#cs toys

[mediapen]

DONTBLINKS5E3

[thatsrightice]

@avianii I saw your post about your Physics test and wanted to reply to say that I, an Aerospace Engineer, have gotten an F on a Statics exam so I sympathize.

You are doing great and no matter what happens you got this 👏👏👏

Also have this video of vintage aircraft carrier crew shenanigans™️ to make you feel better :)

[art-of-mathematics]

Looks like a toy for playing around with some knot theory stuff

The numbers can be re-attached via velcro patches.

One can use the threads/shoelaces for playing with some weaving patterns. Additionally one can use the slilicone pop-up dots as a binary/boolean indicator, which might be a good helpful tool.

Due to material reasons this thing only has 9 columns. The number 0 might get a different place or calculation mechanism.

I also still do not really know how I really want to use this strange thing.

...

A well-working flap:

And a (useless) information for free:

[ Source: lisburnmuseum.com ]

[safyresky]

Now, I'm not writing these parts in, but it's very important to me that you all know. That in the final five chapters of Crystal Springs. while everything is going down. Scott is repeating the mantra DON'T ASK JACK ABOUT MY ROOF in his head, over and over, because if he doesn't he will ask about the roof, and Carol has already given him the Principal glare MULTIPLE TIMES, and 7 and a half lectures on how NOW IS NOT THE TIME

[inmirova]

obsessed with the implications of this tag I just saw...

[beeapocalypse]

grinding my teeth. unsure of how far i can push kitty b4 she goes from offputting to straight goofy

[banukai]

oh my god i just spent an hour and a half writing bullshit about that post. maybe ill finish it tomorrow maybe ill just be too embarrassed to post it. uh either way getting to spend a while reading about fallout spread and acute radiation sickness was fun.

[mattslolita]

okay so idk if you’re taking request cs if ur not im soo sorry but i CRAVEEEE toxic babydaddy chris or matt like imagine yall imagine😔🙌🏾

dilemma - c. sturniolo

in which ... you can't stand chris's new girl in the picture, and you both realize how much you miss each other especially for your daughter. ( baby daddy!chris x black!fem reader )

warnings : angst, toxic!baby daddy!chris, crying, smut, riding, nipple play, unprotected piv ( wrap it freaks ), fluff in the end :3

"𝒏𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊 𝒅𝒐, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ

"alaijah baby, i need you to stay still, please!" you pleaded with your daughter, attempting to grip her unruly curls as she brushed her hair softly.

"mama, when daddy coming?" alaijah babbles, a soft smile on her face as she toys with the bottle of hairspray on the bed which keeps causing her to move around.

a lump forms in your throat at the question, but you attempt to give her a tight-lipped smile anyway. "I'm dropping you off my love, remember? we're getting ice cream on the way."

"ice cweam!" alaijah giggles excitedly, causing her to topple over the oil sheen which tumbles off the bed.

you groan and shake your head, losing the grip you had on her ponytail as you bent down to pick up the oil sheen — the thing that annoyed you was the fact that if it was her dad combing her hair, she was obedient with him. she never gave him problems when he was the one doing her hair, and it made you frustrated.

after picking the bottle up and setting it back down on the bed, you opened candy crush saga on your phone and handed it to your one year old girl, who happily took your phone and sat snug in between your legs.

with a satisfied smile, you begin to brush her hair again, thankfully having no more problems — that is, until your phone rings and you look down to see alaijah's dad trying to facetime you.

"daddy!" alaijah shrieks, a huge smile breaking out over her face.

you didn't want to talk to him, but you weren't going to deprive your daughter — so against your better judgement, you swipe up and accept the call.

"lay, hi sweetheart!" chris smiles at his daughter through the screen, and internally making your heart melt.

"daddy! hi!" alaijah giggles, scrunching her nose cutely as she waves at him through the screen, "miss you!"

"i miss you too, angel," chris says, his beam even brighter at the sight of her, "you ready for this weekend?"

"yah!" alaijah nods happily, poking at the phone, "daddy, say hi to mommy!"

rolling your eyes, you try to move yourself out of the camera's lens especially when you see chris's smug smile on the screen. "hi, momma."

you make a stank face at him and continue doing alaijah's hair, but the one year old makes a pouty face at you when she realizes you didn't answer him.

"mommy, daddy said hi!" alaijah presses, causing you to let out a sigh.

"yeah, daddy says hi," chris smirks, and you can feel your cheeks warm up despite the unwillingness of it all.

"yeah, hey," you said sharply, shooting him a glare through the screen as you're now getting started on alaijah's baby hairs.

"c'mon y/n/n, be a little nicer to daddy," chris continues, causing alaijah to giggle and you to groan.

you put your hands over alaijah's ears gauging a confused expression from her. "shut the fuck up, christopher."

chris just laughs and shakes his head as you uncover alaijah's ears, and she continues to look down at the screen excitedly — you continue watching as your daughter and chris talk for a little bit more, and you can't help but smile a few times at the way chris looked at her with so much love and admiration. it makes you wish you two had never broken up, otherwise you would've been a real family.

you pulled up to chris's house and sighed, looking at alaijah in the rearview mirror — she grinned at you excitedly as she seen that you both had arrived at her dad's house.

you quickly get out of the driver's seat of your car and open the back door on that side, unbuckling alaijah from her car seat and picking her up.

"daddy house!" alaijah beams excitedly, as you close the car door and move to the trunk where her overnight bag was.

"yes, are you excited baby?" you ask her with a smile, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, and she nodded with a giggle.

her overnight bag was on your shoulder and you internally groaned as you made your way towards the front door of his house — alaijah immediately reached out to press the doorbell, and you could feel her excited nerves radiating from her which made you smile at her again.

you almost dropped your daughter from your hands when you saw what opened the door — a blonde woman who looked to be your age, dressed in skimpy ass clothing which had you heated. you could tell she had extensions in her hair, and you scoffed at how cheap they looked.

"can i help you?" she snarks with an attitude, a hand on her hip as she gives you a once over.

"i know damn well this bitch is not..." you scoff, shaking your head, then looking back up at her, "girl, i'm here to drop off his daughter. who the fuck is you?"

"i'm his girlfriend," she says, boastful smirk on her face, and your heart drops and your face visibly hardens at this.

"did i ask, hoe?" you say to her, taking a step closer causing her to step back slightly, "get the fuck out my way before-"

"what's going on?" chris's voice suddenly comes, causing your blood to boil. damn, he looked so fine.

"you better check your bitch before i do," you say to him, causing the blonde girl to narrow her eyes at you as chris pushes her to the side.

"daddy!" alaijah says excitedly, reaching her arms out for him.

"hi baby!" chris coos to his daughter, taking her from your arms as he brings her close to him, "i missed you!"

you watch the sweet interaction with a yearning heart, but you seeth when you see the way the blonde girl looks at him with just as much adoration as you do — chris looks between both of you with an amused expression, and you could just give him a right hook right now.

"look, my daughter's here, can you both not come for each other?" chris says with raised eyebrows.

you fully turn to face him now, crossing your arms over your chest. he takes your figure up and down unashamedly, and you try to keep yourself from smirking as you realize you still had that effect on him. "that broad better not go nowhere near my baby, christopher."

"still using that full name on me?" chris scoffs with an amused smile, shaking his head. "i'll see you sunday night, alright?"

you quickly leaned up towards alaijah to press a kiss to her cheek, caressing it as she smiled at you. "i'll see you soon baby, okay? have fun."

"bye mommy, i love you!" alaijah tells you.

"i love you more."

without waiting for anyone to say anything else, you make your way towards your car, giving your hips a little extra sway as you knew chris would be drooling as he watched you walk away. you were proven right when you went to get in your car and chris had definitely been watching after you. you smirked as the blonde girl gave him a look of disbelief at the action, and you drove away, still feeling angry upon seeing her in the first place.

sunday night couldn't have come fast enough — you were bored and somewhat lonely without the comfort of your daughter with you, but you were able to run a few errands.

chris texted you and told you he would drop alaijah back off at your house, and you scoffed and only replied with an "ok." you knew it would piss him off, but how could he be the one upset?

soon, a familiar engine lowly rumbled outside of your house and you felt somewhat nervous because you knew it was chris. you heard the car door open then close, and footsteps slowly approach your porch until a knock on the door sounded.

almost too quickly you answered, and your heart warmed at the sight of chris holding your daughter in his arms tightly, her head laid on his neck with her eyes closed.

