#but I like reasonable challenges where it feels fair to me

[knightoflodis]

The whole point of changing game settings is so that you can adjust the difficulty to what is most fun for you. Be that making it harder or easier. Easy settings exist for the same reason that iron man modes exist. The whole point is to tailor the experience just right. Just like how people adjust seasoning and spice levels of their food. There should be nothing shameful about setting things up to make you the happiest.

[alyakthedorklord]

Batman the Playboy

Justice League, not quite early days but before proper identity reveals, though everyone knows Batman knows theirs, bc he has Opinions™ and Constructive Criticisms™ on their secret-keeping.

The issue is brought up on random occasions. The most notable incident- the Justice League, including Batman, being Drunk for Bonding, (or hit with some kind of drug while out saving the world) and Batman, in a fit of paranoid good intentions because he CARES about these idiots, damnit, why must they be so careless, starts insulting them.

Batman, leaning heavily on the table: “GL, you’re a mess, I don’t even know where to start with you. And Arrow! Your goatee is so distinctive, it’s a wonder no one has called you out on it-“

Green Arrow, also drunk: “Alright, there’s no need to insult my awesome facial hair-”

Batman, in despair: “It’s so ugly.”

Green Arrow: (offended noises)

Green Lantern: “Okay, the only reason you know our secret identities is because you’re a rude nosy bastard who needs to know everything about us like a creepy stalker who needs an ego boost! We’re not stupid, Spooky, we’re just polite. We could figure you out easily if we wanted to. Superman can see right through your mask!”

Usually, Batman would have a good response to that. Something smart and reasonable like “villains won’t care for your privacy, I’m testing you,” or something cutting like “I don’t care enough about you to go digging, I set your secret identity as a training exercise for Robin.”

However, Batman is Drunk, because for some reason imbibing drugs that dampen higher brain function is socially acceptable and often, for some reason, expected, because it’s “team bonding” and “come on just loosen up a bit.” (Also for him, drunk=Brucie)

So what Batman ends up saying is: “I could kiss you full on the lips in my secret identity and you wouldn’t know a thing.”

Superman, plucking the glass from Batman’s hand: “Aaaand that is enough alcohol for you!”

Batman nods. Thank God. He wants to go home and sleep. But first: “Superman, yours is so stupid it’s almost impressive-”

———

Of course, Green Lantern has smelled a challenge. And Green Lantern must annoy Batman. It’s his true superpower. So, the next time they meet (sober) he brings up the issue again.

GL: “So about what you said at the party… the part where you could kiss us full on the lips without us knowing. You still confident in that without liquid courage, Spooky? Bet you your real name you can’t do it.”

Batman, regretting the fact that alcohol has ever passed his lips: “I could do it, but I will not.”

Flash, curious: “Why’s that?”

Batman: “Informed Consent. I will not risk making any of you feel violated, or manipulated, for the sake of a stupid bet and my ego.”

GA, still offended by the goatee comment, trying to back Batman into a corner: “So if we give consent, we’re fair game? Try me, Batman. Even you can’t pull this off. Anyone else game?”

Some of the Justice League laughs, raising their hands.

Flash: “Come get me, hot stuff! I’ll call you out!”

Wonder Woman: “It could be amusing.”

Martian Manhunter: “I would be far too difficult a target.”

Green Arrow: “Not just you. C’mon, Spooky, flirting well enough to get a kiss from me? I’m a classy lady.”

Black Canary: “D-class, maybe.”

Superman, wants a kiss in on the fun: 🙋🏻‍♂️

“So that’s it then!” Green Lantern says smugly. “Batman, if you can kiss… how many people raised their hands? Ah yes- HALF THE JUSTICE LEAGUE, without anyone realizing it’s you, then you win.”

Batman scoffs and walks out, leaving the Justice League in stitches at their joke. Because- Batman? Being good enough at flirting to land a kiss on half the league, without it being forced or awkward, without them recognizing his body language, his voice, his build? How ridiculous!

The Batman is Autistic. The Batman does not understand jokes, especially not ones that are half truths. The Batman has consent, and something to prove.

And Bruce Wayne, billionaire, playboy, and sexy DILF, has targets.

(Please tell me how you think he gets each League member.)

Edit: there have been a bunch of awesome additions in the notes! My own take here.

[wlwsoccerfics]

Careful with your Words Honey (Lucy BronzeXReader)

Warnings: use of swearwords, pregnancy and pregnancy symptoms.

Summary: Lucy accidentally introduced your daughter to a new word.

"Lucia Bronze! Where are you?" You yelled out. Looking for your wife of 5 years . Having your 2 year old daughter Evie on your hip. "Remember we don't say words like this okay?" you tell Evie because the little girl just accidentally broke her favorite Paw Patrol Mug and called Out in Frustration saying Shite. "I am sowwy Mama!" The little Girl told you.

The brunette was in your daughter's room picking up some toys. When she heard you she was debating whether it was a good Idea to make a run for it or not. Her decision making was cut short though cause you appeared in the doorway of evies bedroom. Looking quite angry. "Care to tell my why our daughter just said s-h-i-t-e when she dropped something and then told me Mommy says it all the time?!" You tried to say it as calm as possible but your wife was aware how angry you were. "Uh, i ...i didn't know she heard it...i sometimes let it slip during my gaming Sessions with the Girls!" Lucy admitted. "No gaming anymore if you can't keep the bad words in!" You Tell your wife. Sighing softly . "You love it when i use swear words sometimes!" She challenged you. You glared at her, knowing exactly what she meant . "Keep that up and there won't be any chance to use any words tonight cause you are sleeping on the couch!" You tell her. "Oh Mommy is in big trouble!" Evie replied. "She is indeed!' you told your daughter. Kissing her cheek. Putting down your daughter so she could play.

You walked out of the room, followed by your wife. "Babe i am so sorry! I promise i will be more careful with my choice of words!" Lucy told you. Kissing your cheek. "You better be!" You Tell her and pulled her in for a real kiss. After the kiss you whispered into her ear. "If you can't behave i might have to spank you." You breathed out, winking at her ."Holy f*ck!" Lucy spoke Out "Holy..." You heard from your daughters room . "Evangeline Malia Bronze you better not finish this sentence! And you Lucia will be sleeping on the Couch tonight!" You told both your wife and daughter. "Sowwy Mama!" Evie yelled from her room. "But Babe...that's not fair!" Lucy tried to reason with you but you made up your mind. "Couch Lucy! Maybe this will teach you not to say stuff like that in front of our Kid!"

After that you made dinner. Some Pasta & Sauce from scratch with a side salad. During Family Dinner you talked about your upcoming vacation to Disneyland in Paris. "I gets Mickey Ears?" The little Girl asked. "Of course, Eves!" Lucy told her. "And you can wear your new Mickey Mouse Dress." You let her know. Which made her giggle in excitement. God you loved that giggle.

It was bath time for Evie which meant you were cleaning up after dinner while Lucy gave your little girl a bath. After that she read her a story and cuddled her until she was asleep.

You were done with cleaning up the kitchen. But you couldn't rest due to currently being six weeks pregnant with your and Lucy's second child. Pregnancy was a bit rough because you struggled with morning sickness. Ironically that was not just reserved for mornings. Which was why you were hanging over the toilet right now, throwing up. Lucy heared you and quickly walked into the bathroom. Kneeling down behind you. Holding your Hair Up for you and rubbing your back gently. "I've got you Love." She told you. It did help alot to have her there. When you were done you flushed the toilet and leaned against your wife. "Thank you Baby." You answered, feeling exhausted. "You don't have to sleep on the couch. I would prefer If you cuddled me." You added and she smiled slightly. "You can get all the cuddles you want my love!"she helped you sit on the edge of the bathtub and helped you brush your teeth before she carried you to bed. You put on some Shorts and one of Lucys Hoodies before cuddling up with her in bed. Falling asleep in her arms.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Who would fight a girl vs who would never???

This would highly depend on the timeline but I think it's generally like this

Takemichi- 100% would never dare to hit a girl, he was outraged when Yuzuha got hit and when Emma got hurt.

Mikey- ok this one is a hard one since he said he never would and technically we never do see him lay hands on a girl. But he does threaten Senju at one point and it's implied he either hit her or hit someone who knocked into her during the final fight. Is there a middle section he can be put in?

Draken- would definitely never throw hands with a girl, sees it as being a pointless thing to do (he's also seen first hand how argumentative the girls he lives with can get and wants no part in that).

Baji- Seen people argue both ways on this one but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't throw hands with a girl. His mother would kill him. (Aside from sparring at the dojo).

Chifuyu- He'd prefer to just get beat up by a girl rather then throw hands.

Mitsuya- never ever ever, not in a million years.

Hakkai- would panic and run away if this situation ever came up.

Pah- would not hit a girl, might be a bit rude to one maybe even threaten one if she didn't back off but wouldn't actually fight a girl.

Peh- no way, he looked so upset the one time he accidentally made yasuda cry so would never want to do anything to make a girl cry on purpose. 

Smiley- honestly a little torn on this one, his love of fighting and murder is very big but not sure he'd actually fight a girl. I think maybe he would but only if the girl started it and she seemed strong enough to challenge him.

Angry- he doesn't even wanna fight the guys!

Mucho- would fight a girl but only if izana or mikey told him to or she knew something about traitors.

Sanzu- would also fight a girl, literally doesn't care.

Kisaki- he's not much of a fighter but we've seen that he's 100% willing to fatally wound girls so he definitely would.

Hanma- would fight a girl but wouldn't take it seriously, feel like he'd treat it more like a game. Teasing and letting the girl get some punches in, giving her hope before he takes her down, watching the hope fade and seeing how she reacts. Doesn't go picking fights with girls though, just waits for them to challenge him.

Kazutora- would not fight a girl, he seemed outraged to find toman had been targeting girls in that one future.

Koko- would not fight a girl, he definitely seems to think girls need protecting (his comments to hakkai) so I don't think he'd want to hurt a girl.

Inui- he said it himself, he would fight a girl.

Taiju- again we have pretty clear evidence that he definitely would hit a girl.

Izana- would fight a girl if they were strong enough or got in his way, otherwise wouldn't be interested.

Kakucho- would not fight a girl, he seems to be against girls being hurt in general.

Mochi- would also not fight a girl, he seems to have some kind of moral code when fighting so probably wouldn't fight a girl? Might though if they were very strong.

Shion- wouldn't fight a girl cause he sees it as being beneath him. "This fight wouldn't be fair for you against me!"

Ran- would not fight a girl, mainly because he thinks it would damage the Haitani brother's reputation to be seen fighting girls. 

Rindou- Same as Ran but for the added reason that it would be a bit awkward for him to pin a girl down.

South- again canon evidence that he would throw hands with a girl. I feel like he doesn't care about gender just how strong a person is.

Benkei- would not hit a girl, I feel like he'd feel so guilty about it with how big he is so would never. (Aside from friendly spars with Senju where he doesn't go all out anyway)

Wakasa- also wouldn't fight a girl, sees no reason to, would likely just evade a girl if one ever tried to fight him (aside from spars with Senju).

Shinichiro- ohhh definitely wouldn't, he'd probably try hitting on her or trying to talk her around instead. Doesn't see any reason to hurt a girl and is most likely the one to teach Mikey that. 

[portgasdwrld]

★ Cleaning

↺ nsfw content featuring Ace x fem!reader

Summary: After being scolded by you because of his messy room, he finds himself tidying up his space, but falls on a pair of your thong. Let’s say, he easily got distracted…

Warning: NSFW content

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

-Ace?

He watches you walk toward the busy table with a bag in your hand. You don’t seem particularly pleased with seeing him and your eyebrows are slightly frowned. He pushes back a little his hat and stares at you with curious eyes. Your fellow crew members look at you intrigued as you close the distance, flickering their gaze between you two.

-Can I talk to you for moment?

You ask, but it sounded more like a demand from your tone. He knows at this moment that you are indeed pissed and he quickly nods. He stands up to walk away as his friends tease him about being a bad boyfriend to you.

-What’s wrong pretty girl?

He asks with a smile to relax the atmosphere, but it only earns him an annoyed sigh from you as you roll your eyes.

-Your room, that’s the problem.

-Huh?

He looks at you absently as he tries to recall what did he possibly did wrong this morning to piss you off so much. You quickly bring him back to reality as your hand softly grab his forearm.

-Ace, baby, I love you but I cant possibly sleep in your room anymore with the mess.

-It’s not that ba-

-Yes it’s that bad! I didn’t mind the messy clothes laying a bit everywhere, but I draw the line at food spoiling in your room as flies make it their own territory.

You explain frustrated at Ace’s easygoing attitude when it comes to cleaning. You let go of your hold and cross your arm against your chest. Yes you love him, yes he’s really important to you, but he still gets on your nerves at times.

-But-

-And! The dirty socks ?? It needs to go, there is a dirty-clothe basket for a reason.

-Y/n, wait-

-No, I’m done. If the room isn’t clean by tonight, I’m sleeping with the girls like I used to.

He cocks an eyebrow at you with a small smile, not believing your words. You two have been sleeping in the same bed for around a month now, and he can’t possibly imagine not having you in his arms while he sleeps. He challenges you a little with his furrowed eyebrows and sly smile. You roll your eyes at him once again and huff.

-I do my fair share of cleaning as we share your room and I know you can be busy when I’m not, but it has to be fair. The dirty plates really are my limit…So yeah, I’m being serious.

You hand him the bag with the garbages that you collected earlier as you were thinking what to tell him. You are upset, but you also get that he’s a pirate and probably never had proper discipline when it comes to that.

Ace frowns a little as he understands this is truly a serious situation and takes the bag in your hand. You avoid his face as you don’t want to be influenced by his charm and back down on your boundaries. You feel him walk closer to you and leave a quick peck on your forehead.

-Then you won’t be mad at me anymore?

He concludes with a soft smile. He takes your hand into his. You nod as you put distance again between you two by taking a step back.

-Yes, but it has to become a habit Ace..

-I will try my best! Let me take care of this, so my princess is able to sleep in a clean space tonight!…and after tonight too!

You chuckle a little, glad to see him enthusiastic and understanding to your frustrations.

-Thank you

-No problem, I will see you later then!

He smiles at you one last time and he doesn’t miss the chance to steal a kiss on your lips before walking away from you: Direction, his room!

——

As Ace walks in, he’s met by his familiar room. The bed is undone and he can see the beginning of your cleaning and where you clearly gave up. You left a pile of dishes on his desk and the dirty clothes near the bed.

The fire user sighs at the view, knowing it’s gonna be quite the work, but if it’s for you, anything is worth it. He starts by the easiest which is dropping the dirty dishes in the ship kitchen and quickly washing them.

He quickly runs back to his room ready to attack the next task. He takes a wet clothe and pass over his fournitures to remove accumulated dusts. He places your books as a small pile on his desk and put his maps in their designated basket, along with any files he had left around.

After running around the ship, he gets his hand on a broom. He cleans the floors from the dusts and any garbages, after putting the clothes on the bed to fold them or throw them in the dirty-clothe basket.

