#but I’m not getting my clay hands on him

[noobiestnoober]

Cringe and Command: Nemesis Gets a Spa Day (Wesker's Assistant Chronicles)

✨ CRINGE AND COMMAND: NEMESIS GETS A SPA DAY ✨ Wesker’s Assistant Chronicles – Operation Glow-Up

Nemesis deserves nice things. You’re here to make sure he gets them. Unfortunately for Wesker… that includes face masks, fairy lights, and a monogrammed loofah. 💅

Chaos, fluff, skincare, and Wesker questioning every life choice—welcome back to the lab.

💥 Special shoutout to @xtwistedchaosx for inspiring this absolute masterpiece of chaos! Thank you for the amazing request!

📖 Catch up here:

👉 Part 1

👉 Part 2

Enjoy Part 3 below—and remember: resistance is futile. And so is skincare.

Operation Glow-Up (A One-Shot Mini Series)

It started innocently enough. You were cleaning the lab break room when you caught Nemesis staring longingly at the vending machine—specifically, at the lone bag of sour gummy worms trapped behind the glass.

“Do you want snacks, big guy?” you asked softly.

Nemesis blinked his one good eye. “...STARS.”

You took that as a yes.

Later that afternoon, you snuck him a whole bag of gummy worms. His single eye widened slightly, a low rumble of pleased surprise vibrating from his chest as he gently accepted them with both hands. He poked at them curiously, then carefully ate one with all the delicate precision of a giant bio-organic toddler. His claws were far too big for the tiny candies, but he tried valiantly—pinching them between two massive fingers and placing them in his mouth like they might shatter.

That’s when you decided: Nemesis deserved nice things.

“Hold still, Nemy, I need to get under your chin.”

Nemesis sat cross-legged on the lab floor, hulking shoulders slumped slightly forward. His claws rested obediently in his lap. His entire face was slathered in a green clay mask, cucumber slices balanced precariously over his eyes. You’d even managed to clip a tiny pink bow onto one of the stitches on his coat.

You adjusted the towel turban wrapped around his head. “There. Perfect.” You stepped back to admire your work, hands on hips. “Now we wait fifteen minutes and then rinse.”

Nemesis grunted quietly. He hadn’t moved the whole time. Honestly, he’d been remarkably cooperative for an unstoppable bio-weapon. There was something deeply peaceful about it—except for the occasional ominous rumble that shook the beakers on the nearest lab table.

Just as you were admiring your handiwork, you heard the unmistakable sound of expensive shoes clicking against the tile floor, followed by a long, ominous pause at the doorway. That was the moment Wesker walked in. He froze. The lab lights flickered ominously behind him, casting a red glow across his sharp cheekbones.

“What,” Wesker said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion, “is happening.”

You didn’t even flinch. “Self-care night.”

Wesker stared at you. Then at Nemesis. Then back at you. Nemesis slowly lifted one cucumber slice and peeked out from under it.

“…STARS,” Nemesis offered helpfully.

Wesker pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Why is there a scented candle in my lab.”

You gestured proudly to the flickering lavender candle beside the foot bath. “Ambiance.”

He sighed. Deeply. “Is that a loofah.”

“Technically, it’s his loofah,” you corrected. “We got it monogrammed. See? N.” You pointed to the embroidered letter stitched onto the handle.

Wesker’s jaw tightened. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

You ignored him and pulled out a nail buffer. “Don’t worry, Nemy. He’s just jealous.”

Nemesis rumbled in agreement.

By the end of the week, Nemesis had a full skincare routine—each day adding something new: a strawberry-scented moisturizer on Monday, an under-eye cream on Tuesday, a hydrating mist by Wednesday. You even caught a junior scientist sneaking him a sample serum on Thursday, while on Friday, Nemesis proudly donned a fluffy bathrobe you’d somehow tailored for him. His “spa corner” in the lab expanded too: fairy lights draped along the counters, a bean bag chair nestled between equipment, and a poster that read “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

Every evening, you found him there—quietly soaking his feet in an inflatable foot bath while watching cooking shows on a small TV you’d balanced on a lab cart. Wesker gave up trying to dismantle it after you pointed out Nemesis hadn’t smashed any equipment since spa day began.

“…At this point, he’s more emotionally stable than the rest of the department,” you told Wesker.

Wesker just walked away without a word. Nemesis munched another gummy worm and waved a claw in a slow, serene goodbye.

Later that night, you found Wesker standing silently at the doorway to the spa corner, his arms crossed and expression unreadable, as if silently questioning every life choice that had led him here. For a brief moment, you wondered if even he was starting to appreciate the absurd peace Nemesis radiated.

“…He snores less now,” Wesker admitted quietly.

You smiled. “See? Told you. Spa days fix everything.”

Wesker muttered something under his breath and walked away again, leaving you to switch off the fairy lights as Nemesis softly snored, his face mask drying in gentle streaks.

(Resistance is futile. And so is skincare.)

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

The fact that I can get all sweaty when I’ve only been working with my hands for a few hours isn’t fair. It’s also not fair that my back is killing me because I spent that time in a chair at my desk. Sure, the chair was 30$ from target, and I have the most autistic posture imaginable, but all i was doing was making things with polymer clay! I wasn’t even freehanding a lot of the shapes because I’m still getting familiar with the medium! I was mostly using cutters and sculpting tools! Sure, I probably (definitely) should have taken more food breaks, but I need to go to the grocery store. Eating handfuls of captain crunch and spicy pistachios (not at the same time) every few hours is definitely not nutritionally balanced, but i don’t have time to make soup, i only have time for art. I should definitely do dishes though.

[stanleyvampire14]

Sorry Altair my favorite pearl clan member from pla took over look at him

Will eventually finish this, but I’m starting on the Altair drawing tomorrow! Maybe line this and color later after

Bro 100% yaps to his lord about the gems he finds in the caves

Someone give him a bath the amount of dirt on his clothes is PHENOMENAL

No I still can’t draw cowboy hats did you notice

Lian sweetheart I don’t think you should clean a rock axe you might get hurt

[salvagemarch]

Lay It on Me

joel miller x reader

3,114 words

summary: you are absolutely smitten with joel and everything about him, specifically everything he has going on in his pants. you know it’s unrealistic to have access to him at all times, so you come up with a solution.

continuation of this blurb but can be read as a stand alone

warnings: reader literally makes a dildo in the shape of joel’s dick, female and male masturbation, unprotected piv, cowgirl, creampie, reader is unhinged, insatiable, and sex crazy but joel likes it, sort of jealous joel, my attraction to blue collar workers is kind of shining through in this…

a/n: i wrote this solely because my first ever anon requested it…this is all for you babe

To say you were pissed would be an understatement

You knew it was unfair, Joel was a busy man with a busy job and a lot of clients to make happy. But he was your man, and you deserved to be happy too.

Here you were, feeling bad for yourself after he cut your usual morning sex short because his brother needed him at work earlier than usual. You were still laying in the same spot in your shared bed, naked, sweaty, and wet, with no Joel there to help you.

Sighing, you knew you could finger yourself, use a vibrator, take a cold shower, do whatever the hell you needed to do to rid yourself of your unbearable horniness, but you didn’t want to anything but fuck Joel.

As you sulk in your bubble of sexual frustration, your mind begins to wander and you remember a friend of yours telling you about a “stupid gag gift” her boyfriend bought her for Christmas. It was some sort of diy clay kit to make a mold of his penis, and in the moment you laughed at the idea. But now, with your spread legs and your poor, unsatisfied groin, it seemed brilliant.

You grab your phone to text your friend.

“Hey, how much did that dick mold kit cost?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Joel, it’s an amazing idea! Just do it, it’ll be worth it!”

You told Joel about your genius plan as soon as he sat down to take off his work boots, which you began to regret as he looked up at you with tired eyes and a sweaty face. The regret quickly dissipated when you noticed his damp biceps and your arousal for him took over everything else.

“Don’t you want us to be closer? This is a great way for us to bond,” you sit down beside him, getting in his personal space to try and convince him to do what you wanted. It always worked.

He continued untying his boots and wiped his hands on his pants. “I already fuck you every damn day and night, how much more close can we get?” you ignore his remark to gawk at his big hands, imagining them on your body.

He sighed as he sat up to stretch his back, glancing over at you with irritated eyes. “You ain’t gonna let this go, are you?” you shake your head with a big smile.

“Jesus christ. Go get in bed, girl. I’m gonna show you I’m better than any dumb toy.”

You cum 6 times that night. It doesn’t deter you from your plan.

Two weeks pass when you get a knock on your front door, and when you open it you find what you’ve been waiting for. The kit. You yell for Joel to come down into the kitchen and when he walks in, hands dirty from wood working, you hold the box up in all its taboo glory.

“It’s beautiful,” you smile.

“It’s stupid. I can’t believe you’re makin’ me do this,” he crosses his arms and leans against the counter, watching as you open the box and glares at the big Clone-A-Willy name on the package.

“I’m not making you do anything, you’re choosing to do it because you love me.”

Joel finds himself lying on the bed with an annoyed expression and spread legs, his jeans thrown somewhere on the floor and his boxers pulled down to his ankles. You take a second to admire his pretty cock before wrapping both of your hands around it and stroking up and down to get him hard.

It really was beautiful. Almost eight inches, wide, had veins and ridges in all the right spots. It’s like his body was made just for you. You swallow down your saliva as your mouth watered.

“Okay, step one: Coat the penis in clay mixture,” you read from the instruction paper in front of you and begin spreading the mix you made earlier around Joel’s dick. His breath hitches as it hits his sensitive skin.

“Shit, you didn’t tell me it was gonna be cold! And it’s slimy, too,” he grimaced at the feel of the clay, and you had to hold back a moan as his appearance grew more disheveled. His thighs tensed and his neck strained at the discomfort, but holy hell did he look hot when he was irritated.

“Sorry, hon. I’m just following instructions,” you explain as you continue working the mixture onto his length.

He frowns at you, clearly unimpressed with your excuse. His cock twitches slightly as you continue smearing the cool, thick clay mixture along him. Despite his obvious discomfort, his cock grows harder and harder under the clay coating.

"Following instructions, huh? Those instructions are shit," he grumbles, shifting his hips restlessly on the bed. "My balls are starting to get numb here."

You bite your lip, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than how hot he looks sprawled out like this, all rugged and masculine despite the weird clay situation. His stomach rises and falls with each breath, drawing your eye to his sturdy chest.

"Almost done, baby. Just need to make sure it's fully coated," you say.

“Okay, all done. Step two: Wait for clay to dry on penis. Shouldn’t be hard at all, right? Hard? See what I did there?”

He frowns at you. The clay continues to set around his dick, creating an oddly textured surface. “You ain’t funny, smartass. No shit it shouldn't be hard. Though I guess you're doing a good job of changing that," he says wryly, nodding towards his straining erection barely contained by the stiffening clay mold.

After a few more minutes of awkwardly waiting, he sits up slowly, the clay slightly cracking and flaking off in places. “Alright, I think it's dry enough. Can I please take this thing off now? My dick feels like it's trapped in concrete."

“Be careful!” you reprimand him. “I don’t want to break. I need it all in one piece to be able to use it,” you place a hand on his stomach and push him back down, opting to take the cast off yourself. His dick grows harder.

He sighs heavily, looking exasperated by your enthusiasm. With great care, he helps you peel away the clay mold, moving slowly to avoid breaking it. As more of his dick is revealed, you can't help but lick your lips in anticipation.

"There, I got it off in one piece. Happy now?" he asks once the mold is complete, holding it up for your inspection. It's creepily similar to Joel’s length, replicating every ridge and vein in detail. He sets it aside on the nightstand before turning back to you with a raised eyebrow.

"So, uh...why exactly are you makin’ that thing anyway? Because I gotta say, this whole ordeal is pretty weird. Even for you,” he takes a tissue from the nightstand and wipes his clay covered hands, making an effort to avoid touching the clone of his penis.

“I already told you, I’m gonna use it when you’re away and I’m horny. And you know I’m always horny.”

Joel shook his head, a mix of frustration and fondness in his expression. "Yeah, I know you're horny all the time, but that doesn't mean this is the only solution. What if my brother goes snoopin’ around and sees that you have that? You know he likes the run his mouth," Joel starts overthinking. "You're gonna be the talk of the town, aint't ya? 'Did you hear Joel’s girl has a plaster replica of his cock?' Christ, the rumors will be flying," he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief.

You bite back as he spirals. “Yeah? Maybe I can use it right now if you’re so ashamed of me, let it take your spot completely.”

His smile faltered at your words. "Whoa, hold on a minute. I'm not ashamed of you, crazy girl. I just...I don't know, it's weird, okay? Seeing my own dick in a fucking mold, knowing you're gonna use it on yourself..." He trailed off.

Joel exhales shakily and runs a hand through his hair, struggling to articulate his feelings. “God knows how horny you are, and there ain’t nothin’ that makes me happier than gettin’ to take care of that whenever you need. But this...this is different. It's like you're replacing me."

Despite his hesitation, you can sense an undertone of desire in his voice. He's torn between his possessive nature, and the thrill of watching you pleasure yourself with his likeness.

You sit on your knees and scoot closer to him. “Aw, is baby jealous? You really think I’m trying to replace you?”

Joel scoffs, but there is a hint of vulnerability in his tone. “Me, jealous? Of a goddamn sex toy? Please. I'm just sayin’, this is crazy." He crosses his arms while he wallows, his cock still hard and on full display.

He pauses, seeming to take a moment and think over his next words. “I guess I have to be honest. Seein’ you touch yourself with my dick, even if it's just a copy...it is kind of hot. Knowin’ that I can make you feel good like that, even when I'm not around..."

He trails off, a flush creeping up his neck as he meets your gaze. There's an intense look in his eyes. "Just don't start expecting this to become a regular thing, okay? I'm still the one who gets to be inside you.”

You bite back a smile as Joel reassures himself, reminding you of your need for him more for his peace of mind than yours. “Of course. It’s just for when you’re unavailable, I promise.”