"she's asleep," chris said, swiping at his nose then nodding towards her, "can i go lay her down?"

you nodded wordlessly, stepping aside so that chris could walk in with her. he knows your house like that back of his hand ( nevermind the fact he used to live there with you! ) — he makes his way to your room, but you don't follow him.

instead, you cross your arms and sit at a barstool at your kitchen table, tapping her fingers along your arm as you wait the treacherous minutes it takes for your ex boyfriend to say his goodbyes to his daughter.

he emerges from your used to be shared room and grins at you, causing you to narrow your eyes at him. "what the fuck are you looking at?"

"i know you're still mad, y/n," chris shrugs nonchalantly, taking slow deliberate steps towards you.

"boy what are you talking about?" you say with a roll of your eyes, crossing her arms tighter on your chest.

"you're mad about lexi," chris says, egging it on, as he knows you're seething right now.

"oh, so the bitch got a name now, too?" you say, scoffing and shaking your head.

"you mad cause i'm fucking another bitch?" chris smirks, and you whip your head up at him at this remark.

without any warning, you stand up and quickly walk over to chris, yanking him by the arm and pulling him towards the couch in the living room — she shoves the man back on it, immediately going to straddle him as he looks up at her with a smirk and an amusement in his eyes.

"y'know lay's asleep, right?" chris tsks, rubbing the sides of her bare thighs which caused goosebumps to raise on her skin.

"then you better shut the fuck up," you say.

you smashed your lips onto chris's, having been craving this feeling again for so long — his hands immediately went to grope your ass which prompted a gasp to leave your lips and chris to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

you grinded down against his hard on, which you felt poking through his jeans as it so desperately wanted to be free. never breaking eye contact with him, you lifted your his shirt above your head and threw it behind you, and chris went to unclip your bra causing your perfectly round breasts to spill out.

"fuck, i missed seeing your pretty tits, ma," chris groans, immediately attaching his lips to your left tit whilst he massages the other.

"mhm chris," you breathe out, throwing your head back as he switches, giving attention to the other tit.

you grind down on him again, making the both of you moan at the contact. "pull your pants down."

you get up and take your shorts off, also giving chris enough time to slip out of his jeans and boxers, revealing his large, veiny cock which already leaked with precum — your mouth salivates at the sight.

you pull down your panties revealing your wet cunt, to which chris lets out a groan and strokes himself, but you narrow your eyes at him and smack his hand away, going to hover over his cock.

your hands find their way to chris's shoulders, latching onto them as you slowly sink yourself onto him, pulling a moan from the both of you.

"fuck, you're so big!" you whine, the stretch burning being that you haven't felt him inside you in a long time.

"so tight baby," chris groans in your ear, guiding you with his hands.

once he's fully inside you, you begin to move back and forth on his cock, the veins in his hands now prominent with the grip he held on your sides. "fuck baby, just like that!"

"you feel so good, oh my gosh," you moan out, throwing your head as you pick up your rhythm, bouncing up and down on his cock.

chris meets you halfway, thrusting up into you pulling multiple whines from you as he hits your sweet spot over and over again.

"fucking me so good ma, i missed your pussy," chris moans, leaving sloppy kisses to your neck.

"m'close, christopher," you moan out, keeping your steady pace.

"yeah?" chris groans in your ear, "come on baby, let go fa me."

it doesn't take you long before your orgasm comes crashing through you, your juices spilling over chris's cock and a loud moan of his name falls past your lips.

this sends him over the edge too, and hot spurts of his seed spill inside of you, mixing your juices together. he helps both of you ride out your orgasm, then you quickly get off of him to catch your breath.

he pulls you back towards him and shoves a finger inside your pussy to keep his cum in there, eliciting a gasp from you as you look at him with disbelief whilst he grins at you.

"what the fuck?" you gasp out.

"need my seed inside you, so you know who's yours," chris grins at you.

he takes his finger out then stands up, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the bathroom — he wordlessly grabs a towel and wets it, and you can feel tears from in your eyes as he does so.

none of this meant it was going to last long — he was going right back to the same boyfriend he was before, which was the ultimate reason you broke up in the first place. but you couldn't help the way you still loved him.

"please don't cry," chris says, breaking you out of the trance you didn't realize you were in.

"why shouldn't i, chris?" you sniffle, as he wipes your legs delicately, "it's not like we're getting back together."

chris could feel his heart break at the words you said, causing him to hang his head — it was his fault, and he couldn't believe he'd ever let someone like you go. he was so scared of fucking up, that he fucked up the best thing that ever happened to him.

"i miss you," you admit.

"i missed you even more, y/n," chris says, lifting your chin so that you could see in his eyes. and for once, there was a trace of sincerity in those blue depths. "i can't believe i broke our family up like this. i fucked up really bad, baby. but i want us to be a family."

"you mean that, baby?" you look up at him with a smile, and he wipes the tears away from your eyes, nodding.

"of course, ma. i love you so much."

he leans down and places a kiss to your lips — but this time it was sweet, but yearning. he missed both of his girls, and he was glad he had them back.

after cleaning you up chris grabs your hand again and leads you towards the bedroom, where alaijah is sound asleep in the middle of where you both used to lay.

you climb on side and chris on the other, and as if sensing the presence of her dad, alaijah moves towards chris like a magnetic touch, and he puts his arm around his daughter looking down at her with nothing but love and admiration.

you smile at him with your head propped up on the pillow, and he looks at you — he affectionately taps your nose, causing you to giggle as you take his hand, placing a soft kiss to it.

"goodnight, baby," you tell him, and he leans in to place another kiss to your lips.

"goodnight, my love," chris says back.

you get under the covers with them, moving close towards alaijah in the process to wrap your own arm around the girl, too — chris places another sweet kiss to both of your foreheads, finally at peace knowing he was with his number one girls again.

( lilly's section 💌 )

two fics in one night, who is she😳🙏? i hope y'all enjoy this, i love u so much muah💌.

@luverboychris @muwapsturniolo @prettiest-poision @mattsturniolosleftnut @mrssturnioloo @guccifrog @junnniiieee07 @astrowh0r3 @v33angel @ilovechrissturniolo1 @e1ias3 @l0akkzz @hysteria-things @eyeliketoeatpoosay @sturn777 @stasiesturn @prettypinkprincess15 @breeloveschris @summerssover @mayhem-72 @riasturns @chrissturniolossidehoe @moonk1ss3d @v33angel @h3arts4harry @stargirll567 @bitchydragonparadise @heartsforchrisandmatt @pepsienthusiasts @tillies33ssss @thenickgirl @sturnprime @summerssover @k4di333

[charles-leclerizz]

🥂 the f1 boys... after an arguement

MEET THE CAST. CL 16 ◦ CS 55 ◦ LN 4 ◦ MV 1

VIDEO DESC. hey guys ! welcome to the start of what i hope to be a long series. i would love for you guys to request something you would like to see, so don't be shy to leave something in my inbox. also please let me know if the graphic above is good, since i would like to continue it for the series

SHOUT OUTS. [@vroomvroomcircuit, @disneyprincemuke, @verstappen-cult, @starkwlkr, @sailing-with-100-ships, @foreveralbon, @lorarri], IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE SEND IN AN ASK, AND MUTUALS LET ME KNOW IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE REMOVED ON PRIV !

ᡣ𐭩 ⎯⎯ CHARLES LECLERC 16

" you're being ridiculous ! " Charles shouts, slamming his hands down on the marble and startling you with the loud echo of his palms against the counter.

" me ? " you mumur under your breath, leaning towards him on the opposite side of the kitchen island, " i'm the ridiculous one ? you're the one who was getting drooled on by your ex-girlfriend . " you snarled and stomped your feet.