He finally sits down on the bed. As he’s drinking water, he eyes the clothes and pass his hands through the familiar pieces that you wear and he wears. He puts the water down and attack the pile of clothes.

It’s going very well until, he’s almost at the end of it and he falls on one of your pair of thongs. Ace can’t help himself but smirk as he exactly remember when you wore this and what exactly happened after this was removed from you. He finds himself lost between his dirty thoughts, him missing you, him being tired of cleaning.

A little break wont’t hurt right? As long as everything is done by tonight..?

He grins mischievously as he lays down on his bed. He closes his eyes for a second as he sighs before opening them once again and stares at your pair of panties between his fingers. Despite knowing you would kill him if you saw him possibly , maybe highly considering jerking off instead of cleaning, the thought is getting more and more tempting.

Damn he loves it when you stand your ground and show how confident you are. He loves when you climb on top of him and you two make out for minutes and minutes before getting to the act. Those moments where his hands roam all over your curves, feeling the goosebumps on your skin. He loves when you touch his bare chest with your fingers and press slightly your core against him. He loves how lost you get when he touches you, how your confident behaviour crumbles whenever he presses kisses over your body. You are such a turn on to him, it’s almost unfair.

He feels his shorts getting tighter as a tent form under the material. He sighs as he brushes his free hand in his dark hair. He looks at the ceiling as he let his other hand flop against the mattress.

“I can maybe do this in like 10 minutes? And like get back to cleaning after..”

He mumbles to himself as he tries to convince himself it’s a good plan even though he clearly has a feeling that it is not.

“Huh fuck it”

He concludes nonchalantly with a slight shoulder shrug as he awkwardly massages his cock through his shorts. What are the possible odds you enter the room while he decides to do this…

He hisses at the pleasure that the slight friction gives him and his eyes dart to your thong which he’s now holding tighter between his fingers.

From this moment, his mind forgets all about the cleaning task and he’s only thinking of your silhouette, the curve of your body, the view he has when you two are having intercourse. He’s thinking of how he ate your pussy out with this exact thong pressed against your wet core, you always get so wet for him.

His cock now in his hands, Ace allows himself to start with slow strokes which leaves him wishing for your presence. Your lips wrap his tip so well, you suck it and lick it with such skills that he dreams of spending a day just getting his cock sucked by you. Your name leaves his lips as he begins to go faster, occasionally holding his cock tighter like you do.

He’s lost in his train of thoughts before he hears some rumbling outside of his room and your voice from afar after being greeted by Marco. Usually he wouldn’t bother to hide the fact that he was jerking off, but now was a different situation. In panic he pulls his shorts up, but as you open the door, you seem to quickly notice something is off.

“Hey…I came to see how the cleaning was going..”

You trail off as you scan the room. Ace who was just now looking at you with surprised Bambi eyes, cough to shake the awkwardness away and points at his desk area with a slight blush.

“Well the desk is now uhh clean and uh I’m um finishing the clothes..”

“With my thong in your hand?”

You cock an eyebrow at his hand. Ace didn’t notice that he was still holding tightly into the piece of clothing when he pointed at his desk.

His hard bulge makes it harder for him to focus as all he’s thinking right now is tossing the clothes on the floor and fuck you. His eyes stare at you without much thoughts behind.

“Yeah…well your clothes are mixed up with mine”

You squint your eyes at him, before nodding still skeptic. You know Ace, you know your boyfriend, you clearly have an idea of what he was possibly doing and as you step on his belt laying on the floor, it completely confirms it for you.

“You did a better job than I was expecting …”

You start as you ignore him and analyze his job so far. Ace awkwardly shifts on the bed, trying to find a more confortable position that would relieve a little his dick.

“Oh..uh thanks babe, I really tried my best..”

“…, but there is clearly still unfinished work but I guess I did say you have until tonight for it to be done.”

You finish as you turn to face him and point at the pile of clothing. You cross your arms over your chest as you lean back on the desk for support. Ace looks delicious. His shorts are barely hanging on his waist, his obvious hard bulge, his toned body glistening from a slight sweat, his dark long hair covering a little his face and his flushed freckled cheeks.

“I will finish it don’t worry”

He says as he holds eye contact with you and a confident smile. You scoff as a smirk curve your lips. You uncross your arms and walk closer to him. You cup his face with one of your hand, your boyfriend on the other side is still holding eye contact with you. You peck his lips and you find it a bit funny how easily he left a sigh out.

“Alright, then I guess I’m done here”

You try to walk away, but Ace’s hand is quick to hold you back by holding one of your thighs. You know he’s not in a position to ask for favors after the whole cleaning situation and he’s very well aware of this too, which is why he hasn’t flipped you over, back pressed on the bed and fucked you already.

“You can kiss me better than this”

He teases as you feel his thumb massage circles on your skin.

“I will when you hold your promise Fire-Fist”

You reply as you flick his forehead. He whines a little and suddenly his attitude changes completely. He sighs defeated as he let go of his hold on you and lay down again on the bed.

“Alright baby, then see you tonight”

He smirks as he watches your confused expression. You nod slowly, “is he going to just continue what he was doing with my old pair of underwear…” you think to yourself. You slightly get annoyed that he’s able to always be so cool about everything. It’s not fair, because you really wanted to give him the best blowjob ever because he just looks amazing and you love him, but you have your pride. So you decide to not make it so easy for him, make him see what he’s clearly missing by not finishing up his cleaning task.

You quickly kick your footwear off and climb on top of him, surprising him. You smirk to yourself as you feel satisfied with the expected reaction you wanted.

“And what are you going to do Babe?”

You coo at him as you dangerously close the distance between your bodies. Ace brown eyes glitter in excitement and his hands find themselves naturally on your exposed thighs.

His cock is painfully hard at this point. Ace furrows his eyebrows, before tightly closing his eyes in pleasure when your knee softly presses against his bulge.

“Your cock is so hard baby..it must hurt so bad”

You continue in a fake concern. Ace doesn’t answer and he simply let his fingers travel under your shorts where he grabs tightly your ass. You leave at first a peck on his neck and then multiple butterflies kisses all over his torso, until you are facing his hard dick still hidden under his shorts.

“Your dick is probably leaking in precum already”

You continue, trying to push him to the edge. You know you have the control over the situation, but the thought of him randomly snapping and fucking you was incredibly tempting. But you had to stick to your plan. You pan your hot breath over his length under Ace lustful eyes. He’s tightly holding into the bed sheets and that’s when you figure it’s best to leave it there for now.

“Too bad there is still some cleaning to do”

You conclude as you remove yourself from him with a fake disappointed pout. You grin to Ace who looks completely out of it. His head heavily falls back against his pillow as he sighs annoyed.

You put your shoes back and as you’re about to leave, you hear your boyfriend speak.

“Enjoy whatever you have to do now, because I promise you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

You don’t turn around and simply close the door behind yourself.

A clean room and a hard fuck? Seems like the perfect night.

As of now, Ace has to finish, well his

Cleaning.

lowkey might do a part 2. If I have time

[f1byjessie]

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part four.

“Saw McLaren posted pics of the new car,” Jack says in lieu of a greeting when he sees you after the weekend. He picks up his pace and crosses the distance to meet you where you’re fumbling with the keys to your “office”, and then he takes a few of the many equipment bags you’re attempting to juggle, saying as he does so, “You take any of those or no?”

You laugh, “Ah, no. They actually hire on a whole studio crew that does that. They’ve got lights, green screens, special camera lenses, the whole lot. The post-production on those photos is mad though.” You get the door unlocked and usher him inside, “I got to sit in on it once, and it’s crazy how much work goes into getting just a couple week’s worth of promotional content.”

He sets your bags down where you direct him to and then offers you a snarky grin, “Still probably would’ve looked cooler if you took ‘em, to be fair.”

It makes you laugh again. Jack seems to be good at that, and it feels nice to get along so well with someone you work with. You’ve found a surprising friend in him. At the end of your conversation on Friday, you’d exchanged numbers and he’d made you promise to reach out if you needed him for anything. You hadn’t, but he’d still sent you an unflatteringly angled picture of Kyle Walker from after their match against Newcastle, followed quickly with━ “use this in the next media drop thx,” and the chatter had gone from there.

You set down your own bags. “Well, thank you. Pretty sure it’s not as fun as this job, though.”

And you mean it. You’ve had opportunities to switch over to studio photography, and though you respect the people who do it and the unique challenges it poses in its own right, there’s nothing like being upfront and personal with all the action, getting to see the athletes in their element and know them on a level that goes beyond an hour or two shoot. You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“Wait,” you pause, hands stopping just above where you’re ready to start sorting through your equipment, “since when did you keep up with Formula One?”

Jack shrugs. “I don’t. But you work for that team, yeah? So I figured I might as well see what they’re all about.”

“Well, if you need something to do during the summer, let me know and I’ll see what I can do,” you tell him, resuming your sorting. “They give me extra tickets for each race but they usually end up going to waste.”

You don’t bring up the falling out you had with your parents at eighteen when you told them you were going to pursue photography or the fact that you haven’t really talked to them in years because of it. You also don’t mention that due to the strenuous, near-constant traveling and the strict schedule of your job, your friendships are limited to the athletes you work with and the other McLaren staff that travel with you━ all of whom have passes of their own, for obvious reasons.

Jack, thankfully, doesn’t ask about it either. Whether he’s made his own assumptions or respects that it’s probably a sore subject, he leaves it alone and the two of you carry on in companionable silence.

You get your equipment unzipped from the bags and organized across the room per your system, guiding your temporary helper with pointed fingers to where it all should go.

The silence is only broken again when he asks you a question. “You got a favorite driver?”

It’s so out of the blue that you nearly jump, startled by the suddenness of it against the quietness of the room. But then you laugh and shake your head. “Officially no, but just between the two of us, me and Lando started at the same time so he’s got a special place in my heart. He’s also my best friend.”

Jack raises an eyebrow, “Oh yeah?” Despite the persona he puts on, you think he secretly loves gossip. “How’d he take the news about you being with Ward, then? ‘Cause I’d have some choice things to say to any friend of mine if they got with a prick like that.”

You purse your lips, divert your gaze to avoid Jack’s eyes, and shrug, fiddling with the neck strap of your camera as you do so. “I don’t know.”

“You ‘don’t know?’”

You shrug again and feign checking over the settings as if your camera’s aperture is suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “He hasn’t been picking up my calls,” you start, “or answering my texts since the paps released the pics, so.”

When you glance back up, Jack’s making a face. “So, your best friend finds out you’re dating a total bellend, and instead of asking you about it or at the very least taking the piss, he ignores you?”

When he puts it like that, you feel a bit stupid for being more sad than you are angry.

All you can do is shrug.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by mancity, jackgrealish, and 241,976 others

tagged: jackgrealish

yourusername ladies and gentlemen, jack grealish (i was threatened into posting these, send help pls)

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You decide that if Lando gets to be petty, then so do you.

The thing is, you’d told Lando you wouldn’t replace him with any of the guys from Manchester City, and you’d meant it━ you still mean it, despite your frustrations and annoyances with him telling you otherwise.

But if he’s going to play games, then so are you.

Technically you hadn’t started the relationship with Garrett willingly, but Lando doesn’t know that, and even if you had that doesn’t give him the right to go about ignoring you. You’ve been supportive when he’s gotten girlfriends━ you even ate greasy pizza, drank cheap wine, and cried watching The Notebook together when he ended his long-term relationship back in 2022. He could at least pretend to be supportive, or better yet he could pick up the fucking phone. 

As pathetic as it sounds, you’d let him yell at and berate you if it just meant he’d answer your calls. Because having Jack around to gossip with and shoot the shit is nice, and he really does help you not feel so alone at Etihad Campus, but Lando’s your best friend and he has been for years now. There’s nobody that understands you as well as he does, even if he is a twat half the time, and what you need now most of all is that particular Lando brand of annoying to cheer you up.

The door opens, drawing your attention from where you’re scrolling through McLaren’s newest posts. Garrett stands in the opening.

The memory of that night still lingers like a bad taste in your mouth, bitter and unpleasant. You’ve managed to avoid him for the most part in the time since then, ignoring the looks he shoots your way out on the field or in the weight room, and lucky enough that his meetings with the physio team keep him preoccupied so that he can’t seek you out in between training sessions. You’d known it was inevitable that you’d have to face him, but that doesn’t stop the dread from pooling in your stomach when you see him standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised as he surveys the makeshift office you’ve done up for yourself.

“They couldn’t find you an actual office?” He comments, looking disdainfully towards your desk and the large Manchester City logo emblazoned across the front.

You shrug, wishing he’d just get to the point. “I’m only here for a few months. Doesn’t matter much to me. What do you want?”

He takes a step farther into the room and closes the door behind him, taking his sweet time to cross the distance toward the seats. When he’s finally lowered down into one, he looks up to you with a nonchalance that fills you immediately with anger.

“I’m making some amendments to our agreement,” he announces.

“Like hell you are.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Did you seriously expect people to believe we’re a couple if we never actually do anything to give off the impression of being a couple?”

You scowl. Obviously, you hadn’t expected to just skate by on the coattails of pictures from a single night. You’d known from the very beginning that you would eventually need to make another public appearance together at the very least if you wanted to keep the paparazzi fed and encourage the idea to the media that you’re in a committed relationship with one another. You’d just been hoping you would’ve had more time until then.

“I’m not an idiot, Garrett,” you grumble, crossing your arms in your seat. You had been looking through pictures from the day’s morning practice, but now you think having to look at any more of Kevin De Bruyne’s grinning face will make you lose your mind when you feel the furthest thing from happy.

“Obviously,” Garrett scoffs. “But you’re the one who said I get one kiss and nothing more. Newsflash, love━” your scowl deepens, “━couples do more than just kiss one time.”

“So what are you suggesting?”

He pulls his phone from the pocket of his joggers and swipes across the screen for a few moments of anticipatory silence. “Well,” he finally says, “it’s the sixteenth now. We haven’t got a match until the twenty-sixth. Go on a date with me this weekend.”

You can’t say no. There’s no plausible excuse for you to get out of it, and deep down you know the only way you can get rid of Garrett is to just do what he says and hope the media make their conclusions about his change quick enough that you can ditch him before the summer break.

At least during the Formula One season, you can use traveling as a reason to get out of dates. When the Champion’s League starts back up he’ll be traveling around Europe a bit more than he is now, and there’s always a chance you could be in the same country at the same time, but the likelihood of your schedules aligning is slim and that means you’ll be safe from any ventures out into public.

But for the time being, you’re stuck.

“Okay,” you reluctantly agree.

He claps his hands, a deceptively cheerful grin on his face. If you didn’t already think of him as the worst prick you’ve ever met, you might’ve found it charming. It’s the same smile he used to flash at you in your first week when he was trying to cozy up and ease his way into your good graces. The sight of it makes you sick to your stomach, now.

“Great,” he rises from his seat. “We’ll do some shopping, get some lunch━ make a full day out of it.”