He nods, accepting your terms and letting his jealousy subside. A small smile plays on his lips as he takes in the sight of you eagerly eyeing the toy. “If that's what you want, go on and use it.”

He gestures towards the nightstand where the replica sits, awaiting its inaugural use. “Just don't forget whose it really is when you're done playing with it,” he says, eyeing your covered cunt.

“You wanna watch or something, perv?” you tease.

“Me? A perv? I’m just curious to how you’re gonna use the thing. ‘Sides, it’s only fair considering the fact I had to deal with having my dick covered in clay.” He leans against the headboard, crossing his arms behind his neck. “Put on a show for me. I deserve it.”

You lean forward to grab the toy off the nightstand, sitting back to look at Joel. You’ll give him a show.

As you position the clay piece between your legs, Joel’s eyes don’t leave your body once. His gaze is trained to the space hovering over the cockhead of the toy, and you can sense his arousal growing at the promise of watching you get off. “Don’t forget to stroke the real thing later,” he says, reaching down to palm himself.

You bring your bottom lip between your teeth as you begin to rub your panty covered center on the molded cock, watching Joel rub his dick. “Fuck me, why don’t ya just put it in already? I wanna see you ride that thing,” his words come off as a command but you know better, sensing the desperation beneath them. Joel was always just as horny as you were.

With a huff you toss your shorts off and pull your panties to the side, wearing nothing but them and your tank top. You fit the tip between your wet lips. “You need to be patient,” you scold him as you ease yourself onto the toy.

Joel’s free fist clenches at his side, fighting the urge to pounce and yank you onto his lap. The sight of your slick entrance welcoming the dildo into your body makes him want to moan, and the vision of you was almost too much for him to handle. “You,” he pants, “are testin’ my limits, sweetheart.”

You let yourself sink fully onto the toy, the obscene sound of your wetness filling the room and simultaneously making Joel’s actual tip leak with precum.

You breathe lowly as your eyes roll closed, spreading your legs to fully take in the feeling of the toy. The familiarity of the shape comforted you, but the inhuman smoothness to it gave you something new to explore.

The moan that leaves your lips makes Joel throb painfully, his dick begging for relief as he gawked at the sight before him. “Jesus, fuck…look at you, so damn sexy taking that thing so deep…” he wasn’t even really aware of what he was saying, letting his dirty thoughts come out of his mouth freely as he tugged on his cock.

“You like that, don’t you? Like bein’ able to have my dick buried inside you at all times?” he mumbled, continuing to stroke himself and watch you through hooded eyes, “I bet you can’t wait to cum all over it, can you?”

His words just made you whimper, encouraging you to slide up and down the toy, “Feels so good, Joel,” you leak more arousal onto the sheets below, “Love your dick so much.”

A guttural groan comes from Joel’s throat, his hips jerking involuntarily as if he was following the motion of the toy inside you. “Don’t I know it, baby,” he reaches out with his free hand, trailing his thick fingers over your thigh. “Keep goin’, work that thing in and out of ya. Show me how much you love having my cock inside of you.”

Before having sex with Joel, you didn’t think it was possible to cum in under five minutes. Now, even with a fake version of his dick, you already felt your stomach getting tighter. “So deep,” you moan out, “‘M gonna cum, Joel.”

As your climax began consuming you, Joel surged forward and planted two beefy hands on your hips, pulling you down onto the toy. The lewd squelch of your pussy gripping onto the mold filled the room, punctuated by your moans growing in pitch and Joel’s words of praise.

“That’s it, cum for me,” he grumbles. “Let go, baby, Give that thing everything you got.

His grip on your hips tighten, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he helped you piston up and down. The toy plunged in and out of your dripping cunt, making you whimper loudly as you gushed around it. Joel tugged you down, hard, one final time as he held you in place and grinded you against the base of the dildo.

As you rode out the aftershocks, Joel held your shaking form against his body and stroked your hand gently, shushing you as you came down from your high.

“Will you fuck me now?”

Joel breathed out exasperatedly. “First, you make me sit through having my dick turned into a sex toy, and now you’re askin’ to fuck me after cumming on said sex toy?” Despite his shock, Joel knew he wanted to give your body as many orgasms as it could handle. He eyes his own crotch, knowing he was still hard.

“I suppose I should give you somethin’ in return for that performance…” he trailed off before grabbing your body as if it weighed nothing and laid back on the bed, sitting up against the headboard. “Come on, up ya go. Show me what you’ve got.”

You smile breathlessly, still feeling your walls twitch and clench around nothing. You throw your legs over his waist and sit right over his cock.

Joel slides his hands up your thighs to your hips, grasping them and sliding you onto his tip. “Fuck, baby, you’re so wet,” your previous orgasm still drips from between your thighs. His hands moved to grip your ass cheeks, pushing you to sink down. You both gasped and groaned as you took his length in, Joel thrusting up to meet your downward motion.

“That’s it, honey,” he encouraged, “Use me however you want. Jus’ don’t stop.”

He loses himself in the feeling of you bouncing above him, the weight of your breasts pushing against his chest and your moans like a bird song to his ears. You whimper and rest your hands on his strong shoulders, finally having his dick back in you after fucking the replica. Nothing is better than the real thing.

“Love your cock so much, Joel. So perfect for me,” you praise him mindlessly, letting your horny brain do all the talking as his dick filled every space inside your pussy.

He slid his hands up your torso while you rode him, letting his thumbs hike your shirt up to reveal your breasts. He moved one hand down to steady your hip, and used his other to reach for your tits, taking turns to palm each of them softly. “You are so fuckin’ sexy like this,” he groaned out, “Can’t believe I get to call this body mine.”

Your moans turn into full on whines, letting Joel consume you entirely as your second orgasm began forming. You rolled your hips downwards, letting his dick fill you as deep as it could as your slick walks gripped him tightly.

“I’m cumming again, Joel,” you warn, sliding up and down. Despite your words, Joel makes no move to stop you, his body surrendering to yours.

“Go ahead, baby, get it nice and wet for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick and heavy with desire. You comply as Joel moves his hand from your breast to your clit, rubbing circles on it with his fingers. You clench around him before your ears start to ring, finishing with loud whimpers.

With renewed urgency, Joel grips your hips and bucks up into you, the force of his thrusts rocking your body and making the bed creak. His balls draw up tight against you, and with a powerful thrust, he buries his face into your neck and lets out grunts into your ear. You feel him cumming inside of you, feel it spilling out of you as he gives slower thrusts. Your tiny whimpers of satisfaction fill the room as he pants, wrapping his arms fully around your torso and bringing you with him down against the bed. He feels something nudging his back, but he ignores it as you move over to nuzzle into his chest.

The both of you catch your breath together, basking in contentedness and the warmth of each other’s sweaty bodies.

Suddenly, Joel’s body jolts up when he hears a blood curdling scream coming from beside him on the bed.

“YOU LAID ON MY DILDO!”

[sobbingscripter]

⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼wc. 2216🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆

“Really feel the pottery in your hands. Feel the clay as you shape it.”

The sound of the teacher is drowned out, your attention on Mark and literally, only Mark.

Your nipples are pebbled, charcoal pencil between your teeth as you watch the muscles of his forearms flex with each movement of his hands. His wet, messy hands that shape clay so sensually. God, your palms are already sweaty.

You’ve long abandoned your art project, your incomplete drawing remaining just that. Incomplete.

And you feel your belly dip inward when you watch his middle and ring finger push into the centre of where the hole of whatever pot he’s making. And you nearly moan when he shifts his position, his arm reaching into the pot to shape the inside.

You feel like a pervert. A creep. A weirdo.

Like if Mark didn’t know you, he’d move to walk on the side of the street furthest from you, because your thighs are pressing together with each gentle circle he makes to the outside of the pot, middle finger pressing into the malleable clay to form patterns.

And you cover your lips with your fingers, dragging them down your chin as you try to grab a hold of yourself.

Mark glances towards you, a snort falling from his lips before he motions to your mouth, and your brows knit. Before reaching into your pencil case, pulling out a compact mirror and you grimace.

Charcoal smeared like a fucking goatee.

You rifle through your bag, pulling out a small package of tissues before you wipe at your face, checking your reflection to make sure you’re getting all of it.

“Young lady,” the teacher’s voice breaks your concentration and she looks down at you, “less vanity, more drawing.” And she plucks the compact from your hand, before continuing to walk between the aisles of students.

Looking between their different projects and you feel the back of your neck burn with embarrassment as well as annoyance.

“Dirty old bitch.”

𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒

“You weren’t there to stop me from making an ass of myself, you dildo.” You hiss, watching as William continues to clean away the barely perceptible streaks of charcoal from your chin.

“I told you to take welding.” He huffs. “Only way you can make an ass of yourself there is if you lose a finger.”

You glance towards your reflection in the bathroom mirror, only satisfied once you’ve reapplied your lip liner, as well as your gloss.

And William steps out of the bathroom first, before backtracking, turns to you. And he presses his palm against your mouth, smearing your lip combo across your face.

“Oh no. Guess we’ll have to stay here for a while longer. Shucks.” William sighs, dramatic and you seethe. “You asshole. What’s so—”

You poke your head out of the bathroom, your eyes widening.

“She’s literally never even acknowledged his existence unless he’s validating one of her stupid opinions!” You hiss. “The fuck does she want with him?”

Your hisses are whispered and William shrugs, wiping at your lips before reaching into your pocket, pulling out your lip combo.

“I don’t know but it’s probably just—”

“William, she’s touching his arm. Oh, God, the world is spinning and I’m smelling pennies.” You groan, leaning back against the cool frame of the door and your hand moves to clutch at your heart over your shirt.

“Someone took my bitch, Willy.” You whimper, bringing your fist up to your mouth, teeth digging into the flesh as you bite down on your knuckles.

“I’m gonna end up on Channel 5, I just know it.”

William watches Amber and Mark, seeing the way Mark smiles. All sweet and bubbly, watching the way Amber laughs and the hand on Mark’s shoulder gives a nice, lingering squeeze.

“No, no one’s taking your bitch. I promise. Look at me.” William reassures, before his hands move to cradle your face, forcing you to look at him.

“Look. At. Me.” He takes a breath. “That is your man. You’ve listened to Seance Dog lore for fucking hours. No one deserves to ride that… Awkward, socially anxious… Permanently stressed… nerdy pony more than you.”

“You’re really bad at— oh, Willy, she’s really close. Girl, I’m gonna crash out.”

And William huffs.

“Amber doesn’t have shit on you. So what if she’s pretty, and smart and she always smells like the Bahamas. Or actually like... More specifically a daiquiri I had when I was eight and my family went there for vacation. But listen to me."

William forces you to look deep into his eyes.

"She does not have shit on you."

And you glance back at Amber and Mark, your spirit crumbling like a cookie when you see the way she pats his chest, her hand lingering and sliding just a bit to ghost over his abs as she passes him. And you nearly throw up.

"William, is this what Beyoncé felt like?"

"Yes." William answers immediately. "But this is your Lemonade moment. Babe, look at me."

And William sighs, his tone almost sympathetic as he whispers to you, "We be all night."

⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆

"Don't be an asshole. Get me a job here." Mark whines, brows knitted into a furrowing frown as he watches you weave between customerw and aisles, continuing to restock various shelves of comic books and paraphernalia.

"No, you're like, one of the biggest customers. Every time you buy a comic book, that's a dollar added to my end of year bonus." You cross your arm over one another, ignoring Mark as he trails behind you, plopping down in the chair near the register and he continues to nurse his Slurpee.

"What are you even gonna use the money for? My mom buys your groceries." Mark huffs and you whistle.

"Wow. First of all. The money my parents send me goes into my college fund, and secondly, your mom forcefully buys my shit. And thirdly, I pay her back." You defend.

"How?"

"I do her hair, I mow your lawn, I wash her car in jean shorts and a backwards baseball cap, not to mention, when she works from home, I'm her assistant."

And Mark scoffs. "You just bring her snacks and take her calls."

"Because her own son doesn't even wanna feed his loving mother."

Mark can barely muster a response, his jaw going slack at your retort and it takes him a few moments to recuperate. "How dare y—"

"I dare easily."

Mark rolls his eyes, pink lips wrapping around his straw once again as he watches you interact with customers. You've got the sweetest smile, pointing out which comic franchise each aisle is dedicated to. And his eyes fall to where your palms are braced on the glass counter, limited edition comics displayed underneath and he watches the way your manicured nails tap at the glass absentmindedly.

You've got pretty hands.

Nice fingers, well kept and the softest palms, and you always know how to accessorize without looking tacky.

And he clears his throat.

"You got that limited edition Seance Dog yet?"

"Yeah, but can you afford it?"

And Mark scoffs. "How much?"

"110." You raise a brow in amusement when you watch Mark swallow heavy, his Adam's apple bobbing. Before he purses his lips. "And you can't hold it for me?" And you shake your head, lips tugged downwards into a mock sympathy expression.

"You know, I can buy it for you. But then I need a favour." You lean forward, elbows braced on the counter and Mark's pretty sure his ears stop working because all he can focus on, is how that pretty pendant dangles from your neck, right above your cleavage. You're giving him the minimal view down your shirt, and he's acting like a damn dog.

"Uh huh?" He squeaks out.

"Everytime I change my sheets, I want you to put the fitted sheet on my mattress." You cross your arms over your chest. "No matter where you are, what you're doing, who you're with."

"Deal!"

⋆⑅˚₊୨🌻🌼🪻୧₊˚⑅⋆

"You spent... A hundred and ten dollars... On a picture book?" Debbie deadpans, eyes narrowing at you from behind cucumber slices, her hand in yours as you continue to file at her nails. She rests back in the recliner, her legs stretched out, foam separaters between her toes as she allows herself to be pampered.

"It's a Seance Dog comic." You hum. "It's got like... Extra panels as to how he became like... Seance Dog. I don't know why, but Mark seems to like it."

And she lets out a breath.

"What even—" "He's an anthropomorphic dog. And he's kinda based on Doctor Strange. Like, costume wise."

"Who?"

"It's a Marvel character. He's like, a wizard."

"Then why's he called 'doctor'?"