" je ne peux pas, je ne peux pas- je ne peux pas avoir à nouveau cette fucking conversation avec toi . mon Dieu . " [ i can't, i can't- i can't have this fucking conversation with you again. my God] He ran his hand through his hair and watched as you gaped at him, slowly translating the words in your mind .

"of course," throwing your hands up in the air, you move away from the kitchen and rush down towards the foyer, "it's my fault, it cannot possibly be you, who made a goddamn mistake ?"

you collected your purse and keys, the metallic fob jingled obnoxiously against the bowl, "no it can't becau- what are you doing ? " Charles stopped mid sentence, eyes widening .

Squinting your eyes at him you shook the metal in your hand, "out."

"where is out ? je te prie de te le dire ? " [ pray tell thee ]

"anywhere but here, i need time charles." you mumured, itching to reach out and take his hand as you breathed heavily yet the anger that was bubbling up to a boil had settled into a seething magma, already solidifying into scathing stone.

"time ? " he spluttered, latching onto your bag that had just been slung onto your shoulder, "for what ?"

"for the clocks to reset." you sassed, dropping the clutch into his hand, "god. i'll be back."

the sun had begun to set by the time you had pressed in your combination into the keypad and attempted to silently pad into the apartment.

lest to say, that didn't work, because as soon as the door clicked open and the jingle of the lock had ceased, the sound of steps bounding up to you was following shortly after.

"tu es de retour, Dieu merci, tu es de retour." [ you're back, thank god you're back ] Charles hugged you tightly, hands winding around your waist to hold you close, the comfort of your heartbeat in time with his made him slump over you with relief.

you patted his back slowly, smiling inwardly, "yeah, i'm back. i told you i would be." pressing kisses to his neck but stopped short when small droplets began to wet your top.

"charlie," you sighed, pulling away to hold his red face in your hands. he sniffled and kept his gaze down on where his hands gripped your hips. his fingers fiddled with the hem of your clothing as his bottom lip wobbled and fresh tears bubbled at his lashline.

"charles ." you tried again, rubbing your thumbs against his temple, "why are you crying ? " he sniffed again and shook his head slowly, already curling around you again, going against the gentle force you applied on his face.

"pensé que" [ thought that ] he started, taking a stuttering breath, "thought that you wouldn't come back."

Your heart shattered, "why ?" with a burning throat, you blinked quickly and listened patiently.

"i was so mad, you were mad." charles bit his lip, despite the skin already being rosy and swollen, most likely from his growing worry throughout the day, "i wouldn't have blamed you, if you didn't come back. "

"honey ? " you call out, smiling gently when he finally met your eyes despite the pang that coursed through your body when you noticed the harsh red lines that sat stark in his eyes, "i would never leave you. "

"you wouldn't ?"

"no-" you choked back a sob, "no, why would you think that." scolding him, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into you, trapping him in your embrace, "stupid, stupid french man." you grit out, salty streams dripping down your face.

"you're right. " he laughed wetly, rubbing a large palm down your back when you begin to sob laboriously.

"i love you," you detach from him quickly, pecking his lips, his eyes, each and every individual freckle littered on his nose and cheeks, "i love you so much- even when that bitch is slobbering over your arm."

"chérie" he starts, but presses his lips together when you pause in between your smooches to arch an eyebrow at him, "i love you too."

ᡣ𐭩 ⎯⎯ CARLOS SAINZ 55

the sun was beating down on the yacht as the crsytaline blue waves lapped at the pristine white of the boat.

you lay on the sun bed, sunglasses propped up on your head as your eyes twitched, watching as carlos and some random chick were talking on the deck.

it was the days leading up to the monaco grand prix, and since it was easiest to procure a yacht here, the boys thought to host a party, where drinks, dancing and daquiri were a must.

so as the music blasted and almost 20 other people were chatting and moving their bodiees to the music, you were busy seething as the girl ran a hand up carlos' salty, sea water covered bicep.

though you stayed away, book disgarded on your exposed stomach whilst your hands twitched with undisclosed rage at your side.

it was when you noticed that even though your boyfriend glanced down at her fingers, he made no move to push it away, that you decided to get up from your place and saunter towards them.

"-wow you're so strong, it must be so hard to drive an f1 car."

"uhm-"

" hi." you gritted out, lacing your arm with carlos', who stood frozen in his spot, "if you would so kindly, stop humping my boyfriend- i would really appreciate it."

the girl stared at you, mouth opening and closing dumbly.

" you can go do that-" you pointed to the throng of the party, where lando was dj-ing, "over there."

she scoffed and walked away, but not before she winked at the driver on your arm and shot you a dirty glare.

as soon as you were sure that she had left, you slowly turned to carlos, who was already gawking at you, "you have 5 minutes to explain, why and how she felt that she could be doing that to you."

he spluttered, eyes igniting with annoyance, "that was the daughter of one of our biggest sponsors- why would you do that ? mujer loca" [crazy woman]

"i'm the crazy one ?" you asked incredulously, "so i'm meant to watch as you let girls just, what? sex you up?"

"oh come on, you know she wasn't." he rolled his eyes, "and what could i do? if i told her no, she could get me fired."

you crossed your arms at him, "so what you're saying, that no matter what, your job is more important than me and my feelings ?"

" Ay, ¿por qué siempre dices eso? " [ay, why do you always say that ? ] carlos shook his head and held your shoulders, "you need to understand that your feelings are important to me, but so is my career."

you shake your head, "but it's all the time carlos, all the damn time." he tilts his head, large brown eyes conveying his confusion, "it's always, 'we can't go here, its bad for my reputation" or "i'll be back late, the office needs me" . what about when i need you ?"

" i can't go everywhere, it's unsafe, you know that. and i'm not always out late. " he reasons, shrugging.

" no- firstly, it was a cafe, you aren't in danger at a fucking cat cafe. and secondly, name one time this entire month that we ate dinner together."

you wait, wedged foot tapping against the laminated wood beneath your sole. carlos stills for a moment, wracking brain before looking at you again and cringing.

"- see ! "

"- i'm sorry cariño !"

you shake your head pushing away his hands, "not this time- i won't forgive you. i deserve better. "

carlos watches, gobsmacked and panicked when you walk away, already collecting your things as the yacht docks.

the bell to the cafe that you sat in jingles quietly, though you ignore it and continue to pet the sweet, grey cat that purrs in your lap whilst sipping a warm tea.

a shadow forms infront of you, and you look up, eyes widening, "carlos- what are you doing ?"

he pants, bracing his hands on his knees as he doubles over- you instictively reach out and take his hand.

"i-" he keens and pants, "i looked everywhere for you, the apartment, all the shops that you normally go to, landos place, max's place, charles' place. then i remembered that you sent me the link for the directions here." carlos leans down to kiss your head, cradling your face in his palms, "gracias a Dios te encontré". [ thank god i found you. ]

you motion to the seat infront of you, letting the cat that now watched interestedly onto the floor so you could tuck your legs beneath the table, "what do you want ?"

carlos sighs, hanging his head before taking your hand and intertwining your fingers, he rests his forehead on your conjoined hands, "i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry. i told fred that- that i don't want to be talking to sponsors, y'know-" he looks up at you, kissing your hand gently, "like that, especially on my down time. and that i won't be staying in the office after 5pm."

you blink at him slowly, tightening your fingers, "oh.. good."

he finds your embarrassed gaze, and locks your eyes together, his caramel pools glistening beneath the sunlight that streamed in through the large windows. your stare softens, "i forgive you carlos." reaching forward, you brush away the hair that had fallen onto his forehead.

"you do ? i had so much grovelling left to do." he mumurs, glancing nervously to his side.

"did you seriously buy me something, already ? it's been-" you check your watch, "-3 hours ?"

"there was a plan in place Niña bonita. " [ pretty girl ] he reaches to his left and places the small black bag infront of you, "open it."

smirking, you begin to reach into the ominous container and retrieve a medium sized velvet box- as you pop it open, you gasp, "oh wow, it's beautiful."

nestled within, was a gold necklace, small diamonds hanging from the last few delicate chain links and in the middle, sat a chili pendant, petite rubies be-dazzling the body of the charm.