At this point, you don’t care what he has planned. You just want him to leave you alone so you can try to at least pretend like you’re gonna finish the rest of the work you need to get around to.

Garrett’s made his way to the door and has his hand reaching for the handle when he turns back around and gives you a smirk. “Might wanna work on your happy face, though, love,” he comments, gesturing towards you with a nod of his head. “‘Cause if you look like that in front of the paps they definitely aren’t gonna be very convinced that you love me.”

Just to spite him, you let your scowl deepen. “I don’t need your advice. I know how to handle myself, Garrett.” You say his name like a curse━ like the very feeling of it on your tongue causes you pain.

If he notices, he doesn’t comment. His face turns thoughtful, but there’s still the smugness painted across his features that makes you so unfathomably annoyed. “You must be pretty familiar with the paps if you’re always around those drivers, yeah?” He knows the answer to his question already, so you’re not sure why he’s even asking.

He stays silent, though, like he’s genuinely expecting an answer, so you shrug your shoulders. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he repeats back to you.

His laughter is all you hear echoing in your ears even once he’s long gone.

Until your phone starts to ring and Lando's name flashes across the screen.

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry @sideboobrry11 @d3kstar @mcmuppet @happylittlereader @casperlikej @5starl1ght

━━ a/n: cliffhanger hehe~ also, i promise we're getting to ACTUAL formula one stuff soon

[thelifeofchuckmovie]

When it comes to ending the world, Stephen King is a repeat offender. He has brought life as we know it to a brutal conclusion several times over the decades, usually highlighting the cruelty and desperation that erupts among the last to go. But his 2020 story “The Life of Chuck” uses doomsday to evoke some unlikely sentiments: Wistfulness. Gratitude. Even joy.

The idea of creating an apocalyptic version of It’s a Wonderful Life is what led filmmaker Mike Flanagan to call dibs on the rights to the novella more than four years ago. The breakdown of society, extinction-level natural disasters, and the disintegration of reality itself is explored through the lens of one relatively meek and mild accountant, played by Tom Hiddleston, whose memories and choices are mysteriously connected to these tribulations. Retirement posters congratulating him on “39 great years” pop up everywhere. But who is this guy? What job does he do (or did he used to do)? And why does it matter so much to the fate of the world? This apparent nobody named Chuck Krantz has lived larger than anyone thought possible.

Having explored King country before in 2017’s Gerald’s Game and 2019’s The Shining sequel Doctor Sleep, Flanagan got involved after reading an early copy of “Chuck” before it was published in the collection If It Bleeds. The Haunting of Hill House and Fall of the House of Usher creator produced the film independently, believing it might be too offbeat for risk-averse studios to greenlight. He even secured a waiver from the striking Hollywood guilds last year to move forward with the shoot while the rest of the industry was stuck in the work stoppage. Now he and Hiddleston are ready to reveal the finished version of The Life of Chuck as it heads to the upcoming Toronto International Film Festival, where it will screen for potential distributors.

Among the skeptics about this adaptation was King himself, according to Flanagan. “His initial responses to me were a little like, ‘Oh, okay. Yeah. If you think that’s a movie…,’” he says. “He did say several times that he thought it would be a challenge to get it supported through traditional means.”

King has now seen the finished movie and no longer has doubts. He described it to Vanity Fair as “a happiness machine.”

“Well, he’s written something very tender and very wise,” Hiddleston says. “I think there is a great wisdom in the soul of the story, which is that it takes courage to hold on to what is good in a world that feels like it’s falling apart.”

Flanagan hopes others see it that way too, although the overpowering dread that begins the story may be more immediately relatable. “I’ve heard it said that every generation feels a little like the world is ending at some point, [but] I still feel like it’s different for us,” the 46-year-old filmmaker says with a mordant laugh. “Institutions we took for granted as propping up our society are failing left and right. Our politics have degraded spectacularly. The sense that it’s breaking down, that the world is moving on, has been increasingly palpable. When I talk to my parents or members of older generations who have been through their own turbulent times, the thing that strikes me is that they’re like, ‘Oh yeah, this is really bad.’”

But…it’s not entirely bad. And that’s the underlying message of The Life of Chuck as its various mysteries play out. “There’s no sense of terror in the way that King drew it,” Flanagan says. “Even as the world feels as though it’s ending, people become introspective, they reach into their past for loves that have left their lives for one reason or another. Strangers engage in open and fearless communication.”

It’s an indie-film variation on the big-budget cataclysm story. “A disaster movie has people meeting the end while running from tidal waves, and this story has people sitting quietly holding hands looking at the stars,” Flanagan says.

The key to it all is Chuck himself, although he doesn’t turn up onscreen until the second segment of the three-act story, which plays out in reverse chronological order.

The beginning is actually the end, as the whole world circles the drain. Caught in this spiral is Chiwetel Ejiofor (12 Years a Slave), a school teacher trying to apply logic to the planet’s troubles; Karen Gillan (Guardians of the Galaxy) is his ex, a hospital worker determined to save everyone she can; Matthew Lillard (Scream) is a construction worker neighbor who finds zen amid the chaos; and Carl Lumbly (Alias), plays a funeral director who has dedicated his life to easing people through death.

The end of the movie is actually the beginning, showing young Chuck (Benjamin Pajak) when he was a boy being raised by his grandparents (Mia Sara of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Mark Hamill). The insight of these two—coupled with the otherworldly revelations he finds in an eerie room tucked into the peak of their Victorian home—help him learn to seek out bright spots when life is marred by sorrow and darkness.

In elementary school, young Chuck discovers some important things about himself thanks to guidance from a brusque dance instructor (Samantha Sloyan), and a kindhearted English teacher, played by Kate Siegel, who gives the boy (not to mention the audience) some important information that serves as a code breaker for the story's more cosmic puzzles.

As for the middle of the film: It’s a dance number. That’s when Hiddleston steps in.

Compounding the peculiarity of The Life of Chuck is the question: Why is this song and dance sequence so important? The answer is for the movie to reveal, but it matters a lot. “The life of every human being is a constellation, as expressed in this film,” Hiddleston says. “There are certain moments which will burn most brightly as individual stars. Sometimes it feels like the world is going to hell in a handcart, and it’s full of pain and suffering, and it is—but there are moments of deep joy and deep connection.”

Hiddleston shows the audience this single moment in the life of a buttoned-up fellow who somehow controls the destiny of the world. It’s not necessarily the most important day in his life, but it’s a memorable one involving a street drummer (Taylor Gordon), a lovely stranger (played by Annalise Basso), and a fateful decision to cast aside caution and cut a rug. “It’s a reminder to do whatever it is that expresses whatever gives you that feeling of being alive,” Hiddleston says. “Whether it’s music or dancing or math or writing or creativity—do it. Do it now. Those moments are what you’ll remember.”

Flanagan considered casting a relative unknown as Chuck to “give the audience the experience of ‘Who the hell is this person?’” as the peculiar retirement signs begin to appear in the midst of the apocalypse. But he felt the promise of the Loki star would build more curiosity as the world falls apart. “You grow an enormous amount of anticipation to finally spend time with an actor like Tom, who can be a literal god in one story, and then an everyman in another,” Flanagan says.

A TikTok video of Hiddleston getting his groove on sealed the deal. “He had a completely unfiltered joy on his face,” Flanagan says. “He was a good dancer, but that wasn’t what struck me. I wasn’t amazed by the technique so much as the degree of happiness that was radiating off of him. The look on his face made me smile the same way I smiled reading that particular portion of the book.”

The resulting scene was created in a month-long collaboration between Flanagan, Hiddleston, Basso, choreographer Mandy Moore (So You Think You Can Dance, and La La Land), and Gordon, a real-life percussionist who performs under the name the Pocket Queen. “Taylor was there for all of the dance choreography. She wrote that piece of music for that performance. They built it together,” Flanagan says.

Hiddleston rattles off the lists of influences: “I had to learn in six weeks the full regime of any dance training. We did jazz, swing, salsa, cha-cha, the Charleston, bossa nova, polka, quickstep, samba. We were trying to tip our hat to anything that might have influenced Chuck. It might’ve had a bit of Gene Kelly or Fred and Ginger. Certainly moonwalking—Stephen King is very specific about the moonwalk.”

Precision was not the goal, exuberance was what they sought. “We need to always bear in mind that this man is an accountant. We needed this to be an earnest, escalating explosion of joy, and a remembrance of who he was,” Flanagan says. “It’s a chance to step back into the skin of his younger self, not caring that his feet are going to kill him the next day, not caring that he’s going to wake up with a horribly stiff neck.”

A surprising thing happened while shooting the scene over the course of several sweltering afternoons in the deep South. “I burned holes in my shoes,” Hiddleston says. “I was dancing out on the asphalt in Alabama, and by the time we’d finished, you could see my socks through the soles.”

The sequence begins awkwardly: Chuck is self-conscious as he first hears the busker’s rhythm while walking back from a banking conference. That feeling quickly gets shaken off. “Tom was very committed,” Flanagan says. “He was like, ‘If I look silly, that’s fine. As long as I look happy.’”

Flanagan remembers being in a bad place when he first discovered “The Life of Chuck.” Then again, everybody was.

His copy of the manuscript arrived in March 2020. “That was just as the world shut down for COVID,” he says. “We had been a week away from starting principal photography on Midnight Mass in Vancouver and had fled across the border before it closed to make it back to the States. We were hunkered down in our homes and had no idea if this was going to last for two weeks or if this was going to last forever.”

With everything halted as the lockdown set in, Flanagan had plenty of time to do nothing but read. The new King book seemed like the perfect escape. Except…

“The first third of ‘The Life of Chuck’ just rattled me,” he recalls. “There’s no way he wrote this before the world ground to this bizarre halt—but he did. And the feeling of anxiety, and uncertainty, and that everything was falling apart came roaring out at me. I wasn’t sure I could finish it. It just felt too close to the anxiety I was feeling.” But he kept turning the pages. “By the end of it, I was in tears, and incredibly uplifted, and convinced I’d read maybe the best thing that he’d written in a decade. I just was floored by the thing,” Flanagan says. “So I fired off an email to him right away saying how much I loved the story, how incredible I thought it was, how meaningful, and important, and how it had really tattooed itself on my heart and said, ‘It’s the movie I want to make so that it’ll exist in the world for my kids.’”

King’s response: Not so fast. Flanagan and his producing partner, Trevor Macy, had at that point secured the rights to King’s fantasy saga The Dark Tower through their company, Intrepid Pictures. The eight-book series is threaded throughout King’s other works, and adapting it was a massive undertaking that Flanagan is still working to make happen. Other filmmakers had either abandoned the project, were canceled midway through, or bombed miserably. The author didn’t want him to be distracted. “He doesn’t like to give the same filmmaker more than one thing, because it typically means one thing is not advancing at all,” Flanagan says. “He said, ‘Well, let’s focus on The Tower and I’ll try to keep this one available for you for later.’”

The quest to The Dark Tower remains a priority for Flanagan, but a number of disruptions to that epic undertaking led him to reapproach King last year about Chuck. Intrepid’s deal with Netflix, where they had created Hill House, The Haunting of Bly Manor, and other shows, had come to a close, and Intrepid signed a new development agreement with Amazon. That meant starting over on The Dark Tower. Meanwhile, the threat of a double-barreled strike by writers and actors was on the horizon, stalling nearly every major new project. The industry plunged into another production-halting lockdown, this time over contract impasses rather than a virus.

Since The Dark Tower was suddenly further off on the horizon, Flanagan saw a chance to make The Life of Chuck happen in the short term. “It’s so rare that I get to approach any project that just has not an ounce of cynicism to it. I just really believed in this thing,” he says. “But it was also clear that we would have an incredibly uphill battle bringing the story to any major studio. They would try to make it as familiar as possible, instead of leaning into what makes it so different.”

King gave Flanagan his blessing to proceed. “I was off like a shot,” the filmmaker says. “I think I turned in the draft to him before he got around to sending the formal agreement.”

For everyone involved, The Life of Chuck became a bright spot in an otherwise dismal time, which matches the theme of the film. “There is a profound optimism in this story,” Hiddleston says. “As the world is spinning off its axis, there are moments of magic.”

[myrquez]

In Motogp there’s so much money involved, performance anxiety dominates and builds up barriers. Everyone retreats into their own pack, nothing is done together anymore. And I just adapt to it, according to the theory that it’s better to be alone than to be in a group full of fake smiles. But relationships among athletes aren’t only the ones made via some direct, classic form of communication. In sport you can actually enter into communication with someone through other ways that are more mediated but, in some cases, even more profound. With Márquez, for example, we aren’t technically friends. We think highly of each other, we respect each other, we smile to each other when one sees the other one, over the past year he’s been very fair to me, often defining me as an ideal opponent. I think it’s because he knows that I can race him very hard, but always within the rules. Which is, even if for many may not seem like it, exactly the same thing he always did while racing against me. Marc may look crazy, but he actually stands out from clichés and defies physics laws in good conscience. Unlike other riders — those reckless ones with no sense of limit, who after a crash often say “I don’t know why I crashed” — Márquez knows very well why he crashes. He often precisely crashes on purpose, just to explore that limit. He does some experiments first, then goes on to elaborate his theory. In a way, he’s an empiricist exactly like my dad was, when he purposely kept taking more and more steps forward on the track to teach me how and where to brake. It’s just that in this case, it’s the rider that does it. I like Marc. And I interpreted our famous duels in 2017 as a means to get to know each other better. In Austria and Japan we indeed were extreme, but not crazy. Adventures-seekers who like to push themselves to the limit, but not insane and neither unfair to each other […] Deep down, he isn’t irresponsible, even if he often looks for some maneuvers that have no rhyme or reason. Theoretically, and practically, they don’t make any sense. Yet I never get angry about it, not even that time in Zeltweg when it looked like I told him to fuck off. It surprises me, instead, to see what he tried to do to get a win, something like “I can’t believe it”, an amazed curiosity to see how he tried to move into this uncharted territory, the same one where, thanks to him, I consequently went into as the well. And it’s so cool. As if we both dug together a whole new vein of gold: we won’t share the prize, of course, because to keep the gold is my goal, but we still dug through it together as if we were pioneers. And this indeed does create a bond, whatever is it.