"Because he's a doctor."

"Then why is he still a wizard?"

"Because he's a surgeon and a wizard."

"Do his parents know he's running around in a cape?"

"I think his parents are dead, Miss Debbie."

And she winces. "Died of shame?"

"No..." You snort. "They don't really... Go into much detail about that. Or they do, I don't know. I'm not very into Marvel."

And Debbie lets out a quiet sigh, toes flexing and she lifts one of the slices from her eyes, glancing towards where you're busy with her nails.

"Could we try an almond shape? A little bit longer." You note the way it's hard for her to meet your gaze and you gasp.

"Miss Deborah, you dirty dog." You snicker. "Gel build?"

And she nods her head. "The nude pink."

"Can I expect Mark sleep—"

"Without a doubt."

"God—" Mark pants. "Are you just randomly helping people put up water towers?"

"No." Nolan hums, arms crossed over his chest as he watches Mark steady the metallic storage item. "However, these people needed help and you were in the area."

"You were too."

"Who's the hero and who's the rookie?"

And Mark huffs, arms crossed over his chest before his phone buzzes in his suit and Mark fishes the device out of his pocket.

Number 1⭐: 'your mom's gonna get her 🐱 ate'.

He stares at the text, his expression faltering before he stares at Nolan, his lips pressing into a thin line that slowly morphs into a grimace. The longer he stares at his father, the more his expression crumples.

And the more his expression crumples, the wider Nolan grins, already having a mild idea of what the text read.

"You know, you ought to marry a girl like that." Nolan hums. "Smart, funny, likeable."

"She's a massive dick." Mark huffs, sliding his phone back into his pocket before he crosses his arms over his chest. Lips tugged into a disgruntled frown.

"That falls under 'funny', son." Nolan states.

"Well, that's too bad. I've already got a girl I like. Her name's Amber and—"

"Can Amber fight, Mark?"

The question is abrupt and Mark's brows knit in confusion.

"Huh? I— I don't— I'm not sure."

"Cause Amber's gonna need to." Nolan states. "At some point... in the near future."

"Why would Amber need to know how to fight?"

"Because, Mark, one day, she'll need to." And he coughs. "One day soon."

"Soon?!"

"Well... Soon by Viltrumite standards."

⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆

Mark spends yet another night in your company, his shoulder against yours as you both stare up at your ceiling. Phones on charge, the lights shut off and the only other light being the slivers of moonlight that creep through your curtains.

"You know, you never told me your hero name." You state softly, your voice just as quiet as the raindrops that patter down onto the grass outside, pelting against your window and Mark hums quietly.

His hair's damp from his shower, his broad shoulders stretching yet another of your shirts although this time, it's an 'I Heart GILFS' T-shirt.

"Invincible."

There's a quiet silence between you and Mark glances towards you, only to see you already looking at him. Your expression is blank, unreadable and he can't fight the laughter that bubbles from his lips when you turn your back to him.

Pulling the covers up to your chin.

"Oh come on, it's not bad!" Mark giggles, a muscular arm wrapping around your waist and he pulls you towards him.

And the room gets quiet for a wholenew reason.

The warmth of his body is intense, the way his breath fans across your neck and the way his fingertips press into the softness of your belly.

And he dips his head, lips ghosting over your jaw as he cranes to meet your gaze.

He's grinning, dimples in his cheeks and shadows playing on his features.

"You're just jealous."

"Jealous of what, Vincible?"

"Jealous of my aweso— man, fuck you."

T🌼A🌼G🌼L🌼I🌼S🌼T

@lucky-beheaded ; @queen-of-gotham ; @coldvirginbitch ; @wittyjasontodd ; @a-n-a-n-a1 ; @dearlyya ; @broicouldjustbuyyousomekombucha ; @jasontoddswhitestreak ; @daydreams-and-peace ; @misstyy12 ; @fruticake ; @httpstes ; @waterflowersblog ; @glowinthedarkjellyfish ; @vm4879bb-blog ; @monaekelis ; @radlovesfics ; @allycat4458 ; @bigbodycity ; @feral010 ; @anesthesia-4rizzle ; @princesstrunkz ; @blackfox774 ; @sh1d0uryus31 ; @your-lovely-rose26 ; @slugstarzz ; @ripcolel0l ; @strawbiemilk420 ; @verysynical ; @kikiiguess ; @missam ; @luvvfromme ; @luvvcharxo ; @alma-ru3 ; @mxvoid26 ; @urfriendlyfrog ; @the-good-kooshe ; @troublesome-nara ; @secretaccountlol ; @syubseokie; @atanukileaf ; @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere ; @i-love-frensh-fries ; @love3vivian ; @boyofroyo1 ; @tamaranblaze ; @supersecretxreadersideblog ; @etphonehome0623 ; @markgraysonlover ; @icanmeltanigloo ; @itzmeme ; @buckturd

[gyuswhore]

Sit Down

anniversary event [closed]

kim mingyu x reader

prompt(s): getting aroused by the other's jealousy/obsession with them, "Could he/she/they do it like this?”, “you're sexy when you're angry”

word count: 5.1k

warnings: smut (MINORS DNI), fluff, potter!mingyu, they're married, reader discovers jealousy, oral (m.rec), penetration (unprotected!!!), kissing, breast play, clit stimulation, they're nasty as hell idk what to tell you

synopsis: It isn't your fault that you feel this way, especially as you watch her hands trace over your husband's own.

It isn't your fault that you can barely go on with your day with that cursed image replaying in your mind like a broken record.

And it certainly isn't your fault that you find yourself completely naked on your husband's lap while his clay-clad hands cannot touch you.

[a/n]: @highvern at the scene of the crime as always, we all have to thank her for her service as she betas for me and encourages my tomfoolery. enjoy this and let me know your thoughts in the rbs, comments or send me an ask!!!!!

masterlist

The grip you have on the file is proving to be detrimental to the cheap plastic covering. Not that you could blame yourself as you watch your husband through the window of his pottery studio, leaning over to help a student with her discombobulated salad bowl. 

It was a beautiful morning, the beach across from the boardwalk sparingly occupied with delighted tanners and swimmers, the low buzz of waves reaching the shore sending a calming draft across the area. Envious as you were of Mingyu and his impeccable real estate choices, especially right now as your heel clad feet ache to take a dip in the waters, you couldn’t help but feel all the more irked that this was the background the image inside the studio was sitting against. 

Through the large glass windows, Mingyu is pressing his foot over top of his very pretty student’s on the pedal to force the pottery wheel to spin, hands over her own as he guides her fingers to put pressure on the wet clay. A spiteful part of you pushes a thought in your mind, that your husband was attempting to fix a lost cause, especially when his student seemed quite insistent in her soft smiles and keeping her gaze on the fingers that cover her own, rather than actually fixing the abomination on the pottery wheel. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing there by the time he’s done, straightening his back to turn his attention to the other students that make their attempts at their half done projects. Mingyu catches your figure through the window and immediately breaks into a big smile, clay covered hand coming to wave at you. 

Taking it as your cue to walk into the studio, you return neither his gorgeous smile or his occupied wave as you strut through the glass doors. Your husband meets you on the other side of the open space, hands now washed clean as he leans over to place a kiss on your cheek. 

“Hey, you,” he says in greeting, hands drying on a towel. 

All you can think about is if that salad bowl girl can see you, and you thank goodness you wore your nice top today. 

“Here.” You merely push the slightly crumpled file of documents to his chest, jaw set and lips tight. 

“Oh, thanks,” he comments as he grabs the papers pushed towards him, smile dropping a little at your abrupt attitude. “Is everything alright?” 

“Hm? ‘Course,” you answer, adjust the strap of your bag. “I have to get back to work. Be careful about your paperwork next time, I can’t keep making trips across town for this.”

You bite your tongue as soon as you say it, the words tumbling out before you can help it. Can’t keep making trips across town for this? Last time you checked, you were looking for passive excuses to make the trip to your husband’s studio just to see him during the day. 

“Oh.” His brows are furrowed, the frown apparent on his face. “I–I didn’t think you’d be too busy today, you said you’d be done early so—I—nevermind. I’m sorry I pulled you out of work for this, I’ll be careful next time.”

There’s a pang in your heart as you hear him apologise, immediately mad at yourself for going on and ruining his mood. What were you annoyed at? That he was doing his job? 

Your gaze lands behind him where most of his students are occupied with their projects, but just one whose eyes dart between you and Mingyu. 

Taking a step back, you’re about to walk out before you feel him grab your wrist. “D’you wanna have dinner at the new restaurant down the pier after work? We can watch the sunset too, haven’t done that in a while.”

You want to scream yes. Of course you want to watch a beach sunset with your husband. Of course you want to eat at the restaurant you’ve been waiting eagerly for with your husband. And you aren’t entirely sure if this reaction is simply because you’ve been stressed lately, but the sticky feeling is pushing you to make your claim in some way, somehow. 

Biting back another strangely snarky reply, you make an attempt to fix your stoic face and walk back to Mingyu. Leaning up, you kiss the corner of his mouth in what you hope is slightly reassuring. 

“I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Kicking off your heels is the first thing you do once you make it back to your desk, taking no time to punch the power on button on your computer. You pull a file from the stack next to you, one that sits at the bottom, with a harder than necessary yank. Bad idea, because as you scramble to stop the pile from tipping over entirely, you can only think of other ways your day could get worse. 

Before the worst of it can hit the floor, you find a second set of hands catching the strewing papers. 

“Thanks, Han,” you say as you attempt to reorganise the documents, taking the extra ones off his hands. 

“Have the laws of physics forsaken you? Or do you just like reorganising paperwork?” Hansol asks, sipping on something from the stupid horse mug Mingyu had made for him in light of his promotion. 

Huffing, you only haphazardly stuff the files to the corner to be done with it, opening the file you need as your computer finally boots up. “Don’t you have manager stuff to do?” 

“Being a manager means I can put off doing manager stuff,” he states. “Besides, I’m taking care of my peers, can you imagine the catastrophe that could’ve been if I didn’t swoop in to save you?”

“Papers on the floor? How catastrophic indeed,” you monotone as you click away at trying to find a particular excel sheet. 

“How was Mingyu?”

Stiffening, you want to curse Hansol at reminding you of the very thing you did not want to think of right now. 

“He was fine.”

“You were back earlier than usual, thought you would’ve had lunch with him.”

That was your plan, but clearly the universe had other ways for you to go about your day. Like thinking about an overly flirty student and her all too oblivious teacher. 

“He…he had a workshop today,” you simply comment. 

“Okay, Elsa, who shoved an ice cube up your ass?” You can hear the sneer in his voice, the judgmental stare. 

Groaning loudly, you can only slam your forehead onto your desk in an all too dramatic fashion. “Can you drop it? Please?”

“Ah,” he drags. “Trouble in paradise. Understood. I will be at my desk if you want to complain about your husband like Margaret from Finance.”

Margaret from Finance. The woman who’s entire catalogue of marital issues would be solved if she and her husband simply spoke to each other once in a while. Perhaps even held hands on occasion. 

You wince as you envision yourself becoming as stuck up and miserable as that, Hansol’s harmless comparison sending you into yet another spiral. It wasn’t that serious, this was all because your brain was stressed, horny and in love. The fact that your husband looked like how he did wasn’t really helping either. 

With a little more aggression than you usually would’ve done with, you attempt to skim through the files as quickly as humanly possible, flicking through the useless filler pages to get to the ones that actually required your attention. 

You send a passive aggressive email to Hansol entailing his job to keep things precise. 

Shoving forkfuls of salad into your mouth, your mouse clicks louder than anyone else in the area, having gone back to change your cursor speed about thrice since you turned your computer on. 

Your phone dings. Closing your eyes, you count to ten before turning to look at the illuminated screen beside you. 

[Gyu <3]: did u have lunch?

[Gyu <3]: i wanted us to get sum together but u zoomed off : (((

[Gyu <3]: im done with my classes for the day. The students were asking ab you earlier when u came in heh

[Gyu <3]: cant wait to see u tonight i looooooveee u <333

God, he makes it hard to stay mad at him. 

Snapping your head back to your monitor, you close your eyes once again as you question the war in your head and chest. Why were you mad at him? There was nothing to be mad about. Did you expect him to go about his day covered in plastic wrap and a neon ‘OFF LIMITS’ sign all day? The ring on his finger was supposed to do the job just fine. 

You sigh as you force yourself to text him back something that wasn’t entirely passive aggressive. Typing and erasing, and typing again and erasing again. A smiley face to seal it into something you were not feeling, and send. 

It’s late in the afternoon by the time you’re done, the sun less blaring as it pours through the office windows. You flick the last file shut, power off your computer and spring up to your feet, immediately gathering your things. Phone, ID, keys, and the last plastic file in your hands, you stalk towards Hansol’s desk and slam the papers next to his computer. 

He nearly chokes on his pocky stick as you spit out your final notes in rapid fire, not caring if you were indecipherable in the slightest. Hansol’s eyebrows remain in the air by the time you’re done, spinning on your heels and walking straight towards the elevators. 

“See you, Monday!” you finally hear him call out and you don’t turn to return his goodbye. Something that might have given you a strike but you could threaten him to take it off all the same. 

Besides, you had somewhere to be, and the idea churning in your brain didn’t seem like it wanted to wait. 

The sun is setting by the time you get to the beach boardwalk, climbing the steps to the line of establishments that overlook the significantly more occupied shore. Everything is perfect. Warm just the right amount, the sunlight forcing everything in its path into an incandescent glow. 

What you would’ve given for a nice lie on one of the beach chairs to release an entire day’s worth of tense muscles. But alas, you trudge straight down the boardwalk and walk the way to Mingyu’s studio. When you’re nearly there, you see the glass door of the studio open from a distance, immediately recognising the part timer leaving for the day. 

You cross paths as he walks towards you in the opposite direction, lighting up as he recognises you through your work attire. 

“Oh, hi!” Chan chirps, arm raised in a half wave. 

“Hi! Clocking out?” you ask as you stop to greet him. 

“Uh—yeah, Mingyu let me go early.” He’s grinning. 