"i bought it a few days ago, i was waiting for the perfect moment to give it to you, but this seemed more appropriate." carlos took the jewellery in his hands and gestured for you to come closer.

craning your neck forward, you laugh quietly to yourself as you watch him stuggle with the clasp before grinning victoriously and retracts his hands away from your nape.

you take his face in your hands, "i love you." you declare as you kiss his pouted lips. he holds your wrists that rest against his jaw, running his thumb back and forth against your pulsee before whispering against your mouth,

"i love you more."

ᡣ𐭩 ⎯⎯ LANDO NORRIS 4

you stomped up to the door before banging on the wood angrily, "lando norris" you huff, "get out of this room right now."

"what ?" Lando wretched the door open, staring down at you, visibly annoyed.

"it has been 3 hours, since you have even stepped out of this room. now it is the winter break, you cannot possible think i will allow you to train on the sim for this long."

He opened his mouth to retaliate when gratingly familiar voices began to laugh and, "ohh" in the background.

"are you streaming ?" crossing your arms over, you're half tempted to push past his fuming chest and unplug the entire setup.

" so what ? you said i'm on break, i can stream if i want to." his voice began to raise dangerously.

"not when i told you that i cooked dinner," you poked his chest, making him blink, "that it's your favourite-" you poked again, "and especially not when i made that fucking tiramisu which you kept on going on and on about from japan." you push him, hard, before stalking out to the kitchen.

"wait ! " he called out, the sound of him shuffling and the door clicking closed made you grind your teeth when he didn't appear down the hallway.

Already packing up the food and placing it into the fridge carefully, you remained stoic to the fact that he had finally appeared behind you, wringing his hands as he watched you.

"babe ? "

"babe ? "

"bab-" "what."

you turn around on your heel, growling and if he were to open his mouth to say anything, steam would most likely begin to shoot out of your ears.

Lando stared at you, still playing with his fingers, "i wanted to- uhm," he gulped when you crossed over your arms, "say that i'm sorry." he whimpered.

"you're sorry ?"

"yeah."

"so," you guffaw, "i slave over the stove for hours, cooking, whipping, mixing and you think that i'm here to serve you when all you say is a 'sorry' "

"...no ?" he cringed, squeaking when you slithered past him towards the dining table and drag out a chair before taking a seat, "i don't see the big deal."

"you don't see the big deal ? " you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes.

"no."

"no ? " you parrot, holding your face in fear that if your hands were to be free, you would strangle him.

"i really don't ."

Inhaling deeply, you attempt to find your inner peace. for both of your sakes.

"lando, it has been 2 weeks of you being back home. 14 days. 336 hours and god knows how many minutes. and throughout that time, you have not touched me," you put up a finger, "you refuse to kiss me nearly as much as you did when you were out of the continent," another finger, "and someone would think you need glasses because you never seem to be looking at me, ever."

Lando's mouth popped open, eyes darting around your face in search of a viable answer, "I-"

"and lord," you scoff, "when i go to make a romantic dinner, in hopes that you could sustain eye-contact for more than a millisecond. you go and forget that as well." covering your mouth, you dip your head down, avoiding his crumpled expression to sob into your hands.

"Are you crying ? "

"i'm not," you retort, sniffing obnoxiously.

"then what are you doing ?"

" they're called allergies. it's the pollen."

"babe," you feel his once distant presensce come and crouch down to your level, warm palms braced on your knees, "its winter."

"i know," you weep, pressing your forehead into his shoulder.

"i'm sorry my love," he pleads, bumping the crown of his head gently with yours, "im so so sorry, i didn't mean to."

you shake your head pitifully, "yes you did. you think i'm ugly" you blubber.

"no- what ? NO ?" he takes your face in his hands, smooshing your cheeks together, "you're beautiful and the only thing that's ugly is my behaviour, i should've paid more attention to you, and i didn't." Lando kissed you tenderly, fingers brushing your hair away from your wet face, "but don't you dare say that you're anything short of stunning."

"shmokay," you lisp, tongue poking through your puckered lips, "shu hungry ?"

you smile contently when he wipes your cheeks and pecks your closed eyelids, "yeah... but not for food."

ᡣ𐭩 ⎯⎯ MAX VERSTAPPEN 1

" come on schat, i said i was sorry." Max tries for what seeemed to be the fiftieth time.

" will sorry bring back the 2 hours i spent outside, looking like an idiot ?" you plant your hands on your hips, staring him down.

Max slaps his head a few times before slowly approaching you, padding his way past the bed, "I have a job, Liefde" he presses his hands together and aims his fingers at you whilst gritting his teeth.

"oh, and i don't ? " you smack his aggitating hands away from your nose, "someone call wallstreet, i've been trading illegally. since apparently, my liscence and MB- fucking - A was for nothing . "

"you being on the phone and playing with money, is different from me driving a deathbox every week. hoe kun je de twee zelfs vergelijken ?" [ how can you even compare the two? ] he eununciates.

You gasp, half tempted to smash your stilleto heel into his poised foot, but decide against it when he follows your gaze and peices together your attack, already shuffling his foot away.

"max- i will not stand here and take this from you. i trade stocks you race jumbo bumper cars."

your voice reaches a new decible as you attempt to get through his thick skull.

"now either you can apologise, or else i'm walking out of the door. because i am done explaining to you how to be a good boyfriend " you point outside the bedroom which you both were currently shouting in.

Max crossed his arms, challenging your threat.

"really ?" you ask, appalled but nonetheless collect your purse from the floor and begin to leave the threshold.

Max hums, catching your eye when you turn around, already pivoting at the corner of the doorway. He shrugs, moving to the bed to sit down and yawn nonchalantly.

You blink a few times before leaning back into the room to snatch up the keys to his pista from the dresser, "fuck you."

and with that, you left the apartment. and max, whose words were beginning to dawn on him.

your feet were beginning to ache with how much you were walking and it was almost 200% confirmed, that blood was begining to pool into the expensive interior.

the sun was starting to set from it's afternoon high point and you watched it whilst continuing on your journey down the sidewalk, already having charged an alarming amount of shopping on max's card, you were nursing a grande cup of the most expensive coffee monaco would offer.

The pista sat 10km away from you, full to the brim with your shopping, so when it began to approach you parrallel on the road, your eyebrows shot up and you were prepared to throw the steaming drink into the drivers window as it rolled down.

"schat- why is there so much shopping in here ? "max asked, guidinng the car dangerously close to the pavement.

"you should know since i charged it to your account. " you clutch your to-go cup to your chest.

Max's eyes widened as he pulled his foot off the accelarator to twist his body back and take in the sheer amount of bags that were pilled into the backseat.

"is there a problem ? " you blink at him innocently, still walking towards what appeared to be the public beach.

he turned back to you, irises huge as saucers before he cleared his throat and shook his head, "nope" his voice cracked, "not at all."

"good" you harumphed, "on my measly sallary, i couldn't afford to buy all of it. thankfully i had your card with me."

Max grimaced at your words, "please just get in, people will think i'm hustling you."

"i hope they do. imagine max verstappen 3X world champion pays for sex ? on the tabloids."

He scoffed and stopped the car, no longer entertaining your trek since your determined trot had morphed into an embarrasing limp and your eyes were starting to water.

"please get into the car, you're in pain."

"no-" you sniffed, wiping your eyes, "no i'm not, my only pain is that my boyfriend doesn't think my job is serious enough or something." you wave a hand over your face, lip wobbling.

You're too busy trying not to sob into your hands to notice that max had parked the car and was currently slamming the door shut to come comfort you, "no, no i do- i think it's serious."

his arms wrap around you as he guides your back again the car, hiding your face into his chest to kiss the crown of your head, "i'm sorry for getting mad and saying those stupid things. it was uncalled for."

you look up at him, chin resting on his shirt, "..and ?"

