#but if there is something. ANYTHING. that you can do that will make you feel a little bit better

[falesten-iw]

When I first joined Tumblr, I had no idea what I was walking into. There’s no manual for navigating this wild, untamed corner of the internet. My first moment here? I was greeted by an image completely naked, no warning, no explanation. It was just there, bold and unapologetic. That’s when I realized: Tumblr is a place where anything can happen.

But for all its chaos, Tumblr has become something far greater than I ever expected. For us Palestinians, this platform isn’t just a space to scroll through memes or vent about life. It’s a lifeline, a place where we’ve taken the raw, messy energy of this site and turned it into a battleground for survival. Here, we tell our stories, raise funds, and fight for our lives.

I’ve seen campaigns soar past their goals, bringing hope to families barely holding on. But I’ve also seen campaigns like mine, ones that fight tooth and nail for every single dollar, every reblog, every addition, and every ounce of hope. My family’s lives depend on this.

It hasn’t been easy. Zionists flood all Palestinian words with hate, twisting truths and spreading lies. They aim to discredit us, to make people doubt us. It’s exhausting. Some nights, I sit with my phone in my hands, wondering if this fight is too big for me. But then something beautiful happens: a donation comes through, a kind message appears, or someone I’ve never met reblogs my story with words that feel like a warm embrace.

And through it all, people are starting to see the truth. The hate doesn’t drown us; it sharpens our voices. Every day, more people step forward to stand with us, to say, “I see you, I hear you, and I’m with you.” It’s those moments that keep me going.

To everyone who has already helped, whether through verification, donating, wrting post , reblogging, or simply sharing a kind word: thank you. You’ve done more for my family than I could ever put into words. But the reality is, we’re not there yet. My family is still waiting for a chance to breathe, to live without fear, to fill their empty stomachs with warm food, and to wrap themselves in clothes thick enough to keep out the bitter cold. They’re hungry, they’re freezing, and I can’t do this alone.

This fight is hard, but it’s not hopeless. Strangers have become friends, and friends have become family. Some of you have shown up in ways I never imagined, treating my family’s survival as if it were your own. That kind of solidarity? It’s powerful.

Tumblr might be chaotic, unpredictable, and sometimes downright bizarre, but it’s also the place where we’ve built something extraordinary: a community that refuses to look away from injustice. With your help, we can take this fight all the way. My family’s lives are within reach, and together, I know we’ll get there.

This campaign isn’t just about me. It supports 26 people, including two orphaned children and an injured family member suffering from hemiplegia after being hit by shrapnel during a bombing. Surgery is desperately needed to replace the infected and failing plates. The needs are urgent, and the future of 26 lives depends on your support.

The video showing the injured family member is shared before in this post: Link.

Please help us ! Donate and reblog this post to spread our story.

Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.

Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link

Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link

Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link

Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link

If, for some reason, you couldn't donate via GoFundMe, you can donate via PayPal instead. Please keep the conversion rates in mind when donating through GoFundMe. Every 100 SEK is equivalent to 10 dollars, and 200 SEK equals 20 dollars and so on.

Note: There’s even a raffle for a handmade Palestinian thob if you want to participate : Link

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[dreamscapeee222]

You have poor eyesight

Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Ekko, Viktor, Jayce, Mel

A/n: Really rushed with this lol but it should be fine. Bon appetit!

Masterlist

Vi

Vi would tease you lightly, calling you "four-eyes" if you wear glasses or joking about how "the world looks better blurry anyway" if you don’t. But it’s always said with a grin that lets you know she loves you just the way you are.

If you struggle to see something, Vi would be the first to step in and help. She’d guide your hand to what you’re looking for or describe things in vivid detail, making it fun so you don’t feel self-conscious.

She loves holding your hand when you're navigating unfamiliar areas, making it feel less like a necessity and more like an excuse to stay close. “Stick with me, short-stack. I’ve got your back.”

On lazy days, she’d trace your face with her fingers while you lie together, her voice soft as she murmurs, “Doesn’t matter what you see—what matters is what I see, and that’s someone amazing.”

During tender moments, she’d lean down and say, “Guess it’s lucky for me you didn’t see someone better,” before kissing you deeply.

Caitlyn:

Caitlyn would be the most practical about it, immediately asking if you need updated glasses, a new prescription, or anything to help. She’d even offer to bring you to Piltover’s best optometrist.

If you ever feel embarrassed about squinting or losing your glasses, she’d cup your chin and kiss you softly, whispering, “You’re beautiful, no matter what you see.”

She’d make sure everything in your shared space is organized and accessible for you. If you have trouble finding something, Caitlyn would quietly place it in your hand with a soft, reassuring smile.

During late-night talks, she’d lean in and kiss you gently, her voice soothing as she says, “You’re all I see. Nothing else matters.”

Caitlyn would take pride in making sure you never feel limited. If there’s something you can’t do because of your eyesight, she’d offer a solution or alternative with a warm smile and unwavering support.

Jinx:

Jinx would definitely make a big, dramatic show of it. She’d wave her hands in front of your face, asking, “Can you see this? What about this?!” just to make you laugh.

When you’re struggling to spot something, she’d hop on your back and point things out like a pirate’s lookout, making it a game to cheer you up.

If you wear glasses, she’d insist on decorating them with stickers or doodles, saying, “Now you’ll be cool AND functional!” She’d giggle while planting a quick kiss on your lips.

She’d secretly learn what frustrates you most about your eyesight and try to fix it in her quirky, Jinx-like way. Can’t see far? She might rig a telescope gadget for you, proudly presenting it with a kiss on your hand.

On days when you’re down, Jinx would surprise you with a flurry of kisses, peppering them all over your face until you’re laughing and feeling loved again.

Ekko:

Ekko would always notice when you’re struggling to see something, immediately stepping in to help with an encouraging smile and a cheeky, “I got you, babe.”

If you bump into something or get flustered, he’d grin and say, “You’re cute when you’re clumsy,” before kissing you gently to soothe any embarrassment.

He’d tease you lightly about your poor eyesight but would always make it clear he finds it endearing, pulling you in for a kiss and saying, “You see just fine where it matters most—right here with me.”

Ekko would love playing little games to cheer you up, like making a guessing game out of blurry objects or using his time manipulation to "rewind" your stumbles into something graceful.

He’d keep his arm around you when you're out together, using it as both a guide and a silent way of keeping you close. “You’re safe with me,” he’d whisper, leaning in to kiss your temple.

Viktor:

Viktor would carefully modify things in your environment to make them easier for you, like adding soft lights or adjusting your work tools. “A small improvement,” he’d say, his voice full of quiet pride.

If you wear glasses, Viktor would always take care of them for you, cleaning or fixing them without a second thought. “Your vision matters to me,” he’d say, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

He’d encourage you not to see your eyesight as a weakness, softly saying, “We all have limitations. But you overcome yours beautifully,” before kissing your forehead.

Viktor would love moments where you rely on him to guide you, using it as an excuse to hold your hand or pull you close.

He’d craft personalized solutions for any frustration you have, making sure you never feel like your eyesight limits your abilities or independence, always ending his gestures with a soft kiss of reassurance.

Jayce:

Jayce would constantly reassure you about your eyesight, saying, “If anything, it just makes me want to take care of you more,” before sweeping you into a warm hug and a kiss.

He’d invent practical yet adorable solutions, like a glasses case with your favorite design or a magnifying gadget you can wear around your neck for convenience.

If you ever bump into something or squint at something too long, Jayce would chuckle and ruffle your hair, saying, “You know you can just ask me for help, right?” before guiding you.

He’d love making you laugh when you’re frustrated about your vision, pulling you close and joking, “Good thing I’m here to be your eyes AND your muscles.”

During quiet moments, Jayce would hold your hands and kiss each one, looking into your eyes and saying, “You don’t need perfect sight to see how much I love you.”

Mel:

Mel would handle it with quiet grace, always ensuring you feel comfortable. She’d notice the things you struggle with and adjust without making a big deal out of it—like moving a book closer to you or pointing out details you might miss.

She’d gift you stylish, luxurious glasses or accessories, always making sure they feel like a part of your personality rather than a necessity.

When you’re squinting at something, Mel would smirk and lean in close, her breath brushing your skin as she whispers, “Need a closer look?” before kissing you sweetly.

If you ever feel frustrated, she’d sit beside you, gently holding your hand and saying, “Let me share my vision with you. Together, we can see the world clearly.”

Mel would use your eyesight as an excuse for more intimate moments—holding your face in her hands, guiding your gaze to hers, and kissing you softly to remind you that you’re loved.

Requests may be sent through the ask box. SFW only.

@self-aes request: Good day. I want to write a headcanon about a reader with poor eyesight/wearing glasses. How characters from arcane will interact with him. I want to see Vi, Caitlin, Jinx, Ekko, Victor, Jace, Mel. Sorry if you see any mistakes (English is not my preferred language, I checked with a translator)

[seungcheorry]

it makes you worry a bit, how quiet mingyu is. he's lying on his stomach, limbs spread out on the bed, his face pressed against his pillow as he mindlessly scrolls through his phone - and you know he ain't paying attention to it.

"are you hungry?", you ask him, after getting out of the shower.

mingyu slightly shakes his head, looking up from his phone.

"are you?", he asks, pouting when you nod. "do you mind ordering something? i don't feel like cooking..."

wow, okay. now that's new.

mingyu watches as you climb in bed with him, laying on top of his exposed back.

"what's wrong?", your voice sounds like a key trying to unlock something to him, and he huffs.

"nothing", his voice is muffled by the pillow. "i'm just tired".

"are you sure? would you tell me if there's anything bothering you?"

mingyu sighs, trying to look at you from the corner of his eyes.

"yeah. i'm just feeling down, the tour was great, but i'm exhausted, and we have many more schedules coming... i feel like i'm out of energy."

"wow, kim mingyu out of energy?"

your playful tone makes him laugh a bit, dropping his phone so he can reach for your head that's resting on his shoulder, caressing your hair.

you press a tender kiss to his skin, letting it linger.

"it's just one of those days... where i wish i didn't exist. i wish i could be a tiny dust floating in the air."

"just recharge, baby. go to sleep and don't worry about anything", you tell him.

mingyu hums, sighing so deeply yet again.

"will you be with me?", he shyly asks, as if he's a 5 year old boy; as if he hasn't been dating you for so long.

as if you could ever leave him.

"of course i will."

[stxrslut]

DIDN'T GIVE UP 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

pairing; rafe cameron x sweetie!reader

summary; after getting out of rehab, rafe is desperate to be intimate with you, so it feels like his whole world falls apart when he’s unable to arouse himself. but with plenty of commitment and a promise not to give up, he finally manages to succeed, even if it’s not in the way that you’d both wished for

content; talk of addiction and rehab, brief mention of overdose, erectile dysfunction, masturbation, brief handjob

author's note; inspired by a few conversations had over on @starfxkrinc about post rehab rafe. I'm super happy with how this one turned out, I really love exploring these sides of rafe

you hold rafe’s hand as you both walk inside. tonight has been so special, your first date since rafe got out of rehab. it had been intimate and quiet and comfortable. a lovely meal at the local gourmet restaurant filled with gentle loving touches had left you both wanting more, a more that neither of you had had for a while.

even before rehab, rafe had just stopped having sex with you. you’d thought you might get somewhere but then the od happened and he’d needed to go to rehab which meant you didn’t even see him for months. 

you’re both so touch starved, no words need to be spoken before you’re both making your way up to the bedroom, kissing and fumbling with each other’s clothes, quickly and desperately.

“god— missed you so much,” he murmurs, hands on your hips as he backs through the bedroom door, turning and kicking it shut like he always used to when you first started sneaking around together.

you moan softly “me too. missed you rafe.” one of your hands wraps around his neck and the other comes down to palm at him through his pants, his bulge is noticeable but he’s not hard yet. you undo his zipper and touch him through his boxers.

you both move back towards the bed and you pull his dick out, taking it in your hand and starting to jerk him off, but you both notice something. that something being nothing, nothing is happening. his dick isn’t doing anything. 

rafe frowns and you do the same, both of you look down as your hand keeps moving for no reaction. after about thirty seconds rafe steps away, “shit I– I didn’t know that would happen.” he rubs the back of his neck, “shit… shit.” 

you step forward and place a hand on his arm, “oh rafe… hey I’m sure its normal.. you did just get outta rehab,” you try to pull him to look at you but he doesn’t, he stares straight at the floor and shrugs you off.