“Good to hear. You enjoy the rest of your night, alright?” 

“Yeah–uh, you too!” he stutters once again as he continues to smile wide. You think nothing of it and continue your short walk to where the studio doors were. 

Coming round, you find the large glass door and walls have been blocked out with the blinds, the blaring CLOSED sign right at the entrance. 

You stand there in front of the door like a fool, taking a deep breath, eyes closed as you gain your bearings. Grabbing the shiny handle, you push the unlocked glass open. 

The bell at the top jingles, signalling a customer, and you watch your husband sitting at one of the turntables, clearly occupied. The studio is completely empty except for him, the whirr of the spinning table coming to a halt as he turns to tell whoever came in that they were closed for the day. 

It’s revolting. He’s wearing his usual black tee, stained with months of splattered clay, his hair tousled like he’d run his hands through it before he started his project. The sun seeps in through the neglected edges of the top of the glass walls, past the blinds that cover most of them, casting him in an unbelievable light. It’s revolting, he’s done nothing and it’s making your head reel; revolting. 

“We’re—oh, you’re early!” There it is, that stupid smile he can’t help but flash at every last person he sees, directed straight at you laced with nothing but love. 

Reaching behind you, you push the metal lock on the door to click it shut, locking the both of you inside, and the rest of the beach and boardwalk out. Right after, you begin to kick off your heels. 

“I already made the reservations for an hour from now, let me change and wash up so we can go to the beach till—”

“Sit down.”

He was halfway out of his seat as he was talking, ready to leave his half done work on the turntable to leave with you. Your words come out firm, a strange tone like you were giving him a command. 

It works, and the shock has him immediately falling back into his chair. The force pushes the chair away from the turn tables, now half facing you.  

Dropping your bag, you shuck your long coat off and leave it on the floor. Eyeing his hands, they’re covered in wet clay, suspended away from his body so as to not ruin his clothes more than they already are, speckled with dried clay and paint. 

He recovers quickly, confused as he watches you fiddle with the buttons on your bottoms, rising out of his chair once again. 

“What are you—” 

“I said,'' you grunt as you finally push your bottoms down so they hit the floor. “Sit down.” 

The shift in his face makes it obvious it has clicked in his head, staring at you as you walk towards him in just your blouse as the situation escalates faster than he can keep up with. 

“Right now? Can you at least let me—”

Through his blabbering you’ve reached him and swung a leg over his lap, seating yourself on his clothed thighs as he moves his hands away, making sure not to get clay all over your blouse. 

His hands may be occupied in a different sense, but you choose to busy yours in other ways. Taking his face in your hands, you lock your mouths in an open mouthed kiss, rendering him speechless. 

Taking no time to think, nor to let him think, you push your hips down to meet his own in a deep grind, panty clad pussy making contact with the rough of his jeans right over his bulge. The feeling is so sudden, spiking throughout your system as you hear him take a sharp inhale still pressed into your mouth.

That was you. That was you getting that reaction out of him, no matter how small it was. The thought has you gripping the back of his head, fingers making home in the short strands of his hair as you let go from the kiss. 

Wasting no time, you push his head back and stick your tongue out, licking a stripe from the base of his throat right up to his jaw. He shivers beneath you, and it only muddles your mind even more. 

You can feel his bulge beneath you growing larger and larger by the second, pressing into your inner thigh as his breathing grows exponentially heavier in your ear. Locking eyes with him, you trail your other hand down to graze over the front of his shirt, pressing into the bumps and ridges that lie beneath.

Reaching his buckle, you hook your finger underneath the gap and pull at the metal. As you let go, it snaps back into place with a resounding cling! Keeping the eye contact, you drift even lower, your fingers find the growing tent in his jeans as you cup the bulge. Moving your hands in the way you know he likes it, you curb your speed to drag out the feeling for him. 

“Fuck,” you hear him curse lowly. 

It’s becoming impossible for him to keep his composure, especially to keep his hands away from your body that sits on him. He gets close, fingers brushing the white of your blouse in a moment of confusion, instant brown on the surface as his wet, clay hands ruin your shirt. 

“If you really can’t keep your hands to yourself,” you say, halting your movements on his crotch. “I guess this’ll have to go too.”

Not bothering to undo all the buttons, you tug the first couple ones unfastened and pull your blouse over your head, throwing it somewhere behind his head. Quickly, you reach behind and unclasp your bra, flinging it away in the same general area. You’re now almost entirely naked while he remains clothed head to toe. 

Your nipples harden as they meet the air in the studio, Mingyu’s eyes set on your mounds as he takes them in. 

Before he has the opportunity to do anything, you slip off of your seat in his lap, knees slamming the floors in your haste as you kneel before him. Hands flying, you tug at the buckle of his belt, undoing it despite your hurried motions. 

“You’ve been off today, are you sure everything’s alright?” Mingyu asks from, still wide eyed as he watches helplessly as you yank his jeans enough to reveal the final layer of his underwear. It doesn’t take you long to take his entire length out of there too, needing him in front of you.

“Do not ask me about my feelings when I’m trying to fuck you.”

“What on earth–shit!”

You’ve taken his now fully hard length into your hand, licking a strip from the base of his cock up to the bulbous head. The tip of your tongue teases the head ever so lightly, and Mingyu watches as his head and your tongue match in their reds. He watches the way your tongue dips into the pooling white of his precum, pushing into his slit as the tip of your tongue wiggles slightly. 

The fact that he cannot touch only heightens the effects of your teasing, clayed hands balling into fists just to feel something on his fingertips. 

Soon, your lips have wrapped around the head of cock as you let it rub against the beginnings of the inside of your soft mouth. Letting go, you take him in again, this time running your tongue over his slit, feeling his hips twitch beneath you as you continue to take him in and out, only to take him back in again. 

In one motion, you sink your mouth lower onto his dick, feeling the head of his cock run against the roof of your mouth. Mingyu hisses audibly amidst his very loud and heavy breathing. 

When you feel him hit the beginnings of your throat, you pull back, bringing your hand to curve around the base to cover what you couldn’t fit, pumping him up and down as you continue to pull his member in and out of your mouth. 

He’s moaning loud, the echoes resonating off the walls as you hear your name slip from his mouth over, and over, and over again. It only encourages you as you move down deeper, his cock touching the back of your throat in more familiarity than before. 

Everything is wet; the spit and precum turning into a shiny gleam on his cock and on the lower half of your face, the heat between your legs that makes you feel oh so empty. Clenching around nothing, you resist the urge to bring a hand down to relieve yourself. 

“Are you ovulating or something, why are you suddenly…suddenly, fucking hell I don’t know.” 

Releasing him from your mouth with a loud pop, you rear your head to look up at him, the lower half of your face covered in a wet glisten. Your hand continues to pump him as you watch his face remain contorted in pleasure.

In a daze, you don’t realise what you’re saying as you blab. “Could she do it like this?”

“What?”

“Could she do it like this?” you repeat like a mantra, needing to hear his answer. “Could she make you feel like this?”

“What are you talking about?” It’s taking Mingyu every bit of his soul to form coherent words. 

In one swift motion, you’ve hoisted yourself back on your feet, nails digging into his thighs through his pants. 

Hovering over his lap, you take his shaft once again, but this time you push your panties aside with your hand and bring it close to your heat, brushing the head of his cock over your wet folds, using him to feel the pleasure that builds. 

“God, you’re so wet,” he blabs as he throws his head back at the feeling. “I wanna touch you, fuck I need to get this clay off, I need to touch you.”

He’s brought his mouth to latch onto your nipple, evoking a loud gasp from you as feel him circle your nub with his tongue before sucking. Letting go, he sticks his tongue out as his only weapon, flicking it repeatedly as you continue to rub his wet cock over your equally wet cunt. 

Lining him up with your entrance, you sink onto his head as you let out a loud moan, feeling the tip stretch you out in the familiar way you’ve been craving all day. It’s like your brain is buffering as you recover from the bout of pleasure, barely registering that he’s continued to assault your other nipple now. 

Your free hand comes to toy with your relieved tit, twisting your spit covered nipple between your fingers as his dick pushes further and further inside you. 

Fully sheathed, you pull your husband’s face away from your breast as you bring his lips to your own, kissing him deep as you clench around his hard cock.

“Don’t. Do that,” he hisses against your lips, hands suddenly closing in your waist, so close before he realises he can’t. “‘M gonna fucking come, I’m so serious.”

The news is enlightening, especially as it encourages you to lift your hips ever so slightly, and curl back back down in an initial thrust. Again, and again, and again till you’re moving your hips at a swift pace, striking down on his length as you both moan into each other's mouths.

The feeling is electrifying, and the borderline pornographic noises your husband is making is only making it all the more easier to gush around his member, to move your hips faster as you feel the knot in your abdomen tighten and loosen. 

“You feel amazing, so fucking good,” he grunts as he mouths the column of your throat. “My baby, my darling, my wife.”

And when the burn in your thighs becomes more than just a mental battle, your hips slowing despite the mind boggling feeling and the choked sobs that come out of you, you feel Mingyu’s hips lift from the chair he’d been trapped in, pushing into you instead. 

His still dirty hands have taken hold of the top of the back legs of the chair, helping himself push off his seat to thrust into you rapidly. 

“Touch yourself, baby,” he says. “Rub your clit for me.”

Who are you to deny him, one hand on one of his broad shoulders while the other flies down to the mess that’s becoming of your cunt. Rubbing two fingers over your clit, you throw your head back in a loud moan as you feel yourself beginning to close in.

Mingyu is watching the apex of your thighs; the way your fingers work against your swollen clit, the way his dick disappears inside you, a ring of sinful white foaming at the base of his cock. He twitches inside you, a clear indication that he was also close. 

Your breasts are a sight to behold, and the scene before him is enough to make him bust entirely. Bouncing tits that he cannot touch, perfectly red, puffed pussy he cannot touch, the beautiful curves and dips of your waist and thigh, barely illuminated by the setting sun, that he cannot touch. He curses the wretched idea to make a last minute thing on the turntable before you arrived, curses the fact that he should be able to feel all of you. 

He might lose his mind, and he does when your walls clamp down on him like a trap, your moans so loud he’s sure he’ll be hearing them in his ears for weeks. 

“G–Gyu, I’m cumming,” you whimper through the pure brain fog. 

Mingyu fucks you through your orgasm, finally letting himself release his own load into you when he simply can’t take it anymore, dick spasming as he shoots white hot cum into your hole. The added slick makes it easier to slip in and out faster as his orgasm holds out far longer than it usually does, both of your hips twitching like you’d been zapped as you come down from your highs. 

It’s become near impossible to hold up your own weight, slumping against his large frame as you unclench every pinched muscle and joint. Forehead on his shoulder, you take pleasure in the afterglow, breathing in his scent with your nose pressed into the sliver of skin that reveals past his shirt. Sweat, the earthy odour of clay, and the calm familiarity of him.

“I don’t know what I did to have you acting like this,” he breathes into your ear. “But whatever it is, I need to do it more often.”

Sluggishly, you lift your head to look at him. His head is leaned back on the chair, face glowing as you stare into the eyes you fell in love with so long ago. 

“You haven’t done anything,” you sigh. “It was…stupid.”

“That’s the worst thing you could say to me right now.”

You whine, rolling your neck. “What do you want me to tell you?”

He stares. “Who do I need to thank for creating this monster?”

It was a joke, clearly, but you couldn’t help but feel the little pool of pride swell within you anyway. 

“Salad bowl girl.”

“And I’m supposed to know what that means? Do you want a salad bowl? I can make you one.”

“No. The girl in your class this morning with that god awful salad bowl,” you huff. “It looked offensive, she was too busy burning holes into you.”

“Oh no,” he whispers, eyes wide, mouth turning it the beginnings of a hysterical laugh. “My pretty little wife is jealous.”

“If you’re gonna rub it in, I'm getting off.” You try to remove yourself from his lap, slipping his now soft member out of you. 

You’re stopped when you feel the two points of his elbows locking you at the waist, pushing you down. He’s grinning like a fool. “You’re sexy when you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry—”

“Your hello was my dick in your mouth.”

“So you didn’t like it?”

“I’d fire myself in the kiln before I ever say that.” He locks his elbows harder, pulling you closer. “Besides, I think this means I’ve won.”

“Won what?”

“Like you’ve never noticed Chan looking at you like…like he’s got some puppy dog crush on you. I’ve won the battle of composure.” 

You guffaw, “What are you—stop it, he does not!”

He merely leans forward and kisses you, “I don’t blame him. My wife is the most gorgeous thing anyone could ever see.” 

Grabbing him by the elbows, you break free of his hold and get off of his lap, attempting to gather the clothes you’ve scattered across the studio. 

“Can you at least help me put my dick back inside my pants, these are my cleaner jeans!”

Snapping the elastic of your bra back on, pantied adjusted, you walk back to him. He’s looking at you with those stupid stars in his eyes and it makes it hard to focus on readjusting his jeans for him. 

Leaning down, you take in your hands his still wet cock, smothered in your spit and arousal, complete with his own release. You can’t help it when you dip further to take his head into your mouth, the groan coming from above you near automatic. 

“Oh, you’re evil.”

You grin as you wrap your mouth in a harsher suck, feeling him harden slowly, still quicker than you’d thought. Giving him a few more generous sucks, you run your tongue over his slit before moving back. 

He’s breathing heavily, leaning close as you pull his waistband up. “You know, they say you should lay down afterwards if you want to be successful. I think we might have to go again later on a real bed to do the trick.”

“You can stay horny, I’m getting dressed for some real food.” 

“I think we kinda need to be horny to do what we’re trying to do,” he lowtones, moving his face back and forth to meet your drifting eyes. 

You sigh once again, “Why can’t just getting off birth control be enough?”

“Are you not having fun?”

“I’m literally buttoning your pants for you, it was fun until now.”

Mingyu raises his hands in both surrender and pointed regard, the clay now dried and cracking over his hands and forearms. “I digress.”

 It annoys you that he’s right, so you lean in to give him a kiss as a distraction. It works. 