"and..." he huffs, "i'm sorry for not meeting you at the resturant for lunch and not telling you that i wouldn't be able to make it since my meeting ran over."

you smile at him, giggling under your breath when his hand comes up to wipe your tears away, "my job is super serious, you were mean." you pout.

"yes- i was mean."

biting your lip guility, you take a deep inhale, "and i shouldn't have called your job 'jumbo bumper cars' "

max laughs and kisses your lips softly, "yeah- i think i deserved it."

you grin against his mouth, winding your hands around his neck as he presses you against his chest, hugging you tighter, "yeah you did. but im sorry nonetheless"

[ms-demeanor]

*screaming*

*continued screaming*

Okay. So. My introductory Visual C# class.

The professor for that class was Alice. Alice was the person who spoke in the introductory video and the person who we were supposed to email if we had any issues.

But all of the assignments, lectures, and quizzes were written and delivered by Bob. On the youtube channel "Bob's programming academy." The quizzes included Bob's name, like "if you do X will it return the string ProfessorBob, Professor, Bob, or Professor.Bob?"

This class was really frustrating for me because it was structured in such a way that you could easily pass the class with zero knowledge of the subject - it was totally based on quizzes that you could take an unlimited number of times and we *had* weekly programming assignments but they weren't graded so there was no incentive to do them (and look, if I wanted to teach myself programming with no incentives I could fail for several years to do that on my own, I don't need to pay fifty bucks a unit for that; the reason I am in a *class* and am not self-taught is because I need external motivation. That's why I sought out a class).

Also when there *was* a problem with an instruction that was unclear in one of the videos for the assignments, or if I thought I'd done something correctly that was very much incorrect, it wasn't Alice who had created the instructions, it was Bob - in 2017 no less - and I didn't really feel like I could ask Alice for help with an ungraded assignment that she hadn't written.

So. Now. My Python class.

Today is the first day of class. Professor is Charles.

I go to the mandatory attendance quiz and it is word-for-word the same mandatory attendance quiz as the C# class, down to the final question "what is your personal email address so I can keep in contact with you after the semester?"

I look at the syllabus.

Class grade is based on quizzes. We have assignments but none of them are graded. There's no textbook, just a series of videos from Professor Bob's Programming Academy.

So I'd been toying with staying at this school and trying to take more CS classes instead of going to another school, just to try to keep my records easier to manage, but since it seems like that *ENTIRE DEPARTMENT* is five Professor Bobs in a trenchcoat, I will probably be going somewhere else (and once again trying to force myself to do projects that I already know are *good for me to do* but *useless for the class and a massive time suck*)

I should drop this class. I should drop this class and apply for the other school so that I can start taking classes there in the spring because if I take this class and then go into the object oriented programming class in the spring and it's another professor bob sock puppet and I end up taking twelve units of programming classes where all I learn is how to google answers in a short time frame (something I already know how to do thanks) I am going to fucking lose it.

Also, again: I have a Bachelor's Degree. I spent five years at a community college when I was getting that degree. I took probably a dozen online classes starting in 2005 and going until 2011 in the process of getting that degree.

THIS bullshit, this "I'm your professor but actually I'm not and all the materials were created by someone else in the department or came directly from the textbook publisher and there is no writing and there are no assignments everything is multiple choice quizzes that are automatically graded" is *dogshit.*

This is NOT how online classes worked back in my day, not even online math classes, and as much as I know adjuncts are getting fucked over by academia in general, this isn't something that these professors should be getting paid as much as they are to do. Alice checked whether or not students turned in a hello world assignment and gave a pass/fail grades for three discussion boards that were responses to youtube videos. Nothing else in the class required her input. If this is the level of instruction that students are getting then the class is already automated and the students shouldn't have to pay for it.

This is crap. This is an incredible level of crap.

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter eighteen | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | non-con/dub con hints, hints of knife and mild blood consumption, Coriolanus Snow, mentions of suicide, mentions of Dr. Gaul, choking | lmk if I forgot anything

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 coriolanus snow has his hands on you and he's not playing

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 @tristanswildcat thank you for feedback! and y'all also make sure to let me know your thoughts for the chapter!

Beta read by the lovely 🌹 @nowitsmissing

masterlist | navigation

Coriolanus walks behind you. The silence is deafening, the tension could be cut with a knife. The upper floors had bedrooms assigned to every Capitol ‘guest’ that had come. Snow was walking you to yours. You don't say a word to him; you keep walking forward searching for your room number.

You make a soft noise as you find your assigned room. You take out the key that was given to you and you push the key into the keyhole. Your eyes flicker at Coriolanus. But it was impossible to see his emotions, his face was cold and passive. As if you're nothing.

You open the door, unaware of the danger.

You walk in, and Coriolanus follows.

Not even a second has passed and you find yourself pinned to the door. Coriolanus grins as he sees the flash of fear in your eyes. ‘Be afraid of me, dove,’ he thinks. Be afraid. Coriolanus Snow was going to punish you.

And you're going to take it.

He knew he was capable of killing you. He was mad enough for that. He also knew he would kill himself right after because there would be nothing to live for.

“Hi, dove,” he smirked.

“Remember me?” He hissed in anger.

“Cory-” Before you could finish calling him by his nickname, he cuts off your airway with his hand on your throat. He pressed hard, making you gasp. He was taking your breath away.

“Don't call me that, bitch,” he growled. You squirm under his hold but don't fight back. He likes how you're giving in. You're letting yourself surrender like a broken toy. Good girl.

You gasp, trying to say his name again. He pressed harder, making your eyes nearly roll back. He then loosens the hold, letting you take small amounts of air so that you would remain conscious.

Coriolanus takes out a pocket knife that he keeps in his pants at all times. He chuckled as your eyes began to panic and your trash in his hold. “I'll stab your heart if you keep acting up, sweety,” he whispered to your ear. The threat has you relaxing in his hold, though you whimper in fear. Coriolanus would feel ashamed later that he could feel his cock harden from the sound.

Such a fucking drug you are, making him high after all these months. He needs to overdose or else he doesn't think he'll survive. “You…” he said, “you're a horrible, horrible being.” With every word, he squeezed your neck. “I hate you.” It was a lie obviously, but Coriolanus figured that you'd never find out.

Tears begin to fill your eyes. Coryo ignored the pang of pain in his heart. He takes the pocket knife and lets the blade slowly drag against your cheek. He doesn't let it break the skin, not yet. He takes the blade down until he reaches the button of your shirt. One by one he cuts them off, exposing your body to him. He hums in appreciation of your beauty.

“But you still belong to me.”

He lets the knife break skin. He was cutting you near your hip. He could hear you hiss. He doesn't care. He carves out two letters on your skin. CS. Coriolanus Snow. That way you can never forget about him again like you did for all these months. He made sure of it. Every time you look at your body, it will remind you of him.

Snow would never leave your mind now.

Coriolanus felt proud of himself for achieving that. He lets the pocket knife fall on the floor and traces the bloody cut with his finger. He takes his bloody finger and smears the red on his lips. His tongue peeks out to lick the metallic liquid and he groans as he has your taste on his tongue. Is it disgusting of him to think that was delicious? God, district twelve has fucked him up.

“You're so fucking addicting. I should kill you,” he said to you as he sucks his lower lip for any lingering taste. He then pressed a kiss to your cheek, his hold around your neck completely loosening. Now it just stayed there like a leash.

You gasp, taking much-needed air as Coryo nuzzles his face to your neck. The smell of blood fills the room and you whisper his name,

“Coryo.”

He felt the anger rushing back, “You don't get to call me that anymore, dove.” He adds, “You lost the fucking right.” Tears begin to fall from your eyes. “Coryo- please-” you plead, afraid of him.

He felt more anger by the fact that you thought that he would hurt you. He would never! “No- fuck off! Shut up!” He yells, he hopes that the walls are thick here. He pressed his lips to yours, shutting off your begging. He kisses like he's starved and he is. He savagely bites your lower lip, sucking your tongue. He groans into your mouth. He doesn't break the kiss, no matter how sloppy it gets.