“no… I.. this happens when I’m high not– I’ve been sober for two months.” he exaggerates, you can hear his voice beginning to break. you had considered that this might be an obstacle but you weren’t expecting him to react like this, surely all it’s going to take is a bit of trial and error until he can get it up with as much ease as he used to.

though you suppose this must be hard for him. finally getting some normality back and he can’t even properly enjoy it. and you know how much he hates to feel emasculated. maybe it is a big deal for him. even though it’s not guaranteed to happen yet, the imminent possibility must have shocked him into a panic. 

that’s fine, you’ve dealt with rafe under much more serious circumstances.

you step forward, more confident now that you have an idea of what the problem is and how you can solve it. “rafe, sweetie don’t panic,” you speak gently, “we’re gonna sort this out okay?” 

rafe looks down at you, “sorry– sorry I’m.. just wasn’t expectin’ it..” he scratches the back of his neck, looking down at his uncovered self. you nod, understanding his distress.

“that’s okay, it was a surprise huh?” you stroke his arm gently, “you wanna try again?” you ask gently and he nods shakily, taking a calming breath before letting you guide him to the bed. he sits down first and then you climb on after him, straddling his lap and quickly managing to retain the mood you were in before.

you grind down a little and his hands come to your hips to help your movements like he normally would but he’s quickly letting out an agitated noise and pushing you off. “it’s not working,” he groans in frustration. 

you pull yourself up to sit next to him. your hand comes to his chest, “oh baby,” you coo as you notice the tears welling in his eyes that he’s so obviously trying to hold back. in his mind not being able to get aroused is bad enough, crying would just make him pathetic. 

“what do you wanna do huh?” you pry, stroking his chest now and coming up to kiss his shoulder. “I’m sure that there are things we can try… it’s only been a couple of minutes.” you try to reassure him but you’re pretty sure he’s going to be inconsolable until he can feel confident in himself again. in his mind, a couple of minutes should mean you’re already halfway through round two.

“I– I don’t understand,” he sniffles pitifully, not daring to make eye contact with you as he instead stares down at his completely motionless dick. “this wasn’t supposed to happen anymore.. I- I got sober.” 

you kiss him again, “you did baby, you got sober,” you smile sympathetically, “and this is normal, its normal to have erectile dysfunction after stuff like this.” though that reassurance sets him off more.

“don’t– don’t call it that,” he snaps ever so slightly, shoulders tensing and momentarily shrugging your hand away, “I don’t– I can’t have a dysfunction, okay it’s– it’s gotta work.” his voice breaks just a little.

you nod, “okay… okay then we’ll make it work, okay?” you move your body so that you can look him in the eyes, you bring your hand up to cup his face. “you just tell me what you need, okay? we can do whatever you want, whatevers gonna help you.” 

he thinks for a moment, you can see the cogs in his brain turning behind his eyes as he tries to find something that he thinks may help him. his lips are parted and his cheeks are slightly pink. he eventually seems to come to a conclusion, he hesitates for a moment before speaking tentatively, “can uh.. can I try doin’ it myself?”

you nod, “yeah, course baby.” you smile, proud of him for being able to articulate his need, “where do you want me? should I give you some privacy or–” 

rafe shakes his head, “can you stay,” he asks, “please… just.. I really need you to be here.” he tries to avert his eyes, he’s embarrassed, you can tell, he reeks of humiliation and you wish that you could just take it away from him. after all that he’s been through in the past few months you feel this is the last thing he deserves. 

“I’ll stay here,” you affirm, “I’ll stay here as long as you need okay? you just do whatever you need to do.” you move with him as his hand comes to grasp yours whilst the other supports him while he shakily manoeuvres himself to half sit half lay against the headboard. 

you stay on the edge of the bed, keeping a hold of his hand as that is evidently what he wants you to do. his chest rises and falls slowly as he pushes his pants further down and then gently grasps his soft dick. 

he begins to move tentatively, doing his best to throw his head back and not think about it. you stay quiet, just letting him figure it out for himself. 

he manages to get it up, a little, you notice a look of clear relief on his face as he relishes in the sensation he’d worried that he wouldn’t get back. his movement quickens and then his face falls as he loses it.

you stroke his thumb with your own, “it’s okay baby, just take your time.” you murmur softly as his face scrunches up in annoyance. but he perseveres, hand going back down to try once again.

he tries, he really tries. he tries so many times, over and over again, and to both of your increasing dismay he keeps losing it over and over again too. 

poor rafe, tears slip down his cheeks and he groans from sadness and surely a little pain at the fact that he’s basically rubbed himself raw down there. his tip is pink and angry, you have half a mind to tell him to stop but you fear he may hurt himself more if he can’t manage or stop on his own terms. 

he huffs sadly. he knows he needs to stop too, “just– just one more try.” he says, “one more.” he nods decisively before looking up to you, almost as if to ask for your blessing to just try one more time. 

of course you nod, “yeah, one more time. you’ve got this rafe,” you tell him, squeezing his hand reassuringly with a loving smile, hoping to encourage him to finally get it. 

rafe starts again, slowly at first and then he builds up his movements, it takes a long few minutes but he manages to get himself hard, fully hard. he grunts and groans and you have to stop yourself from slipping a hand under your own underwear so as not to distract him from his moment. 

after another long few minutes he practically cries out, then whimpers and then tears of relief fall down his cheeks as he finally cums. it’s not a lot, and it doesn’t last long, but it does him good. the feeling simply overwhelms him and he finally feels reassured that he can be normal again.

once he’s ridden it out you wipe the tears from his cheek with your free hand, “hey.” you smile down at him, “well done, you did so good.” you speak gently, “I’m so proud of you, you didn’t give up.” 

rafe smiles, his previous humiliation replaced with pure bliss and relief, “yeah,” he nods, sighing breaths of relief, “didn’t give up.” maybe this evening didn’t go exactly as expected, but you think, with the circumstances, it turned out okay.

[pucksandpower]

She’s a Menace

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max has to deal with quite a distraction while on his sim (or in which there are definitely worse reasons to crash than you on your knees in front of him)

Warnings: 18+ content

Note: Max Verstappen is a four-time World Drivers’ Champion, so I leave you with this in celebration

Max squints at the screen, the blue glow of the monitors highlighting the concentration etched on his face. The steady hum of his sim rig fills the room as he grips the steering wheel, eyes locked on the track ahead. The chat is already buzzing with excitement, a stream of messages flowing faster than the race itself.

He leans forward slightly, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he pushes for the perfect line through the next corner. This is supposed to be a casual race with Team Redline, but Max never does anything halfway.

From the corner of his eye, he catches a flicker of movement. His heart stutters, but he keeps his gaze trained on the screen. Just focus. But then you’re there, slipping under his desk with the kind of stealth that makes him question how well he really knows you.

“Hey, what are you-” His voice is low, more of a mutter to himself as you settle in the cramped space, your hand resting lightly on his knee. He almost laughs at the absurdity, but then he feels the warmth of your palm through the fabric of his jeans, and his breath hitches.

“Max?” Your voice is sweet, innocent. The kind of innocent that makes his blood rush south.

“Not now,” he whispers harshly, trying to sound firm, but the effect is ruined by the way his voice catches on the last word. He clears his throat, gripping the wheel tighter. “I’m in the middle of a race.”

“I know,” you say, and he can practically hear the smile in your voice. “That’s why I’m here.”

His eyes flicker down for just a second — just a second — but it’s enough for him to miss his braking point. The car skids off track, and the chat explodes in a mixture of surprise and good-natured ribbing.

“Shit,” he mutters, jerking the wheel back to recover. He can hear his teammates’ voices through the headset, but they’re a distant buzz compared to the sensation of your fingers trailing up his thigh.

“What are you doing?” He hisses, trying to keep his voice low enough that it doesn’t pick up on the mic.

“Just helping,” you reply, your breath hot against his leg as you shift closer. “You seemed tense.”

“Tense?” He echoes, his voice tight with disbelief. “You’re not helping.”

“Are you sure?”

You lean in, your lips brushing against the inside of his knee, and he sucks in a sharp breath. His grip on the wheel falters, the car veering dangerously close to the edge of the track again.

“Stop,” he manages to say, but it’s more of a plea than a command. “Seriously, I-”

The next corner is coming up fast, too fast. He needs to focus, but then you lick a slow, deliberate line up his thigh, and it’s like every coherent thought evaporates from his brain. His foot jerks on the pedal, and the car slams into the wall with a crunch that makes him wince.

“Max, what the hell happened?” One of his teammates asks through the headset, genuine concern in his voice.

“Uh,” Max swallows, trying to keep his voice steady, “I think Sassy’s messing around. You know how she gets.”

“Sassy?” You repeat, muffling a laugh against his leg. “Really?”

Max doesn’t dare look down at you, his face burning as he tries to get the car back on track. “Yeah, Sassy,” he mutters under his breath. “She’s …you know …”

“A menace?” You offer, sliding your hand higher until it’s dangerously close to something that would definitely get picked up by the mic.

“Distracting,” he corrects, his voice cracking just slightly. “Very distracting.”

“Hmm.” You hum thoughtfully, your fingers tracing patterns that make his pulse race. “I thought you were good at handling distractions.”

Max clenches his teeth, trying to will away the flush spreading across his cheeks. “This is different,” he bites out, his knuckles white on the wheel. “You’re-”

He cuts off with a strangled noise as your lips brush against the zipper of his jeans. His head falls back for a split second, eyes squeezing shut. The chat is a blur, his teammates’ voices barely registering over the pounding of his heart.

“You okay there, Max?” Someone asks, clearly picking up on his unusual silence.

“Yeah, fine,” he says, forcing the words out in a breathless rush. “Just — Sassy’s really being a pain tonight.”

“Oh, Sassy’s being a pain, is she?” You tease, your fingers deftly working at his zipper.

Max’s heart leaps into his throat as he feels the fabric give way under your touch. “Don’t-” He starts, but it’s too late. You’re already working him free, your breath ghosting over his skin, and he feels like he might actually die right here, on stream, in front of thousands of people.

He can barely see the track now, his vision blurring at the edges as you take him into your mouth. The sensation is overwhelming, the wet heat of your tongue drawing a low, involuntary groan from his chest. He tries to bite it back, but it slips out before he can stop it.

The sound of his own voice brings him back to reality with a jolt, and he scrambles to mute the mic before anyone can ask questions. He fumbles, nearly dropping the wheel in the process, but finally manages to switch off his headset.

“God, you’re going to kill me,” he gasps, his voice hoarse as he looks down at you.

You pull back just enough to look up at him, your eyes gleaming with mischief. “You’re doing great, by the way. Really holding it together.”

“Barely,” he mutters, his hand slipping from the wheel to tangle in your hair. He knows he should stop you, that he should be focused on the race, but the way you’re looking at him — like this is all some delicious game — makes it impossible to think straight.

“You’re such a good driver, Max,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to the tip of him, and his whole body jerks in response. “But I wonder how good you are at multitasking.”

“I’m not,” he breathes out, his hand tightening in your hair. “I’m really not.”

“Sure you are.” You smile against him, and the sensation sends a shiver down his spine. “You just need a little more practice.”

“I’m going to crash again,” he warns, but it’s weak, almost a whimper as you take him deeper.

“Mmm,” you hum around him, and his hips buck involuntarily, the wheel spinning out of his grip as the car careens off the track once more.

He bites down on his lip so hard he tastes blood, but he can’t stop the moan that rumbles in his chest. “Fuck,” he mutters, his free hand gripping the edge of the desk like a lifeline. “Fuck, fuck-”

You pull back just enough to let your breath cool the wet skin, and his whole body shudders. “Max,” you purr, your voice a sinful mix of sweet and sultry. “What would Sassy think if she knew you were blaming her for this?”

“She-” His breath hitches as you lick a slow line up his length. “She would definitely not approve.”

“Maybe you should apologize to her later,” you suggest, and then you’re taking him back into your mouth, and he can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but fall apart.

“Yeah,” he gasps out, the word barely audible as you suck harder, your hand sliding up to cup him in a way that makes his vision go white at the edges. “Definitely. Later.”

You hum in agreement, the vibrations driving him to the edge faster than he’d like to admit. He knows he’s losing control, knows that anyone paying attention to his stream can see how erratic his driving has become, but he can’t bring himself to care.

All that matters is you, your mouth on him, your tongue working him in ways that make his toes curl inside his socks. His head drops back against the chair, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets himself drown in the sensation.

“Fuck, you’re-” he chokes out, the words getting lost in a strangled moan as you take him even deeper, your nose brushing against the base of him. He feels the world tilt on its axis, the car crashing into the wall once more, but it’s a distant concern, something he can’t even begin to process right now.

His hand tightens in your hair, guiding you, urging you on as he teeters on the brink. “I’m close,” he warns, his voice a desperate rasp. “So close-”

But you already know, you always know, and the way you speed up, the way you suck him in like you’re starving for it, pushes him right over the edge. His whole body tenses, his hips jerking as he comes with a guttural moan that he knows would have been embarrassing if he weren’t so far gone.

