts blown from your mind, your focus solely on him. On his touches, his commands, his wishes.

No one else makes you feel like this, no one else has ever shown you pleasure like this. Only him.

He wants to make you happy, but he doesn’t know if you’d let him. He also wants to drag you down with him. That, he suspects, you would let him do.

“Please, David,” you whimper, tears already brimming in your eyes. He’d been teasing you for what felt like an eternity. Positioned you the way he wanted, your hands over your head and your legs spread wide to fit him between your thighs, and told you to not move.

He has kissed his way from your lips down your neck, his teeth digging gently into the skin, then further down to where your breasts were heaving with your breathing. He’s sucked one nipple into his mouth and pinched the other between his fingers, making you keen and arch off the mattress, pushing your body closer into his touch.

His responding chuckle and the way he shushed you, his lips still moving against your skin, drove you wild with desire.

His mouth had continued traveling down your body, stopping between your legs where you could feel his breath ghosting against your feverish skin, his teeth nipping at you. It all felt so so good, but not enough, never enough, the need to feel him inside of you nearly overwhelming.

But he hadn’t budged, alternating between gentle kisses and stinging bites, pulling whines and moans from your throat in an almost constant stream.

Your hands had moved down on their own accord, fingers twisting into the strands of his hair, trying to pull his face up to yours. Trying to get him to finally, finally fuck you.

He growls at that and leans back onto his haunches, regarding you with burning eyes. His hands come up to his tie, the first piece of clothing that he takes off. He’s still fully dressed, impeccable as always, while you’re bare before him, no doubt already looking thoroughly ruined. It’s such an obvious display of power and it never fails to make your head dizzy with need.

He undoes the tie and leans towards you again, gathering your wrists in one of his large hands, his fingers easily wrapping around them.

“Disobedient today, are we?” he smirks, clicking his tongue. “I taught you better than that.”

His condescending tone is enough to cause another wave of slick to flood your pussy and you whine, your eyes trained on his handsome face above you.

“I’m s–sorry, it just– it feels so good.”

“I know it does, sweetheart,” he coos, gently placing a kiss on your pouting lips. “Still– looks like I need to teach you a lesson, hm?”

Your wide eyes and your timid, obedient little nod have his cock straining against his pants.

If he could, he’d keep you forever, just like this. In his bed, his to touch, his to hold, his to defile. His, his, his.

You let him pull your wrists higher up the bed, like a doll that he can move however he likes. The tie’s fabric is soft between his fingers. He holds it up to your face, sees the glimmer of excitement in your eyes.

“Kiss it,” he demands, pushing it closer to your mouth.

You hesitate for just a second before you raise your head to obediently connect your lips with the piece of dark blue fabric.

“Good girl.”

The corners of your lips raise at the praise, the warmth of your smile washing over him. He’s gonna make this so fucking good for you. You crane your neck, watching eagerly as he wraps the tie around your wrists and connects it to his headboard, securing the knots until your hands are sufficiently trapped over your head.

“Now what did I tell you?”

You shudder at his tone, pouting up at him, a small crease between your brows.

“Y–you told me not to move.”

“I did,” he nods, casually flicking your nipples hard enough that he knows it’s gonna send pinpricks of pain through you. Just the way you like it. Your responding wail doesn’t disappoint, and neither does the way you’re writhing underneath him, trying to grind your dripping cunt against his thighs, but to no avail.

“Please, I’m sorry, please David–”

He shakes his head, presses another chaste kiss to your lips before he pulls back.

“You need to learn to be patient. To do what you’re told.”

You nod silently, biting your lip while you watch him moving down your body again, until his head is situated between your thighs again.

“Now, don’t move.”

He knows that you’re trying, trying so hard to be good when he starts kissing your inner thighs. Knows that you want to move, want to chase the pleasure that he’s kept just out of your reach for so long already. But you’re not, your body almost vibrating with the effort. Because he fucking told you to. Because that’s all it takes.

He licks into you, savoring your taste, savoring the sweet sounds that you reward him with. Alternating between tongueing through your folds and sucking your clit into his mouth, he watches you closely, keeping an eye on your every reaction, waiting to drive you right to that point.

He knows when you’re close, feels you tensing up, hears the higher pitch of your moans. He keeps you right there, balancing you on that edge. Then he pulls away. Your whine is downright pitiful, a broken sound of desperation that feeds deep into his own arousal.

“Patience,” he reminds you, stealing a glance up at your face. Tears are brimming from your eyes, but when you catch his gaze, your lips still curl into a smile. Reminding him that you love this game, just as much as he does.

He builds you up until you’re at the brink of an orgasm two more times, only to let you down again and again. You’re openly sobbing, but keeping still, just like he asked. Patient.