“It’s alright,” he smiles into your kiss. “This is the one thing I won’t mind breaking my back for.”

The giggle escapes you before you can help it, and you feel him kiss at your cheeks, placing one last one on the tip of your nose.

“Now, if my lovely wife will let me wash my hands…?”

“Go,” you chuckle.

“We should name our baby Salad Bowl in this honour.” He’s way at the handwash station by now, water running as he scrubs off all the dried up clay.

“So sad our baby will have to grow up without a father.”

 “I love you,” he yells. 

“I’ll be sure to tell our child.” 

“You’re insufferable,” he says, suddenly behind you as you pull on your blouse. Wet hands grasp your waist and you squeal at the feeling. 

“Mingyu!” 

“I love you,” he drags, spinning you around to face him. 

“I thought I was insufferable.”

Your husband groans, simply pulling you into him with his own two hands to kiss you. 

“I think we’re late for our reservation.”

“You’d better hurry then.” You eye his clay speckled shirt.

“Don’t miss me.” He turns around to find his cleaner shirt, all while you drift over to see the incomplete project still on his table.

A mug still clay-brown and half done, but one that looks suspiciously similar to your favourite one you broke last week. 

[the-witty-pen-name]

Meddling Mr. Munson

Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Wayne is your favorite regular at work. Plus- his nephew is really cute.

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff and good feels you’ll get a toothache, allusions to pregnancy, alcohol mentioned, mentions of bullying

The first time you meet Wayne Munson, you’re eight hours into your six hour shift at the only diner in Hawkins that's open twenty-four hours. You’re working the overnight shift, and you were supposed to be relieved at 4:00am, but the waitress who was supposed to relieve you called from a payphone to tell you her bus broke down and she can’t get to work until the replacement arrives. So now, you’re brewing a fresh pot of coffee for the only patron you’ve had before the breakfast rush- which hopefully you’ll be missing.

You chit chat with Mr. Munson while he sits at the counter nursing his black coffee. He works overnight at the plant you’ve learned, and he asks you questions about your college classes. He doesn’t admit it, because he’s not the type, but he really enjoys the daily chats with you as stopping at the diner after work becomes one of his routines.

“You should come meet me for breakfast on your way to school,” Wayne suggests one night when he and Eddie are watching TV. His suggestion is met with Eddie blowing a raspberry and a grumble about not wanting to wake up that early. Wayne tosses his hat at Eddie, harmlessly making Eddie jump. “I ain’t asking,” Wayne reiterates and Eddie nods sheepishly, sinking into the couch.

Your eyes light up when you hear the bell on the front door. You already know it’s one of your favorite regulars before you even look up. “‘Morning, Mr. Munson,” you say cheerfully, “Take a seat, I just put on a fresh pot.” You look up and you’re surprised to see he isn’t alone. “Oh, hi Eddie,” you say with a grin, surprised to see Wayne isn’t alone. Eddie’s brain short circuits because he doesn’t know how you even know him, and you are very pretty.

You step out from behind the counter with two mugs in hand as they slide into a booth. “You don’t remember me,” you tease, filling both the mugs with coffee. Eddie fumbles over his words apologetically and Wayne smirks to himself. “That’s okay, we weren’t really friends,” you explain and tell him your name, “You sat in front of me last year in Ms.O’Donnell’s class. We didn’t really talk much.” He’s silently thanking you for omitting that you didn’t talk because he was hardly there. However, he’s practically soaring that despite that you somehow remembered him and aren’t recoiling in disgust.

“Eddie’s got her again this year,” Wayne interjects and Eddie wants to roll under the booth. He’s suddenly embarrassed that he’s repeating senior year again and he wished you didn’t know that. Wayne means nothing by it, literally just making conversation, and the news Eddie is in her class doesn’t seem to even phase you.

“She’s brutal,” you exhale, “If you want, I think I still have my notes somewhere. They’re all yours.”

“T-that’d be great,” he manages to get out. You smile at him and his limbs feel like clay.

“Yeah, of course,” you wave it off like it’s nothing. “I’ll come back in a few and grab your orders, take your time.”

Wayne is using his menu to hide his grin from Eddie. He didn’t know if Eddie and you would hit it off, he just had hopes. He’s not one to meddle, especially in his nephew’s love life, but when you had told Wayne you didn’t have a boyfriend, he immediately wanted to introduce you to Eddie. He knew Eddie would just reject the idea, so he didn’t say anything.

“She’s cute,” Wayne says after a minute when you disappear behind the door to the kitchen.

“God, cut it out,” Eddie exclaims, dramatically covering his face with his hands. His face is bright red. This seriously can not be happening right now. “Wayne, seriously, you are not seriously trying to set me up right now?”

“I’m just trying to treat my nephew to breakfast, I thought it would be nice. We haven’t done this in a while,” he says evenly, but Eddie knows the truth. “I think I’m gonna get the meat lover’s omelet,” he muses, acting oblivious to Eddie’s antics.

Eddie’s nervous bouncing of his leg is making the booth shake, and the coffee spills out over the rim of the mugs ever so slightly. Wayne slides over extra napkins, and chastises Eddie about leaving rings on the table.

“Are you all set?” You ask, getting your notepad out of the front pocket of your apron. Wayne nods and Eddie is staring blankly at the menu in front of him, paralyzed.

“The pancakes are really good if you’re still trying to decide,” you offer, thinking Eddie is actually reading the menu.

“U-uh yeah, that sounds good,” he replies. You nod and scribble it down on your pad.

“Your usual Wayne?” You ask and he nods.

“You’re the best,” he smiles, passing you the menus.

“It’ll be right out,” you reply, “Do you want me to top these off?” Wayne offers you his empty cup and Eddie manages to shake his head no. You disappear behind the doors again to ring in the order, and Wayne nudges Eddie to snap out of it.

“You’re being rude,” he says, “Look I get it, I’ll stay out of it. But you don’t have to freeze her out. She’s being lovely.”

Of course you’re being lovely, Eddie screams internally. You are lovely! He can’t bring himself to correct his uncle that he’s not ignoring you to spite him, but he’s actually tongue tied and completely fumbling. He can’t give Wayne the satisfaction of being right and he also doesn’t want to say anything out loud in utter fear you’d hear him.

“Food should be right out,” you say with a sweet smile. You walk over to the opposite side of the diner and wipe down a few of the empty booths. Eddie flexes his fingers over his thighs repeatedly to try to relax. Wayne watches Eddie, starting to notice he’s a lot more twitchy than he usually is. Eddie’s always animated but this is new. Maybe, Wayne muses, his little plan might actually be working.

Wayne really only ever wants Eddie to be happy. He’s had a front row seat to the abuse Eddie has received from his peers his whole life. Under the tattoos and the hair and the ripped jeans, Wayne still sees the little boy he tucked into bed and the little boy who sat on the kitchen counter while he helped clean his scraped knees. He wished the pain he had to help Eddie navigate was still that simple. Wayne thought maybe you’d see Eddie the way he did.

You’re nice, and genuinely so. Wayne thought if anyone could see Eddie, truly see him for the amazing kid he was, it would be you. Even if this whole stupid plan of his amounted to nothing more, you’re treating Eddie with such a normal level of human decency and you have no idea how much that means to the both of them. For Wayne, that’s more than he could ever ask for. He knows as much as he’s resisting, Eddie will leave here and go to school feeling a little bit better. For a brief moment in an empty diner, he can see the world isn’t always out to get him. Sometimes, the world is nice- with pretty girls to talk to and uncles who love you more than life itself.

When you bring out the food, Wayne watches the way your eyes linger on Eddie. You’re also being a little shy. He smiles to himself, keeping his head low while he starts to dig into his food. You ask Eddie about his band, and Wayne watches his nephew’s eyes light up, his usual confidence returning to the forefront as he tells you all about Corroded Coffin. You listen, and Wayne realizes you’re not just placating Eddie, you actually care.

“I’ll have to come to another show sometime,” you say, “I say you guys at The Hideout like a couple months ago actually.”

“Really?” Eddie’s eyes widen in disbelief. You giggle, and nod.

“Yup, you guys were awesome,” you assure him. “If you guys ever sell a tape, let me know. I want one.”

As they finish up their breakfast, you drop off the check, and Eddie thinks he might die when he sees you’ve scribbled your number on the receipt for him. The check has been comped and the note read:

“Wayne, Happy to treat my favorite customer! Eddie, in case you’d want to go out sometime? No pressure.” With your number underneath.

The most recent time you saw Wayne Munson, he pulled you into a hug and thanked you for inviting him over. It’s the first time you and Eddie are hosting a holiday in your new apartment.

He smiles as he looks around. You and Eddie have really done an amazing job making a cozy little life together. He smells the turkey finishing up in the oven and he can’t believe he can finally witness his nephew this happy. The two of you insist he sit in the living room while you both finish cooking for him. He’s enjoying watching the two of you work in the kitchen together, moving synchronously like you’ve done this dance a million times before- and you have.

He settles in and Eddie brings him a beer. Wayne looks around at Eddie’s and your new home and he can’t help but beam with pride. This is all he could’ve asked for Eddie- all he’s ever wanted to see him have. Eddie’s still as dopey grinned and smitten as he was the first day back at the diner. Wayne knows you’re the one- he knew before you or Eddie knew.

Eddie’s his son, even if he’ll never be called Dad. He doesn’t want that anyways. But, he knows your the best daughter-in-law he could have ever asked for. A best friend and a confidant from the first day he met you. He’s so glad to have you both together in his life. Little did he know, that tonight after dinner when he’s long past just full- but not too full for pie- Eddie would hold your hand and you’d both sit across from him, giving him the best news he could possibly hear in this lifetime.

His small trio, will shortly be adding a fourth band member.

[slutforfinnickodair]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐔𝐒

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐲’𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐏 𝐢𝐧 𝐕, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 (𝐳𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐳𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭!) 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐲’𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡, 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦 𝐦𝐰𝐚𝐡! 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲💗

————

“You are not serious right now.” You giggled as he moved on top of you, still inside of you. “Clayton.” You warned as he pressed his pelvis right against yours, slightly rocking the bed against the wall.

“Your mother will hear.” You gasped slightly as he hit a deep spot inside of you. “Clay.” 

He didn’t respond. The only thing that he did was softly place his thumb on your clit to rub gentle slow circles against your bundle of nerves. 

You heard the constant rocking of the bed against the wall, the concern inside of you growing with the pleasure that was building up in your lower stomach.

Lilith could walk upstairs any time she would like and there would be your good girl reputation laying in front of her legs.

“Clay.” You whined this time as he brought your hips closer to his while laying down his torso on top of yours, holding himself up by his hands.

“That’s it, Darling.” He said while speeding his movements up, making you moan into his mouth and grasp at his back.

You let out a cry, harder this time as you tried burying your face in his shoulder.

“Clayton is everything alright?” You heard Lilith’s voice echoing through the hall.

The sweat fell from your forehead down onto his skin from the sudden shock that earnt your ears. 

“Yes mother, don’t worry about it.” He replied casually as if he wasn’t just railing you on his bed.

“Stop.” You whispered as you heard her heels tapping against the tile that was set down in the corridor coming closer. “Please.” Your fingers squeezed his shoulders, but Clay smirked at you and lifted your hips up with his, grabbing a pillow and placing it under your bottom.

He then grabbed both of your thighs and lifted your legs up into the air, holding both of your ankles with his left hand.

“You sure? I heard panting. Did you take your pills this morning before work?”

“Yes. Don’t worry.” He responded while slowly sliding out of you but keeping his head in.

“Clay, I don't want you sick in this house.” Lilith’s voice showed concern as you were trying to keep your breaths steady.

“I’m completely and utterly healthy.” He started while slamming his entire length back into you.

You had to squeeze your eyes shut if you wanted to really stay quiet.

He slid out again.

“No.” You mouthed as if he could hear you.

“Don’t worry mom. Now I would need to finish one of my projects.” He said while you rolled your eyes, feeling him slam back into you.

A soft moan left your mouth and you immediately hid your mouth with one of your hands.

“Okay. I’m going to Brooklyn with Stephanie. Please make dinner until I get home.” Lilith said before you heard her heels clapping against the tile, distancing themselves from his room.

Clay smirked at you before slamming himself back again and letting your ankles go, laying himself on top of your torso as he kept his pace.

“Come on Sweetheart give it to me.” He said while you arched your back the moment he hit that deep spot inside of you.

“Clay.” You moaned. “Wait until she leaves.” You gasped and grabbed his shoulders again, your finely manicured nails pressing into his skin.

“I want to feel you now.” He said while his hand ran down on your stomach.

“Don’t..” You gasped when you couldn’t form your sentence because of his fingers circling slowly around your clit.

Clay heard the door being shut as his mother left the house, making him speed up his movements while you were panting under him, writhing and moaning his name.

“Come.” He whispered while aligning his face with yours. He pressed his lips against yours once again before your hands slid down on his biceps, squeezing the muscle hard as you eased up around him.

“That’s it.” He praised as you felt the fire pool down to your middle, the bubble of pure pleasure exploding inside of you as you threw your head back in ecstasy. 

“Y/N look at me.” He commanded as you tilted your head to look at his face, wanting to just kiss him and lay with him like this for the rest of your lifes.

You felt him easing up inside of you, sighing once you felt him coming. You then wrapped your arms around his shoulders, kissing his lips before rolling you over.

“Hey.” You said while grinning down at him.

He smiled.

“Hey pretty girl.” His hand stroked your back as you kept smiling at him.

You laid your head down on his naked chest as he pulled the covers over you, kissing the top of your head.

He nuzzled his nose into your head while you listened to the soft beats of his heart rate.

“I love you.” He murmured while hugging and pulling you closer.

“I love you more.” You said while smiling into his chest.

“Not possible.”