“Fuck,” he breathes out again, the word shaky as you continue to work him through it, your movements slow and gentle now, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from him until he’s a boneless heap in his chair.

He’s vaguely aware of the game still running on the screen in front of him, the car idling against the wall, the chat a blur of confusion and speculation. But all he can think about is the way you’re licking him clean, your tongue gentle and deliberate as you savor every lingering moment of his release. His breath comes in shallow gasps, the aftershocks of pleasure rippling through his body, leaving him utterly spent.

“Jesus,” he finally manages, his voice rough, barely more than a whisper. His fingers slip from your hair, trailing down to rest on your shoulder. “You … I don’t even know what to say.”

You look up at him from beneath the desk, your eyes sparkling with mischief and something darker, more intimate. “Say thank you,” you suggest, a teasing lilt in your voice as you place one final kiss on him before tucking him back into his jeans.

Max chuckles breathlessly, running a hand through his hair. “Thank you,” he echoes, but it’s more than just gratitude — it’s awe, admiration, an acknowledgment of just how thoroughly you’ve unraveled him.

“You’re welcome,” you purr, crawling out from under the desk with a grace that seems unfair, given what you’ve just done to him. As you straighten up, you brush a hand over your clothes, smoothing out any wrinkles as if you haven’t just reduced him to a quivering mess.

Max watches you, still dazed, as you take a seat on the edge of the desk, your fingers idly tracing the lines of the virtual steering wheel on the screen. “You should probably get back to your race,” you say casually, though the satisfied smirk on your lips tells him you know exactly what kind of chaos you’ve left in your wake.

“Race?” He blinks, trying to reconnect with reality. The reality where he’s supposed to be streaming, where thousands of people are watching, where he’s just crashed his car in the most embarrassing way possible. “Oh, fuck.”

You laugh softly, clearly enjoying his distress as he scrambles to put his headset back on. The game is still running, but the car is totaled, and his teammates are probably wondering why he’s been completely silent for the past few minutes.

Max clears his throat, trying to summon some semblance of professionalism as he un-mutes the mic. “Sorry, mates,” he says, his voice cracking slightly as he glances at the chat, which is now filled with endless variations of what happened? “Uh, Sassy … Sassy knocked something over. Had to deal with that.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end, followed by the sound of someone barely holding back laughter. “Sassy, huh?” One of his teammates finally says, amusement clear in his voice. “Sure it wasn’t something else?”

“Yeah, mate, you sounded a bit — preoccupied,” another one chimes in, and Max can practically hear the grin in his voice.

Max shoots a glare in your direction, but you just smile sweetly, completely unrepentant. “Just a bit of a distraction,” he says, forcing a laugh that he hopes sounds natural. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Mmhmm,” his teammate replies, clearly unconvinced. “Well, whatever it was, you might want to keep it in check. You’re not exactly in winning form right now.”

Max groans internally, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll focus, promise.”

But as he puts his hands back on the wheel and tries to get back into the game, his thoughts are still swirling around what just happened, how thoroughly you’ve taken him apart and put him back together. He can feel the ghost of your touch on his skin, the way your lips felt against him, the sound of your voice whispering his name in that sinfully sweet tone.

You, however, seem entirely unbothered by the chaos you’ve caused. You hop off the desk and start to leave the room, but not before pausing in the doorway to shoot him a look over your shoulder.

“Oh, and Max?” You say, your voice just loud enough for the mic to catch it, ensuring that everyone in the stream hears. “Next time, don’t give our cat the credit for my handiwork.”

Max’s eyes widen in horror as the implications of what you’ve just said sink in, and the chat goes wild with speculation. He can’t believe you’ve just thrown that grenade and walked away, leaving him to deal with the fallout.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his face burning as he hears the barely suppressed laughter of his teammates through the headset. He quickly fumbles to mute his mic again, before the noise from the chat can start bleeding through his headphones.

From the other side of the house, you can hear Max still muttering, cursing under his breath as he tries to explain away what just happened, though it’s clear from the chaos in the chat that he’s not fooling anyone. You’re pretty sure “Sassy” is going to become the new code word among his fans for a long, long time.

You can’t help but smile to yourself as you walk away, already planning the next time you’ll disrupt his perfectly controlled world with a bit of your own brand of chaos. Because you know Max — no matter how much he complains, he secretly loves every minute of it.

***

Max clicks out of the game, his heart still racing — not from the competition, but from the aftermath of your little stunt. His teammates had ribbed him mercilessly for the rest of the race, making it impossible to focus, and he’d finally had to give up entirely when it became clear he was more liability than asset.

But that’s fine, he thinks, as he heads to your shared bedroom. You’d wanted to play, and now it’s his turn.

He pushes open the door quietly, the soft sound of your breathing drawing him in. You’re sprawled out on the bed, lounging in a silk robe that clings to your curves in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination. One leg is draped lazily over the edge, your foot brushing against the floor, and your head is tilted back against the pillows, eyes half-closed in what looks like pure satisfaction.

Max pauses in the doorway, taking in the sight of you. The low light casts a warm glow over your skin, making the fabric of your robe shimmer as it catches the subtle movement of your body. You don’t see him at first, too caught up in your own thoughts, and he uses that moment to just watch you, to drink in every detail.

He’s still not entirely sure how he got so lucky, how he ended up with someone who could turn his world upside down with just a look, a touch, a whispered word. But he’s never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. You’d taken control earlier, had driven him to the brink of insanity with your teasing, your lips, your tongue … but now, now it’s his turn.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asks, his voice low, almost a growl, as he steps into the room. You startle slightly, eyes snapping open, but then you relax, a slow, lazy smile spreading across your lips.

“Immensely,” you reply, stretching like a cat, your robe parting just enough to give him a tantalizing glimpse of what’s underneath. “Though I was wondering when you’d finish up in there. Took you long enough.”

Max’s eyes narrow, though there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re awfully confident for someone who just crashed me into a wall in front of thousands of people.”

You laugh softly, completely unrepentant, as you prop yourself up on one elbow. “You needed to be taken down a peg. I figured I was doing the world a favor.”

“Oh, is that right?” He crosses the room, his gaze dark and intent, and you shift slightly under the intensity of it, though you don’t look away. “Well, I think it’s only fair that I return the favor.”

He doesn’t give you time to respond before he reaches the walk-in closet, pulling open the door and flicking on the light. The space is meticulously organized — suits, Red Bull-branded shirts, shoes all lined up with military precision. But it’s the back corner that interests him tonight, the small, nondescript box that he keeps tucked away behind a row of neatly hung jackets.

He retrieves it with a sense of satisfaction, running his fingers over the smooth wood before he opens it. Inside, nestled in soft velvet, are the toys he’s collected over time. Some are simple, others more complex, but each one has a purpose, a particular use that he knows will drive you wild.

He hears you shift on the bed, a small rustle of fabric as you sit up a bit straighter, curiosity piqued. He doesn’t turn around just yet, letting the anticipation build as he selects a few choice items, things he knows you love, things he knows you can’t resist.

When he finally turns back to you, the box in hand, your eyes widen slightly, and you bite your lower lip — a telltale sign that your confident façade is starting to crack. Good.

“What are you planning to do with those?” You ask, though your voice wavers just enough to give away the thrill that’s running through you.

Max sets the box down on the bed beside you, his gaze never leaving your face as he leans in close, so close that you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin. “I’m going to make you beg,” he says simply, the words a promise, a challenge.

Your breath hitches, but you don’t back down, your eyes locked with his as you try to maintain some semblance of control. “You can try,” you whisper, though the defiance in your voice is already weakening.

He doesn’t respond with words — he doesn’t need to. Instead, he reaches for the silk tie at your waist, slowly, deliberately tugging it loose until the robe falls open, exposing the soft, bare skin beneath. You shiver as the cool air hits your body, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his gaze, the way his eyes rake over you with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

Max takes his time, tracing a finger down the line of your collarbone, over the curve of your breast, the flat plane of your stomach. You watch him, transfixed, your breathing growing shallow as his touch ignites a fire beneath your skin.

When he finally reaches for one of the toys — a sleek, slim vibrator that he knows you love — you feel a surge of anticipation, your body already responding to the thought of what’s to come.

He clicks it on, the low hum filling the room, and you can’t help the small gasp that escapes your lips as he trails it along the inside of your thigh, just teasing, just enough to make you squirm. “Max …” you breathe, your voice shaky, and he smiles, a slow, wicked smile that sends a thrill of both excitement and nervousness coursing through you.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his free hand coming up to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing over your lips. “We’re just getting started.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he presses the vibrator against you, right where you’re most sensitive, the sudden burst of pleasure making you cry out, your hips bucking instinctively against the pressure. But Max holds you in place, his grip firm, his eyes never leaving your face as he watches your every reaction.

“Look at you,” he whispers, almost to himself, his voice filled with something akin to awe as he takes in the way your body responds to his touch, the way you can’t help but arch against him, your hands clutching at the sheets. “So beautiful …”

You can’t form a coherent response, your mind too clouded with pleasure, too focused on the way the vibrator is driving you closer and closer to the edge. But Max isn’t done with you — not even close.

He switches to a lower setting, drawing out the sensation, making you writhe beneath him as he pushes you to the brink but refuses to let you fall over it. “Max, please …” you whimper, your voice barely more than a breath, but he only chuckles, clearly enjoying the way you’re already coming undone beneath him.

“Not yet,” he says, his tone teasing, as he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss that’s as much about control as it is about passion. You can feel the smirk on his lips as he swallows your desperate moans, the vibrations from the toy matching the rhythm of his kiss, each one driving you closer to that sweet release.

But he doesn’t let you have it. Not yet.

He pulls back, the vibrator slipping away just as you’re about to tip over the edge, leaving you gasping, trembling with need. You make a small sound of protest, your body arching towards him, but he only smiles, a look of pure satisfaction on his face as he watches you struggle to catch your breath.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” He asks, his voice low and husky as he reaches for something else from the box — a small, delicate clamp that he knows will drive you wild. He catches one of your nipples between his fingers, rolling it gently before attaching the clamp, the sharp sting of it sending a jolt of pleasure straight through you.

You cry out, your hands fisting in the sheets as the sensation takes over, and he doesn’t give you a moment to recover before he attaches the other one, his hands firm and steady even as you squirm beneath him.

“Max … Max, please …” you beg, the words spilling from your lips before you can stop them, but he only shakes his head, his eyes dark with lust as he takes in the sight of you — flushed, panting, utterly at his mercy.

“Not until you’re screaming for me,” he says, his voice a promise, a threat, as he turns the vibrator back on, this time at a higher setting, pressing it against you with enough force to make you see stars.

It’s too much, too intense, the pleasure building and building until you’re on the verge of breaking, but Max holds you there, right on the edge, refusing to let you fall until you’re practically sobbing with need.

“Please, Max, please …” you cry, your voice broken, desperate, and finally, finally, he relents, his hand moving faster, the vibrations intensifying until you’re shattering beneath him, your entire body convulsing with the force of your release.

You scream his name, the sound ripping from your throat as the pleasure crashes over you, wave after wave, until you’re left trembling, barely able to catch your breath. Max doesn’t let up, his hand steady, relentless, pushing you through one orgasm and into the next until you’re nothing but a quivering, incoherent mess beneath him.

When he finally pulls back, turning off the vibrator and removing the clamps with a gentleness that’s at odds with the intensity of what just happened, you’re too spent to even lift your head. Your body feels like it’s made of jelly, every nerve ending still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. Max watches you for a moment, his eyes dark and unreadable, before he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You did so well,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, as if he’s trying to bring you back down from the high he just sent you to. His fingers brush a stray strand of hair away from your face, and you lean into the touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you try to steady your breathing.

You’re too tired to respond, too worn out to even think about moving, but Max doesn’t seem to mind. He moves off the bed, and you hear the soft rustle of fabric as he picks up the discarded toys, the quiet click as he puts them away in the box.

When he returns to your side, he’s holding a bottle of water, and he gently lifts your head, pressing the cool rim of the bottle to your lips. You take a sip, the water refreshing as it slides down your throat, and Max gives you a small smile, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a tender gesture.

“Feeling better?” He asks, his tone lighter now, teasing, as he sits down beside you on the bed. You nod, still too exhausted to speak, and he chuckles softly, clearly pleased with himself.

“You’re not going to try that again anytime soon, are you?” He raises an eyebrow as he leans back against the headboard, one arm draped casually over your shoulders. There’s no real edge to his words, no anger — just a quiet amusement, as if he’s already looking forward to the next time you challenge him.