And it’s even more incredible because I exactly know what Marc is going to do in that last turn in Zeltweg. Theoretically, he doesn’t have any more weapons to attack me: at this point his Honda has less traction, worn-out tyres, less power; generally speaking, Honda is less suited to this track than Ducati. And yet he got this far, in the end […] I well know that to have Marc right behind you while going through the last corner is way too much of a problem, the worst thing it could happen to you: he’s going to try it anyway anywhere. So I’ll be there, waiting for him […] Even if we’re going at 200 km/h, I can feel upon my skin how meters get marked bit by bit. One after another. I force myself to focus on his engine’s sound to understand when and where he will attack. And when the noise is there, almost unbearable, I brake hard and leave him a bit of space on the inside line, to force him to exaggerate a bit and then overtake him in acceleration. It’s almost as if I just accepted his invite, just to deceive him later. It might look like it’s just a technical challenge, or a stunt one, but it’s actually about mind games, an hand in glove tied relationship in which our minds get connected. As in bull and bullfighter kind of way. Or, in a I know that you know that I know kind of way. To get a win in this way is a much more difficult thing to achieve, but it is much more cooler as well. When Marc gets on the inside Iine I just know that I made it, because he’s a champion, but he cannot overcome the laws of psychic. My plan gets fulfilled and the dissolving noise of his bike as he goes wide resonates with liberation. That’s when I make that gesture, automatically. Fuck off, you just got played! Real subtitle is: what did you make me do, you bastard? It’s my third win this year. It’s now clear that I am the one challenging Márquez for the title. But to me this doesn’t matter. Like it doesn’t matter that much how I just won against the one who is recognized as the hand-to-hand duels master […] What matters most is that this race has been a way to get to know each other better. Márquez, with his usual Joker smile, confesses that if he hadn’t tried to surpass me he wouldn’t have slept at all that night. That’s what perfectly defines what he is: as long as he is breathing, he will try to pass you even if he had to go through a wall.

In Motegi it isn’t that different. Here, as well, Márquez is struggling a bit more than me, but I am sure he is going to try it in the last corner. Why shouldn’t he? We’ve been “beating” each other as if there was no tomorrow for the last six laps, in some apocalyptic conditions: heavy rain, curling-like grip, no visibility at all […] Ten minutes ago I wouldn’t have thought we’d get to this point, but as soon as Márquez did a little mistake I got back on track and now we’re here, us again. Ehi, Marc, how are you doing? Our connection in Zeltweg has been restored on the other side of the world. It’s now clear that everything that is going to happen now would not be possible without the other’s collaboration. Like two alpinists in a rope team, we will get ‘till the last meter together. We overtake and we get overtaken. We give and we take. We sting like bees, fly like butterflies, and more than anything we hit like blacksmiths. At Turn 10, I change my trajectory: I’ve been studying Marc for quite a lot from behind and now I imitate him, going a bit wider. This allows me to get into Turn 11 very fast, ready for my strong suit: braking. That’s how I easily overtake him. The Ducati is very stable, everything is under control. I’d be sure to get a win at that point but an alarm goes off in my mind: I won’t give it to you this easily. Exactly. Last corner is on the right. Giving my position it’s obvious that there isn’t any physical space to get on the inside, but imagine if he does really give a damn. When I’m about to lean into the Turn, Marc abruptly arrives out of nowhere as gracefully as Hulk in a china shop. It’s not even a dirty try, more like a circus number: his engine’s noise getting closer echoes into my helmet like the drum rolls that comes just before a trapeze artist jumps. Ladies and gentlemen, Marc Márquez! Where the fuck do you want to go? You’re still sitting straight, I’m already leaning: don’t you see that we’re touching? I don’t know how, but I keep the bike in control. I suspend my maneuver for a millisecond, just enough to let him slide on the outside as I go on riding through the apex. At that point he’s way too wide, he pulls half of a miracle by leaning all on the right to keep his bike on track but has no margin for anything else. Farewell, bye, goodbye. I win today. Again. After the finish line, we stop near the track side by side. Our gloves touch. Contact. Knowledge of the other has deepened. Relationship was preserved. Despite everything, no one cut the rope and we got to the mountaintop together. It’s an awesome feeling. That’s exactly the sport that I would always like. Especially because I won. On TV I eventually admit that to win against Márquez in what he does best really excites me: this is the boost that I need for the climb to the championship, at only 11 points from the lead. Marc showers me with compliments and says that it’s awesome to battle with me for the title, the living proof that professionalism and hard work pay off. He calls me a good guy as well, and I forgive him. Actually, no. Why should I be ashamed [of being a good guy]? To pretend to be a bad guy is something that everybody can do. To actually be one when it’s needed, and to do it with a certain style, it’s something for the few.

— andrea dovizioso talking about his relationship and his duels with marc márquez in asfalto (2018)

[delulu4anime]

ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋ ᴏɴ ᴛɪᴛᴀɴ ʙʟᴜʀʙꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ɴɴɴ

⚔︎ 🔞ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ! ᴛʜᴇ ᴊᴇʟʟʏꜰɪꜱʜ ꜱᴛɪɴɢ ᴄᴀɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ʟᴇᴛʜᴀʟ. ᴇxɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxʜɪʙɪᴛ ɴᴏᴡ🔞

⚔︎ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ɪɴ ᴀɴ ᴀᴜ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ ᴏʀ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴊᴏʙꜱ. ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪꜱ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴋᴀʏ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ.

⚔︎ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ɪ ᴄʜᴏꜱᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ɴɴɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɪ ʟᴇᴛ ᴀ ᴡʜᴇᴇʟ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇ.

⚔︎ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇ ᴍᴇɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴏᴍᴇɴ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴇʟᴇɴᴀ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ꜱᴛᴜᴅɪᴇᴅ.

⚔︎ ᴛᴡ'ꜱ: ᴍᴀɴʜᴀɴᴅʟɪɴɢ, ᴅᴏɢɢʏ, ᴘᴜꜱꜱʏ ᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ, ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ʀɪᴅɪɴɢ ᴘᴏɴʏ, ꜱʜᴏᴡᴇʀ ꜱᴇx, ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ꜱᴇx, ᴍᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴇꜱꜱ, ꜱᴇx ᴛᴏʏꜱ, ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʀɪɴɢ, ꜰᴜʟʟ ɴᴇʟꜱᴏɴ, ꜱɪxᴛʏ-ɴɪɴᴇ, ᴛʜʀᴜᴘᴘʟᴇ, ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ꜱɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ, ꜱᴛʀᴀᴘ ᴏɴ, ꜱᴄɪꜱꜱᴏʀɪɴɢ.

⚔︎ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛʟʏ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀᴍᴀꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ʜᴏʟᴇ ��ʏ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ

ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴜʏ’ꜱ

⚔︎ ᴇʀᴇɴ

⇥How long does he last: About two weeks.

⇥Surprisingly resilient that is until you wear his shirt around the house on your days off.

⇥Pops a boner and the thought of taking care of it crosses his mind.

⇥But after what felt like the thousand time of splashing cold water on his face he couldn't do it anymore.

⇥He stormed into the living room where you sat on the couch. Fuck it.

⇥He yanks the thin fabric off of you and manhandles you over the arm of the couch.

⇥He's about to fuck you like he hates you for indirectly teasing him.

⇥Results? Loser.

He has one hand pressed down between your shoulder blades while the other has a bruising grip on your hips. His own snapping repeatedly against you as your ass ricochets off him. The sound of your skin meeting his echoing out throughout your living room. What a stupid bet this was anyways; there's no one in the history of forever that has ever lasted an entire month without touching their significant other. Especially one as pretty as you.

"F-Fuck baby just like that. Keep squeezing around me. You know you've missed this just as much as I have."

⚔︎ ᴀʀᴍɪɴ

⇥How long does he last: To the end.

⇥This precious baby.

⇥Too wrapped up on the fact exams are around the corner.

⇥Doesn't really care about NNN but thinks it's cute that you try to get him to cum before the end of the month.

⇥He's lost count on how many times you've climbed on top of him and rode him until you came.

⇥You really thought you could get him but the moment December 1st hit he spent that time doing what he really wanted to do now that exams and that silly little challenge was over.

⇥Results? Winner.

Your fingers buried in his hair as you arch your back and moan out his name. His hand wrapped around his cock as he stroked his length quickly. His pre-cum started out as lube before he switched hands and his fingertips covered with your slick was used to make it nice and slippery.

"Love making you feel good baby. It's what you deserve. Now lay back and take what I give you okay?"

⚔︎ ᴄᴏɴɴɪᴇ

⇥How long does he last: surprisingly almost till the end.

⇥This stupid bald idiot really was so determined to win this. Jean bet him fifty bucks he wouldn't be able to win and Connie was about to call his bluff.

⇥You were supportive cause hey, money is money. You both agreed. No sex, no revealing clothing, and no provoking media.

⇥It was easy and there was only a few days left before the end of NNN. The money was as good as yours.

⇥Until you both were cuddled up and watching Sex in the City of all things and for some reason he popped a boner.

⇥To be fair the money didn't matter. Not when he was thrusting up into you as you rode him on the couch.

⇥Jean's mocking words in the back of Connie's mind. He had more important things to focus on.

⇥ Results? Loser.

"S-So pretty like this." Connie panted out as he watched your expression. Your hands grasping his shoulders as you moved your hips though it was futile was how he snapped his hips up the way he did. "Pussy feels so good baby. Gonna make it mine over and over again."

⚔︎ ᴊᴇᴀɴ

⇥How long does he last: To the end.

⇥He made a bet with Connie and he didn't think he'd be able to win.

⇥But it turned out to be a busy month for both of you.

⇥Thankfully of course because the way you came in after work, despite being tired, looked so pretty to him.

⇥Especially when you took a shower after work and the urge to stroke his cock to the image of your naked body with water droplets running down your body.

⇥He didn't even get a chance to fuck you until you were a few days into December.

⇥ He ravished your body in the shower after you both got home.

⇥Results? Winner.

The water cascading against his back as he had one of your legs hooked over the bend of his elbow. One hand digging into the flesh of your plush thigh while the other held onto your jaw gently. He wanted to make sure that you looked at him while you came undone for him. His hips snapping against you as you held onto his biceps for dear life. You knew you both were exhausted but for some reason this felt better than it ever had before.

"Shit baby, you're so beautiful. Love seeing you like this. Love feeling you. Gonna cum for me okay? Be a good girl and cum for me."

⚔︎ ᴢᴇᴋᴇ

⇥How long does he last: To the end but barely.

⇥He had to distract himself so many times and you surely didn't make it easy for him.

⇥Seeing you making him breakfast in the morning in nothing but his shirt suddenly had him craving you instead of breakfast.

⇥ You eventually caught on to what he was doing and you started teasing him more. Like walking into his study late at night when he was grading assignments for his students. Leaning down and kissing his pulse point on his neck and running your hands down his chest.

⇥The way his breath hitches as you slowly start to unbuckle his belt only to pull away and have him cursing under his breath.

⇥ It was no surprise the second the clock struck midnight you were woken up by your lover practically ripping your clothes off. 

⇥ Results? Winner.

"You little goddamn tease." He growled in your ear as he gripped your leg tightly. You were on your side and his other arm had snaked around you and was holding you by the throat. Squeezing the sides gently every now and then as he thrusts inside you. "I'll make you think twice about teasing me like that ever again." He grunted as he continued to destroy your poor pussy. His hand that had been holding your leg now letting go and sliding down to rub your clit. "Now you're gonna cum for me again and again. It's the only apology I'll accept."

⚔︎ ᴇʀᴡɪɴ

⇥How long does he last: To the end.

⇥"My love do you know what No Nut-" "November? Yes, I'm well aware of what it is. I'll do it if you'd like but I'm not sure how well I'll do."

⇥Fucker forgets you had even asked him to do that.

⇥He was so wrapped up with his work at the lab trying to test the serum he made to help with chronic back issues to even think of anything else.

⇥ To be fair you were wrapped up in work too so you hadn't even noticed until it was December before you figured you would congratulate him.

⇥ It was a simple kiss that shouldn't have been anything more than that. A simple kiss.

⇥Oh but it turned into so much more.

⇥ Results? Winner.

You cried out in pleasure as he continued to pound into you. He had you folded into a nasty mating press and you watched through teary eyes the white ring around his cock only get messier. You lost track of how many times you had cum and when you look into those sea blue eyes Erwin couldn't help but groan.

"Can't believe I went an entire month without this. Never again. I want to feel you wrapped around me forever."

⚔︎ ʟᴇᴠɪ   

⇥How long does he last: Till the end plus some.

⇥Let's say it all in unison now: sadist. 

⇥Knows allllllll about NNN from all the young interns at the lab. Even his boss, Erwin, knows about it which is saying a lot. 

⇥He's more than happy to entertain you. Goes a whole month and a half actually and you were practically begging him on your hands and knees to fuck you.

⇥Oh and he does. Exactly like you are right now. Kneeled before him with a harsh grip on the leash attached to the collar he has around your neck.

⇥The dildo you're riding wasn't exactly what you were wanting but it was better than nothing. Especially with how much you ached. 

⇥Results? Winner.

Levi gives a harsh tug to the leash causing you to take his cock deeper into your throat. He hums in approval at the way you gag around him.

"Ride it faster." Levi commands and you do as your told and ride the toy faster and he lets out a groan. "There you go my desperate little pet. See how rewarding it can be when you're patient." 

⚔︎ ʀᴇɪɴᴇʀ 

⇥How long does he last: 2 hours and 15 minutes.

⇥This poor touched starved man.

⇥Can you blame him really? I mean he loves you so much. He can't help it.

⇥The moment you brought up NNN he hated it. 

⇥You honestly made him accept the challenge cause you thought it would help with his training. He said he wanted to do resistance training for wrestling anyways so why not?

⇥He was the best on the team and so you figured this would help him. 

⇥Spoiler alert...it didn't.

⇥Results? Loser.

He had you in a full nelson and you were already fucked dumb. You grabbed onto his wrists as he thrusted inside of you at a brutal pace. All you could do was take it. You had already cum once and he still was going. You were sure that his stamina was going to be the death of you. The sound filling the room over and over again. You couldn't believe he was still going but you knew you had brought this upon yourself. You had wanted to test his endurance and you were getting just that.

"F-Fuck sweetheart," Reiner moans out. "Taking this cock so well. S-So good...love you too much to ever do that stupid challenge again."

ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀʏ’ꜱ

⚔︎ ᴍɪᴋᴀꜱᴀ

⇥How long does she last: To the end.

⇥She had heard of NNN from Eren but never understood the hype.

⇥The only reason she even agreed to it was because you gave her those puppy dog eyes she could never resist. 

⇥The deal was to see who cracked first and unfortunately that was you.

⇥I mean fuck have you seen her working out? 

⇥You never knew cross country needed that much work out and soon you started to wonder if she was doing stuff on purpose.

⇥Anyways it was no wonder you caved before you really wanted to and you tried. You really did but she kept bringing up the fact November wasn't over yet.

⇥To your dismay she goes the entire month without so much as a kiss.

⇥She makes up for it though by pulling you on top of her a few days into December and you happily accepted it since you were practically touch starved.

⇥Results? Winner.

You moaned against her folds as you felt her tongue dive into you again. Your nails digging your nails into her thighs as you dived back into eating a meal you had been deprived of since the beginning of November. You knew Mikasa felt the same way despite making it through the entire month because she been buried in your pussy the moment she stripped you down and pulled you to her face. You could feel your thighs tremble around her head with the way she flicks her tongue the way she did that drove you crazy. You whine against her and you can feel her smile against you.

"C'mon baby. Cum for me. I don't plan on moving from this spot anytime soon."