He hadn't realized that he had begun to choke you again until you stopped kissing back. Your eyes were closed and your unconscious body was supported by him. He takes you to your bed and lays you down slowly. He looks at you, your shirt torn, your body exposed, and your mind shut off.

He frowned, he thought he would like you see you like this. But he didn't at all. He remembered the first time he had been pinned against a door. It was in his penthouse, you were bleeding that day too. But in a different way. He fucked you with his fingers that night, and you were out of it from pleasure. He preferred that much more. He thought of you as pathetic right now.

Anybody could come and take advantage of you. Coriolanus couldn't let that happen. He finds out there's a first aid kit in your suitcase. He takes off your ruined shirt. He wets a cotton ball with antiseptic, he then presses the bud on your cut. He cleans it up to the best of his abilities and stops the bleeding. He then takes out an oversized t-shirt… which he recognizes as his.

He furrowed his eyebrows, confused about why you would keep his t-shirt. He clenched his jaw, a bit mad that Tigris had given it to you. He hadn't checked any of her new letters and it was time he spoke to her anyway. He then dresses you up in his old t-shirt. Then he waits… and waits.

He wondered how long he knocked you out for and if he should leave. But he doesn't. It's too risky to leave you alone in a place filled with filthy peacekeepers. Then he hears you murmur in your sleep,

“Please, Dr. Gaul, let me talk to him. Please, I beg of you. He's sorry, I promise.”

You wake up with a startle, crying out his name as you sit up. Your eyes are wide as you look around the unfamiliar room. Then your eyes land on him and you remember. You practically tackle him. Your limbs caging him into a hug. You were on his lap. And you were sobbing so loudly.

“Coryo, Coryo, Coryo,” you repeat his name like a prayer. You pulled back slightly and then you raised your hand to slap him, hard. It stings. He knew that it would leave a mark.

“Why didn't you reply to any of my letters, you bastard!? And you called me a bitch! The fucking audacity!”

Your hand wraps itself around his throat.

It was at this moment that he knew, he fucked up.

Next Part

[https-cyber-slxt]

König and Ghost nsfw hdcs please?👉🏼👈🏼

Anything for you, lovely anon :3

(no no, no proofread *wiggles finger*)

Ghost & König NSFW H/Cs

Ghost

Outside of the bedroom, he has a dominant facade, always acting like he's the one in control of the relationship.

-

But when it comes to being inside of the bedroom, oh Ghost is nothing but a good boy. Always doing what you command him to do, and always turning into putty from your gentle touch alone.

-

Has a preference of being praised over being degraded, childhood trauma really has its downsides when it comes to intimacy.

-

Prefers receiving than giving, he likes having someone do all the work for him (lazy fuck)

-

Has a hidden collection of "toys" in his closet that he uses on himself whenever you're not around.. Although he'll never cum with said toys.. Not without your permission of course.

-

If he's in a bad mood, he'll definitely bring out his more bratty side. He'll ignore certain commands and will try to dom you.... Though he'll never actually dom you, he did one time and couldn't walk for the next day.

-

He tries his very best to keep himself quiet, biting back his whimpers and moans. But if you ever tell him he can be loud... Be prepared for some earplugs...

-

Aftercare is a must! Whether it's having a simple bath, or praise and soft kisses while calling him a good boy. As long as there's aftercare, he'll be the happiest man on the planet.

König

This man is 1000% a good little submissive boy. People tend to think he's the dominant one, but all in all, he's nothing but a good boy.

-

Is into both praise and degradation, although, he does more or less prefer praise. Degradation is only for the times he's been a naughty boy.

-

Receiver 100%, takes it in the ass like a champ!

-

My sweet little colonel is a moaner, he's the loudest man you've ever been with, and it's not as obvious, but he holds that title with pride.

-

If he's in a good mood, he would love having you pull his hair, the way his eyes roll back whenever you're jerking him off and pulling his hair is the most euphoric experience he's ever had.

-

Was embarrassed to admit it at first, but he's really into pet play, he loves having that collar around his neck along with having you pull the leash to get him closer to you, it leaves a cute little twinkle in his eyes.

-

(On a completely random note if you're pegging him and he's completely overstimulated, he'll unironically moan out: "Ah! hnng! Please madam! Get me pregnant! Make me pregnant please!!)

-

Again, aftercare is the most important part! He usually prefers having a shower after your sessions, but if you two have had a little too much fun and he's unable to walk.. A nice warm bath will do just nicely.. (Maybe add a rubber ducky too)

[sakoyaya]

this is what yallz fuckass fics look like.

im gonna tickle you

-ms,cs x reader-

(part two maybe?)

you were sitting dzewn on the couch at your friend CHRIS house, when matt suddenly came by and said..

-hey babycakes

-i-i-i- WOOF WOOF MHHH🥹 i- IM SO SORRY DADDY- MATT. IM SO SORRY I DIDNT MEAN TO-

-its okay shuga jus let me rub on dat pusieee

-no please-

-what daddy wants, daddy gets. now c’mere.

chris walks in to the living room

-hey mannnn i jus smoked sum dope ass shit ykyk im like sooo high rn. why are you touching y/n magical spot. only i get to do that. grrrr

-s-sowwy papi- may-maybe next time?

-nah

matt starts tickling you and you cant help but pee yourself. he now decides its time to get the rose toy.

-plees dont! bae stop him!

-dw im getting your bitchass outta here.

he flies your ass to bahamas last minute. matts crying and doing pushups on the floor now. great. you should go kys.

-hey ily

-same omg we twinnem

-stfu hoe before i bust in your face

thats all i have for today lovies i hope you enjoyed <3 should i make a pt 2? cause this was rlly interesting!🥹

[safyresky]

Crystal Springs Chapter 22: now up on ao3!

Read it HERE on ao3 :3

Chapter 22: Deck the Halls

The Frosts have a fun, festive day decorating the house. Santa and Carol pick up the family. Curtis and Lucy make a rather troubling discovery...

This is such a fun festive chapter with some top tier Frost family shenanigans, Blinter sauce, AND plot movement, woo! Have a sneak peek!

"You know what you need?" "I swear to the springs if you say Christmas cheer, I'll—" "Christmas cheer!" Blaise boomed, with a large grin. "Of all the people in the world who'd be down for a little festive fun, you think I—" "I know, I know. Hear me out! It's a nice distraction. It'll be fun!" "Will it?!" "Of course! Look, start small, alright? Just hold the ladder for your old man, will you? I'm too young to go to Rosehaven and this is not how I planned to go out." Jack sighed, grabbing onto the ladder nonetheless. Deciding to ignore the all too easy too young comment as his Dad finished clambering up the ladder, he chose a safer route instead. "How did you plan on going out then?" "No idea! I do know that there will be explosions involved." "Multiple little ones or one huge one?" "Haven't decided just yet. Either or is good enough for me, really." "Ou, fireworks?" "Maybe!" Blaise stopped suddenly, frowning in confusion. He looked all around, scratching his head. He glanced back down at the ground below him and sighed, his hair falling into a simmer. Perplexed as well, Jack looked around the floor. He snickered when he saw it: stacked neatly beside the ladder were the boxes of lights, still sealed tight. "Forget something, old man?" "Apparently! Mind tossing up a string?" "Sure, sure. Don't move!" Jack shouted up, letting go of the ladder. "I can't make explosions for you if you do fall off the ladder! It's not my forte." He opened the topmost box, grabbing two of the neatly coiled strings. He wrinkled his nose, thinking for a moment before grabbing a third string and sizing up the façade of the house. Picking a pillar, Jack placed a foot on it, and began walking up. He stepped off onto the veranda roof, continuing his walk unabashedly up the second-floor wall, and up the third one, stopping beside his Dad with a smug little smile. Blaise looked at Jack. He looked at the lights on Jack's arm. He glanced down at the boxes. Back at Jack. The corners of his mouth twitched. "Here you go," Jack said, passing him the first string of lights. Blaise laughed; it echoed around them, and though Jack was loathe to admit it, he found himself smiling too, his mood definitely starting to lift. "Thanks son." Blaise grabbed the string from Jack and stepped off the ladder and onto the wall himself, shaking his head with a tired smile. "That's one way of doing things." "Did you mean to tell me that you forgot we could do that?!" "I don't make a habit of it," Blaise defended, unplugging the string from itself and gently rolling it out. "So do you just, use a ladder every year?" Jack laughed. "That's hilarious. You're like, an eight-thousand-year-old sprite with a good amount of warlock training under your belt, and you use a ladder?! Why not enchant the lights to go up by themselves? Or just make your own, you know, what with the fire that you can summon at will?" "Hey! I'm not eight thousand yet." "Sure you aren't." "I'm not even seventy thousand yet!" "If you say so," Jack shrugged. "I mean I'm close but not that close!" Jack pulled a face, sticking his hands up in surrender. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Dad." Blaise clipped the first bulb onto the gutter as a smirk crept onto his face. "Ah, now for me—" he side-eyed Jack, satisfied when the smug look began to drop, the colour leaving his face. "—that would be your mom." "Oh come ON Dad!" Jack protested loudly, nearly rivalled by Blaise's howling laughter. "I DON'T NEED TO KNOW THESE THINGS!"