You manage a weak smile, your head resting against his chest as you let out a soft, contented sigh. “I might,” you murmur, your voice still a little shaky, but there’s a hint of defiance in it, a spark that tells him you’re not completely defeated.

Max laughs at that, a deep, rich sound that vibrates through his chest and into your ear, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm. “We’ll see about that,” he says, his voice warm and full of affection.

For a while, the two of you just sit there, wrapped in the comfortable silence that only comes after something so intimate, so intense. Max’s hand never stops moving, his touch soothing and grounding as he holds you close, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

Finally, after what feels like hours but is probably only minutes, you let out a soft sigh, tilting your head up to look at him. “You’re too good to me,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper, but the words are full of gratitude, of love.

Max’s gaze softens, and he leans down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a gentle caress. “I love you,” he says simply, and the words are so full of sincerity, of emotion, that they take your breath away.

You smile against his lips, your heart swelling with warmth as you snuggle closer, feeling safe, cherished, and utterly content. “I love you too,” you whisper back, and for a moment, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect, blissful bubble.

Max holds you like that for a while longer, until your breathing evens out, and you start to drift off to sleep. He shifts slightly, pulling the covers up over you and tucking them in around your body with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

Just as you’re about to fall asleep, you hear him murmur something, his voice low and full of affection. “Rest now,” he says, his fingers brushing over your hair in a soothing rhythm. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

And with that, you finally allow yourself to relax completely, letting the warmth of his embrace and the soft, steady beat of his heart lull you into a deep, peaceful sleep.

[chobunz]

Who in enha mtl enjoy giving head/who you think would be the best at eating 🐱

ngl this one was kinda hard cs i feel like all of them would rlly enjoy giving/receiving head but i (tried) my best nonnie !! >_<

pair: legal line ㅊ f!reader | warnings: smut, oral (f. rec), d/s dynamics, fingering, overstim, edging.. i might’ve missed smth but its 2 am and i’m hella sleepy soooo

eating you out is heeseung’s favorite pastime. that boy practically lives between your legs in his free time. he could be having a bad day and he swears that giving you head is the remedy to cure everything. i think sometimes, he’d bring you to his studio and ask to eat you out when he’s having trouble with his creative flow/when he needs some motivation, idk he’s just kinda silly like that lol. plus he’d look all cute while he’s begging to and looking up at you with the most precious doe eyes, asking for one (1) single orgasm to get his brain going. just really loves knowing that he can always please you with his mouth, often getting hard to the thought of the view you’ll bless him with while he’s down there. proudly obsessed with your pussy and would do anything to get to taste you on his tongue <3

jake is theee pleasure dom. eating your pussy just makes him feel good along with you, getting a sense of accomplishment after making you cum a few times with his tongue only. often has wet dreams of like.. just eating you out. wakes up and makes it his mission to make you cum as many times as he can using his mouth. i think he’d be very strategic (?) with how he eats you out, wanting to figure out a way to make you feel the best you can which leads to many sessions of him just experimenting and observing the way you react to him ?? results in jake ‘accidentally’ teasing and edging you for what feels like hours, feeling mean when you whimper and deciding to reward you with anything you ask for. you’ll have to speak up though or he’ll just continue his teasing ! ><

jay is just very sexy idk, i feel like he’d love giving you head a lot. the feeling of being sandwiched between your plushy thighs turns him on badly, loving all the praise he gets while he licks and sucks you to your liking. i think he’d also very much love when you use his mouth to get off.. like hips pushed up against his face when you get whiny and desperate. or maybe he’s in a different mood and would lightly tap your clit with three fingers when you squirm below him as a warning— it depends tbh. i put him here because i think he’d like using his cock the most to pleasure you, often getting up from your cunt to fuck you because he’s also very desperate….. T-T

sunghoon mainly uses his hands to get you off. prefers being hands on with you. like he loves to taste you but i think he’d definitely also enjoy fingering you more because it’s more intimate in a way (?) like he gets to kiss you and feel your hands all over him while you moan into his mouth.. it’s heaven for him he thinks. he just loves how you feel cumming around his fingers, kissing the temple of your head when you cum for the nth time that night despite you constantly begging for his cock that’s pressed painfully against your side. he gets you to quiet down with his other hand, covering your mouth because only he’s allowed to hear you like this. sunghoon’s main goal is to make you squirt with his fingers so he’s determined…

jungwon’s the type to get pussy drunk, then would try to manipulate you into believing you’re the one who’s needy when he’s literally the one acting like a starved man. his tongue lapping at your pussy and moaning into you with his arms locked around your thighs to keep you in place. i think that eating pussy isn’t something he does as often because of the way he loses self control, which is why i put him here on the list. but even when he’s pussy drunk, jungwon is pushing your limits by making you cum over and over despite your pleas to get him off your overstimulated clit.

sunoo will give you anything you want. i can picture him with a very spoiled, bratty sub, whining about wanting to be eaten out and complaining when he gets up from being buried in between your legs after generously giving you orgasm after orgasm. he’s always eager to please and doesn’t waste a second to give his princess whatever she wants !! like he wouldn’t even punish you for being super bratty, just listening to what you ask of him and allowing your hand to push him into his place <33

๑ ๑ ๑

i have a lot asks like these in my inbox so i’m gonna try n get thru them all as quickly as i can + i like doing short stuff like this to help me ease back into writing again ! also, if you wanna send me a short request like this feel free to ^_^

[xx-reverie-xx]

🖤Sevika HCs🖤

just random sevika hcs. broken up into categories for general, romantic, and nsfw headcanons respectively.

i didn’t try very hard while writing this, so my writing is probably subpar here but…yolo.

men dni. minors dni. men dni. minors dni.

safe for enby lesbians. ♥️

general

* raging butch lesbian 🧡🤍🩷.

* her place is messy but in an organized chaos sort of way.

* she smells like cigar smoke (in a good way), leather, and peppery mahogany.

* collects bottle caps. i can’t explain it, i just have a feeling she would!!

* has very, very cool, gay aunt vibes!!!

* actually an excellent cook.

* her carabiner is on the left side. she keeps the basics on it, so just her keys and one or two old key chains she has.

* in a modern au she would be into classic cars and the process of restoring them. her dream car is a 1970 mustang boss.

* on the topic of vehicles i can see her as a biker too. like, imagine seeing her taking off that helmet … swoon! imagine being her backpack … SWOON AGAIN!!!

romantic

* loves hugging you from behind

* if you’re with her at the last drop, she has her arm around you constantly. if it’s not that, she’s having you sit on her lap.

* this woman is a capital F Flirt. will talk you up one side and down the other like it’s nothing. if you’re just someone she happens to lock eyes with at the bar, you guys could go back and forth with flirting and banter.

* BUT if you and sev have been together for a bit flirting can get her flustered from time to time. you know *just* what to say to her to make her short circuit a little bit. no one can get under her skin the way you can. /pos

* calls you baby. if you’re a femme, she calls you her femme.

* surprisingly soft lips.

* kissing her feels like a dream.

* sevika prefers a partner who can take care of themselves. after all, she’s a busy woman and she can’t always come to your rescue.

* her giving love language is acts is service. need something fixed? in classic butch fashion, she’s absolutely got you covered. do you drink coffee or tea in the morning? she’s got a cup ready for you in the morning, *just* the way you like it. she’ll do anything for you when she’s got the time.

* her receiving love language? words of affirmation. she likes to know that you think she’s *good*. that she’s doing a good job and that you see that.

* would be so fucking whipped for you. you’re on her mind all the time. smiles when little things make her think of you. memorizes every little detail about you every chance she gets.

* she doesn’t have a type. like, at all.

nsfw

* stone top. there. i said it. no questions. no ifs, ands, or buts.

* nipple piercings 🙈.

* oh, she is eating that thang. this woman is a munch. she would know just how to lick or suck you to make you come before you know it. it’s a very personalized experience.

* she learns you inside and out. knows every. little. thing that makes you tick.

* vocal. like, as in, she talks. she’s dirty about it too. all “oh, yeah? you like that baby?”, “be good for me, i know you can take it” or “i know what’s good for you, now fucking take it”. she talks you through it every time.

* weewooweewoo WE GOT A MAN HANDLER OVER HERE!!!! she will move you every which way, any way she needs you to be. if you’re flexible, she absolutely has fun with that.

* has a collection of straps. different strokes for different folks, am i right?

* touching on one of her receiving love languages being words of affirmation …

* she loves to be praised.

* it’s something she would never explicitly ask you to do. it’s a subtle thing.

* it’s in the way she short circuits when you tell her how good she’s doing, how good she makes you feel. you can tell she likes that, knowing that she is good for you, in the way her hands tremble or her hips stutter or, if she’s going down on you, the way her eyes go soft.

* she will fuck you senseless and then be so, so sweet on you after. makes sure you’re taken care of, that there’s something for you to drink, has towels ready for you incase you don’t feel like showering for a while after you finish. seriously, it’s like two different people.

okay thats it. i am obsessed with this woman and just wanted to share some headcanons i had for her while i finish up a fic i’m trying to write🎠.

cant believe my first writing here was some random hcs but whatever!!!

requests currently open for multiple fandoms, including arcane :).

dividers by cafekitsune

[ghostwhippet]

Size 14

18+

Nutrition Info: GhostxReader; Ghost develops an attraction to a massage therapist he's forced to see, hates it, and hates you for it.

CW: Headlock during imagined sex; Ghost Is Angry (and swears a lot)

The idea of a massage makes Ghost’s fucking skin crawl. It's not complicated why. 

But the idea ends up having nothing on you.

Garrick wouldn’t fucking shut up about you. Then Johnny and König wouldn’t. They even roped Price in. And then Ghost had a fucking shoulder injury that wouldn't heal right, and the fucking Physical Therapist had put in his official fucking recommendation.

You agreed to Ghost’s conditions over the phone – “Clothes on, door open, and I’ll have my head covered. Not negotiable.” – and you were used to working with military, so maybe that was something.

If it wasn't... he’s done hard things before. Gotten around rules and procedures plenty of times before, too.

But then the day came, he showed up, and you took one look at him and what you didn't do was try to tell him to get on your table. Or the shiatsu chair that would put you at his back all the same. 

You had Ghost sit in a regular chair. Then you crouched down just off to his side and you got to work on his gloved hands. Gave some bullshit excuse for starting there when it was his shoulder that was messed up.

And you…. Fuck you. 

You weren't scared of him. 

It was like you met big fucks dressed as death with the light gone from their eyes every day. He could tell you weren’t afraid, even though you never looked up. You glanced at his forearm and thigh a few times, even his foot twice, and that was all you needed to know how to adjust.

Apparently, even when he was fucking covered head to toe in thick clothing, you found him easy to read. Like an open fucking book.

So yeah: Fuck. You.

You asked him about the pressure twice, but otherwise, you were silent as you worked up his arms and moved to stand at his side to work his back. You never leaned over him, never tried to get behind him. Your eyes almost never left the area around your hands, but you could tell not just where he had knots, but what hurt, and what felt better than he'd ever admit.

You got him to lean forward so you could get below his shoulder blades and didn’t say anything about the fact that he was tight as a rappel line the whole time.

The third session he had with you, he ended up in the goddamned shiatsu chair. His eyes closed that hour, just for a second. Barely let himself blink after that.

The fourth time, he closed the door on his way in – always showed up right after you went in looking for him – and the sixth time… he layed down on the fucking table.

Somewhere that day, you find some knot, feel your way into some muscle, and he just… liquefies. He feels relaxed, didn’t know he could feel that way anymore. 

Something starts moving through him, like an echo in reverse, crashing and screaming and scraping louder and louder the closer it gets, and when he realizes it, he couldn’t say how much later, he’s up and damn near bolting from the room without a word or a look back.

He shows up at the next appointment and hands you the completion form – despite the fact that his round of prescribed sessions isn’t done – and tells you to sign and post-date it. 

All you do is look up from the paper to his covered face, your eyes moving back and forth between his, glance at his fucking tit like you can see through to his back injury, then sign off without a word. Little tension in your neck, but otherwise nothing. No pity, no annoyance, no judgement, no fear, not of him, or apparently any professional consequences.

Just as he’s passing through the door, you tell him that if he wants to come back, you’ll open up a spot for him. And you fuckin’ say it calm, like you know he’ll be back. See you on Tuesday, Ghost.

He looks into you after that. You’re a good person, as good as anyone comes. Don't even have any bloody parking tickets. You visit extended family in the north every year around the holidays, own an adopted dog, give to charity. You volunteer with vets, do the same thing you do at work for free. (When do your hands get a break?)

You become a sick sort of obsession. You crawl under his skin – that feeling of melting crawls under his skin – and his hate of you solidifies, turns into something slower and colder. He doesn’t care that it shouldn’t be isn’t right.