When he finally sinks his cock into you, the sound of him moving through your wetness is downright obscene. It’s heavenly, how hot and slick you are around him, engulfing him tightly. He grits his teeth, forcing himself to go slow. To tease you just a little bit longer.

Pure bliss overtakes you when David finally thrusts into you. He’s still moving torturously slow, giving you nothing more than shallow thrusts. It doesn’t matter, the stretch of him breaching you almost enough to get you to your climax. Almost.

Before he notices, more tuned into your body than you had thought possible. Before he stills completely, raises an eyebrow at you, almost challenging you to protest. You don’t, determined to prove yourself.

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

“Thank you for teaching me patience, David,” you whimper, pouting up at him. You must be a sight by now, your face streaked with tears and your expression most likely as fucked out as you feel.

“Exactly,” he growls. Then he really starts fucking you.

Each thrust hits almost impossibly deep inside of you, making you see stars behind your eyelids. The coil of your orgasm is already wrapped around you, having been tightened again and again, ready to snap at any second.

David swipes his thumb over your clit, applying just a hint of pleasure. It’s enough to catapult you straight into your climax.

It rolls over you like a storm, waves a pleasure crashing over you, feeling like they’ll never let you up again. You’re only just coming down, breathless moans falling from your mouth with each of his thrusts as he’s fucking you right through it, never letting up.

“Give me another one,” he pants, wild eyes trained on your tear-stained face. “Right now. I know you can.”

His fingers stay on your clit, rubbing over the bundle of nerves while his cock keeps hammering into you, forcing you right back to the edge. It’s like you’re falling apart at the seams, your body disintegrating, melting into the sheets.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl,” David grunts above you, his jaw clenched, eyes burning into yours, the only thing tethering you to reality right now.

He stills, his cock buried deep inside of you, shudders running through his body, before he collapses on top of you. He holds you close, one hand quickly working to undo the knots around your wrists, before he pulls you into him, placing kisses all over your face.

“I’ve never–” he begins, but pauses, like he’s not sure how to phrase it. He doesn’t have to. You know.

“Me neither,” you murmur, pressing your face into his neck. You want to breathe him in, want that warmth, that feeling of being safe with him to envelop you.

It has gotten darker, barely any light falling into the room from outside anymore. Eventually, you stretch out your body on top of the bed, relishing in the sweet burn of soreness that David has left in you.

“How would you feel about pizza?” he asks from beside you, looking down at you with a fond smile. It’s so easy, to imagine this as your everyday life.

“I’d feel amazing,” you yawn, finally untangling your limbs from the sheets.

He places the order while you traipse around, putting your underwear back on and using the bathroom, before you crawl back into bed beside him, curling yourself around his still naked body. He wraps an arm around you, starts drawing shapes on your back with his fingers.

A knock raps against wood, much quicker than you both expected.

“I’ll get it,” you say, since you’re at least wearing underwear already. You’re moving towards David’s front door, pulling on his discarded work shirt to appear at least somewhat decent and looking for his wallet.

“Hey David, where’s your–” you shout in the direction of the bedroom, opening the door in expectation of being met with the sight of some grumpy delivery guy. The words die on your tongue.

Instead, you stare straight into your father’s stony expression.

.........hehe

come yell at me, it would bring me a lot of joy lol

#pedro pascal #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #janas fics #fic: wildest dreams #pedrostories

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moralesmilesanhour · 5 months ago

Text

mad props! 05

summary: you learn a couple new things about Miles as you fall into your new study routine. wc: 1.1k start from the beginning prev next a/n: probs won't update regularly if i'm being transparent but i gotta wrap the story up! so expect more in the coming weeks probably. and before you ask no this does not mean i'm returning to writing reader insert i am just finishing what i started bc i feel like i owe it to my audience ! much love <3

The auditorium was empty during lunchtime, which meant that no one was there to spectate as the sound of your voice echoed through the rows of unoccupied seats. You were working on one of the numbers from the second act.

“It’s not up to me…Just let me be…Legally–”

“I knew I’d find you here.”

You sighed, not needing to look up to know who it was.

“Have you come to take me away?” you asked dryly as you descended down the steps and trudged over to where Miles stood in the middle of the aisle with a smug look on his face.

“You can finish your song, if you want.”

You brushed right past him towards the double doors.

“Stop pretending to be nice.”

Essentially being a teacher’s assistant, Miles had elevator privileges that removed the hassle of climbing up five flights of stairs to reach Mr. Sanchez’s classroom, making it the most (and perhaps the only) pleasant part of the experience.

Sanchez was digging into a bowl of salad when the two of you arrived.

“Ah! Buenas tardes,” he greeted hastily through a mouthful of lettuce. “Thank you for being on time.”

You shoved past Miles and rushed over to the professor’s desk.

“I just have to make up for last week’s missing homework and a couple quizzes, right?”