⚔︎ ꜱᴀꜱʜᴀ

⇥How long does she last: One week

⇥She's actually the one that suggested it to you and Niccolo.

⇥For some reason she was bound and determined to win this.

⇥You and Niccolo took it as a challenge of course and you made a bet between the two of you secretly.

⇥Who was going to break Sasha first?

⇥It was you of course. The way you whined her name that night you all had one too many drinks during Connie and Jean's after party.

⇥She snapped and the moment you touched her thigh.

⇥You looked so pretty in that dress and the way you blinked up at her with that pout lip?

⇥It was no wonder she grabbed you and your shared boyfriend, Niccolo, by the wrists and dragging you both to the first empty room.

⇥Since you won the bet between you and Niccolo, your reward was that he'd fuck you in any position you want.

⇥You had the perfect position in mind.

⇥Did the first empty room really have to be Floch's bedroom?

⇥Oh well it didn't matter. Not when clothes were pushed out of the way and the moans started to come from all of you. 

⇥Results? Loser. 

The way Niccolo snapped his against your arching core caused your tongue to pause its movements against Sasha's pussy often. She whined loudly as her grip on your forearms tightened. The noises you three made were easily drowned out by the music playing throughout the frat house. The full size mattress was barely big enough to fit all three of you and it creaked often under the weight it normally never felt. 

"Stop teasing." Sasha whined out and Niccolo sped up his movements with a moan. 

"Maybe you should've held out longer. You don't get to cum before she does." Niccolo grunted out as he was fixated on the way your tongue started to move against Sasha again.

"H-Hate you guys so much."

⚔︎ ʏᴇʟᴇɴᴀ

⇥ How long does she last: To the end. Easily.

⇥"Let's do No Nut November." "What?" "Do you seriously not know what it is?" "No genius I don't."

⇥Gods why do you always have to explain things like this to her. She's surprisingly so dense when it comes to this kind of stuff.

⇥"Oh yeah I heard about that on TikTok. Sounds stupid."

⇥Babe...c'mon.

⇥Agrees to do NNN and you expect something with all the teasing you had done but nope. 

⇥She's like Fort fucking Knox. 

⇥You die though of course. A whole month without the strap? Read your obituary now. 

⇥Need her so bad it makes you look pathetic and that's her favorite.

⇥Results? Winner.

You feel her place a soft kiss between your shoulder blades. Her grip on your wrists, she had pinned behind your back, tightens. Her hips snapping against you and your muffled moans along with the headboard hitting the wall fill the room. She moans softly while her grey eyes darken as she watches you closely.

"So desperate princess. Do you realize how pathetic you look right now? Acting like this all because we went a month without sex. Maybe we should do this more often. You sound so pretty for me right now." 

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ’ꜱ

⚔︎ ʜᴀɴɢᴇ 

⇥How long do they last: Technically only lasted three weeks but you give them the win.

⇥Hange has two weaknesses: the constant need for knowledge and you.

⇥When you asked them about NNN they gasp with the most excited look on their face.

⇥"I was hoping you'd ask me! Let's do it! I can do a little experiment on this."

⇥They really thought they'd be able to outlast you easily.

⇥That wasn't the case at all.

⇥You quickly see how clingy they started to get. Wrapping their arms around you and kissing your exposed shoulders

⇥Trying to make out with you whenever you could and putting their hands all over your body.

⇥You could feel how desperate Hange was so you decide to call it.

⇥Results? Semi-winner.

You moan Hanges name as they grind their core against yours. It felt beyond heavenly and you wondered how you were even able to go this long without feeling Hange against you. Hange gazes down at you with lidded eyes as they adjust their hips against you. Your leg over their shoulder as they placed gentle kisses against your ankle.

"That's it sweetheart. Wanna hear you. I did win after all didn't I?"

©ᴅᴇʟᴜʟᴜ4ᴀɴɪᴍᴇ 2024 ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴜꜱʜʀᴏᴏᴍ ᴊᴇʟʟʏꜰɪꜱʜ ᴇxʜɪʙɪᴛ

[kayharrisons]

Really fucked it up this time, didn't I my dear? [BJORN X FEM!READER] [18+ ONLY] [4 OF?]

Where it all went wrong.

A/N: HELLO I'M BACK AHAHA have chapter 4 :3 we learn why Bjorn and Reader started to fall apart :) this is ANGSTTTT

Series warnings: unplanned pregnancy, discussions of abortion, eventual childbirth, commitmentphobe Bjorn, possessive Bjorn, talks of morning sickness and other pregnancy symptoms, friends to fwb to something Worse, cheating mentions, nsfw content such as sex and eventual Alien type scenarios

Previous

Next

18 weeks ago

"I'm gonna break it off with him," you murmur, one morning, curled into Bjorn's side and trailing your fingers up and down his chest.

He grunts a sleepy noise, squinting at you through half closed lids. "Why?" he asks, yawning, as he idly brushes his fingers through the ends of your hair. "Wha'sthe twat done?"

"Bjorn," you frown, shifting to sit up a little, searching his face. "I can't... it's not fair on him. He's not done anything wrong-"

"Beyond be a bit shit in bed?" he deflects, and you scowl.

"Bjorn!"

"What?" he huffs, arm flopping back onto the bed, frown firmly in place. "Not wrong, otherwise you wouldn't be coming to me for a shag, now would you?"

You flinch, staring at him with wounded eyes. His jaw sets, but he offers no apologies. "Is that what you think?" You ask, voice wavering. "That's the only reason I...?"

His eyes darken, and he shifts uncomfortably, looking outside of his bedroom window. There's nothing of interest outside of it, of course there isn't. But he's unable to meet your gaze, your hurt eyes.

"What else is there?" he asks, voice cool, exhaling hard as he looks at you again, daring you to say more.

"I can't keep doing this," you laugh, bitterly, as you drop the bedsheets and stand, grabbing your bra, your underwear, furiously tugging them on. Usually you'd relish the feeling of his spend still lingering between your thighs, but now? Now it feels like a mockery, a sham. "You keep fucking- every time we- I can't live with this!"

"What?" he barks out, sitting up and yanking on his t-shirt. "Can't live with what, love? Hm?" He challenges, pulling on his boxers and standing, scowling at you.

"This!" You shriek, gesturing between you both. "You're my best friend and I- fuck, Bjorn, when was the last time we hung out and it wasn't for sex?"

"Y'say that like it's a bad thing."

"It's not, it's- I just miss you," you whisper, ducking your head down with a shaky exhale. The Bjorn of before, your best friend, he'd comfort you, would reach out and pull you into a hug. Would settle his hands on your shoulders and look into your eyes, telling you everything would be alright. Would press a kiss to your forehead before shoving you in the direction of the couch so you both could watch a shitty film.

This Bjorn, the one standing before you now? He makes no such moves. His fists clench and unclench by his sides, something flashing across his expression that you can't quite put a name to.

"Right here, aren't I?" he asks, voice hoarse, thick with emotion. His vulnerable eyes meet yours, a look you haven't seen from him in...

You reach out, cupping his cheek in your hand, gently brushing your thumb back and forth along his cheekbone. "Are you?"

He swallows, leaning his cheek into your hand before ripping himself away, back to you, his hand scratching at his scalp. "You should go," he mutters, staring holes into the pictures taped to his wall; years and years with his family and friends, group pictures, silly takes, you in his arms like you belong there. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, hands balling into fists by his sides again. "Y'know, 'fore your boyfriend comes home."

You say nothing. There is the shuffle of clothes being pulled on, the sound of his bedroom door opening and closing and then...

Silence.

"FUCK!" comes his shout, as he slams a balled up fist against the cool metal of his bedroom wall. He leans against it for a moment, ignoring the dull throbbing of his hand as he tries to regain his bearings.

It's impossible, when you've knocked him so off kilter.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Now.

"Fuckin'..." Bjorn slurs, as he leans against your kitchen counter. "Nice... nice dishtowel." he gestures, vaguely, at the pink thing neatly sat on your counter. It wasn't often that you saw a colour that wasn't some shade of brown, grey or beige. So you'd snatched it up at the market, unable to stop smiling that day.

"Thanks," you retort, sourly, arms crossed as you lean against your shitty kitchen table. "What do you want, Bjorn?"

"Can't a bloke cum'n'see his best mate?" he asks, giving you a cheeky grin.

Your eye twitches. As if that damn stupid smile was supposed to erase the last few weeks of torment you'd been putting each other through.

"You haven't said a nice word to me in about two months, you know that, right?"

"Oh, like you've been a ray of fuckin' sunshine lately, love." he shoots back, before taking one look at you and sighing, slumping and scrubbing his hands down his face. "I've missed ya, alright?" he mutters, stumbling on over to your couch and sitting down on it. "Fuckin'... Tyler, man, yappin' on boutcha... not his fuckin' best mate..." he crosses his arms, glumly slouching into the comfort of your couch.

"What the fuck has Tyler got to do with anything?" you ask, bewildered, blinking at him. "He's been a good friend, y'know? Actually asking how I'm doing and not telling me to go fuck myself-"

"Look so pretty with ya fingers inside'ya though," he smirks, bouncing his brows at you. Upon seeing your Medusa scowl, he immediately holds up his hands. "Sorry. Fuck, fuck- I promised myself I wouldn't do that-"

"What? Hit on me after weeks of not talking to me?" you snort, sitting down next to him, tentatively.

He nods, eagerly, reminding you of those little bobble head puppies you sometimes saw sitting on desks on offices. "Yeah! That! The fuckin'... deflection shit. I wanted ta... fuck, I'm sorry, love, alright? I just..."

He looks at you, with his hazy, half open eyes. He reaches out, gently clasping the back of your neck and leaning his forehead against yours, bringing you closer to him. Your heart skips.

Be it from the familiar warmth of him, or the glimpse of the old Bjorn, you're not sure.

"I've missed ya," he whispers, nudging his nose against yours. You try not to recoil from him, the smell of Aspen clinging to his breath. You'd always hated the smell of the beer, and with the baby-

It feels surreal, sitting in the presence of your best friend, your baby's father, and him being blissfully unaware of its existence.

"Missed ya so fuckin' much," he whispers, stroking his fingers along the nape of your neck. You fight back a shiver. "Fuckin'... don't feel like m'self these days, y'know? Like 'alf of me's missin' or summit, even though you're right there and- and fuck, why'dya have t'say it?" He slurs, damn near sobbing the last part out. "We were- we were fine 'till y'said it-"

"We weren't," you whisper, shaking your head and lurching back from him, forcing yourself to your feet. "We weren't, Bjorn! Neither of us could've kept going the way we were!"

"But we had each'otha-" he reaches out, grabbing your hands. "That was- was all I ever wanted-"

"It was all I wanted too," you whisper, giving his hand a squeeze. His palms are clammy, his fingers cold. You squeeze a little tighter, hoping to give him some warmth. "But it was killing us Bjorn. It was."

He lets out a choked sound, resting his forehead against your joined hands. "Why'dya hafta say it?"

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

10 weeks ago.

You lay side by side, panting, both slick with sweat. The room is silent save for your laboured breaths.

"Should we-"

"No." Bjorn grunts, pulling the sheets over his waist, eyes glued to the ceiling.

"Bjorn-" you protest, pushing yourself up, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Just slipped out, didn't it?" he asks, glancing at you, before flinching and returning his gaze to the ceiling. "Slip of the tongue. Happens to the best of us. Can pretend it never happened."

Silence.

He glances to you again, startled at the sight of tears rolling down your cheeks as you stare back at him.

"Fucksake-" he panics, sitting up, gently taking your face in his hands, wiping the tears from your face. "Y'alright-"

"I said I love you." you whisper, and it may as well be a shout from how hard he flinches as you say it. "I can't just- I can't just ignore that, Bjorn."

"Why?" he asks, desperately, searching your face. "We can just-"

"Go back to the way things were?" you finish, bitterly, and he ducks his head down. "I... I can't. I won't. We need to talk about this-"

"We don't!" he snaps, dropping his hands from your face in favour of carding them through his hair. "We're mates, that's all there is to it, ain't there?"

You shake your head, exhaling shakily. "You know as well as I do that that's not the case, not anymore. I love you and I- you love-"

"Don't fuckin' tell me how I feel!" he interrupts, scowling at you. "Don't you dare- I'm the only person who decides that, alright?!"

"Are-" you give him a once over, another tear streaking down your cheek. "Can you honestly tell me you don't feel the same? That this is just- just physical?"

Bjorn sighs heavily through his nose, not quite meeting your eyes. "Just mates, love." he mutters, picking at a loose piece of skin by one of his nails. "S'all there is to it. Nothing more."

"I love you." you repeat, oh so quietly, but you know he hears it. His flinch gives him away. You wait for him to say something, anything, you wait and wait and-

He says nothing back.

"We're done." you whisper, firmly, as you stand and redress, as he continues to pick at his skin and refuses to look at you. "You and me we're- this is over."

"Fine."

You feel like screaming, like grabbing him by the shoulders and demand he fights for you both, that he drops this bullshit facade he has up, that he just fucking admits it-

You do none of this.

You flee, instead, back to the safety of your own trailer.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Now.

"Because that's how I felt," you say, leaning down, pressing a kiss to his head. "Can't change any of it now, though."

"We were fine," he repeats, eyes damp as he looks up at you. "We..."

"Weren't."

He chokes back a sob, tugging insistently on your hand. You sit back down next to him, watching his face.

His beautiful, handsome face that even now still sends your heart skipping a beat or two.

"I..." he clutches your hand tight. "Fuck- messed up. I ruined-"

"You didn't feel the same, Bjorn," you sigh, giving him a tight smile. It still hurts, even now, after all these weeks. "That's... not a crime. I just think it could've been handled better."

"But I do!" he snaps, squeezing your hand. "I fuckin'- christ, love, I've been mental 'boutcha for years-"

Instead of skipping a beat, your heart stops. Drops to your stomach entirely as you listen to him, as you watch him. He's drunk. So very drunk.

What he's saying, it's everything you'd been hoping for, that you've dreamed of...

You reach out, pressing a finger to his lips.

But it isn't right.

"No," you say softly, shaking your head. "No. Tell me when you sober up, okay? I don't... I don't wanna hear it from you like this."

He blinks at you, oh so confused... before nodding, pecking your finger. "Okay..."

You stand, scrubbing a hand down your face. "Sleep on the couch tonight, okay? I'll talk to you in the morning."

"Okay." He repeats, nodding still. Your lips quirk up a little, as you toss a blanket his way.

"Shoes off."

"Okay."

That gets your snorting. He blinks innocently at you, toeing off his boots.

"Night, Bjorn."

"Okay..." he slurs, already half asleep and tangled with the blanket you'd tossed his way.

Your eyes linger on him a moment before you head to your bedroom, before you curl up on your bed and resist the urge to cry all over him again.

He won't be there in the morning. You know it.

[odinsblog]

“Every time I talk to people, they talk about the economy. But I'm like, man, since World War II, the economy has always done better under a Democrat president. That's just a fact.

It's always been Democrats. There's been 11 recessions in this country. Ten of them have been Republicans.