[checkeredflagggs]

Glazed and Confused

Pairing: Lando Norris x Potter!Youtuber!reader

Summary: when lando fails to make a simple mug, fans direct him towards your YouTube channel

a/n: I took 1 hr long class on pottery and quit. Don’t like the feel of it, have mostly forgot literally everything about it so…🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n 2: I really struggled to get lando’s voice down and don’t really think I did. Oops 😬 will work on that for next time (also plz ignore that changing of the handles. I try to keep them accurate but again I’m not on those social media platforms so…)

a/n 3: I tried to make sure that this reader was never gendered or given a race — there’s one photo near the end that depicts 2 white smaller hands but I think that is the only time. Please let me know how I did, if you could

Pottery Made Easy has posted

potterymadeeasy

liked by user1, user2, and 2316 others

pottermadeeasy: my newest video (mugs and bowls, pt 2) is now up! In it I show you ways to add a little flourish and decorations to the pieces you made from part 1!

view all comments

user1: thank you your majesty! Easy to understand and so so easy to follow!! (unlike my professor 🙄😬)

user2: right? If they either stopped mumbling or spoke up…

user1: might be asking too much of someone born in the 1800s 😭🙄

user2: unfortunately

user3: god your work is so gorgeous. Do you sell anything?

potterynadeeasy: occasionally! I’m based in Monaco rn and a friend owns a shop and sometimes they let me use a shelf or 2

user4: ohh! I’m in France. Plz plz plz make an announcement when you will next have some ready! I’d love to own a piece

potterynadeeasy: of course lovely 😊 vague plans are to have some ready in the next week or 2!

user4: seriously?!? Marking the calendar right now!

user3: you have no idea how jealous I am right now…

potterynadeeasy: dm me! I might be able to ship it to you depending on where you are!

user3: faints bless you

user5: landonorris here! They might be able to help you

user6: be so for real right now. It’ll take a miracle to help landonorris

user7: I hate to be a negative nancy but…yeah. That latest stream was bad bad landonorris

user8: I dont even know…that clay flew… landonorris

user9: would hate to be his cleaner…

lnupdates

liked by user5, user6, user7, and 1,897,455 others

lnupdates: some of our favorite moments from Lando’s latest stream where he was attempting to make a ceramic mug…bowl? It was certainly an interesting one to watch

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user5: interesting is one way to put it. Tragic is another

user6: no but really…that was. I legit have no words

user7: he needs to watch potterymadeeasy! I love their videos

user8: oh? I haven’t heard of them

user7: they’re a Monaco based potter that has a lot of simple how to videos!

user8: just watched one of them! And god their voice…🥵

user7: oh my god right?!?

user5: but are they gonna be enough to help lando?

user7: well they certainly couldn’t make it any worse tbh

user9: you got this lando! Pottery isn’t something easy to pick up - you just gotta keep trying!

user10: yeah! There was definitely some improvement by the end

Bluesky

Private DMs

landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 2,790,469 others

landonorris: progress! these ones were mostly standing. I’m not done yet though - catch me tomorrow night giving it another go

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user11: those looked good! Most definitely an improvement!

user12: he’s almost there! It’s literally just the little things now

user13: oh how far we’ve come! In less then a year he’s gone from flying clay to something that could generously be called a bowl

user14: and an “artistic” vase!

oscarpiastri: definitely better then last time

landonorris: mate…

oscarpiastri: you don’t pay your cleaner enough

landonorris: mate!! get out of my comments

charles_leclerc: keep trying! Maybe one day you’ll get there

landonorris: yeah say goodbye to your Christmas present

charles_leclerc: 👎🏻

alex_albon: will be there! And will definitely be recording - gotta have proof 😂

landonorris: is it national bully lando day here or something?

user15: yes

user16: yes

oscarpiastri: yes

charles_leclerc: yes 👍🏻

georgerussell63: yes

alex_albon: yes!!

maxverstappen1: yes

danielricciardo: yes!

carlossainz55: yes!

landonorris: you freaking muppets!

user17: ok but am I the only one who noticed he kept looking to the side and like beaming?

user18: no but I thought I was going insane? Like he was so soft?

user17: yeah! definitely getting the feeling he wasn’t the only one there. Just who are you looking at?

user18: dare we say little lando norris has a partner now?

landonorris

liked by potterymadeeasy, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, and 2,723,944 others

landonorris: haha! I did kt! A mug a vase and a bowl!! On to the next step - glazing! And you muppets didn’t think I could do it

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user19: woohoo! Congrats lando! Those look so so good!

user20: and those glazes are gonna be fire when they’re done. I use the same brand and colors he did and they turn out AMAZING

user19: ok don’t be shy drop the names plz

potterymadeeasy: those look great!

landonorris: thank you! Had a great teacher 😉

user21: ariana (potterymadeeasy) what are you doing here?

user22: thoughts are being thunk

user23: unthunk those thoughts right now

user22: sorry…thots are being thunk rn

user23: nurse she’s out again!

user21: really? Under my comment thread?

user24: I’ve connected the dots.

user25: you’ve connected shit

user24: no I’ve connected them

user25: god get a life

charles_leclerc: congrats!

carlossainz55: it only took a few months…

alex_albon: a couple of different throwing wheels

georgerussell63: and 3 different cleaning companies

landonorris: I’m gonna run you all over with my car

mclaren: legally this is a joke

landonorris

liked by potterymadeeasy, danielricciardo, carlossainz55, and 2,922,713 others

landonorris: first round of my ceramics are currently cooking in the kiln. Starting a new batch and stretching my creative skills

view all comments

user26: holy shit those look INCREDIBLE

user27: I’m so shocked! I just started watching the old streams so like in the course of a day he went from wet clay lumps to these masterpieces

user28: I’m so so proud of him - I’m currently trying to get into pottery and ceramics and watching him keep at it is so inspiring

user26: user28 you can do it! Persistence is key

oscarpiastri: man thinks he’s Picasso now…but for real congrats lando. Those look good! And functional too

landonorris: I’m only gonna give you the lumpy ones actually

oscarpiastri: I’m good thanks

landonorris: 🙃

oscarpiastri: honestly proud of you. You’ve come a long way

landonorris: thanks mate!

oscarpiastri: I’m also glad you can stop calling me crying about your latest fuck up

landonorris: you muppet!

danielricciardo: too soon to call dibs on that dragonfly mug?

landonorris: after the way you continuously kept laughing at me?

danielricciardo: in encouragement?

landonorris: 😑

danielricciardo: 🥹🧡?

landonorris: fine 🙄

user29: ok yeah good job on those designs and whatever but are we gonna mention those HEART MUGS?!

landonorris: 😂🧡😉

user29: get back here and answer some questions! What? Does? That? Mean?

landonorris: 🏃🏻‍♂️💨

user29: SIR!

maxverstappen1: i see you’re finished making my present but really? Matching heart mugs?

landonorris: not actually for you!

maxverstappen1: heart❤️ been broke💔🤕 so many times⏰ i don’t know❌🤷‍♀️ what to believe 🍃🙏

landonorris: …who are you and where is max?

maxverstappen1: I thought what we had was special

landonorris: not my favorite relationship anymore! Sorry 🧡

maxverstappen1: 💔

potterymadeeasy: those look good!

landonorris: I had a good teacher 🧡

potterymadeeasy: flatterer

landonorris: always 😉

User22: !!!

User23: shut up shut up shut up

landonorris

liked by yourpriv, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and 3,123,321 others

landonorris: kiln unveiling and some upcoming projects!

listen. when I randomly decided that I wanted to learn how to make ceramic dishes, it was mostly because I wanted to make something with my own 2 hands — and when I wasn’t immediately good at it, I decided that I wouldn’t stop until I was.

Its been a long couple of months with a lot of struggles but I can finally say that I’m proud of how far I’ve come. It hasn’t been easy but the journey and the process has been fun and i genuinely can’t wait to see what comes next!

view all comments

user30: I’m? Crying? 😭

user31: omg same!!! To see how far he’s come and to hear that he’s finally proud of himself too…

user32: we’re excited for you too!

user33: excited? For what? Some more mediocre “Art” by some mediocre man?

user32: go fuck yourself. And get out of my comments. And off lando’s page

used34: user33 how about you go get some sun and maybe shove some kindness up yours! 🖕

oscarpiastri: seriously, congratulations. Those look incredible

landonorris: thanks mate! I do appreciate your support

oscarpiastri: and my cupboards appreciate your work

user34: 🩵🩵 ahhh he’s giving away his pieces

alex_albon: it’s been a fun ride watching you!

landonorris: thanks i think

alex_albon: no problem!

alex_albon: and could you send me the name of your newest cleaning crew? They most be ungodly good

landonorris: and there it is… cleaningcrew

alex_albon: anyway i could get a series of mugs inspired by albon_pets?

landonorris: I’ll need a lot of pretty good pictures

alex_albon: on it 🫡

landonorris: in fact I might need to visit in person

albon_pets: yay! We love ❤️ getting visitors

user35: UMMM?!? That 5th photo?!?

user36: IS THIS A SOFT LAUNCH? DOES LITTLE LANDO NORRIS FINALLY HAVE A PARTNER AGAIN?!?

landonorris: 🫢🤫

user36: YOU CANT KEEP GETTJNG AWAY WITH THIS

landonorris: 😂🏃🏻‍♂️💨

yourpriv: my love, I’m so proud of you! Putting yourself out there in the world to learn something new is never easy but you have done it with amazing persistence and talent.

landopriv: babe… you know I couldn’t do it without you

yourpriv: oh I have no doubt you would have gotten here on your own

landopriv: no. No i don’t think I would have. I’m a fast guy and I’m used to fast results. When I reached out to you, it was a last resort last string. If it didn’t work out with your help, I was honestly going to quit. You pushed me to get better, to stick with it till I made it.

yourpriv: 🥹🥹🥹

landopriv: I’m serious. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me — i love you 🧡

yourpriv: 🥹🥰🧡 I love you too hun

maxverstappen1: can’t lie — it was a fun ride watching you fail but I also can’t wait to see what you make next

landonorris: …thanks for your support 😑🙄😅

maxverstappen1: you know it!

landonorris

liked by yourpriv, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 2,997,245 others

tagged: yourpriv, potterymadeeasy

landonorris: no time for a soft launch. Thank you honey for teaching me pottery and for designing such a bomb ass helmet!

comments have been limited on this post

potterymadeeasy: Lando! We had a plan!

landonorris: 🤷🏻‍♂️

landonorris: love ya!

potterymadeeasy:…love you too!

[peter-pumpkin-eater]

Close your eyes

Caleb x gn!reader

summary: You and Caleb do face masks together

warnings: none, fluff, yearning

word count: 583

“Hold still.”

“I am.” 

“Shh don’t talk.”

Caleb glares at you, but does as he’s told. He’s standing between your legs, hands resting high on your thighs. His hair is pulled back with a kitty cat headband and you’re slowly working a very cold clay mask onto his face. You had stood so shyly in his room doorway, twisting your foot into the carpet that he folded before you even asked what you wanted him to do.

“This is said to help brighten your skin, and help with eyebags too.” You paused, booping his nose. “You need that.” you continued to spread the goo across his cheek bones. Your lips were slightly parted in concentration and they shined so nicely under the bathroom light. Caleb swallowed thickly, his eyes closing. The little spatula glides across his skin and he’s now fully covered. 

“Perfect!” You sing song, a large smile on your face. You were wearing a matching headband to keep your bangs off your forehead. You handed Caleb the pot and looked at him expectantly. His heart ached painfully in his chest.

“Close your eyes.” You do as you're told. Your lashes fanning out so prettily. Caleb was a selfish man. He took pride in knowing no one gets to see you like this. That no one else gets this side of you. He runs his thumb under your bottom lip. Your eyes open and head tilts to the side in question.

“Had some fluff.” he lies. You smile and close your eyes again. He takes the spatula and starts on your forehead. The cold dark coloured clay is thick going on and he takes his time spreading it evenly around. Down your temple, across your cheeks, onto your nose. He’s savouring this closeness, your breaths mingling in the quiet bathroom. 

He puts the pot down next to your leg and you open your eyes. Caleb brushed a stay hair away from your face. “Now we’re the prettiest people around.”

“I’m sure if we run into someone outside right now they might have a heart attack.”

“At how hot we are.” He counters. Hands back to idling on your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. 

You suddenly remember the lip mask next to you. “Oh! Almost forgot this!” You pick up the little pink bottle and unscrew the top. “It’s the berry one.” You say bringing it up to his face to smell. He does, even though he knows the smell. Its always the same scent that lures him in when he’s overly tired at night. Always testing his willpower to not see if it tasted like berries too. 

Dipping your finger into the creamy palm, you bring it up to his lips. He dips his head down slightly. Your finger touches his upper lip, rubbing the sticky palm over it. Then move on to his lower lip. You’re lingering, he notices. He can see your eyes cloud over slightly as your finger slowly moves his plush lip. 

He pretends to bite at your finger and that shocks you back to reality. “Rude.” you huff. Eyes dropping back to the bottle. 

“My turn?” He tips his chin to his chest, looking at you through his lashes. You nod and hand over the palm. Wasting no time he dips his finger in and tilts your chin up with his free hand. It glided easily across your lip. They’re always much softer than he expects. He thinks about them often. His chest aches again.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

paper cut stings from my paper thin glands

chuuya n. x reader

the trials and tribulations of dating a criminal executive ❥ angst with comfort, pros and cons format

song: death by a thousand cuts

pro: he’s incredibly romantic

chuuya has seen more than plenty of scumbags in his life. womanizers, cheaters, abusers. he didn’t make it this far as an executive without meeting unsavoury people. he’s seen darker sides of the city, the sides that he’s had to survive in.

meeting all these people, he’s had the good fortune of learning- the hard way- how not to treat someone you love. he does all the classics- fancy dinners, late night joyrides, pretty flowers.

but he also manages to make everything, including the most mundane things, even just a little romantic. he waits for you in the clinic for every appointment, folds clothes while you order dinner (he can’t cook to save his life), and sits through hours of old sitcoms and reality tv while rotting on the couch with you.

you could have skipped a shower, be in yesterdays clothes with crumbs on your lips and he’d still tell you every second: “you’re beautiful.”

you almost laugh, standing up to clean the empty plates and wine glasses. he joins you shortly after. what a pleasure it is to wash dishes at 2am in your apartment.

con: he’s got a temper

perhaps apart of it is survival instinct. everyone loves puppies, but never wounded dogs that bites. chuuya has lived most of his life a wounded dog.

when he’s silent, its because he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. when he does open his mouth, he usually regrets what he says about 2 seconds after. he often has so much left unsaid, so many emotions swirling around in him, that he doesn’t know how to not notice. he’s more empathetic than one would imagine, seeing all the anger and hatred in the world, often shouldering those feelings without even realizing it.

he just wants to kiss the ground you walk on, to get inside your mind and see himself through your eyes. he never fully understands why you put up with him, why you’re so patient. but he also chooses not to question it, because he knows its more than he deserves.