“Well, yes, but there’s also–”

“Can I just do that at home, then? All due respect, but I really don’t need a partner to–”

“Hold on,” he held up a hand to stop you. “You also have some gaps in understanding when it comes to grammatical concepts such as presente and futuro, missing assignments notwithstanding. You’ll go over those with Miles first before making up last Friday’s quiz independently. Comprende?”

You visibly deflated where you stood. To tell the truth, the different tenses were never your strong suit, but you were able to get away with that with flawless vocabulary memorization and verb conjugation (in the present tense, of course). Now? Not so much.

“Comprende,” you groaned before turning away to grab a seat.

Miles had already taken a chair and pulled it up to one of the desks in the front, and was sitting on it backwards with his notebook in front of him.

“Ready, partner?” he said with a wide, mocking grin. He knew you couldn’t tell him to shut up in front of Sanchez.

You rolled your eyes and sat down with a slump.

“Let’s get it over with.”

He opened his notebook and flipped through a few messy pages before landing on a blank sheet. Sloppily ripping it free from its binding, he took out a Sharpie (which he uncapped with his teeth) and began to draw a line down the middle.

“What are you doing?”

He began writing a series of words down either side of the line.

“Helping you.”

Miles slid the piece of paper towards you.

It was a verb conjugation chart, labeled ‘Past Tense’ in his strange handwriting that made no distinction between upper and lower-case letters.

“I’m gonna give you a sentence, and you repeat it back to me in the past tense. Then we’re gonna do the same thing in futuro.”

You sulked, “How come you don’t have to memorize anything? You said you don’t even study.”

He gave you a blank, ‘are-you-stupid’ look.

“I speak Spanish.”

“No duh, I mean in every other class. You know the whole periodic table front-to-back.”

“Huh? Oh, photographic memory. I only need to read something once,” he tapped his forehead, “then it’s locked in.”

Stunned, you could do nothing but lean back in your chair and slowly shake your head.

“Absolutely ridiculous.”

The rest of that week had you repeating the same song and dance of trudging into Sanchez’s classroom and running drills with Miles and his impromptu conjugation charts. For every wrong answer, Miles made an incredibly irritating sound that was meant to imitate a game show buzzer, which forced you to pay more attention to minimize how often you had to hear it.

You hated to admit it, but at some point you began to retain the tenses with more ease than before and noticed a steady increase in your quiz grades as a result.

Thursday after school saw you arrive at an empty auditorium, thirty minutes before rehearsal. Any normal student would spend this extra time studying or doing homework, but you had seen enough flashcards and charts to last you a lifetime. Instead, you pulled out your highlighted copy of the sheet music for ‘Chip on My Shoulder’ and began rehearsing as a one-man ensemble.

Your singing today felt more difficult than usual; the lyrics suddenly felt heavy on your tongue, the notes coming out strained and forced. In the middle of a line, the double doors swung open just as your voice cracked.

“Damn, were you lip-syncing this whole time? You sound rough.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course it had to be him.

Miles sounded nearly out-of-breath as he strolled past you, his uniform rumpled shirt and un-tucked, as if he’d just put it on. The band-aid on his forehead was joined by another, more colorful one on his cheek.

“As if you could do better,” you scoffed as you watched him toss his bag onto an empty chair two seats away from where you sat.

He looked up with a mischievous grin.

“I could.”

“Oh?” You smirked and shoved the sheet music into his face. “Try it, then.”

Miles squinted at it before pushing it away.

“Pfft, this song is lightwork. I don’t need that.”

“Alright, then recite your lines. I’ll start,” you inhaled deeply and held up the lyrics. “ ‘You came out here–’”

“‘To follow a man? Harvard Law was part of that plan? Man, what rich, romantic planet are you from?’”

Startled by his near-perfect pitch, you stuttered, lowering the sheet of paper a bit to give Miles an odd look.

He continued, “ ‘Instead of lying outside by the pool, you stalk some guy to an Ivy League School’...et cetera.”

You blinked in utter disbelief. Miles’ voice had a tone as clear as a bell, and flawless diction to match. If he had auditioned, he would’ve been a shoe-in.

“...Huh. You sing? Like, actually?”

He shrugged, “I used to lead the choir at church, but not anymore.”

Just as he finished his sentence, Sarah followed by a handful of tech kids began trickling into the auditorium.

“Oh, sweet, you guys are early!” Sarah nodded, making two check marks on her clipboard as her bag hung off of one shoulder. “Miles, d’you wanna help figure out the lighting situation for the show? Josh said you were good with color.”

“Sure, not a problem.”

“You’re amazing, dude. I don’t know how we would’ve gotten those sets done without you.”

“All in a day’s work!”

#miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales headcanons #miles morales fic #atsv fic #atsv #moralesanhour

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