He’s back in your room two months later, and sees you at least once a month when he’s not deployed. Usually more.

You don’t say anything the days he leaves your room hard, either.

Ever the fucking professional.

And then… one of the lads has to go and make a fucking comment. Doesn’t matter that they’re all two months into a dark operation and completely isolated the whole time, doesn’t fucking matter. Because you’re as good as you are, because you read a body that isn’t isn’t even moving, without words, without breath, without a face to look at. Because you seem to know just what it needs, what it wants, what it’s feeling every second you're working it, like you’re inside it. Like you knew when Simon had finally come apart on your table. He’d been able to feel it in your hands.

“Yeah, but that's what I'm saying, innit? Just hypothetically, ok, imagine what else she’d be good at. Imagine her with your cock. Right? Hands, mouth—”

Stops fucking talking quick when Ghost’s size 14 boot hits the wall an inch from his face.

Because the problem is, Ghost already has been imagining it. He’s been imagining it since you sat him down and made yourself small in front of him and your eyes jumped up to his as you went, just a quick glance, steady and clinical. Perceptive. He’s thought about it obsessively. Has your eye color etched into his brain.

He also thinks about what you’d make of someone who could read you right back. How would you handle that? How much would it take before you went liquid, too? 

Would you give in right away, or would you fight it, make him work taking you apart?

Would he want to do it again once he had, or would once be enough? Too much? Would he have you close the door to your room and fuck you against it slow, see how quiet you could be? How much control do you have over yourself? How much does it take to break it, and what do you look like when your seams are ripped open? When you can’t think?

He has the thoughts, pictures every detail of taking you apart and ruining you. Pulling you right up to the edge until you can see him at the bottom. Until you think you want to dive in. That’s when he snaps out of it and the thoughts make him sick. Most of what he wants to do to you makes him sick. But he keeps having them. Keeps deciding to stay away from you and your fucking hands and your fucking room and your fucking table, stays away for weeks or months. Keeps going back eventually.

Garrick starts tossing around the idea of asking you out. Getting you to ask him out, because you'll want it so much you'll find a way to reach over professional lines.

You won't, though. You're not the type. You rely on the lines. You understand them, and he wants to yank you across until you can’t put them back together or even find where they were supposed to go again. But is that because they keep something out, or keep something from getting out?

No, Garrick isn't what you need. Not even what you want. 

Who could blame Ghost if he sighs, laying on the couch at his place one night, because he's gotten hard again? Or if… if just this once, he decides to touch his cock while thinking about you, just a little, just to test. Just through his trousers. If he ends up taking it out and lightly, carefully rubbing his thumb over its head, expecting this whole thing to crash down around him at any second…. 

If he thinks about having you under him, pinned by his weight, his hand fisted in your hair, keeping your head back so far your neck is bowed while you're fucking sobbing. Or one arm wrapped under your hips with you face down to keep you angled, to keep you from moving even a millimeter, other arm wrapped around your neck, fingers digging into your back while he slams his hips into you over and over and over and over….

…If, for the first time in a long, long time, Ghost manages to cum, and it's so fucking intense it makes his back arch off the couch….

……

…Fuck. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck.  

He has to stop seeing you. Has to.

……

He knows goddamn well that he won't.

He sighs again, bookending the shitshow, one arm thrown over his face. Definitely not thinking about where else that arm just was in his mind, definitely not already starting to picture it again.

He scrubs a hand down his face, stopping when his fingers grip his jaw. He digs them in until it hurts, holds them there like that.

Ghost looks over at the back of the couch, now a mess of cum.

He lays there, no sound but the quiet fridge motor kicking on, his breathing already gone back to silent, knowing he needs to get up. Knowing he's got a fucking mess he needs to clean up now, and knowing... knowing it's not going to keep holding.

Masterlist

[thargelalia]

Comrade Red Hood

jason todd x fem!reader

patriarchy sucks, thankfully your doting nerdy boyfriend is there to show you support

-> 3k words

-> fluff, hurt/comfort, tiniest bit suggestive

-> warnings: talks of v!olence and crime (c'mon, guys, it's Gotham); mansplaining (not by Jason); reader is a little mean, but she's only human; Jason is a serial kisser and we love that for him

“Are you upset?” 

“Yes.” 

“…is it something I did?” 

“Not everything’s about you.”

Jason’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he lets out a low whistle. “Damn. I thought I was supposed to be the broody one here.”

“Getting a taste of your own medicine sometimes is good.”

Silence.

“Sure you’re not mad at me?”

“I’m beginning to.” You let out a deep frustrated sigh, massaging your temples in a futile attempt to stop the incessant throbbing headache. “What do you want, Jason?” 

“I was just—is there anything I can do for you?” He asks, shifting weight between his legs. “You seemed a bit off over the phone earlier, so I decided to drop by.”

“I just want to be alone.” You sound less passive aggressive this time as exhaustion seeps into your words. ”My head is killing me right now, but I just had an aspirin. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” Since it’s dark and your eyes are glued to the ceiling, you’re unable to take in the dejected look on his face. 

Seeing you’ve got no objections — he kind of hoped you’d change your mind and ask for cuddles — Jason leaves the room wordlessly. It’s almost like he vanishes into thin air. A well-known skill amongst all bat-family members.

Even so, he’s surprisingly light on his feet for a big guy. But then again, we’re talking about a walking deadly weapon. A vicious vigilante. The prince of Gotham. Red Hood.

Or at least that’s what he usually is when he’s not sulking in the living room for being a victim of his girlfriend’s sour mood. 

Aside from the sound of a car or two passing by down below, and police sirens echoing distantly on occasion, your place is engulfed in a comfortable silence — this a relatively quiet neighborhood. Moonlight filters through your half-open curtains, a soft welcoming breeze swaying them gently to the side. 

At some point, your eyes flutter open. You don’t even remember falling asleep. There’s a dryness to your throat, prompting you to move around and reach for a slim water bottle on the nightstand. Next to it, the digital clock reads 2:17 AM. 

A five hour nap. Nice. 

Fortunately, the pounding inside your head has subsided.

Tsking in disappointment, seeing the bottle is empty, you detangle your legs from the sheets, begrudgingly getting up and dragging yourself to the kitchen. 

The lights in the living room are still on, making your eyes squint when you approach the entrance. You’re confused to discover Jason still lounging on the couch with a book in his hands, legs spread deliciously wide. One of his feet is propped against the edge of the coffee table.

“Thought you were still out on patrol.” 

He looks up, and blinks, not expecting to see you up. “Just got back, actually. About fifteen minutes ago or so, I think.”

You hum in response and take a moment to really observe him. 

His hair is still indeed damp as it falls over his forehead. He’s also shirtless, only dressed in gray sweatpants. Took him quite a long time to feel comfortable enough to show skin like this around you. Likewise, despite the smile that your reassurances bring to his face whenever you thank him for ‘blessing your eyes with such a delectable sight’, sometimes he still gets antsy if they linger too long on his scars. So, you try to respect his limits while also making sure he knows he’s incredible and beautiful. 

There are also beads of sweat accumulated on his bare chest and neck. Despite having just showered, his body is still overheated from Red Hood’s intense activities, you notice. 

No injuries in sight tonight, thank goodness. But if there were, though, he probably wouldn’t be here. He’d still rather agonize in pain alone in his apartment than letting his medical resident girlfriend tend to him. You’re still trying to ingrain into his stubborn mind that his health will never be a disturbance to you. He will never be a disturbance to you.

Hm, though he kinda was a little bit earlier before. However, that wasn’t his fault. Nor yours, for that matter.

As if on cue, his question breaks you out of your reverie.

“Feeling better?” You nod in affirmation and he gives a sweet smile. “Good. You should eat, baby. I got you something on my way back. It’s in the kitchen.”

You mirror his smile and resume your steps to the kitchen where there’s a white medium-sized paper bag sitting on the counter. 

Dismantling crime and wreaking havoc around Gotham, just to later on pick up food to appease his moody girlfriend back home. 

Isn’t that so cute? 

After drinking your fill of cool water, you grab the food bag, a plate – to avoid crumbs dirtying the floor – and return to the living room to eat in Jason’s company. He’s still engrossed in his book. Or rather, yours. Your small library is now his, but so is his yours. It’s an unspoken agreement.

“I didn’t know Mr. Abdul’s place stays open so late.” You say thoughtfully, munching on a falafel. Jason also got you a fattoush salad, hummus, and some pita bread. Yummy. 

You’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch, legs on a pillow in his lap, while his forearms rests on top of them. He’s hunched forward in concentration on the pages in front of him.

“It doesn’t.” Without looking, Jason steals one falafel from the bag and pops it into his mouth. “I broke into his kitchen.“

You choke on a piece of pita bread. “What the f-”

“Relax. I left the money on the counter.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me??” He talks about it so casually. Almost like he’s done this before. “Wait. So, the cookies from Elena’s last time…”

“Well, that one’s obvious.” Successfully blocking a pillow chucked at his face, he rushes to defend himself, “BUT I never forget to pay, so technically I’m not stealing! Only billionaires are harmed here, I swear.”

You both know which particular billionaire he has in mind.

“Right. Keep telling yourself that, Robin. Hood.” You scoff, picking up the fattoush salad box, opening its lid and picking through vegetables with a plastic fork. Jason’s mouth opens in surprise. “Pun intended, by the way.” 

“Whatever.” He huffs with an eye roll, trying to conceal his amusement. To make a point, he raises the open book to his face and blocks your view of him, ignoring you completely. 

As you silently chew on radishes and lettuce, you take a minute to inspect what he’s reading. It’s a considerably thick book. Zeroing in the letters of the cover, your eyes widen in shock as you swallow. 

“Jason, is that—you’re reading The Capital?”

“Yeah, why?” He questions back, nonchalantly, lowering the book just past his eyes.  “You think I only read fiction?” 

“I guess… but I only asked because I think it’s an odd choice of reading given your night.” You explain, gathering the empty food containers, placing them inside the paper bag and setting it aside on the coffee table. “Aren’t you supposed to be tired?” 

“Of fighting against oppressive systems? Absolutely.” He quips, a playful smirk on his face. “This guy just gets me, you know?” 

Seeing the unimpressed look on your face, his smile dies down and he places the book down on the armrest. “I got an extra adrenaline rush while chasing Penguin’s goons this time. There were dozens of them ‘cause he was closing an important arms deal at a warehouse tonight.. Remember that time when we were watching a documentary about wolves, and it was showing how packs tend to slaughter entire flocks of sheep when they’re unable to escape from a confined space?”

“Is that your way of telling me you were in a… kill frenzy?” You swallow hard, trying not to sound too alarmed, but the distant look in his eyes accompanied by his eerie tone and word choice is unsettling. Even though you're well aware he doesn’t pose a danger to you.

Jason seldom shares the details about his gruesome Red Hood business with you. One, because he knows you already see too much violent shit while working at the hospital. 

Two, he knows you worry about his safety. 

Three, there’s also the fact that he’d like to keep a sense of normalcy at home. 

Four, and most importantly, he believes it’s best if you don’t access his dark side, but sometimes – like right now – he’s unable to conceal it. At the end of the day, he’s only someone fighting their shadows like any other. 

Although, his are evidently a bit more obscure and jarring. 

There’s a pregnant pause before he finally breaks out of his trance with a shake of his head. Taking in your tense posture and concerned face, he softens his demeanor, reaching for one of your hands. One, two, three kisses delivered to the tip of your fingers and he’s pulling you to sit straddling his legs. Calloused palms start rubbing the top of your thighs in reassurance back and forth. 

“Don’t worry, baby. I didn’t shoot to kill..uh, mostly.” There’s no way of telling if he’s being sincere, and, frankly, you’d rather not think about this. As usual, he’s attuned to your senses, and tries to lighten the conversation up. “Anyways, I was still feeling charged when I got back. That’s why I picked one of your brainy books to help me wind down. Since your Sociology shelf was right in my line of sight, I decided to give it a try… Oh, I just remembered I forgot to bring you my French copy of Madame Bovary again.” 

“Hm, it’s fine. I’ll borrow it next time I’m at your place. But, back to my books. Why do I feel like this isn’t a first time thing? I did find some of my Sociology books misplaced a couple of weeks ago,” you complain. “Glad you’re having fun tackling dialectical materialism as a post-vigilante workout, but please make sure you put my books in order once you’re done.” 

“So bossy.” He playfully tuts, adding a nip to your shoulder. Then you feel his lips trace a slow path up to your neck, leaving a slow deliberate kiss there. “And so pretty, too.”

He smiles mischievously, lips still attached to your skin, as you shudder. 

Devious bastard.