“…i was angry but you didn’t deserve what i said. i shouldn’t have taken it out on you. i’m so sorry.” he says firm, biting his tongue. he’s never sure when his apologies will fall onto deaf ears. he hopes you won’t look at him like a bad drug and toss him out.

“is that what you were practicing in the mirror?” you smile a little. for the first time in hours, he breathes.

“does that mean you forgive me?” he asks sheepishly, almost like a child.

you take his hand and pull him into the room. “just come to bed, baby.”

at least he’s not on the couch tonight.

pro: he’s loyal

when people see chuuya, they see the silk clothes and expensive accessories. they see his piercing glare and leather shoes. they see the surface, the hard, shiny exterior, and think that he can get anyone he wants. partly true.

but chuuya bristles at the thought of disposability. anyone who has ever loved him has either died, left, or simply doesn’t know he exists. after all he’s lost, he simply can’t afford to play fast and loose with you. he jumped out of a helicopter for someone he claims he doesn’t like. imagine what he’d do for you.

he knows of your insecurities, but he’ll never brush off jealousy as something silly or childish. he wants to show you off and, at the same time, keep you as something sacred and private to him. your heart, your hips, your body, your love, all of it something he worships. he somehow quiets all your fears with just the touch of his hand.

theres no part of him that you don’t exist in. his eyes, the way they light up upon your arrival. his hands molded like clay just to hold you. lips with your name on them. theres no part of him that you haven’t touched. and he wants you to know it.

con: he hardly knows himself

it isn’t his fault, really.

living on survival mode gives you little time for self discovery. he’s never thought of the future, or of his plans- just day to day. living just to survive the next few hours is how you end up in the shadows of city, a feared criminal, wondering how things ended up this way.

he knows what he doesn’t want to be. he doesn’t want to be a corrupted monster, an amalgamation of all the darkest years of his life. he wishes, more than anything, just to be human. he never wanted to be a god, or a even an executive, just human. but somehow, he still finds himself sinking his teeth into skin, wondering why he’s still biting, wondering why anyone would ever want a wounded dog that bites.

he’s hardly open about his own fears. but its not hard to spot the way it lingers in his eyes when he’s up at night, sweat sticking to his skin, staring down his hands. he’s searching for the humanity you see in him. he wants to believe that its there.

some nights he doesn’t fully find it. its the nights he pulls you closer to him, closing his eyes only when they grow heavy, needing to feel another human presence next to him.

pro: he gives you all he is, and more

his humanity doesn’t come from origin but rather his love and loyalty, devotion to people like you. you feel it in the way he kisses you- pecks on the cheek before he leaves work, or deep longing ones when the night has dawned and you’re in bed. he’s made peace with his mysteries if it means he can give all of himself to you, all the parts of him that you’ve chosen to love.

you’re the centre of his universe, the gravity that keeps him alive. and to you, he’s not chuuya nakahara: the god, or the night warden, or even a dog. he’s funny and faithful. he’s a terrible cook but a good motorcyclist. he’s incredibly handsome, cocky but somehow humble at the same time. he’s yours, for as long as gravity pulls him to you.

[dinosus]

PART 2 of John price being a domestic menace its borderline obsessive

You guys wanted a part two, i gave you a part two. Get ready to be FED. -

Price loves his peace and quiet at home, but let’s be real—he’s a dramatic little shit about it.

If you’re vacuuming? He’s fake groaning on the couch like an old man.

“Bloody hell, I just sat down.”

“John, it’s been ten hours. The house is dusty.”

“It builds character.”

You throw a pillow at him. He catches it and uses it to nap. -

He’s obsessed with Sunday mornings. No alarms, no plans, just the two of you and the soft smell of toast and coffee.

You wear his shirt. Hair all messy, eyes half shut. He damn near falls in love with you all over again.

“C’mere,” he grumbles, arms outstretched.

You end up tangled on the couch together, wrapped in a throw blanket, watching the same old war documentaries he insists are “historically accurate.” Spoiler: they’re not.

You fall asleep. He stays awake just to stare at you. -

This man has a drawer full of random little things you’ve ever given him. Notes. Receipts with doodles. A button you once sewed back on his shirt.

You caught him once, sitting at the kitchen table after a deployment, holding a crumpled note you’d stuck in his gear bag.

“Missed you, soldier. Be safe. Dinner’s waiting.”

He didn’t say anything. Just kissed you like you hung the moon. -

He tries to help with chores, emphasis on tries.

You told him to vacuum once—he vacuumed the cat.

“JOHN.”

“She walked right into it, love, what d’you want me to do—”

He’s banned from touching anything electronic in the house. Washing machine? No. Dishwasher? Hell no. You let him water the plants. Supervised. -

Price keeps a hand on you at all times when he’s home. Sitting on the couch? He pulls you onto his lap. Brushing your teeth? He’s behind you, arms around your waist.

You once tried to sneak out of bed early. Didn’t even get halfway up before you were yanked back down.

“Not so fast, Mrs. Price.”

“Yes so fast, we need milk.”

“Milk can wait. Cuddles first.” -

He absolutely refuses to let you carry grocery bags.

You once tried to be independent and carry ONE bag. He glared at you like you insulted his honor.

“Drop it.”

“John, it’s eggs.”

“Drop it.”

You let him carry all ten bags like some suburban Hercules. He grunts dramatically for extra flair. -

He’ll never admit it, but he loves your skincare routine.

If you do a face mask, he sits there watching you like a little goblin.

“What the hell is that?”

“A clay mask.”

“Is it gonna eat your face?”

Next thing you know, you’re putting one on him. He grumbles but sits still. Thirty minutes later, he says his skin feels “tight but hydrated.” (He googled that.) - This man is the epitome of a black cat energy. Bro's footsteps so quite, he literally jump scares the shit outta you. Bastard doesn’t announce himself. Just snakes his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder, watching you stir the soup. You try to keep focused, but his warm breath on your neck is criminal.

“John, if this burns because of you—”

“It’s soup, love. Not a landmine,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss behind your ear.

You try to swat him with the wooden spoon, but he’s already grinning, ducking out of reach.

And then he goes for it—stealing a kiss right as you’re adding the salt.

“Don’t care if the soup’s still cookin’—you taste better.” He’s sneaking kisses while you’re trying to stir the pot. You threaten him with the wooden spoon. He laughs. “Fine, I’ll wait. But I’m takin’ seconds—of you, not the soup.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Had your fill ? :) Part one is on my account page, check it out ! <3

[daddydixonscrossbow]

Jealous Daryl with a breeding kink??? Ummm, yes!

Aaron brought in some new people, and you were assigned to show them around, give them the rules, etc.

“Alright, welcome to Alexandria. Any and all weapons will be put in this cart.” You motion, “You can check them out in a few days once you are settled.”

You watched as they put in their weapons and stepped back into their original spots, “I believe Aaron has you guys assigned to be in two of the houses down on the corner, so if you’ll just-“

Daryl walks up, “Hey, m’goin’ on’a run w’Rick.” His hand slides around your waist, “Catch up later?”

You nod, giving him a smile, “Yeah, stay safe.”

He gives you a slight smirk, “Yes ma’am.”

You turn back to the group, “That was Daryl Dixon and Rick Grimes. They practically run this show. We’ll meet them later.” You sigh, “Alright. Follow me.” As you walk down the road, you point out what things are, making some stops to introduce them to others, “This is Carol. If you need any cookies made, she’s your gal.”

Carol smiles, “Oh stop it.” She looks back at the group, “she ain’t lying though.”

The group laughs and you smile at them, “I’ll take ya down here to get settled, shower, relax for a little bit. Come tomorrow, you’re officially one of us, so it’ll be time for you guys to pull your weight of the work.”

“Excuse me.” One guy raises his hand, “Do we get dinner?”

You nod, “‘Course you get dinner. It’s usually made around six, so you can go to the house that I showed you prior and that’s where you get it.”

You walk backwards, motioning to the houses, “Welcome home.”

It’s been a few hours now, and you’ve helped some of the newbies with things, made sure they were settling in alright and what not, and Aaron walks up to you, “Hey.”

“Hey.” You smile, “They seem to be adjusting really well.”

“Thanks for doing this, y/n. I really appreciate it.” He looks at the people sitting on their porches and back to you, “I couldn’t think of anyone better.” You smile, “I appreciate that.”

“Hey, y/n, right?” The same guy that asks about dinner walks up. You nod, “Correct. What can I do for you?”

“I’ll leave you to it.” Aaron pats your shoulder and you nod, looking back at the guy, “Your name was Clay, right?” He nods, “Yes. You guys brought me and my sister in.”

“How are you adjusting?” You cross your arms, “I know seeing all of this after being out there isn’t easy by any means.”

“Yeah, that’s what I came to talk to you about, a lot of my people trust you. So I was wondering if maybe you can be the one to assign their jobs and talk to them if things need done.”

“Oh absolutely.” You nod, “I’ll go let Aaron know right now.” As you turn, you see Daryl walking towards you. You smile and walk up to him, “How was the run?”

“Who’s that?” He nods and you glance back, “That’s clay, one of the new guys.” Your smile slowly fades as you see Daryl’s daggered stare staying on him. You reach up, “Daryl, babe. How was the run?”

“Fine.” He looks down at you, “what did he want?”

You smirk, “He told me that I’m the only one his group trusts, and he doesn’t want big scary people like you talking to them just yet.”

His straight lips crack into a smirk and you pat his chest, “There we go. Come on, I gotta go talk to Aaron.”

Over the next few days, you noticed Daryl being more touchy than he normally is. Before he goes anywhere away from you, whether it’s on a run or within the community, he’ll come up and kiss your cheek, or your lips. He’ll wrap his arm around you while you talk, just standing there.

“Y’gon be a’right if I go for a’run with Maggie?” His fingers drag over your hip, “Shouldn’t be gone too long.”

You look up at him, “I’ll be fine.” You turn towards him, “What’s with you lately?” He shakes his head as he shrugs, “M’not sure what’cha’ mean, darlin’.” He smirks, leaning in to kiss you, “Gotta go. Maggie’s waitin’.”

He walks away and you squint, “Uh huh. Be safe.”

He raises his hand, “Yes, ma’am.”

Later on, you hear the gates open and you’re standing there laughing with the group that came in a few days ago, clay standing right next to you.

“Yeah, so when I stood up, my foot slipped and all you heard was me yell out, “Help!” But it was the way I said it that cracks me up, it was like something you’d find in a cartoon.” You cover your mouth as you laugh and suddenly you feel a hand on your wrist.

You turn, walking with Daryl as he leads you away from the group.

“Daryl.”

He doesn’t say a word, just leads you back to your shared house and takes you inside. His bow wasn’t even off his back before he slams you against the wall, lips roughly kissing yours.

You don’t fight back, you teach up, gripping the edge of his vest to pull him closer.

“Yer’mine.” He mumbles, “People need t’know that

“I know, baby.” You look up at him, “M’yours.”

He steps back, pulling you with him towards the steps, and as you reach the top, he pulls you to him. Lips on yours as he walks you back towards the room.

“I know people wan’you. See it all day, every fuckin’ day.”

“I don’t want any’a them.” You assure with a nod, “You’re all I want, all I need.” You gasp as he pushes you backwards onto the bed, staring up at him as up as you watch him pull his bow from his body and setting it down.

His hands move to pull his vest down over his broad shoulders and you let out a whimper, you knew what was coming.

“Wan’you naked, darlin’.” He nods, “Now.”

You comply, stripping your clothes from your body as fast as you could. His eyes never leave you as he chewed on his lip, tilting his head as you lay back, legs spreading open for him.

He pushes off his shirt, moving down to crawl up towards you, “So fuckin’ pretty.” He pressed his lips to yours, “Don’know how I got’cha.” He shakes his head, “But I ain’t lettin’ y’go.”

You pull him back in, lips moving with him in a heated passion.

You gasp against his lips as his fingers circle your clit. He kisses back your jaw, whispering low in your ear, “M’gonna put a baby in ya, really show people who you belong to, huh?”

Your whine at his words turns into moans as she shoves two of his fingers into your cunt, “F-fuck, yes.”

“Yes what, darlin’?” He mumbles as he works his fingers into and out, “Talk t’me. M’listenin’.”

Your back lifts from the bed, “Feels so good.” You lift your head, eyes opening as you look up at him, “Want you so bad.”

“How bad?” He asks, lips planting along your chest, “Need t’know, baby.”

“So bad, so fucking bad.” You whine, walls closing on his pointer and middle, “Daryl, please.” He kisses down your chest, stopping to take your nipple into his mouth. His tongue flicking over and his teeth biting down send you into a dizzy state, “Y-yes.” You breathe out, “Oh.. oh my god.”

He lifts his head, fingers still curling as he treats your untouched nipple to the same treatment as the other.

Your heavy breathing and moans fill the room. Your hand lays on his head, dragging his hair into your grasp, “F-fuck. So fuckin’ close, baby.” You gasp, “Fuck, fuck.”

He kisses up your neck, “love makin’ y’sound like this.” He whispers, “tell me who makes ya’feel this good, baby.”

“Y-you.” You gasp, “Fuck, fuck. You. Always you.” You drag your nails down his arms, moaning loudly as you come around his fingers. He nods, “Thas’right.” He bites his lip, watching as you come down from your high.

He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his lips and you watch in awe how he groans around them as he tastes the one thing he loves most.

You.

Your eyes bounce down to his jeans, watching as he undoes them and pushes them down. He leans forward, one hand by your head as he uses the other to guide himself in to you.