So I don't know how they've hijacked that narrative. But I think the other thing that you just got to chock it up to is just good old fashioned racism. And I think in the case of Vice President Kamala Harris and Hillary Clinton 2016, sexism.

I just really do, like it's still America at the end of the day. There are people in this country who are still just holding on to old ideologies. They don't want to see America be a great American melting pot where all of these different people from all of these different walks of life can live.

They like that racist, sexist, bigoted rhetoric that Trump spews.

Why is it so hard for her to say that?

I think because for whatever reason, like, you know, you hate these elected officials even when you say, is America a racist country? OK, you can't say America is a racist country, but you can say that, you know, there's systemic racism in America. I think that is a fair thing to say.

Like, I watched her on Fox News the other night, and I loved how she handled Bret Baer. When Bret Baer tried to push her, Bret Baer was like, are you saying the American people are stupid? I can't remember how he worded it, but she was like, ‘No, I would never say that because I don't want to disparage the American people. But my opponent has no problem doing that.’

And I understand that approach, you know, but I think that it is perfectly fine to acknowledge that those things exist because guess what? As a Black man, as a Black woman, you feel that.

As a woman, you feel that sexism. As a Jewish person, you think you don't feel all the antisemitism that's happening right here in our country. Like as a gay person, you think you don't feel the homophobia.

So you can speak to what people are feeling because you see it.”

There was an amazing moment in the interview where someone comes along and brings up the F word, fascism.

Kamala Harris: It's two very different visions for our nation. One mind that is about taking us forward and progress and investing the American people, investing in their ambitions, dealing with their challenges. And the other, Donald Trump, is about taking us backward

Charlamagne: The other is about fascism. Why can't we just say it?

Kamala Harris: Yes, we can say that.

Tell me about what transpired there and how you felt about it.

“Well, it was the same thing that we just said, right? Like, you know, she was saying what she's about, and then she was saying what he's about.

And I was just like, yo, just say it.

Like, he's a fascist. You just had General Mark Milley just said he's a fascist to the core, like a danger to the country. So for me, it's like the American people will never understand the threat that Donald Trump is if people aren't spelling it out.

They didn't treat him like he's a threat to democracy. They kept saying that he's a threat democracy. They kept saying that he's a threat to democracy, but Merrick Garland should have locked Trump up after the coup. Right?

I was literally watching something yesterday and there was a person talking and the person was like, if Donald Trump, you know, really let an attempted coup of this country, why didn't they arrest him? They did. They did charge him.

But there's so many people who don't even know because he's not treated like that. We know we live in a society that knows how to demonize people when they want to. Right?

You can look at it, and I'm just going to use this as an example. Not saying that it's not warranted that it's happening, but look at somebody like Diddy. Front page of every newspaper, all over the news.

You hear about every charge. Like you see it, you see it, you see it over and over. They don't villainize and demonize Trump in that way.

You've never seen Trump in handcuffs. You saw one Trump mugshot. Like they don't treat it like.

The media has continuously treated Donald Trump and his whole candidacy like it's normal, which is mind boggling to me.”

What do we have to... Not to be defensive, but jumping up and down, what do we have to do? I mean, how many different ways can you say it?

“You know why it doesn't penetrate? Because Americans are spoiled and we don't think it can happen here because it's never happened here.

Like if you talk to older people who were closer to that, who can remember things like, ‘Oh my God, he's doing a rally at Madison Square Garden.’

That's what happened in the 30s with the Nazis.

If you can talk to people who understand that, they get it. This generation doesn’t.

If you have a sense of history and you've read things like The Fall of The Third Reich, things like that, you can see the patterns that lead to somebody like Trump becoming a dictator. I just don't think people think dictatorship is possible in America, but it is, because our democracy is very fragile.”

—Charlamagne tha God, on election 2024

[caitified]

angst is my go to so how about a caitlin fic where she feels like she has to hide her relationship with reader from the public. so for wtv reason you choose caitlin leaves reader because she can’t seem to be herself in the public and later when caitlin comes back to reader, reader doesn’t let her back in to her life

get you back

caitlin clark x reader

warningz: none, can write a happy needing for my non-angst people

you had always known being with caitlin clark would come with its challenges. she was a basketball star, after all, and you were just…you. but the hardest part wasn’t the attention or the scrutiny—it was how caitlin insisted on keeping your relationship a secret. even after you uprooted your entire life to move to indiana with her after she got drafted, she still wasn’t ready to share you with the world.

“it’s not that i don’t love you,” she’d say whenever you tried to bring it up. “i just don’t want the media all over us. i’m not ready for that.”

you wanted to be patient. after all, you understood the pressure caitlin was under. but the longer it went on, the more it wore you down. you’d see her at events, smiling for the cameras, and you’d stand on the sidelines, just another face in the crowd. you told yourself it didn’t matter—that what you had with her behind closed doors was enough. but deep down, it hurt.

then one night, she came home from practice, looking more exhausted than usual. you knew something was wrong before she even spoke. she sat down beside you on the couch, staring at the floor.

“we need to talk,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

your heart sank. you knew what was coming.

“i can’t do this anymore,” caitlin said, her words piercing through you. “i’m just…i’m too scared. i’m not ready to be out there like that. and it’s not fair to you.”

you sat there in stunned silence, your world crashing down around you. you had given up everything to be with her, moved to indiana to build a life with her, and now she was telling you it wasn’t enough. tears welled up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. not yet.

“so, that’s it?” you asked, your voice trembling. “you’re just going to end things because you’re scared?”

caitlin looked at you, guilt and pain written all over her face. “i’m sorry,” she whispered. “i never wanted to hurt you.”

but she had, and there was nothing she could say to fix it. you packed up your things that night, leaving behind the life you had built with her. indiana was never home without caitlin, but iowa didn’t feel like home anymore either. you were lost, heartbroken, and unsure of what came next.

weeks passed, and you tried to move on, tried to piece your life back together. but then, you started seeing the pictures. caitlin with some guy, holding hands, smiling for the cameras. it didn’t make sense—she had broken up with you because she wasn’t ready to be public, yet here she was, pretending to be in a relationship with someone else. the sight of it made your stomach turn.

you knew it wasn’t real. you knew caitlin too well. she was trying to keep up appearances, trying to prove to the world that she wasn’t who she really was. but it hurt all the same. you had given her everything, and now she was out there, parading around with someone else.

and then, one night, you heard a knock on your door.

you opened it to find caitlin standing there, drenched from the rain, looking like she hadn’t slept in days. her eyes were red, and she was clutching something in her hands—a hoodie you had left behind in indiana.

“i messed up,” she said, her voice cracking. “i messed up so bad.”

you stared at her, your heart aching at the sight of her, but the pain she had caused you was still too fresh. “what do you want, caitlin?” you asked, your voice cold.

“i miss you,” she whispered, stepping closer. “i can’t do this without you. i thought i could pretend, but i can’t. i love you, and i’m so sorry. please, give me another chance.”

her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, you almost caved. almost. but then you remembered all the nights you spent waiting for her to be ready, all the times you felt like a secret, like you weren’t enough. you couldn’t go through that again.

“no, caitlin,” you said, shaking your head. “you can’t just come back now and expect everything to be okay. i gave you everything, and you threw it away because you were scared. and now, what? you realize you made a mistake and expect me to just forgive you?”

tears streamed down her face as she looked at you, desperate, broken. “please,” she begged, her voice barely audible. “i love you.”

but love wasn’t enough. not this time.

“you should go,” you said, stepping back and closing the door on the girl who once meant everything to you.

the sound of the rain outside was the only thing that filled the silence after she was gone, but even that couldn’t drown out the ache in your chest.

[miley1442111]

memory fails- c.berzatto

a/n: this is lowkey saddddd but wtv. this was intended for fem!reader but it's only mentioned once so feel free to imagine what you like :) also I fucking love Monk.

summary: there's no way carmy forgot such an important date, right? You'd better go down to the restaurant and check.

pairings: carmenberzatto x reader, platonic!syndeyadamu x reader

warnings: breaking up, parental loss, failing relationship, mean carmy, brief mention of sex, mentions of feeling used in a relationship, smoking.

Everything was too loud. His head hurt, his body ached and all he fucking wanted was to be at home, with you. He stepped outside the noisy kitchen and lit a cigarette, a habit he knew you hated but he just couldn’t take this anymore. Why did I leave my bed this morning? He asked himself again and again.

This morning, you were beside him, arms wrapped around his neck as he lazily kissed a trail up your neck, electing small giggles from your drowsy state. Today was meant to be his day off, but fucking Nat called him in for a meeting with Cicerio, a meeting that didn’t even happen. So now, here he was standing outside his own restaurant, the last place he wanted to be right then. He had spent the day practicing fucking timing in the kitchen. The sun was setting, he knew he’d missed the day with you. He knew you’d be upset. Never mad, always just upset, or frustrated. Just never fucking mad. He didn’t think he’d ever seen you mad. He brought the cigarette to his lips again as he smiled at the image of you that morning, one that will be burnt into his brain forever. 

“Cousin! Your girl’s here!” Richie shouted from inside and Carmen’s daydream was shattered. He exhaled the remaining smoke and off he went, back inside where he saw you, arms crossed against your chest, looking guarded and upset. 

“Hey, what’s up?” He asked as he pulled you into his office for some privacy. Richie, Tina and Sydney gave him stern looks. 

“You remember what today is, right?” You asked him, a slight wobble in your voice. He scoured his brain for a few seconds and that was all you needed. “You don’t.” 

“Sunshine, I’m sorry I-”

“Carm, if you don’t have time for this relationship anymore then what are we doing?” you sigh, sitting on the small black couch in the corner. “I’m sick of feeling like I don’t matter.”

“Sunshine, what? You matter more than anyone, more than anything! Wh-where is this coming from?” 

“It’s my dad’s anniversary. You didn’t show up. Sydney showed up, Nat showed up, Tina showed up, hell, even fucking Cicero showed up! And my own boyfriend didn’t? What the fuck is wrong with you?” You were getting mad. For the first time ever he was seeing you get mad. His heart broke. He had made you mad. He made his sunshine mad. “I just wanted 45 minutes of your time to visit his grave!” That’s why it was just him and Ritchie in the restaurant earlier.

“Fuck…” He sighed out. 

“Yeah Carmen, ‘fuck’! At this point, I’m kind of ready to break up Carmen! If this is how important to you I am, then maybe we’re fucking done!” You shouted, the entire restaurant and kitchen could hear you, thank god there were no customers but fuck, how could he miss such an important date? 

His face dropped. You couldn’t actually mean that, right?

“Sunshine please-”

“No Carmen. I come second to fucking everything in your life! Today was the day you promised to be there for me! It’s not fucking fair.”

“Sunshine, you know that work is important,” he tried to reason and when he looked up he knew he had made a grave mistake. 

“More important than me? More important than my dad’s fucking one-anniversary? More important than being there for me?” you challenged. 

“Yes! Sometimes, yes! Not everything is always about you!” He shouted, and trust him, he knew he shouldn’t have. What he really wanted was to apologise and spend the next few days making it up to you. But he didn’t. He just dug himself a deeper hole. “Fuck’s sake- sunshine, just drop it!”

Had he had the emotional strength to look up, he would’ve seen the hurt evident in your face. He would’ve noticed the way your eyes glazed and how you started shaking. 

“Fuck you.” You practically whispered. “Fuck your restaurant and fuck this shit. I have to at least allow myself some fucking self-respect Carmen! You don’t get to treat me like this anymore! We’re done.” You turn on your heel, walking out of the restaurant as Sydney follows after you, and Richie starts giving Carmen hell. 

“Yo, that seemed pretty heated back there-” She started saying, trying to catch up to you. 

“Please Syd, just… leave me alone,” you sighed, leaning against the wall outside the restaurant. 

“I’m sure this is just… like he’s just being a dick-”

“He forgot the one thing I needed him to remember. The only fucking thing I asked him to remember. I never care when he misses my birthday, any and all family things, fucking date nights. I never care. I’m always understanding. But I’m so done. I’m done with this feeling- I-I’m just… I feel like I’m the only one who cares, y’know? Like I’m the only one who ever puts any fucking effort into our relationship, a-and when he finally does, it’s like he’s expecting a fucking medal for just… being a boyfriend. And I understand that he’s struggling, but there’s only so much comforting and support I can give before I feel like I’m being used. I am being used Syd. All he does is come home and he's either crying or manic, or mad, so I comfort him, and then he asks if he can fuck me, and of fucking course I say yes, because he’s looking at me with those puppy-dog eyes. And then he turns over and falls asleep, and I’m fucking alone again. I’m struggling too! My dad died! My…” You trailed off as Sydney pulled you into a comforting hug. “I fucking hate myself for staying with him, just hoping he’d be better,” you explain as sobs wrack your body. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you.

“He’s an asshole, and I think we both know you’re better without him, but I get this is hard too. How about we go back to yours and watch some Monk? It was your dads favourite, right?” She offered, a kind smile on her lips. 

“Yeah, thanks,” you smiled through your tears. 

“I’ll go grab my stuff, be back in a minute,” she smiled and walked back inside the building, leaving you with your thoughts. 

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

“I-is she ok?” Carmen’s eyes were on Sydney as she walked back inside the building. 

“Fuck you Carmen,” Ritchie sighed, as Sydney started grabbing her things from her locker, ignoring his question. “You don’t deserve to know if she’s ok!”

“You didn’t go either!” Carmen pointed out.

“Yeah, cause I went with her to the grave yesterday, y’know, since I have my fucking job today?!” 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Look, I’m heading out, night,” Sydney mumbled out as she slung her bag over her shoulder, walking swiftly towards the door. 

“Wait! Just… a-are we broken up then?” Carmen asked, terrified of the answer. The restaurant stilled. 

“Yes,” all of them answered, Tina’s voice the loudest. It was unanimous. You were gone from his life. Carmen stalked into his office and slammed the door, a loud “Fuck!” could be heard, as well as things falling to the floor. 

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

Sydney walked back out to you and grabbed your arm, whisking you away from The Bear and to her couch, binge watching episodes of Monk with her and her dad, popcorn and beer in your hands until you inevitably fell asleep on her floor.

Carmen didn’t sleep that night. He just kept thinking about you that morning, the small smile in the darkness. Your soft skin against his lips and hands. Your lips against his. Your kind eyes. Your sing-song voice. Your sweet smell. Your perfect smile. Your determination and unbreakable spirit. You. 

He had a lot to make up for, but how?

[quizzicalwriter]

can you please do a pt.2 to PDA where the next day Dally tries to make reader squirt again because he loved it sm. Thank you!

Cherry Waves

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: Continuation of ‘PDA.’ After being caught in the bathroom at a house party, Dallas decides to take you back to his place.

Warning: SMUT. MDNI. Fingering, oral, titty attention, squirting (all reader receiving.)

A/N: Thank you for the request! Part one here!