Crossing your arms, you try not to blush and keep your voice steady. “I mean it, Jason.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll mind your precious organization.” He follows his promise with a chaste kiss, this time to your lips. “But seriously, you do look pretty.” 

“What, out of a sudden?” You raise your eyebrows in amusement. 

Jason prides himself in being a skillful liar. It often comes in handy. 

But he most definitely is not the type to give empty compliments. 

Especially not to the most precious person of his life. 

And you’re aware of that. His eyes don’t lie.

There’s that deep candid warmth swirling within those mesmerizing irises that just captures you whole. They remind you of the ocean, colors of a fine line between blue and green, like teal. Sometimes calm and serene, sometimes agitated and raging. 

One thing is sure. You’re the only person who gets to soak into the tranquil waters hidden amidst the windows of his soul. 

Because you’re the only one capable of bringing them out. 

“Nah, I always think that when I see your face.” Comes his reply.

At that, more kisses ensue. Obviously.

First one is yours, molding your lips to his in an instant as you try to return his incessant devotion with eagerness. He wastes no time in reciprocating, mouth slightly parting to welcome your tongue inside. It makes your head fuzzy all over. Every single fucking time. This type of intimacy took almost as long to construct as the display of his body. You’re never taking his trust for granted. Never. Soon enough, Jason discovered himself to be a great fan of kissing. You. He’s done it before with other people, sure, but it didn’t make him feel like this. Yearn like this. As if he depended on it to survive. And he might as well do. Your fingers find their way to his scalp, tangling in silky locks and pulling while trapping his lower lip between your teeth, eliciting a soft groan from him. As a result, he grips your hips harder, drawing you impossibly closer. The heat from his bare muscular chest is scorching, almost too much to bear as it seeps through your shirt – his shirt. 

You two only break apart because he decides to now trail his lips downward, leaving you panting, eyes sealed shut in pleasure, as he works his mouth across every other available patch of your skin. From jaw to neck, and shoulder. And back up.

This time his ministrations are sweeter and more tender, making you melt completely into his embrace. 

Finally sated, after delivering a last kiss behind your ear, he whispers softly and a little breathless, “Wanna share now why you almost bit my head off a few hours ago, hm?” 

Watching your face fall when he pulls back, his heart equally drops, causing him to backtrack, “S’okay, baby. You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry.”

You exhale shakily, glancing down to fiddle with the hems of your – his – shirt. A hand cups your cheek, and tilts your head upwards carefully, thumb brushing the soft skin back and forth. Molten blue-green irises coaxing you to relax like the gentle sway of the sea. Telling he’s trusty and willing to listen.

“No, it’s just… ugh…” He waits patiently as you gather your thoughts. “I had to deal with one of my stupid professors mansplaining to me during my presentation today. A subject that I’ve been studying for years now. I knew what I was talking about and he acted as if I didn’t, saying that I didn’t use the concepts correctly like I was a child. Some of my colleagues told me I shouldn’t take his words personally, but it fucking sucked. Still does. I hate it when people, especially men, undermine my intelligence. I just felt so frustrated, I went to the bathroom and cried when the presentation ended. And to top it off, I got a miserable headache on the way home. So yeah, that’s why I was in such a shitty mood tonight. I’m sorry I took it out on you…” 

While describing what happened and venting about your feelings, you barely registered the way his arms tensed around you or how a muscle in his jaw ticked. There’s really no mistaking the look on his face now. The dark stormy blue that has replaced the soothing sea green. “Jason, no. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“He upset you.” Your boyfriend states in a clipped tone. “He made you cry.” 

“No matter how tempting, you can’t just fuck up every single guy that gets on my nerves.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Jace.” You beg, exasperated. “Please. That’s not what I need right now, okay? He was being an asshole, yes, but the academy, and the whole world, is crowded with them unfortunately. Most of the time, I can handle it just fine. But, today was different. I’ve been preparing for my presentation for days, so he caught me by surprise with his arrogance and my anxiety kinda escalated, I guess. What I mean is I didn’t tell you this because I wanted you to avenge me. I just want to be understood. Can’t you do that for me?” The sight of tears filling your wide eyes dilute his outrage instantly. You’re engulfed in a tight comforting hug.

“Of course, baby. I’ll never feel the same as you ‘cause I’m not a woman, but you must know I’m here for you and I’m sorry you had to deal with this.” He offers, sympathetically, before something darker twists his features again. “I won’t lie to you, though. It’d be easy for me to rip that fucking bastard’s tongue—”

“Jason.”

“—and feed it to his mouth until he chokes—”

“Jason.” 

He puts a finger to your mouth to silence you, just to pull back immediately before it gets bitten off.

“—but I won’t do that.” Not today at least, he keeps this last part to himself. “My point is a brilliant woman like you will always be a threat to insecure fuckers like him. Bet he’s just jealous he’ll never shine as bright as you do.”

You throw your arms around his neck, burying your face in it with a sniffle. “I love you.”

“I love you too. A lot.” Nuzzling into your hair, he inhales the soft scent of jasmine shampoo. “Feeling okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.” You really are. But, then, you sigh wistfully. “I’m thinking if I were an Amazon, it’d probably be easier to deal with this type of situation.”

“How so?” He tilts his head, confused.

“You know… I’d be strong, powerful... intimidating. Stuff like that.” 

“You already wield your intellect like the sharpest blade I’ve ever seen. Your words are eloquent and sharp when you stick up for what you believe. Not to mention the way you carry yourself with confidence even when you’re in a room filled with strangers.” He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, speaking earnestly. “Trust me, sweetheart. You don’t need to be an Amazon when you’re already a goddess.” 

“That’s… wow… I wasn’t expecting that.” The butterflies are throwing a fucking rave in your stomach. You just can’t stop grinning, so you playfully hit his shoulder. “Never knew you could be so sappy.” 

He catches your wrist delicately, not missing the opportunity to turn it and plant his lips on your knuckles.

“That’s all on you. You turned me into this.” He claims, placing your open palm over his heart, and holding it there. It’s beating quite rapidly. Like yours is. “Take responsibility, woman.” 

“Fine,” you concede with a playful eye roll. Guilty as charged, your honor. “But, seriously, thank you. Your words mean a lot.”

“You mean a lot to me. Don’t ever forget that.” One, two, three pecks to his lips. You discover you really love kissing him as well. 

Suddenly, he’s covering his mouth with a yawn. Outside, Gotham’s black heaven is starting to get tinged with pink and yellow, announcing the sun’s impending arrival. Soon the streets around your building will have people going out about their day. Unbeknownst to them, one of the guys responsible for their safety sleeps tucked in your bed right around the corner. 

“We should probably sleep.” Jason begins, effortlessly getting up in a swift motion while still holding onto you. Your legs wrap around his waist as he walks you two to the bedroom. “I already lost way more brain cells than intended. Gotta save some for Mary Wollstonecraft tomorrow.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“And you need to get woke,” he taunts.

“These are my books!” You counter, indignantly. 

“Ours. Don’t be so individualistic, baby. That’s why capitalism—” Not letting him finish, you jump off his arms and go into the bathroom as he trails behind like a lost puppy.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, comrade Red Hood. Now shut your revolutionary mouth, and let’s get ready for bed.”

thanks for reading, and please reblog if you enjoyed it <33

feel free to share your thoughts, i'd love to hear them!

this is where i got the dividers

[linopilled]

⟡ cw: church boy innie, talks of sinning, awful dialogue & pacing, softcore degradation, reader has a vag & is lady coded, manipulation but its softcore, male masturbation & wet dreams, dry-humping, one (1) singular spank, cum-shot, implied oral (fem receiving), jeongin Really wants to fuck y/n!

⟡ author's note: hey guys so funny story i- *pushes you and runs away*

church boy!jeongin's first experience with temptation comes in the form of his childhood best friend.

ever since experiencing his first sexual awakening and suddenly realizing how stacked his good friend is, he has purely never been the same again. in fact, he doesn't think he'll ever come back from it. he doesn't know how he can.

jeongin had been going to the same church as you for years, only seeing the picture of perfection in your form, white lacy dresses that make you look like an untouched angel causing his cock to chub up in his slacks. he hears his father in his ear warning him about how he should be lowering his gaze, and you're a lady that should be respected as such, but in the back of his mind, jeongin's just grateful he can't hear his impure thoughts.

his second experience with temptation, of course, involves you, but merely as a figment of his imagination. he wakes up in a cold sweat, dick hard in his trousers and his boxers soaked with precum. in his dreams you'd been shoved face first into his mattress and fucked like a slut. his slut. crying like you'd never taken a dick as big as his before, and as he recants the vision from before, his cock throbs dully in the confines of his bottoms.

"fuuuuck —" he groans, gripping the base of his cock, before laying back in silence. he really needs to get you out of his system. and he does so that same night by rubbing his cock raw, wishing it was your tiny cunt instead of his hand.

the third, and final instance in which jeongin faces temptation in it's most dangerous form, you're kneeling in front of him with the most innocent look on your face. like you didn't just ask him to “show you his if you show him yours.” you're alone with him in his bedroom, both of your parents under the guise that the two of you would be studying for an important test.

“innie, jeonginnie — i just want to see.” you plead with him in that stupid fucking tone — eyes sparkling in a way that's definitely getting him hard again. his father's voice is in his subconscious again, but he doesn't listen to him this time.

“y/n-ah. i can't. but we can do something else okay? do you trust me?” jeongin asks, his palms moving forward to rest on your shoulders. your eager nod almost makes him feel guilty about the way he's about to use you.

almost.

“turn around, a-away from me. hands and knees.” he says, eyes trained carefully on you as you switch your position. his eyes trail downward to your ass, noting the way your skirt hardly covers your anything. if he was bold enough, he'd shove you forward so he could see your panties without that short skirt obstructing his view. instead, his hand trails downward to his cock, palming himself through his slacks at the sight of your ass.

“what are you going to do?” you ask him, turning your head back to look at him through hooded eyes.

jeongin opts not to respond. he lets go of his hard-on, sitting up on his knees and wrapping his hands around your waist in a firm grip. “you've no fucking idea how bad i've been craving this, y/n.” the man begins, pushing his hips forward to meet your ass. a faint gasp leaves your lips, and you wriggle slightly, but jeongin's grasp doesn't let up.

he slowly begins to rock his cock against your ass, a deep growl rumbling in his throat when his cock presses up against your cunt just right. moaning weakly, you jolt forward, panties getting wetter as you let him rub carefully against your backside. “didn't you want this too?” he speaks again, rutting harder into you when he hears you gasp once more and sees your head nodding frantically.

he takes note of your hands gripping his duvet and little choked noises spilling out of your lips in a desperate attempt to stay quiet, and he removes one of his hands from your waist to give your ass a firm slap. he laughs, watching you squirm.

“trying to stay quiet now? after you sauntered your way up into my room and asked to see my dick like a shameless harlot?” jeongin scowls, losing himself a lot quicker than he would've liked to. he's now humping your ass in a tempo that rocks your body forward, and your clit throbs, the dull friction of a hard shaft nudging your cunt through soaked panties.

still with one large hand gripping your waist so tight you're sure it'll bruise, he ever so slightly maneuvers your body, making you rock your hips against his dick. “fuck, angel. you'll make me come just like this.” he moans, mirroring your soft noises. “bet if i held you down and finally fucked you like you'd been begging for, you'd love it.” jeongin smirks, looking down at where the two of you are connected, noticing the wet patch on his front getting larger as he keeps humping your cunt.

you've officially lost it, fucking yourself back into his clothed cock and practically drooling, your mouth open in a cute little "O" shape, that makes jeongin's heart swell up in his chest just like his cock. “f-fuck, ah — innie, please.”

you don't even know what you're begging for, but your core is molten hot, orgasm building rather quickly in your gut and your small noises turning into pathetic whining.

when your noises get too loud, however, his hand comes and presses against your mouth, effectively shutting you up and pressing your cunt harder on his dick. “shhh... we don't want to get caught, don't we? just lay there and take it. let me keep humping this little cunt till i come, okay? and maybe i'll let you come too.”

“innie, innie please —” you slur, but your words are muffled by his palm.

jeongin's pace is akin to one that he know's he'll uphold once he finally gets the chance to feel you squeezing his cock. your pathetic babbles spur him on, and his hips stutter. he's close, but he doesn't want to come in his pants. not like this. you're too fucked out to notice him unzipping and pulling his cock out with his other hand, but you whine at the loss of his iron grip on your tummy.

you look back at him all teary-eyed, and that's what breaks him.