He groans, reaching up to cup your cheek as he thrusts into you fully, “always so fuckin’ tight ‘round me.” He presses his lips against yours, “M’gonna fill you full.”

He pulls out, and you barely have any time to register before he thrusts into you, hard.

You gasp, moaning out loudly as you cling to him, “F-fuck!”

His thrusts stay rough, jolting your body each time his body meets yours, “wanna fuckin’ take out anyone who looks at ya.” You nod, “I- yes, yes.”

“You’d look so beautiful pregnant with my baby.”

His words urge you closer and closer into letting that happen, “Keep going.” You pant, “S’hot when you talk like that.”

A smirk spreads onto his lips, “M’gonna fuck ya till everyone knows yer’mine, darlin’.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, “Fill ya full, have ya walk ‘round with me for days inside’ya.”

“Please, please.” You whine, “Need you, all’a you.” You pull him back in, roughly moving your lips with his, “M’fuck.” You throw your head back, whining loudly as he pushes you over the edge once more, “D-don’t st-“

Your words are cut short by his hand squeezing your neck. A small squeak sounds as he squeezes tighter, “Don’t worry, baby. Promise m’not stoppin’.”

Your eyes roll back as pleasure takes over your whole body. Your thighs twitching around his hips as he keeps his promise, groaning loudly, “Hate seein’ people touch ya.” He leans in, pressing kisses to your face, “Lookin’ at ya. Fuck, even talkin’ to ya.”

You cling to him tighter, whimpering out as his grip on your throat releases, “I- oh fuck!” You whine, “Yours, m’yours, baby.” You connect your lips to his, “I love you.”

“I love you.” He grunts, “Fuck. Almost done, baby. Jus’ little bit more.” He rests his forehead against yours, his hand sliding down to grip onto your thigh, “Feels so fuckin’ good..” he crashes his lips onto yours, moaning against them lowly as his cock twitches inside of you, filling you - just like he said he was going to.

Your legs relax, falling outward as he slowly pulls out.

He lays next to you, stretching his arm out and you roll over to lay with him, “You do know that I only have my eyes on you, right?” You tilt your head back to look up at him and he nods, “Yeah, I know.” He brushes hair from his face, “Seein’ y’laugh with him jus’made me all..”

“Jealous?”

He laughs, “Yeah, we can go w’that.” He presses his lips to your forehead, “was serious about the whole puttin’ a baby in ya, too.”

You smirk, “Yeah, kinda caught onto that.” You lay your arm over him, your thumb gently stroking his side, “I think you’d be a very good dad.”

“Ya think?”

You nod, “I know.”

Here’s a kiss for likin’ and rebloggin’💋

[cameronsbabydoll]

can we get a cutesy little mother's day one shot with jewish!rafe and reader? like the whole family going out to brunch, her kids getting her gifts, and rafe fucking her goodddd lol

jewish!rafe and jewish!reader on mother’s day ᥫ᭡

warnings: smut (18+) oral f receiving, praise kink, vanity sex, fluff

your morning starts with the smell of fresh peonies and the sound of sarah and jacob fighting over who gets to bring you your latte first.

you’re still in bed, silk robe slipping off one shoulder, a little smile on your lips when the door opens and your kids rush in with a tray with a vanilla oat milk latte, a croissant from your favorite french bakery, and a tiny card that says “to the prettiest mommy in the world.”

"you’re spoiling me," you hum sleepily, pulling both of them into bed with you, kissing their cheeks. rafe leans against the doorframe, smirking in a white tee and sweats, holding the peony bouquet like it’s a peace offering. "i always do" he says, raising a brow.

by brunch, you’re in a white lace dress, stacked in van cleef and carrying your newest birkin—rafe insisted on getting you the special edition croc skin one “because you deserve it.” the hostess at the mark restaurant knew you by name, had your usual table ready, and the mimosas never stopped flowing.

sarah gave you a custom bracelet. jacob made you a clay trinket dish at school. rafe handed you a black velvet box under the table—inside was a diamond tennis necklace that nearly made you cry.

"babe," you whispered, clutching his thigh under the table. "you didn’t have to."

he just leaned over, kissed your temple, and whispered, “not done yet.”

that night, the kids were with your in-laws. the house was quiet, lit only by candles and soft jazz playing from the kitchen. you were wiping off your makeup at the vanity, silk nightgown clinging to you, when you heard him pad in behind you.

"still mad i didn’t let you pay the bill today?" he teased, arms slipping around your waist, lips brushing your neck.

"i’m not mad," you say, fake-pouting, "just think it’s my day."

he grins. “you’re right. guess i should let you sit back and relax, yeah?”

and before you can answer, he’s on his knees on the marble floor, spreading your legs open in front of the mirror, his head pushing up your gown.

“you looked so fuckin’ good at brunch. couldn’t stop thinking about this all day.”

he kisses up your thighs, licking over the lace of your panties. “gonna make you come right here, princess. right on this vanity. show you how much i love you.”

you gasp when his tongue finally slides over you, body melting back against the mirror, moaning his name while his hands grip your thighs tight. he doesn’t stop until your legs are shaking, your fingers tangled in his curls, and he’s murmuring praise like a prayer against your skin.

“happy mother’s day, baby,” he says, grinning against your thigh. “you deserve it all.”

and god, he means it.

[moonstruckme]

im literally in lovee with your writing of sirius black id love love love more of him x reader pleasee [my favourite is friends to lovers or just being super domestic but tbh I'd read anything u write with him in lmaoo]

Thank you for requesting lovely! It worked out that I'd just written this when I got your ask, so I hope it fits what you're wanting!

cw: reader has hair long enough to tie back

Sirius Black x whimsical!reader ♡ 833 words

Sirius finds you out behind Remus’ house, sitting in the grass and, by all appearances, playing with mud. 

“Hey there,” he says, “did you manage to find the bathroom?” 

You have a tendency to wander off. Sometimes it’s intentional, sometimes you get lost, and Sirius can never tell which is happening at any given time. As much as he’d like to tie a string between you so you’re never very far, he’s learned to let you go where you will; you always end up where you want to be anyways. 

“You were talking about football,” you say by way of answer, the slightest hint of sheepishness in your sweet voice. “I thought you wouldn’t mind if I went off for a bit.” 

Sirius hums and lowers himself onto the grass beside you, stretching his legs out. The sun is warm and welcome on his face, just enough breeze to keep it from getting too hot. 

It’s a beautiful day, you’d noted upon waking up this morning, already opening the windows in his bedroom. 

Looks like it, Sirius said from bed. He smiled wryly. It’ll probably be the last decent one we have all year.

You’d frowned. That’s not a very nice way to manifest the weather. 

While Sirius is upturned, you’re bent over, messing with something in your hands and dipping your fingers occasionally into a pail of water. 

“What’ve you got there, pretty girl?” 

“A mug,” you say simply. You thumb concentratedly at the slimy thing in your hands, lips pursing. “Or, a soon-to-be-mug.” 

“And you’re making it out of…mud?” 

“No,” you laugh, looking up at your boyfriend in that fond, indulgent way you have. Like he can be so silly sometimes. “Remember how Remus said there was clay by the stream back that way? I’m using some of that.” 

“Ah.” Sirius tilts his head, studying the misshapen lump in your hands. “I see. And this is going to be a drinking mug?” 

You hum in affirmation, and he leaves it at that. He’s not terribly sure whatever you end up with will be able to hold water, but he knows better than to try and dissuade you once you’ve set your mind to something. Maybe he can sign the both of you up for a pottery class sometime. 

A piece of hair falls from behind your ear, and you blow at it, trying to keep it out of your face with your hands occupied.

“Here,” Sirius offers. He takes an elastic off his wrist, gathering the hair away from your face and tying it back loosely the way you like it. 

You gift him a sideways smile in return. A bit of dried clay on your cheek cracks with the movement. Evidently, this isn’t the first time you’ve had to push your hair back. “Thank you.” 

“Baby,” he says, voice laden with fondness. He steadies your face with one hand, swiping at the clay with the other. “You’ve got it all over you.” 

It’s true. It covers your hands up past your wrists, and several places on your legs have pale gray tracks where you’ve wiped your fingers off on them. 

“It’s a messy business,” you say matter-of-factly, “but it dries sort of pretty, I think. Do you want some?” 

He cocks an eyebrow. “How do you mean?” 

You set your soon-to-be-mug down gingerly, extending a hand to him. “Give me your arm.” 

Sirius suppresses a sigh. He didn’t really plan on getting dirty today, but he’s hardly in the habit of denying you anything you ask for. He sets his forearm in your hand. 

You dip a finger into the wettest part of your clay, setting it to the skin above his wrist. Your touch is cool and slick on his sun-warmed skin. You draw a little star like you’re fingerpainting, the clay a funny contrast to the dark tattoos surrounding it. 

You look so pleased with your work that Sirius can’t help himself. He leans forward, giving you a drawn-out, amorous kiss. 

“Thank you,” he says in his most saccharine voice. 

Your lashes flutter prettily as you blink, a rare shy smile taking you. “You’re welcome.” 

Sirius dips two fingers into your pail of water, using them to wipe the remaining clay off your cheek more thoroughly. When he’s done, he spots another smudge on your shoulder, inexplicable. He tsks. “When you’re done with your mug, we might have to ask Remus if you can use his shower, lovely girl. You really do have it all over you.” 

“Oh, there’s no need to trouble him,” you say airily. “The stream’s not very far, and it’s flowing rather quickly with all the rain we’ve been having.” 

He blinks. “Did you bring your swimsuit?”

You look at him bemusedly. “No. Why?” 

Sirius bends his head, letting his hair fall like a curtain to conceal his smile as he kisses the clean part of your shoulder. “I think it’d be better if you used Remus’ shower, sweetheart. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

[rafecameronssl4t]

please could u write smth about tennis player!rafe x reader inspired by this tiktok? https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS6DpuLF4/ Like maybe Rafe is training with his coach and reader comes to visit him and he’s distracted by her and just continues to kiss her and his coach is not amused lol

Kisses || Tennis player!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: here is the TikTok btw!! ALSO CEO!Rafe will be posted next 👀

Warnings: none really

Word count: 874

MASTERLIST (tennis player!rafe au masterlist)

The distant rhythm of tennis balls striking the ground and Rafe’s unmistakable grunts echoed through the air as you strolled toward the courts. The midday sun in Monaco cast a golden glow over the clay courts, and your steps quickened in anticipation.

From a distance, you could see Rafe mid-swing, his movements sharp and fluid, a testament to hours of relentless training. His coach stood off to the side, occasionally shouting instructions, but Rafe seemed entirely in his element, focused and unrelenting. You paused for a moment, watching him from afar.

The satisfying thwack of the ball meeting the strings of his racquet and the way his body moved with precision and power drew a small smile to your face. He scored a point, his opponent letting out a frustrated groan, and a flicker of pride swelled in your chest. As you reached the fence surrounding the court, you leaned against it, fingers curling around the cool metal.

Your eyes traced his frame—shirtless, his back muscles taut and glistening with sweat. Droplets trickled down his arms under the relentless sun, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how effortlessly he commanded the game. Rafe’s sharp eyes flicked toward you, and the moment he saw you, his serious expression softened.

A boyish smile tugged at his lips, his usual swagger faltering slightly as he nodded at you in acknowledgment. He walked toward you, his racquet dangling casually in his hand. “Hey, babe,” he greeted, his voice carrying just enough huskiness to make your stomach flip. Without hesitation, he leaned over the fence, capturing your lips in a brief but heated kiss.

You smiled against his lips, the salty tang of his sweat brushing your senses. “Hey,” you murmured as your fingers instinctively found his jaw, tracing the faint stubble there. “How’s training?” “Good,” he answered, though the word was barely out before he leaned in for another kiss, this one lingering a little longer. You chuckled softly, your laughter vibrating against his lips.

“That’s good,” you teased, pulling back slightly, only for him to chase your mouth with his own. His determination earned another laugh from you. “Rafe,” you said, your voice a mix of exasperation and affection, but he only grinned, brushing his nose against yours as he muttered, “What? Can’t kiss my girl a few times?”

Your hand slid down to rest on his chest, his skin warm and slightly damp under your touch. “I feel like it’s more than a few times,” you joked, trying to maintain some semblance of seriousness. “I was actually going to tell you—” He cut you off with another kiss, this one slower, his lips brushing against yours like he had all the time in the world.

You let out a muffled laugh, gently pushing his chest. “Rafe, come on. I’m trying to talk to you.”“I’m listening,” he said, his tone playful, though his actions said otherwise. His lips found the corner of your mouth, then the curve of your jaw, trailing kisses lazily like he couldn’t get enough. “No, you’re not,” you protested, your words losing their edge as he tilted your chin to kiss you again, this time more firmly.

“Sure I am,” he murmured against your lips, his hands sliding around your waist to pull you closer.“Rafe, seriously!” you managed to say, though you couldn’t help but laugh at his persistence. “I was trying to tell you that—” “Mm-hmm,” he hummed, pressing another kiss to the side of your neck. “Go on.” “—that I ran into Sarah earlier, and she said—” “Sarah, yep. Sounds important,” he interrupted, his lips capturing yours again before you could finish.

You groaned, half-annoyed, half-amused, as you tried to wiggle free. “You’re impossible.” “And you’re hot,” he shot back, his grin smug as he finally pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “What was Sarah saying again?” “You don’t even care!” you accused, though you couldn’t help but smile at his unapologetic expression.

“Not when you’re standing here looking like that,” he admitted, leaning in for what must have been the tenth kiss in the last minute. Before you could respond, his coach, Joseph, shouted across the court with a hint of sarcasm. “Cameron, save the kissing for somewhere that’s not my practice session!” Rafe groaned, glancing over his shoulder before turning back to you with a playful pout.

“Guess I gotta go.” “Yeah, you better,” you teased, pushing him gently. “Before Joseph loses it.” He smirked, stealing one last kiss before jogging back onto the court. “You’re a distraction, you know that?” he called over his shoulder, throwing you a wink that left your cheeks burning.