I live to see Blinter embarrass Jack, and Winter's got the lead on Blaise so now, he gets a turn, lmao. See how the Frost Family's Festive Funtime goes right HERE on ao3 and HERE on ff.net!

Wanna read from the top? Check out the Prologue: An Encounter HERE on ao3 and HERE on ff.net. Summary below the cut! AND some author rambles!

It's been almost a year since Jack Frost thawed and things are looking...well, not so great. Jack's powers are seemingly gone. Without them, the Dome that keeps the North Pole safe from the cold and its magic controlled is melting, putting everything and everyone magical at risk. Unable to hide his power shortage any longer, Jack is forced to admit the truth. Thankfully, there is a solution: enacting the Legate Law, bringing Jack and the sister that he hurt so many centuries ago back together again. But when Jacqueline starts experiencing destructive blackouts, the pair are forced to head back home to Crystal Springs, bringing Jack face to face with the rest of the family. Needless to say, between getting his powers back, helping his sister figure out what in the FROST those blackouts even were, reconciling with his parents, meeting the two even younger siblings he didn't even KNOW he had, NOT TO MENTION the ancient threat that's had it out for the ENTIRE Frost family finally making a move? Saving Christmas (regrettably) is looking to be a little bit...complicated.

And with that, one more chapter until fresh CS content you guys! AHHH I AM SO EXCITED! Then two more chapters to go!

I've already got fun plans for 2024. Frostmas is next to be crossposted (but I make no guarantees it'll get the CS treatment, by which I mean, I won't have it done to give u the last two years and the epilogue come late 2024 lol. Or maybe I will! Who's to say! I'm at least hopeful to have Y11 for you some time next year :), and I've already picked a BANGER of an update date for each year (hehehe, the 13th of each month >:), and ff dot net continues to be a pain (guess what broke again. EMAIL NOTIFICATIONS D:<), so the sooner the BETTER.

And we'll see when Into the Shadows makes it up! It's got a lot of tricky parts and I've drafted (in note form) up to chapter 7 I believe? I've gotta figure a few more things out (villain motivations, order of disappearances) but then who knows! Maybe 2025 will be the year of ITS ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. At that point I won't even NEED to shift things to make it more original with the big stuff from TSCS universe, as I imagine they'll keep on taking the series so far from the movies that they'll be unidentifiable as the same franchise (I am already salty about s2 and 100% convinced s3 will be a thing and it SHOWS)

ANYWAY. Stay tuned for Chapter 23: Fae Brand next week, and Chapter 24: Whiteout (🆕 NEW CONTENT 🆕) THE FOLLOWING WEEK! (Nov 16th ish most likely since Thursdays seem to be when the chapter gets up)

I've tried to be super good with descriptions and visuals so that artist friends can go absolutely feral >:) ahhhh I can't WAIT for you all to read it!! 🥰🥰🥰

[havensins]

pls pls idk if this is where we send submissions but pls pls write abt ftm whinny whimpery mess peter parker or marc spector as theyre being bred by reader, creampie after creampie. Marc or Peter depending on who u choose to write for are a mess, moaning, whimpering and letting out pathetic noises, covered in bites and hickies fhkshfjddjjdjdjd The reader is rough with them but still peppers them with soft kisses and sweet nonsense in their ears as theyre being fucked

i chose to do peter parker for this bc it just fits so well?? like omg just think about it.

ftm peter who’s on his back with his legs wrapped around your waist as he holds you so close that your chests touch. he’s weakly scratching at your back as you fuck into him.

he couldn’t even remember how many times he’d came or how many times you came, he just knows he can feel the warmth of your cum being fucked back into him with every thrust.

and peter, bless his heart, is already so sensitive by nature! with the first time you cum in him, he’s already trembling and shaking and.. and then you don’t stop. you keep fucking him like he’s your own personal toy to use as you leave load after load in his cunt.

and the balance between the rough snaps of your hips into his cs the way you’re holding him as if he’s glass nearly gives him whiplash. he’s trembling in your hold as you kiss down his neck, and you can feel his short nails scratching at your back when you hold him flush to your hips as you cum in him once again.

pulling away, he looks so perfect. you wish you had a physical camera to take a picture of the sight. he’s littered in hickies and bite marks. his hair is splayed over the pillows in a messy fashion, he’s flushed red and covered in a light sheen of sweat.

the moment is so perfect, you couldn’t help but rock your hips up a little. “how much more do you think i could stuff your pretty pussy, peter?” you ask him, still rocking into him slowly. “wan’ your cum,” he whines, gasping harshly and you can feel the vice like grip his gummy walls had on your cock.

you just grin down at him, draping your body over his as you kiss behind his ear. “you can have whatever you’d like,”

[uncouth-the-fifth]

i'd like to report a crime - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: anxious work stress + leon comfort!!, leon being a fucking goober Notes: when i'm at work I'm always picturing him swooping in to save me...... leon kennedy if you can hear me please protect me from 9-5 hell... and like I said before, I would LOVE requests or prompts for this fic, I have so many ideas but I can't commit to any of them lol.

Standing in the bullpen at work today, you had a thought. Maybe they called it “medieval torture” because that was a whole lot catchier than “a shitty day at the busiest police precinct in Washington DC.”

It certainly felt like medieval torture to you. Before you’d even stepped into your big girl pants this morning, you knew that today was going to suck. Plain and simple. Suck. Yet another presidential event was bringing the Secret Service’s jurisdiction into your already hectic station, meaning that big square dudes in suits were going to be breathing down your neck until quitting time. You had three huge active cases that needed your attention. One of those cases came pre-packaged with a deeply annoying lawyer, who, in your professional opinion, has his head shoved a foot up his ass. He will absolutely be showing up to bother you today.

And worst of all: in your haste to get to work (Leon had put some serious effort into making you late), you’d accidentally worn a pair of super uncomfortable shoes! So now every waking moment of your existence was bonafide torture.

Clamping your jaw, you glance up from the paperwork in front of you and check your watch. Three o’clock. Right, okay, you can work with that.

You slap your hands down on your desk as you push out of your seat, and it gets a satisfying yelp out of the man sitting cross-legged beside it. He bristles up like a porcupine and nasally complains, “Where are you going, Detective Kennedy? You said we could—”

“Coffee, Douglas,” you bite back to said lawyer.

The last thing you want right now is some of the lousy, watered-down coffee from the station’s breakroom, but taking mini-breaks at your desk is just not an option anymore. Douglas has been camped out there from the moment you clocked in, and since you both refuse to budge, he’s going to stay there. Breakroom it is. You wince the whole way there, cursing your shoes from hell.

Someone forgot to start another pot of joe, so you have the absolute pleasure of doing it yourself. A small blessing in disguise, really. You give the glass pot your best thousand-yard-stare the whole time it heats the water, and just when the outline of it is starting to burn behind your eyelids, you’re jolted out of your glazed reverie by a cheerful, “Detective Kennedy!”