“god you'll fucking — i'm coming, i'm fucking coming doll.” he hisses, pushing your skirt up and jerking his cock to a messy orgasm, tilting his head back and groaning with every spurt of his cum hitting your ass, the back of your thighs, and finally — your covered cunt.

despite coming first and edging you at the brink of your own orgasm, jeongin is ever the gentleman. he takes your cum covered panties off with gentle hands, and pushes your face into his blankets, and makes you come on his tongue, right there on his bed.

that same night, through your window he watches you pray at your bedside, reciting hail-mary's and begging for forgiveness for indulging in sin.

jeongin's cock gets hard again. he really wishes it was you begging him for forgiveness instead.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could you please write sweet,subtle,cute things batboys+Bruce does when they are crushing on reader?

Dick

He wants to spend a lot of time with you. Literally.

He’s very much the kind of guy who wanted to see you smile and laugh with every interaction that you had with him, just so he could shamelessly memories both your laughter and smile to his memory long after the outing you both had was over.

He would make goofy remarks or recall a story from recent memory that he thought would make your day a bit brighter. Gotham was often a depressing city that could easily damper anyone’s mood with its lack of dramatic change to better the lives of the people who lived within the seemingly cursed town.

So seeing you happy and smiling was more than enough to keep Dick’s hopes up for a better future, hopefully for the both of you should you reciprocate his feelings. He’d gladly die knowing that the last thing he remembers was your laughter and smiling face, looking like an absolute angel in his eyes, but this was him just being a dramatic romantic who just wished to be the very reason you lived a relatively happy life.

Dick would use Hayley quite often when he wanted you to prolong your stay at his place, claiming she’s going to miss you greatly, when it was actually him who’d miss you the moment you walked out the door. After all who could say no to a cute doggy that looked up at you with thoughtless but happy to be there eyes. So it wasn’t uncommon that you and Dick would take Hayley out on walks together through a safe area where he would let Hayley off the leash, only to watch with a warmth blossoming within his chest as you and Hayley enjoyed each others company.

Dick would come to see you, himself and Hayley as a little family of your own making and would love nothing more than to have this become a common thing. Something he wished would become a thing of reality rather than a fantasy he’d visit within his sleep, but he can take what he can get for you being in his life was more then enough, even if there wasn’t a label to what you were to each other.

Another thing he would do was buy you things that he’d thought you’d like. Anything that he saw within a shop window that reminded Dick of you was already bought within minutes as he would then go on a hunt for more things to buy you for the sake of spoiling you for being his anchor and his person through thick and thin. It could be blankets, plushies or sweets that he knew you’d find comfort in it didn’t really matter as he’d treat you like the royalty you were in his mind, all the while getting you a silly card with a cleverly thought out pun that he would write an equally silly message within it, hoping it would become a keepsake to look back on with a sappy but warm feeling within your chest.

Bruce

Very giving but he would act like a real distinguished gentleman towards you.

Alfred raised him right that’s for fucking sure.

He’s the type to never let you pay for anything, always having his card in hand to hand off to the waiter, nor to place on the card reader in a retail store, before you has the chance to reach inside your purse/wallet. It didn’t help that he looked smug after paying for the things that you let your eyes linger a second too long upon.

The man didn’t fear for the loss of money in his bank for as soon as the money was spent, the money lost was quickly replenished within the blink of an eye. No exaggeration.

Bruce would only want to be a provider for you and the type of partner that you could feel safest with as he takes care of you and your needs first and foremost, all the while making sure to make your life a hell of a lot more easier as he helps you by helping you into your shoes, zipping up your coat when it’s cold and put gloves on your hands while stroking the backs of your hands gently; offering you his arm with a smile afterwards as he escorted you both out of the manor to attend a charity event that Wayne Enterprises was hosting.

He personally asks for you to company him to these such grand events as his plus one, even offering to buy you formal attire should you lack any in your wardrobe, or go ahead into buying you one regardless and giving it to you as a present just so he could see your raw reaction himself when you opened the box to see the high quality attire he had picked out for you. Ironically it matched his own attire but in the most subtle of ways that not many would spot unless they were actively looking.

The press have a field day with this as you were frequently seen on Wayne’s arm, so much so that they called you his secret spouse in the tabloids, not that you see them as serious though as the press will make anything up to get people to read their half baked stories.

Offers to drive you home all the time no matter what, it didn’t matter if your home was within walking distance Bruce didn’t feel it was necessary for you to walk alone home when he had a perfect car in excuse use to take you home instead. Just give him a text and he’ll come over within minutes, but even if you didn’t text him he’ll turn up anyway as though he knew where you’d be, and when asked about it he only shrugs and says that he was merely in the same place at the same time, you joked and said that he might’ve been tracking you and Bruce only cleared his throat as he drove you home.

Damian

He’s not so quick to anger when it comes to you, almost like your presence was all that was needed to reassure his mind and bring peace to it without needing to try.

No outbursts came your way at all that many thought you were the one person Damian would never yell at, and they were right but Damian would deny all of this, but even deep down he knew it was something he couldn’t deny forever not if he was going to confess his deepest feelings sooner or later.

He felt as though he could experience a normal life with you as he found himself confining in you with things that he didn’t tell anyone else. You were his safe space whether or not you were aware of it, and sooner or later Damian found himself smiling and laughing and enjoying life as he taught you how to draw.

He was patient with you, more then he ever was with anyone else as he taught you brush strokes, to knowing what type of pencil to use for effective shading along with shading techniques and which ones would make your sketches some more life to them. If it seemed as though you were struggling with his verbal instructions, he’ll use a fresh page in his sketch book and show you firsthand how to do it in a step by step manner, waiting for you to follow along his steps and smiling softly to himself when your finish sketch looked similar to his.

He’s happy that he’s made you happy, it’s not something he’s ever done but if it was just for you then he’ll do it again for the rest of his life.

He’ll even let you name an animal he found abandoned somewhere, letting you hold it in your hands and loving the image before him as you smiled down at the animal he found, handling it with uttermost care as though you were afraid of hurting them. Once you’ve given it a name, Damian will treasure it by always holding them against his chest wherever he could when the occasion arises, as they were the closest thing to you in this point and time. And he smiles every time he looks at them and feels a lightness within his chest.

He’ll use the little guy to have your constant company…not that he’ll ever admit to using such a tactic to anyone.

Jason

He’s a lot more lighthearted with you and playful, almost as if the boy he used to be was coming through.

He’s softer towards you also as he would always be the first to offer you help with whatever you needed without a second thought. He wanted to be helpful towards you, and so he would go out of his way and prove himself as such by doing small but meaningful things that he’d knew you’d appreciate greatly, whether that be getting your coat or reminding you of whether you were forgetting to take your mandatory medication. Literally anything you needed help with Jason will do it without being hesitation.

This then becomes him doing stuff on your behalf that he knew you didn’t like by memory because he remembered everything about you, from your likes to your dislikes, anything related to you he remembers it as though he had known for a long time.

He just wanted to show to you that he wasn’t what others perceived him to be, he didn’t want you to think of him as an angry, broken, hollow husk of a man who knew nothing but revenge and self destructive tendencies that left him feeling lonelier then ever.

Jason would offer up his apartment as your safe reprieve, you were allowed to enter his place whenever you please. He didn’t mind either way as your presence was a much welcomed one, for Jason had never had he felt comfortable in going home just to find you waiting for him with a smile, whether or not your good at cooking didn’t matter as he could easily cook you both up something, or you’d both go to the nearest fast food restaurant for some much needed greasy comfort food.

The domestic act of having you in his apartment constantly that sooner or later he’s seen that you’ve made the apartment even more like home to him, for it has traces of you scattered here and there and Jason couldn’t help but smile at seeing your touches made to his home that he could only wish that he could ask you to move into his apartment permanently. He knew he couldn’t ask that of you yet, especially not when he has still to confess to you.

He’s protective over you and was more then willing to scare off anyone that was doing your head in by overstepping your boundaries. So once they had left you alone Jason would look to you and ask whether you were okay in a soft tone. His eyes filled with concerned he holds you by the shoulders, looking you over incase you were hiding anything from him before moving forward, making sure that there was no one else to cause you problems for the rest of the day.

[gotta-winwin]

OT13 Reaction -- to you showing up at their work

SCOUPS: his first instinct is that something is wrong. rushes up to you with worry in his eyes and asks if everything is okay. brightens into a big smile when you tell him you just wanted to see him! excuses himself from practice to join you for lunch before dropping you back home. it hurts that he has to leave you to go back to work but your surprise has rejuvenated him.

JEONGHAN: smirks to hide how unbelievably happy he is to see you. makes fun of you, asking if you really missed him that much?? it's only noon, baby. miss me already? gets flustered when you say yes. pulls you into whatever shenanigan he's cooking up with the members.

JOSHUA: is a little shy to interact with you properly in front of the members. whines when they make fun of him for looking at you with such loving eyes. pulls you to the side to express how grateful he is that you came to surprise him at work.

JUN: initially upset he even had to work on a day off, your presence cheered him up so much! feels his energy coming up just from seeing you. drags you over to meet his members, bragging about how he has a wonderful gf and they do not.

HOSHI: cannot stop looking at you during practice. it's the only time the other members see him distracted during work, esp during dancing. he just can't help it - how can he work when you're right there?? rushes to you immediately once break is called.

WONWOO: is very flustered and caught off guard that you're here. chides you for making the trip over here, saying you could've just called him if you missed him sm. shows his appreciation through actions, leaving practice early to show you around, taking you out on a date after.

WOOZI: he's so in the zone he doesn't notice you've entered his studio until your arms are around him. flinches thinking you're Hoshi coming to annoy him, but melts into your arms once he realizes its you. apologizes that he still has to finish a couple more songs, orders you food and dessert so you can be comfy while waiting. gets inspiration for his lyrics just by seeing you sit there.

THE8: is so happy you're here. although he tries his best keeping his cool in front of his members, he can't help but giggle every time he sees you're acc here. death stares every member that tries bothering you, claiming that you're here for him, not them. (¬⤙¬ )

MINGYU: eats up all the attention. brags to his members openly about how lucky he is that he has a girlfriend who surprises him at work! brags even more when you pull out food you ordered for them all. nags until all the members thank you profusely, making you flush under the amount of attention.

DK: screeches when he sees you within company walls. you look so out of place here! but so pretty! AH! his brain fries a bit, clinging onto you as he tells you he never expected you to show up at his work. is sosososo excited to show you exactly what he does as an idol.

SEUNGKWAN: becomes the coolest idol persona ever the moment he sees you're here. he's trying his hardest to impress you like - yes bby this is how i usually am at work, so cool right? - introduces you to EVERYONE possible. knocking on enhypen's door? yes. showing you to the manager? yes. the building janitor? you're saying hi to him too.

VERNON: his face turns SO red the moment the members point out you're here. gets all shy (the 218 bro vlive with DK) and hides behind his jacket/beanie. cannot say more than 5 words to you the entire time, knowing he'll malfunction and forget about working. expresses how grateful and loved he feels once you guys gets home.

DINO: solidifies in his mind that he IS the main character. parades you around to show everyone he has a gf!! clings onto you the whole time - basically gets nothing done the whole day. it's like he can't be more than 2 feet away from you or he'll die. you end up getting a text for S.Coups telling you you can't come back or else Dino will never get anything done.

[fatherbrat]

“what’d you do today while i was gone, hm?” suguru asks.

is he fucking serious?

even if you wanted to answer, you can’t. your mind is gone, any remnants of conscious thought leaving you the minute suguru bottomed out. all you can think about is the feeling of his cock pumping in and out your pussy. you think you might be drooling, and you’re sure he’s smiling down at you—the same way he always does when he knows he’s fucking you dumb—but you can’t bother to confirm that either, not with the way your eyes are glazed over, making everything you see look as fuzzy as your mind feels.

suddenly, he pulls out. you blink a couple times to clear up your vision, pussy clenching around the air.

“i asked you a question,” he says. his voice is in total contrast to his face. his expression is almost playful, but the words sound anything but.

“wh-what?” you’re scrambling to try and remember what question you’re supposed to be answering, but all you can think about is how much you need him to be buried inside of you again.

there’s mirth swimming in suguru’s eyes when you meet them. you frown, frustrated with how much he’s enjoying seeing you like this—completely and thoroughly fucked out.

his hand snakes down towards your clit, brushing against it with his knuckles. it makes your hips jerk, the consequence of already being overly sensitive from two previous orgasms.