Word Count: 2.6k

Your legs felt sticky, still wet in some places as you tried your best to make yourself comfortable in the passenger seat of Dallas’s car. To be fair he’d had the worst of it, but he didn’t seem to mind, if anything it seemed to have turned him on. Whenever you looked over to him your eyes would venture south, focusing on the areas around his thighs and calves that were practically soaked in your arousal.

Luck had been on your side when you two left the party, none of the guys asked why, maybe because they already knew - it would certainly explain why a few of them refused to meet your eyes. It was far from the first time any of them had overheard you or Dallas, but you could only imagine physical evidence of the deed was far more shocking than noises from a room over. What you’d failed to realize was that was the exact reason why Dallas refused to cover the spots, he wanted people to see, wanted people to know just how good he made you feel.

You’d hardly had a moment to linger on the thoughts before Dallas pulled into the semi-empty parking lot of Buck’s bar. As he shifted the gear into park he turned to look at you, smiling as he looked you over. He seemed to be mulling something over, that same cocky look on his face that he’d worn in the bathroom at that party not even an hour earlier making itself known.

“What?” You asked through a laugh, stomach fluttering with arousal and nerves at what could be going through his mind.

“I want to make you cum like that again.” He replied, tilting his head back in a triumphant manner as he pulled the keys from the ignition, leaning over you to open your car door before doing the same for his. “I think I can, if you’ll let me.”

You hadn’t even thought it possible when he’d made you do it for the first time, and now he wanted to do it again? The thought made you flush, but you agreed nonetheless, a soft laugh passing your lips as you nodded.

“Sure, you can try.” You replied, pushing open the car door, smiling over your shoulder at him as you two walked to the bar entrance. “I don’t think you can though, that- that was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

He seemed to take your doubt about his skills as a challenge, eyes narrowing as he followed after you, hands finding your hips as he guided you through the doors. He leaned down, leveling his lips with the shell of your ear as he whispered, “We’ll see about that, doll.”

His hands lingered on your hips as you walked up the stairs toward his bedroom, occasionally moving to cup your ass, squeezing the plush flesh hard enough to make you squeak and try to run up the rest of the steps, only to be quickly caught by him. He wrapped his arms around your middle, lifting you up and off the ground before carrying you toward his bedroom, nudging the door open with his foot before plopping you down on his bed.

You unbuttoned your jeans, watching him with an eager smile as you shimmied the denim off of your legs, kicking it off the end of the bed before doing the same with your underwear. As soon as he’d locked the door he turned to face you, eyes widening momentarily at the sight of you half-naked before him. He moved toward you then, removing his shirt and jeans before crawling over top of you.

If there was one part of you Dallas could never get enough of, it was your tits. The man was practically obsessed with them, always cupping them in his hands, kissing them, sucking on them, or leaving marks over them - he loved them. You knew exactly what he was going to do as his hands smoothed up and underneath your shirt, bunching the fabric up as he went before helping you out of it. He leaned down, kissing from your navel to your ribs, his hands seeking out your back where he unclasped your bra, tossing it to a far corner of his bedroom after.

“So perfect.” He murmured, leaning back on his knees to look over your body, a soft glimmer in his eyes as his hands smoothed up and down your sides. You flushed at the look, turning your head away as you whined, never having been one for close examination - especially the type Dallas seemed to be infatuated with whenever he had you naked and beneath him. His eyes would rake over you as though you were fine art - which in his eyes, you were.

His hands moved to your breasts, thumbs flicking over your hardening nipples as he gently kneaded the soft flesh, a sigh passing his lips as he leaned down, taking one into his mouth as he continued kneading the other. Your back arched, pressing your chest flush with him as his tongue circled your bud, sucking it into his mouth like a man starved. His free hand moved between your legs, middle and ring finger lazily circling your clit. You rolled your hips into his touch, letting your head fall back against the mattress as you gave yourself over to the near-overwhelming bliss.

He moved his mouth to your other breast, humming against your skin in response to the noises that fell from your lips, pleased with himself as he felt you clench against the pads of his fingertips, cunt practically begging to swallow his fingers. He swirled his fingers around your opening, teasing you as he trailed open-mouthed kisses along your chest. You could feel your wetness dripping down your cunt, surely having coated his fingers. Only after your hips began bucking up to meet his touch did he give you what you were so eager to receive, pressing his middle and ring finger deep into your cunt. You whined, eyes squeezing shut as you squeezed around his fingers.

He did something he’d never done before then, he moved his fingers up and down, repeatedly hitting that spot within you that made you involuntarily clench your thighs together. You moaned, the noise loud, louder than you expected. He loved it, smile widening as he looked up at you, not slowing his movements for a moment. Incoherent words slipped past your lips as you reached down, grasping feebly at his wrist in an attempt to have him slow down, although you weren’t sure if you wanted him to. The feeling was insurmountable, something you’d never experienced before.

You felt tears pricking at your eyes from the onslaught of pleasure, Dallas’s fingers jerking up into your cunt, your hand wrapped around his wrist doing hardly anything other than holding him close. You could hear your cum sloshing against his fingers, the noise paired with his self-satisfied laugh as he pressed his fingers deeper, wanting to feel all of you wrapped tight around his digits.

“‘S too much.” You slurred out, voice closer to a sob than anything else. It did nothing to deter Dallas, as he only laughed in response and used his other hand to push against your lower stomach, the added pressure causing you to cry out, cunt spasming around his fingers.

“You can take it.” He whispered, thumb brushing against your clit as his middle and ring finger pumped into you, your cum coating his fingers and palm. “Wanted me to fuck you so bad, you can take my fingers.”

You could only manage a mewl in response, head falling back against the bedspread as he continued fingering you. Your hips trembled in his hold, orgasm building rapidly in your lower stomach, accompanied by a faint pressure you recognized all too well.

“Dal-“ You babbled, earning a condescending coo from his lips as he looked up at you, tilting his head to the side. “What, doll? Can’t take it?”

Before you could reply you were cumming around his fingers, a sound akin to a scream tearing its way from your chest as your back arched from the bed. Your grasp on his wrist tightened, feeling your fingers and inner thighs being soaked by your cum.

“Fuck yeah.” Dallas groaned, words full of awe as your fluids dripped from your thighs onto the floor below, wetting his legs in the process. He continued his movements, wanting to milk every last ounce of ecstasy from you before he’d even consider giving you the chance to breathe.

Your cunt looked gorgeous, glistening in the moonlight pouring in through his bedroom windows. Before you could push him away he sunk to his knees, looping his arms around your upper thighs to pull you down to his waiting mouth. He lapped at your clit, tongue delving between your folds. You could only squeak, hardly able to pull air into your lungs as you grasped at his hair.

He hummed against your clit, loving the feeling of your fluttering cunt against his tongue paired with your fingers in his hair. He couldn’t get enough of you, so he decided to get as much of you as he possibly could. His grasp on your thighs tightened, lips encircling your clit as he sucked it into his mouth, letting off with a lewd pop, lowering his head to lick a stripe up your cunt, eyes nearly rolling back at the taste of your arousal coating his tongue.

Your thigh muscles twitched underneath his hold, lungs burning for air as your back arched. The overstimulation was blinding, yet he didn’t stop, and you didn’t know whether you hated or loved him for it. You could hear him sucking at your cunt, practically drinking your arousal. The sounds alone made you clench around nothing, your hold on his brunette strands tightening as you ground down against his face.

His hand tapped lightly against your thigh, followed by him pulling away, eyes flickering up to meet yours before he spit on your cunt. The act shocked you, but turned you on far more than you thought it would. You were left open-mouthed, a whine falling from your lips as he licked another stripe up your folds, eyes locked on yours the entire time. You felt your cheeks burning, but you were unable to look away as he all but devoured you.

It was carnal in its purest form, leaving you rutting up into his mouth as his tongue skillfully worked at your clit, slurping up your juices as they coated his lips and tongue. You could feel your third orgasm of the night building before you could register it, eyes fluttering shut as you gave into the all-encompassing pleasure, earning a groan of satisfaction from Dallas as you came against his tongue. His arms tightened around your thighs as you jerked away from his mouth, determined to continue his work as you twitched from your orgasm. You could feel him smiling against your cunt as he watched you squirm beneath him, absolutely loving the way you whined for him.

He only pulled away when he felt satisfied, leaving your chest heaving for breath as your hand fell from his forearm, somehow having found itself there in the throes of your ecstasy. He crawled over top of you, turning your face to meet his gaze, his smile gentle as he looked down at you. You returned the look, pupils blown and face flushed. He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a feverish kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

His hand moved down to his boxers, pushing them down enough to free his cock, hissing into the kiss from the relief of it no longer pressing against the fabric. He trailed his lips from yours, kissing down your throat and onto your chest, his hand moving to hook under your thigh to rest it around his hip.

“Can’t cum again, Dal.” You murmured, looking up to him. He simply smiled, leaning up to press a kiss to your forehead as he pushed into you, grunting at the wet, warmth of your cunt wrapping around him. “You can, doll. I’ll make you.”

His pace was brutal from the start, his hand grasping your hip tight enough to make you wince, the pain bundled with the feeling of him consistently bottoming himself out with each thrust left you breathless, whimpering out his name as he fucked you senseless. After a moment he leaned up, causing you to whine at the sudden emptiness, he only shushed you as he moved to his knees. He smoothed his hand up under your thigh, doing the same with the other, pressing your thighs to your chest, effectively bending you in half as he pushed back into you.

The new angle knocked the wind from your lungs, his tip brushing against your cervix with each roll of his hips. Your calves rested against his shoulders, one hell of a cocky look on his face at the sounds he was forcing from you. With your thighs pushed to your chest you could feel that spot within you being rutted against, every canter forward of his hips brushing his cock against it. The oversensitivity from your prior orgasms had every sensation amplified, leaving you a whimpering mess, eyes blurred with tears as he fucked you. He brought his hand up, gently brushing away the tears, but not doing anything to soften his harsh thrusts into you.

It felt as though he were brushing against your clit from inside your cunt, the feeling confusing and mesmerizing all in one, leaving you wanting him to never stop, even as your cunt fluttered around him with your impending orgasm. Your hands were flush against his chest, nails subtly digging into his chest.

“Dal-“ You whined in a tone he knew by heart. He nodded, smiling down at you as he continued his pace, only leaning down to press his lips to yours, swallowing your moans as your orgasm built to a peak. You felt the sensation flow through you, cunt spasming around his cock as he fucked you through your orgasm. You felt him chuckle into your kiss, pulling away with a satisfied groan as he placed his hands on either side of your head, fingers tightening in the fabric of the bedsheets as he slammed into you, cum mixing with his as it dripped down your ass and onto the sheets.

“Soaked the sheets.” He grunted out, a smile still on his lips. “Love seein’ that, feelin’ you soak me.”

His words would’ve embarrassed you if it weren’t for the feelings flowing through you, the orgasm fading and giving way to near-painful overstimulation. You whined, pushing at his lower stomach, but he didn’t relent. With a sharp thrust forward of his hips, he buried himself to the hilt inside of your cunt, filling you full of his cum as he groaned out your name.

“So good.” He whispered, wincing a fair bit as he pulled out of you, moving to lay down beside you before pulling you into him. “Did so good, doll.”

You could only nod in response, finally able to catch your breath after what seemed like hours of cumming for him. As you rested your cheek to his chest you could hear his heartbeat thumping steadily against his chest, along with the calming sound of his lungs filling with air. You tilted your head to the side, pressing a kiss to his clavicle before resuming your position resting against his front.

“We need to change the sheets.” You responded, voice hoarse. “I can feel how wet they are.”

Dallas only laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his head back against his pillow, not fazed in the slightest at the mess you’d both made of the sheets.

“Fuck it.”

A/N: Thank you for the request! Yes, I wrote twice in a day. I hope you enjoy the filth, I tried to be as descriptive as possible. I know I like that stuff, so I figured you guys would as well. As always, thank you for reading and any interactions you may give my work! You can find this along with all of my other work over on my ao3 under the user, “Unscriptural.”

[sweetvamp03]

Selfish Reasons

Warnings - nsfw 18+ - smut - not much plot/no use of y/n - needy!sam - fingering - masturbation - piv - unprotected sex

Sam Winchester x fem!reader

Word count - 908

Summary - you've been away on a solo hunt for just a week, but to Sam it felt like months. When you arrive back at the bunker you are greet3d by an eager, floppy haired boy.

It had been a long week full of a few too many vampires. You were eager to hop right into bed and drift into a peaceful slumber for a day or two. Around 2 am you arrived home at the bunker, knowing everyone else was asleep by now, you crept around like a burglar trying not to make so much as a creak. You snuck down the hallway to your bedroom door, inching it open, trying to avoid the squeak you had meant to fix. To your surprise, Sam was wide awake in bed, book in hand, no shirt in sight. "Hey Baby, what are you doing up?" you whispered to him. He set his novel down to reply, "Just waiting up for you, wanted to make sure you got home safe".

"You know you don't have to do that, I'm pretty good at staying alive y'know" you joked with him. "Okay, well maybe I had some selfish reasons to stay up until you got back-" he paused to look you up and down as you started to peel your heavy clothing off one piece at a time. You couldn't help but let out a chuckle, "Really Sam? You're that predictable? We just had phone sex this morning, and I sent you plenty of pictures you could use. What is it, just not as good as the real deal?" you teased him, you knew he was a little slut for your pussy. "Nothing beats you in the flesh baby, you know that," he grimaced and pulled you down onto the bed with him. "Hm, baby wants me, huh? How do you want me? I'm all yours." you couldn't help but be turned on by him, I mean he's Sam fucking Winchester.

"Will you play with yourself for me? Please, honey, I love to watch you fuck your own cunt, you look so beautiful." he was practically begging you by this point. You had already stripped down to just your bra and panties, pushing him back onto the bed, you straddled his lap and laid back, knees in the air. He liked you on your back, he got a better view that way. He propped back up against the headboard and watched as you started in on yourself. You trailed two fingers along your folds before placing them deep into your heat. After a little while, your clit was starting to feel left out. Using the calloused pads of your fingertips, you rubbed slow circles around that perfect spot. You tilted your head up a bit to take a peek at Sam, his cock barely still held by his briefs, precum slipping through the fabric. You knew he wouldn't touch himself until you were taken care of. Speeding up, you felt the band in your lower stomach tighten, getting closer and closer to release, when all of a sudden, somebody grabbed your hand away, leaving you irritated. Sam had gotten hold of you, and was licking your fingers clean, then used his own to dig into each of your thighs, spreading them far enough apart that he could get his head between them. He started licking up the wetness, running his tongue down every fold. Suckling at your clit, he moved at an impossible speed, one that might challenge your vibrator. Legs shaking, you could feel it rising inside you, ready to flow over like a wave, "gonna- cum-" you managed to breathe out. With a few more vigorous licks, you were riding that wave, and he kept a steady pace til you came down. Your hands still tangled in his dark hair, you fell back and tried to catch your breath. "You're so good, baby, cumming for me like that- it's almost enough to make me cum just from the sight of it" he panted at you. A huge grin spread across your face.