The officer appears at your side like she was there the entire time, and you wouldn’t put it past her—Giana is the latest in a long line of rookies who have imprinted on you over the years. Good kid, but a little on the overeager side.

She gives you a sympathetic frown and launches into way too much bubbly talking for your aching head to handle. “Heyo! Man, it’s crazy today, huh? You look beat, detective. Hey, think of it this way—just a few more hours and we’ll be home free! Any fun plans tonight?”

The question triggers a movie-style flashback sequence in your mind, complete with black-and-white visuals and some tasteful dream fog. Leon, your husband, boredly poking around the aisles of a new Target by your place. Leon discovering the boys' toy section. Leon, your beautiful, amazing husband, going starry-eyed at the massive NERF Elite Titan CS-50 Toy Blaster, which you’re pretty sure you need a license to operate.

He’d tapped the Nerf box like a boy on Christmas morning. “150 foam bullets, baby.”

But it would take a lot of energy to relay all of that to Giana. So instead of explaining that you’re having an epic Nerf duel with Leon when you get home (no headshots, loser makes dinner), you cooly answer: “...Spending time with my husband.”

Giana hums. “It’s so weird to me that you’re married…” (Thanks.) “I can’t even picture you not grinding away at some case.”

The coffee machine burbles out its last sad spit of coffee. You pour a good amount into your mug, smiling, “Oh, Leon’s just as bad. We’re both married to our work. He’s just my favorite mistress, s’all.”

Giana opens her mouth to launch into another cheery tirade you can’t catch up with. You like the girl, but on top of being way too eager, she’s also painfully see-through. For example, you don’t even have to turn around to know that a gloriously hot guy has just walked into the bullpen behind you. It’s written all over Giana’s owlish look over your shoulder. Hell, you can even clock that he’s heading straight this way—not only does Giana cross herself to bid away impure thoughts of the stranger, but she evaporates into smoke out of pure shyness.

“Look out!” She stage-whispers.

Aw. Poor girl, you think as she waddles away. Considering who’s going to be unloading a clip of foam bullets into you later this evening, (what a strange double entendre), you’re basically immune to hot guys. You can handle this.

“Excuse me, detective, I’d like to report a crime?”

All sense of professionalism poofs off your face at that familiar voice. You whirl to face your husband, and in one swift slash, the ten ton weight of your stress is slapped clean off your back.

Leon’s resting stare has slowly been absorbed by his Serious Agent Face. But today, he’s smoldering less in the business way and more in the off-duty model way. In a white tee, jeans, and racing-striped leather jacket, he certainly looks the part, clean-shaven and dewy-skinned. Fuck him and his unblemished skin. What Umbrella moisturizer was he using back in the day, dammit?

You’re capable of joking again and fall flawlessly into the bit. “Of course. What kind of crime, beautiful?”

He isn’t really able to look flustered, but you think you get close to the impossible with the way his head tilts at that line. You notice that he’s hiding something behind his back.

“A theft,” he answers. The tiniest smirk twitches on his mouth. “My heart’s been stolen.”

…What a fucking cornball. The tragic part is that you find the joke pretty funny, and not completely in the ironic way. He waits for you to giggle and twirl your hair or what-the-fuck-ever, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction, ducking into his quick hug to grin into his shoulder.

You groan at his awful joke. “Jesus. You need a fork for all that corn, Leon?”

“I take mine off the cob,” he drawls in your ear. With that voice, he could make anything sound suggestive.

You’re about to pout at him for failing to return your hug, when you draw back and see that his hands are full. It’s then that Leon presents his bounty to you, bowing his head and holding his trophies aloft like a knight giving respect to his princess: in one hand, one of the stupid expensive coffees you like, and in the other… your comfiest work flats.

“How?” is the first thing your fish brain manages to say. Because, truly, how does he always know? The coffee, the shoes— “Did you put a tracker in me? One that tells you everything I’ve been complaining about all day?”

You go slumping down into the nearest seat, mystified by him. Leon sets the still-steaming coffee down in front of you and kneels, stooping to help you out of your shoes-from-hell. The strap around your ankle has rubbed the bone raw even through your tights. He gets the clasp loose on the first shoe with little fussing, then soothes the skin with tender brushes of his thumb.

“Mhm,” he hums. All you can see of him from this angle is the layers of color in his hair, deep browns and ash blondes blending into one another. The smug pride in his voice is obvious—he loves knowing he’s read you well. “Tells me when you’re hungry, too. Have lunch with me?”

Please god, your body begs. Just picturing it loosens some of the tension in your neck. Like last time, the two of you would play-fight over where to eat, and your cute little delivery boy would go pick up the winner. That way, you wouldn’t have to waste a single moment of your allotted thirty-minute lunch. Leon would pull up a seat at your desk (maybe scare Douglas off with a flash of his badge), and you’d get a blissful, uninterrupted dose of him. Enough to get you through the rest of your shift.

He’d be too deep in Professional Agent Mode to babble like he does at home, but Leon’s raspy chuckles and his hand on your knee would tide you over til’ five.

…But no, the universe is never that kind to you. You wince at Leon’s offer and drop an apologetic hand to his shoulder, still knelt at your feet and working on your other shoe. He’s too good to you. “M’ sorry, baby, but I think I’m gonna have to work through lunch if I wanna get home on time. Rain check?”

He doesn’t mind. He throws a squinty warning stare your way, not happy that you’re getting dangerously close to overworking yourself, but he understands.

A sly smile creeps onto Leon’s face as he helps you slip on a flat. “I could talk to your Captain. What if you were pulled away for a ‘federal emergency?’”

“Then I think me and my Captain would implode from stress,” you laugh. “He’d think I’d been drawn into some national crisis or something.”

Leon scoffs. “That’s only happened, like, once.”

The other flat welcomes your poor, aching foot like a jacuzzi hot tub, and you take a deep magical sip of the overpriced coffee he got special for you. It trumps the watery breakroom joe any day.

For a minute you’re so stupidly happy that you could easily punch a boulder clean off a cliff. Hell, you might even twirl your hair.

“One too many times!” You groan. Since he’s being all cute and kneeling at your feet, you can’t resist poking him a couple of times to be silly. In the chest. In the cheek. In the heart. Stage-whispering, you accuse, “I think you just like having excuses to work with me.”

Leon finishes helping you into your shoes, but he’s in no hurry to leave his spot. One of his rough hands finds yours in your lap and toys with your wedding band, twisting it, testing the groove where it’s been sitting for a few years now. Those big blue eyes fix on your face. You’re married to the guy, but something about being the subject of all his naked attention makes you feel like shrieking into a damn pillow. He’s the best. Judging by that mean little smile on his face, he knows it’s true.

He gives your hand a little squeeze and points out, “I was your partner before anyone else. We never got our buddy cop beat—so yes, I will shove myself into your world since I can’t pull you into mine.”

You’re grateful he still thinks that way. Getting him to talk about Raccoon is harder than pulling teeth, but this—your partnership, whether that be as cops in an imaginary second life, or as husband and wife—never fails to pry him right open.

You’d been asked before if it was frustrating, how your paths had split after the city had blown. The two of you had come from the same spot and endured the same things, but where Leon had soared up, you’d kept to what you knew. No part of you envied him for it. In his mind, the two of you were still the same unit you’d been then, endlessly loyal to one another. You watched Leon’s back and—clearly, he watched yours.

“You’re my favorite,” you tell him, sweetly petting his chin. “I’m gonna fucking destroy you at our Nerf duel when I get home.”

All the buttery tenderness wipes from his face, and in an instant he’s on his feet, clapping a scarred hand down onto your shoulder and bending to whisper fiercely in your ear. “I’d like to see you try.”

He smushes a kiss to your cheek, waves a friendly, “See ya,” and melts back into the current of the rowdy bullpen. You hate to see him leave, but by god, you love to watch him go.

A few seconds after Leon says his goodbye, Giana, your rookie, peers around the open door of the break room. Her patchy blush goes all the way down to her uniform collar. “...Nevermind. I can definitely picture you married, Detective Kennedy…”

-

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