“you wanna come?” he asks, abandoning his original question and slipping a single finger inside you. “again?”

it’s cruel. him asking you questions he already knows the answers to. expecting responses when he knows you can barely form a word, let alone a full sentence. teasing you with his middle finger while fully aware of how you ache for his cock.

regardless, you nod. frantic.

suguru only laughs, thumbing your clit leisurely. a shudder vibrates your whole body. “words, baby. use your words,” he taunts.

all you can manage is a shaky “please” as you writhe under his touch. he tuts, pushing your hips down into the mattress to keep you from moving. it’s maddening how vexed he looks when he’s the one who did this to you, denying your orgasm to satisfy his own sadistic whims. suguru catches the mean curl of your upper lip, your body communicating your irritation even when you can’t.

the smile he gives you is callous. “please what?”

your annoyance cuts through the brain fog enough for you to respond coherently. “please let me cum.”

suguru isn’t a fan of the exasperation in your voice, but he chooses to ignore it, murmuring a sweet “good girl” as he plunges his cock into you in one swift movement.

a string of curses falls from your lips, eyes watering as he thrusts at a steady tempo. he says something about your dirty mouth, but you hardly hear it over the hot, coiling feeling in your gut and the static sensation in your limbs.

it doesn’t take long for you to climax again, blissful and babbling again as your cunt flutters around suguru. he groans, not waiting for you to come down before pulling out for the final time.

he tugs your head up so he can tap the flushed tip of his cock on your bottom lip. the way you open your mouth is automatic, as if he pressed a button—a testament to how well trained you are.

you’re still shivering with the aftershocks of your orgasm when he comes in your mouth. it isn’t until after you’ve swallowed down his seed and he’s pressed a tender kiss to your lips that you come out of your cockdrunk daze.

when your vision refocuses, suguru looks smug. “you wanna tell me how your day went now?”

[thrfted]

꩜ DATING MR. CRAWLING .ᐟ

SFW GN!Reader HCS after the blissful love life ending.

Italics is in the other world’s language! Sometimes more the implied message rather than a direct translation. I'll probably do Mr. Hood later too :3 !

Your bed is much more comfortable than anything in the other world, and it only makes it better that mr. Crawling gets to be in it with you. He grows accustomed to your nightly routine and is always excited to cuddle up. Big spoon, little spoon, facing each other—all of it makes him as happy as can be!

(^ As someone who still has a twin size, some of us have to invest in a much bigger one lol)

Generally so so affectionate and loves when you’re physically affectionate !! You can kiss his head and he’ll giggle, maybe point at his face and ask “Again!” You leave kisses all over his face, and his hands pull you in close when you finally kiss his lips.

One of Mr. Crawling's strongest traits is his patience—especially when it comes to you. The first day you come home without him trailing behind (much to his dismay, and honestly yours), he’s at the door to greet you, smiling and giggling as you wrap your arms around him. You find out he hadn’t done much but wait for you to come home. (With no complaints of boredom on his part, and all the worry on yours.)

He'll sit as you play with his hair, trying out new hairstyles or putting in clips. “Me cute? Pretty?” he asks. And if you let him do the same in return, he'll giggle and compliment you too.

I think he’d look through your closet and enjoy watching you try on clothes too. He compliments you and feels each of the fabrics, liking the ones that feel softest. He might try on some of the accessories if none of the actual clothes (sort of…) fit, and is really happy when you match!

Mr. Crawling is a fast learner. You worry he'll feel overwhelmed with all the new technology and words and whatever else, so you focus on making sure he’s comfortable. But he points at things and ask what they are, repeating after you. “You teach me language?” he asks and you laugh softly before nodding. “I teach you language.”

He will accidentally touch a hot stove top or pot if you don't remember to warn him beforehand. Then whenever you cook he gets worried you'll hurt yourself, watching to make sure you're alright (forgive him if he pulls your hand away and says “Danger! Don't touch!”)

Since he doesn't know his birthday, you make the day you returned special instead! He's happy to just stay in with you, eating a good meal and watching or learning something new.

Mr. Crawling also learns when yours is and does his best to make it a good day for you too. He tries singing happy birthday and makes food with what you have at home, mimicking the meals he's seen you prepare.

You teach him how to call your phone while you're away. It's supposed to “be for emergencies,” but you both know he's going to call just to hear your voice, and who are you to complain?

I think he gets sad sometimes when he sees or hears you talking to friends—the way you communicate and laugh so easily compared to conversations with him. The other world's language itself is limited, and he hasn't learned enough of your own. You spend some evenings reassuring him, reminding him learning is a process, and it doesn't change your feelings!!

He does his best to learn on his own. You buy (exercise) books and show him shows for younger kids and he spends a lot of time alone with them, both to surprise you, and also just because he loves talking with you and wants to talk more and more.

The first time he speaks your language is a special day. After many days of calling out that you’re back, he decides to say it himself. “You home!” You almost drop everything in your hands, and that’s when he continues, “Miss you.” It feels odd hearing it in his voice, but he’s grinning so wide, and you won’t find out for a while just how excited and nervous he was waiting for you to get home.

One of Mr. Crawling’s favourite things to say and hear is “I love you.” Every time you say it, he gets all giddy and tries to get closer to you (as if that’s possible while already cuddling in bed). He says it a lot while you’re doing chores or really nothing, just to remind you and see you smile. There’s no way in his mind for those 3 words to lose their meaning, or become any less special.

[cutielando]

brazil, my heart | m.v.

synopsis: in which Max finally makes a statement during the Brazilian GP

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

Your lip was stuck between your teeth as the whole garage waited anxiously for the start of the race.

The weather had kept everyone on their toes ever since the Sprint race had finished, and it seemed to be set on continuing to do so during the race.

Frankly, it wasn't something that you were very much keen on.

You were very tired, having woken up at 5 am to join Max at the track for the early Qualifying session from 7:30, you didn't want to take a nap after Max was done with Qualifying so you could talk to him, but now you were slowly starting to regret it.

Your nerves were stretched thin as you anxiously watched the 5 lights turn on one by one, your heart jumping in your ribcage once they went out and everyone lunged forward.

"Max up to P11" GP's voice suddenly rang through your headset, making you finally let out a sigh you hadn't realized you had been holding.

Max had long ago come to an agreement with his race engineers to do his best to keep you in the loop with regular updates because he knew you sometimes got too nervous or scared to actually watch the race.

The weather really didn't help your nerves, either.

You were always afraid for Max in dry conditions, but seeing him race in this rain and with the low grip level on the track, let's just say you were gonna have a lot more gray hairs by the time the race is over, which feels like a lifetime away.

Wet racing was often known to be one of Max's best conditions for racing, but it also meant more dangerous conditions.

Seeing the spray that the cars would leave behind, just having to imagine having to drive at such high speeds with water in your face, barely able to see anything, desperately trying to keep the car on track. There was no room for any mistake, no matter how little.

You trusted Max and his abilities, but that didn't mean you weren't still gonna be worried out of your ass for him.

"Red flag. Max is coming into the garage" GP's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, your stance immediately perking up at the sound of the news.

You waited until the cars had come into the pitlane to take off your set of headphones and make your way outside of the garage, anxiously waiting to see your boyfriend emerge from his car.

The moment you had laid eyes on him coming towards you, you hurriedly started walking over to him, not caring about any of the engineers or frankly anyone else from his team.

You only cared about making sure he was okay.

Just to ease your mind and worries.

"Hey babe-" Max barely got a word in before you jumped straight into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly.

He grunted, but returned the tight hug, careful not to squash your head with his helmet.

You buried your head into his shoulder as best as you could, your heart racing as you finally felt him under your fingertips, okay and all in one piece.

“I’m never joining you at the track for another wet race ever again. I’ve had 4 panic attacks until now” you said, half joking and half telling the truth.

Max laughed, his arms tightening around your waist.

He knew how much you worried about him every time he would get into the car, and he also knew how much you hated the wet races. And he couldn’t blame you, but he was the best in those conditions, so you had nothing to worry about on his end.

“Is it that bad?” he asked, looking at his engineer over your shoulder who gave him a short and worried nod.

“It’s worse. I don’t know how you guys can see the track in front of your eyes from all that spray” you said, slowly letting go of him and stepping back from his arms.

Max pulled up his visor and smiled at you, the crinkles by his eyes telling you everything you needed to know.

“Hey, I’ve got this. Don’t worry about me, I’m driving the race of my life out there and everything is okay. I love you and I’ll come back to you in one piece” he said, holding our face in his gloved hands.

You bit your lip and studied him for a little while before nodding, giving him one last hug before he was pulled away by his engineers to go over data.

Running a hand through your already disheveled hair, you slowly made your way back into the garage, occupying your seat and putting your headphones back on.

Half more of this torture to go.

♡♡♡♡♡

The tears were falling down your cheeks before you could even think about stopping them, before the race was even close to being over.

Even though you couldn't see him, you could imagine what was going on behind Max's helmet, what feelings were going through his mind as he was leading the race towards victory.

Those last few laps seemed like they were taking forever, but then he finally crossed the finish line and took the checkered flag in first position.

You didn't think it was possible, but a new wave of tears started falling down your eyes, sobs racking through your body.

"P1, He's done it, Y/N" GP's voice rung through your ears, but you didn't care for any of it.

The only thing you cared about was seeing Max.

You got up from your chair and put the headphones on a table in front of you, your legs carrying you fast towards where his car was parked.

"Max!" you yelled just as he took off his helmet, his smile radiating as he started walking towards you.

You didn't waste a second before you flung your arms around his neck and jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as Max squeezed you close.

"I did it" he whispered into your ear, the smile evident in his voice.

You nodded, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you clung onto his body.

"I'm so proud of you" you murmured, pressing little kisses on his neck and his cheek.

Nothing could ever beat this feeling, being right there in your arms after winning a much-awaited Grand Prix.

Nothing could be better than that for him.

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[archangeldyke-all]

giggling so bad imagining R shaving her bush and sevika being like oh my god do u hate me?!?! what did I do?!?! how can I make it up to u I'm sorry pleeeeeease never do this again we can talk it out next time please 😭😭

LMAOOO

men and minors dni

last month, your period crept up on you, and you woke up half convinced you'd been stabbed in your sleep.

you and sevika didn't even try to salvage the sheets, just throwing them in the trash before re-making the bed. your pajamas were ruined, and, grossest of all, your crotch was a sticky, bloody mess.

so, this month to avoid any more incidents, you've been sleeping on a towel in anticipation, wearing a pad to bed just in case, and... you've shaved.

you haven't shaved in years. you and sevika are both bush enjoyers, and neither of you have ever felt the need to take a razor to your pits or legs since you started dating. finding a razor to use is almost impossible, but you manage to find one buried in the far back of your bathroom closet.

you feel so... cold. and smooth. you're hyper-aware of the feeling of your underwear rubbing on your skin. it's strange. not unpleasant, but strange. with one last look down your pants at your hair-less pussy, you shrug and crawl into bed.

you think that's the end of it.

you go to sleep easily, waking up about an hour later when sevika crawls in bed behind you. she kisses you gently and you hum, wrapping your arms around her before you both fall asleep.

in the morning, though, you wake up to a horrified gasp.

"what!? what is it, is someone breaking in?" you ask, sitting up in bed and rubbing your eyes. as you pull your hands away, though, you don't find sevika sitting beside you where she should be. she's hovering on top of you on all fours, a horrified look on her face. "sevika, what?!" you ask, your heart pounding in your chest.

"you shaved?!" sevika cries. you blink, your mind still half asleep, before finally looking down at your crotch.

you burst into laughter as you do. sevika's pulled your pants down your thighs in your sleep, clearly trying to give you a nice wake up call, and she's just now seeing your bare cunt. "sevika, for fuck's sake, i thought something horrible happened!" you laugh.

"something horrible has happened! why the fuck did you shave!?" sevika asks, her eyes wide and heartbroken. "d-did i piss you off, or something? whatever it is, baby, i promise i'll make it up to yo--"

"sevika!" you cackle. sevika pouts as she looks up from your pussy to your face. "baby, i shaved because my period's on the way and i didn't wanna deal with the mess again."

sevika's looking at you like you've lost your mind. "wha-- fuck that!" she whines. you chuckle. "what the fuck am i supposed to do when i'm goin' down on you now? my nose is gonna get all cold, i won't have anything to run my fingers through..." sevika looks seriously upset. you giggle just a little at the absurdity of the situation, then reach up to cup her face.

"it'll grow back, baby." you promise. sevika frowns.

"but then you'll just shave it off again!"

"no, i won't babe." you say. "not if you feel this strongly about it. plus, it's a lotta work-- i was scared to death i was gonna cut one of my lips off or something."

sevika chuckles. "thank you." she sighs, kissing your lips. you grin.

"thank you. y'know, most people have to deal with the opposite-- their partners forcin' them to shave before any intimacy at all... i'm glad you prefer the option that requires the least amount of work possible for me."

sevika giggles and kisses you. "i am pretty amazing, aren't i?" she asks. you nod.

"the fuckin' best." you agree.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

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@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

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