Sitting up, you pushed Sam back down onto the bed where he once was. It was only fair that he got something too. Your tongue invaded his mouth before he could say a word, your hands busy dealing with his underwear. His throbbing member sprung free, tip red and dripping. You began tracing his shaft, then gently circling the end with your fingertip, making him groan underneath you. He didn't like it when it was only him receiving, he liked to make it equal, and him eating you out was just as good for him as it was for you. Hands sliding up to yours, he removed them from his cock. He steadied your hips and lifted you right on top of him so you were merged as one. You rode him as he guided you, both of you unable to keep from moaning. "Fuck baby- you're so tight- my gorgeous girl" he smiled as you sped up your movements. As you reached your limit, you could feel him filling you up. "Fuckkk-" you spilled out. Both of you needed a minute to catch your breath after that, you sat there, still connected, simply breathing in sync, running your hands over each other's skin. Sitting up, Sam pressed his lips to yours, mumbling, "God you're perfect".

Detaching yourself from one another, you settled into bed, pulling the covers up and getting close. Head pressed to his chest, his arms wrapped around you, this was the way you fell asleep every night. Well, at least every night you were together.

[stardust-kenobi]

A Good Night's Rest

Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Summary: Din was your best friend, but you wanted him to be so much more. Turns out he feels the same way.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: SMUT, drinking, helmetless din, virgin!reader, SOFT MANDO <3

A/N: we will all collectively just pretend there’s a little guest room in the razorcrest, otherwise everyone’s fuckin on the cold floor ok and we cannot allow it.

“Dammit” You cursed at the dreaded transmitter that was probably older than you were.

Being a mechanic had its perks, but it truly had its challenges, too. Especially when you’d been assigned long-term work on a ship as old as the Razor Crest. Of course, a perk to that would be traveling with a Mandalorian. It was a rough couple of months getting him just to hold a conversation with you, but almost a year later, you'd never been more connected or closer to anyone else in your whole life. He was undoubtedly your best friend.

“Don’t worry about it. That thing has never worked right” Din said, startling you as he entered the cockpit. He was dismissive of the transmitter, which was all the more reason you wanted to fix it.

Sighing out in frustration, you accepted defeat. For now, anyways.

“I’ll get it figured out eventually” You assured him.

“If you say so" He chuckled softly.

"Are you doubting my capabilities?" You teased him.

"No, I am doubting the probability of that thing ever working again"

"That's fair" You smirked before looking back to your unfinished work.

"How are the engines looking? Are we good to go?" He asked.

"Yep. Everything else is looking good. Are we leaving tonight?"

"I'd like to get a good night's rest first. We can leave in the morning" He confirmed, leaning against the metal siding of the cockpit.

"Sounds good to me" You smiled back softly, subtly admiring his stance beside you.

"I'll probably go to bed soon" Din said, his sleeplessness showing itself in his voice.

A fun idea crept into your mind.

"Why waste such a perfect night to break this baby in?" You giggled as you pulled the bottle of liquor from the cabinet in the cockpit.

"How did you get that?" He said with a head tilt, questioning where and when you had the opportunity to acquire alcohol.

You raised your brows and shrugged your shoulders, "I stole it"

"Well, I assumed that" Din iterated, taking the bottle into his hand and observing the label, "but I am not surprised"

You watched as he looked around, as if trying to find some reason why he shouldn't indulge in some light drinking with his best friend tonight.

"I'll just be drinking all by myself, if you're not joining me" You raised your eyebrows at him.

"Fine” He gave in, sitting himself down in the pilot’s seat next to you in the copilot’s seat.

For a little while, you two indulged in the intoxicating effects of the liquor. You knew your limits and so did he. You stopped just before feeling your inhibitions slip away but felt fuzzy enough inside to enjoy the feeling.

Respectfully, you opted to look away whenever he took a sip, so as to not catch a glimpse of even his chin as he tipped the liquor into his mouth. His movements were slow as he set his glass down, and with your peripheral vision, you noted that he was done. With all the time you’d spent around him, you couldn’t actually imagine him actually having a face, he was just a helmet with a gentle voice. But you loved him.

Oh stars, you loved him…

The chances of him feeling the same were slim, but one more sip and you might just tell him.

As you stared at him, you were met with flashbacks of one particular night not too long ago. Din had accidentally walked in on you masturbating, and you didn’t notice he was there until a couple of seconds had passed. He couldn’t make himself look away from you in such a state, but the guilt of unintentionally invading your privacy ate at him every day since. Since that night, things had been a little bit awkward between you two

Not a single word was exchanged between you two, he just slowly walked out. You probably didn’t come out of your room for another day, and even now, you still hadn’t talked about it.

What he didn’t know it was him you were thinking about while you pleasured yourself.

“This stuff is…” You began, holding the bottle out and tilting your gaze at it.

“Strong?” Din finished your sentence.

“Very” you giggled in response.

Din stared at you for what felt like forever, the tension pulling tighter between your gazes. There was something so odd about the way his head pointed in your general direction just gave you butterflies. You wished so desperately to look into his eyes for real.

“I, um” He began, tripping on his own words before his thoughts were fully developed.

“What is it?” You tilted your head.

He paused, and looked at the ground, before turning back to you.

“I need to sleep” He sighed.

“Okay. It just seemed like you were going to say something?”

Please let him say that he loves you too.

“I don’t think I’ve drank enough to say it”

“Maybe I have” You pondered. It spilled off your tongue like honey, “I'm in love with you"

Okay where the fuck did that confidence come from?

He was still. More still than usual, if that were even possible. The thumping of your heart against the restraints of your chest rang terribly loud in your ears. If he’d said anything in the seconds that followed, you wouldn’t have even heard it. Any attempt to read his emotions was blocked by the shining reflection of his visor.

But he was silent, and you could only guess why…he didn’t feel the same way about you.

“I’m..” He tried to begin, but fell short of his words.

“Don’t” You began as mortification consumed you, “don’t say anything”

He remained stoic, and painfully quiet. Providing no goodbye or goodnight, you got up and made your way to your quarters on the Crest. Din didn’t stop you. He didn’t flinch, in fact, he barely breathed.

The frigid metal against your arms shot chills down your spine as you leaned against the door you had just closed behind you to your room.

The distant sounds of his footsteps carrying across the ship, led right to your door very shortly after you stormed off.

"Y/N" His soft, modulated voice rang the other side of the door, following a gentle knock.

What do you even say to him now that you've confessed something so bold to someone you're in such close proximity to all the time?

You slowly pulled the door open and were met with Din’s towering figure.

"I'm in love with you, too" He admitted quickly.

Now you found that it was you whose words were failing them. A choked breath hitched in your throat as you processed what he said.

"Y-you do?" You stuttered in disbelief.

"Yes. I did not know what to say before. I wasn't expecting you to say that" He said softly, his tone growing timid.

You stepped back and let him enter your crowded quarters, which truly was only enough space for your small bed and a cabinet. The forced proximity to him heightened the tension even further. You sat on the edge of your bed, and he mirrored you, finding only inches of space next to you.

"I want to kiss you" You blurted softly.

"I want to kiss you too, Y/N. I'm sorry I can't" He responded, cautiously placing his hand on your knee.

"I know what you can do" You suggested.

Your trembling fingers wrapped around the gloved material of his hand and guided it in between your legs. There was no resistance from either of you, but you sensed his nerves as well as your own.

The shifting of your hips told him you wanted him to move. He rubbed against your aching and sensitive bud through the rough of your pants. You wanted him bare against your skin, but you knew this needed to be slow.

Too shy to just let him watch the look of pleasure upon your face, you buried your head into his shoulder while he rubbed your clit. He groaned as you let a faint whimper escape you…a sound he’d only dreamed of hearing before.

"Are you sure?" He begged for reassurance.

"Are you?" You countered him.

“Yes” He assured with no hesitation, like he’d been waiting for you for years.

“I’ve never done this before” You muttered lowly, ashamed to admit it, but knowing it was necessary for him to be aware that you were a virgin.

“Ever?” He leaned back.

You shook your head in confirmation.

Din froze in his tracks, halting his rhythmic motions at your core. You worried he wouldn’t want to be your first. You worried it would be too much pressure for him to make it special for you.

He pulled away completely.

Something you’d never seen him do before caught your immediate attention. Slowly, his fingers curled underneath the bottom edge of his helmet and lifted it from his head. He didn’t hesitate for a second.

“Din what are y-”

You couldn’t even remember to breathe as his face came to view. His brown hair lay so perfectly pressed to his head, restricted for so long by the constraints of his mask. He wasn't a stranger. This wasn't unfamiliar. It was him.

And he was beautiful.

His creed meant nothing to him in that moment…the moment he finally was able to stare into your eyes for real. Nothing mattered to him except you. A lump grew quickly in your throat, and you welcomed it as a tear fell from your eye.

"You deserve for this to be special, Y/N. You deserve to look into the eyes of the man who loves you"

The rapid fire of your beating heart skipped over itself. His voice was smooth and raw...and scared. His entire life has been spent hiding away from everyone he has ever cared about behind that helmet. But now...he truly sees you.

"Din" You breathed.

The second that his lips brushed against yours, the world around you fell silent. Fingertips trailed along your jaw before moving to wrap themselves in your hair. Din was delicate and careful. He worried he'd break you if he didn't control his desire that had pent itself up for months of being near you.

You were tremendously overwhelmed with surprise and butterflies, which fueled your hunger for him as he found familiarity in your lips, and pressed harder into the kiss. His trembling hand returned in between your legs, applying pressure against your clit through your pants.

Din was no stranger to sex, but he was a stranger to your body, and a stranger to loving you in the way he was always aching to.

“I’m going to take care of you, Y/N” Din whispered against your lips.

He motioned for you to lie back, and guided you with his arm pressed gently into the curve of your back. You fiddled with the clasp of your pants, but his hand replaced your own and successfully unfastened it. You worked to remove them, but Din helped you peel them down your legs.

Nothing could have pulled your admirable gaze away from him. There were no words to describe how beautiful he was. Din hovered above you, staring right back in disbelief of having you beneath him like this. Your fingertips traced the line of his jaw, your palm finally resting against the scruff of his cheek. His eyes fell shut, being so touch-starved that he melted in your grasp.

Din knew that he wanted to stay like this forever, but he also knew how badly he needed to be inside you. As he stood to his feet and removed his armor, revealing the soft material beneath it that clung to his skin, your thighs clenched together in anticipation. With his continued help, he carefully lifted your shirt above your head, revealing you wore nothing beneath it. The guttural moan that grazed your ear when he saw your breasts sent a wave of heat between your legs.

His finger looped around the hem of your panties and awaited your confirmation before eagerly removing them.

You were nervous. Stars you were so nervous. Somehow you found comfort in studying his face, watching his reaction to seeing your exposed body on display for him.

Your lips intertwined again. The supple caress of his hand traveling up your thigh sent chills down your spine. It only took one light touch against your folds for him to feel how bad you wanted him. Suddenly you felt one finger slide inside of you.

He broke away from devouring your lips, “Is this okay?”

“Yes” You breathed.

What he did with his fingers felt beyond anything you’d ever done to yourself. He curled his finger as he pumped it in and out of you, savoring the sound of your slickness wrapped around his digits. You grinded against his hand, signaling him to move faster.

Din watched you, enamored with your expression and how you melted for him just by the touch of his hand. Stars began forming in your eyes as the haze of your orgasm crept up slowly. Din felt the walls of your cunt tightening slightly as he went faster.

“It feels so good, Din, please don’t stop”

And he didn’t stop. Stars, he’d do anything you asked of him. Especially now.

With the arching of your back, Din knew you’d reached your release. You cried out for him, digging your nails into the skin of his neck, shutting your eyes tight, overwhelmed with pure pleasure.

“Look at me, cyar’ika” He instructed. Your eyes flew up to stare deep into his beautiful brown eyes.

Your release overtook your entire body, sending a heated flash of vibration across your skin, tingling and centering at the thrusts of his fingers.

“There you go sweetheart, you’re doing so good” He praised.

You rode out your high as he talked you through it. Unable to fathom the total ecstasy you were feeling. Your breathing was heavy as you floated back down, and you then realized how tightly your hands were gripping his body. As you flashed him a smile, he softly smiled back, his eyes scanning your body and face.

As you reached for his pants, he hurriedly removed his shirt followed by his pants, now leaving him completely bare for you too. You stared at his cock, impressed by his size, and clenched your cunt around nothing as your body begged for him.

You spread your legs for him, as his hips situated themselves to fit perfectly between them.

“I’ll go as slow as you need me to” he assured you, “I don’t want to hurt you”. Just then, the tip of his cock pressed against your entrance, before he finally buried himself completely inside of you. A whimper of slight discomfort escaped you, and Din planted a soft kiss upon your open mouth to soothe you. You were so tightly wrapped around him that he almost lost it immediately. It was such a wonderful new feeling to experience being this close to Din.

Your body adjusted itself quicker than you anticipated to his size. He began to thrust slowly, still giving you time to relax. A lustful whimper fell from your lips, showing Din that you were experiencing pleasure rather than pain now. Once his thrusts found perfect and steady rhythm inside you, he began to moan softly with you. 

Your eyes meet and lock on each other while he continues to curl his hips passionately into yours.

“Does that feel good, Y/N?” He moaned and kissed your neck gently.

“Yes, Din” You managed to mumble through your new feeling of pleasure.

The sensation of him filling you was overwhelming, and your skin burned with such a wonderful fire. You were sure that you’d never get enough of his lips against yours.

“You are so beautiful, cyar’ika” He whispered, his hand traveling down between your breasts, familiarizing himself with the feeling of your skin against his. Taking one of your breasts into his hand, he squeezed it gently.

“Harder” You begged him. He looked at you with uncertainty, but wouldn’t dare deny you.

He began fucking you faster, now. As his cock brushed against your most sensitive spot inside you with every snap of his hips, your moans grew louder and more intense. Din loved every sound you made. He was quieter than you, but his whimpering was music to your ears.

“Y/N, I won’t last much longer” He faltered in his thrusts as he got close to his release.

You nodded and pulled his face into yours, kissing him hard. Your lips against his pushed him over the edge. His fist gripped the sheets as he came, his moans deeper and louder than before.

“Fuck, Y/N” He cried out.

The warmth of his release coated your walls, and you cherished the feeling of truly being filled by him. All of him.

The room was filled with only the sound of your beating hearts and the gradual rate of your breathing coming down to normal. Din was careful when he removed himself from you, and the second he did, you already missed feeling him so close. He lay next to you, your warm bodies still pressed close to each other. The silence between you spoke louder than any words you could manage to speak.

“Are you okay?” He asked while caressing your cheek.

You smiled warmly at him. There was a soreness you felt inside, but it was a sensation you welcomed if it meant that Din was the one to take your virginity.

“I’m more than okay” You assured him, “that was everything I ever hoped it would be”

“I love you, Y/N” He said sweetly, warming your soul as he said it.

“I love you, too”

———————

Taglist: @lokigirlszendaya