#f: what's to come

[booasaur]

Renegade Nell (2024) - 1x06

[khayalli]

uh- yeah, no, my car is just shitty. Definately...defiantely not just making up excuses to see him haha....

[beif0ngs]

DIVINE DEPARTURE

[talaok]

Training

Pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader

Summary: Peter has never been able to last enough to take care of you, but as it turns out... practice does make perfect.

Warnings: talk about premature ejaculation, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, sub!peter and lots of pet names for spidey.

he was always so desperate around you. He was always shy about it, but every time you gave him permission his hands never left your body.

He was so fucking in love with you it was actually a little bit scary.

Nobody had ever made him feel the way you did, and not just sex-wise (although goddamn wasn't that the best thing ever), no, but feelings-wise- like he could breathe more easily around you, like he felt light and soft and the word was perfect whenever you were near.

And everything really was perfect... except one little thing.

he couldn't last.

You weren't making it a big deal, being that you were also teaching him every other way he could make you come, but still, he wanted to do it... he so desperately wanted to feel your walls squeeze him as you came that he was willing to do anything... but it was just so hard.

Andit never got easier...

"c'mon baby" you purred, taking his face in your hands "You can do it, think of something else," you said, out of breath as you bounced on his cock "Anything else baby, I'm almost there"

His eyes were shut close.

He'd found that he didn't even stand a chance at lasting more than 2 minutes if he was watching you.

And he tried, he really tried to get his mind to make something up, to will it to find something else to focus on, but-

"you feel so good y/n- I-I can't"

"yes you can" you shut him up with a messy kiss "You wanna be my good boy, baby?" you ask, eliciting a whimper from his throat

"y-yes" he choked out, not sure how he still hadn't burst

"Yeah?" you breathed "Then you're gonna have to be good and wait a little more" you moaned, his dick hitting a particularly good spot "Can you do that for me, baby? can you wait a little more?"

"mh-mh" he hummed, sounding on the verge of tears

"good boy" you moaned, your nails scratching his chest, as he stretched you so incredibly well "fuck-you feel so good" you cried, your voice drowning out the sound of your skin slapping with his "s-so big baby" you moaned again "s-so f-fucking-"

And then, just like that, it happened- the most extraordinary thing he'd ever felt.

You came, you came on his cock- you came because of him (although, let's be honest, you did all the work), and it felt-

he didn't even have words for it, he only groaned louder than he had ever done, and finally (and inevitably) reached his own release as your walls squeezed his dick and your moans filled the air.

He was grinning like an idiot the moment you opened your eyes back up, and you couldn't help but laugh "You liked it?"

"yes" he nodded, still smiling wide "yes very much"

"mhh" you hummed, bashing in your post-orgasmic bliss as you leaned down to kiss him "I told you you could do it honey"

[vellichorsdesire]

f/o making up a small sign such as tugging the end of your sleeve to coax you into a hug— each time you notice the sign and allow them to hug you, you can’t help but notice it grows more and more longer… them even resulting in maybe rubbing your back as comfort or even adjusting their grasp and hugging you a little tighter as if you’ll slip away so easily from their arms.

(you can’t help but notice either than when you return such a secure hug back, the type that silently reassures that ‘i’m here,’ they sigh so contentedly near your ear that you’re sure that’s probably the reason why the hugs last so long)

[geezmarty]

"are you thinking about your rook already" and what if I am

[artea-artie]

Notice how I ship UsUk while respecting other shipping preferences, very demure, very mindful. I don’t go harassing people over which fictional characters kissy-kissy who. I don’t go accusing people of ludicrous, wild ideas because of a certain ship. I’m very mindful in the Hetalia community. See how I act mature? The way I respect my shipping community is how I respect the overall community. Those that decide to willingly insult others over fictional characters—*disappointed head shake* not demure.

[turtleblogatlast]

That middle child feel when you’re the one who successfully gets you and your siblings out of trouble only to immediately get jumped by them afterwards

[gilverrwrites]

AK!Jason who’s inexperienced but far from stupid when it comes to the fairer sex. Once he has you captured with your hands strung up over your head, he knows what he wants to do. His touch is exploratory as he plays with you, noting everything that gets a reaction out of you, like he’s testing some hypothesis. He lets his hands roam your entire body, pausing over your stomach as he marvels over the fact that he could just put a baby in you if he wanted. He fixates on your breasts and slobbers all over them, rubbing his cheek against your nipple before crouching to observe the prize between your legs, the one that no one - not even Batman - can keep him from winning. As he gets more excited, his grip goes from curious to possessive, his observations becoming crude comments, thriving on the fact that he can touch you all he wants but you can’t lay a finger on him, because this Jason can’t stay nice for long.

Anon, dear sweet lovely anon, this will haunt my every waking moment for the forseeable future. What a delight.

Thinking about him incidentally brushing his bare hand across that spot for the first time, whichever one turns you on the most; your neck, your spine, your waist and laughing at how you shiver and whimper for him.

His probing fingers delving between your slit, and something in his brain switches from the aforementioned curiosity to possessiveness when he feels how wet you are. For him. Even chained up and at his mercy, you're body responds to him because it knows you belong to him.

Gently squeezing your clit for the first time and aweing at how your body shudders, at how your folds practically begin to drip, at how soft and warm your inner walls feel when he sinks two fingers in, twisting and scissoring, gaging how well his cock will fit in there, and ooohhh baby, he just knows that tight little cunt was made to fit him just right, and if it doesn’t, he will make it.

I’m just trying to decide logistically which of the following is hotter, cause obviously his helmet has to be off for this. But do you know it’s Jason feeling you up, treating you like an experiment, having his was with your body? Can you see him? See the resemblance to that boy you once knew through all the age progression and scars?

Or are you perhaps blindfolded? Because he’s not ready for you know his identity just yet, because he wants to see if, even on a subconscious level, if you’ll figure it out or if you’re so fucking dirty and desperate you’ll let anyone have at you.

Or maybe it doesn’t matter because you don’t know him at all, he was long dead by the time you came on the scene. Batman’s previous sidekick, a footnote in a story you were never a part of. But he knows you. Joker put your picture on the wall of his cell, his replacement, in his role, wearing his clothes.

He’s been watching you closely ever since he started following Bruce. He knows everything there is to know about the girl who took his place. He knows what shampoo you use, how you take your coffee, where your spare suits are stashed, how you often forget to close your curtains at night when you’re sleeping naked in his old bed. You don’t know him at all, but you’re about to become very well acquainted.  

[rexscanonwife]

Because I'm insane, here's some drawings and doodles of some fairly oddparents stuff I've been doing the last couple days plus @circusgoth-dotcom 's s/i! (Pictures taken moments before disaster)

I don't know why I seem to suddenly and RANDOMLY get new hyperfixations lately, but my partner pointed out that it's always when they're gone on a work trip 😂😂 the colors aren't super concrete on my s/i and the outfit in general is a work in progress still, but I've been having a lot of fun experimenting with the style!

Taglist♡: @me-myself-and-my-fos @tiny-cloud-of-flowers @sunstar-of-the-north @dearly-beeloved @adoredbyalatus @changeling-selfship @crushes-georg @miutonium @cherry-bomb-ships @rosieaurora @rejaytionships @sunflawyer @in-true-blue-love @tropicalgothships @little-miss-selfships @hotrodharts @cupiidzbow @frozenhi-chews

[kooldewd123]

god i love the digimon dub's stupid voice acting

[buttfrovski]

mama's boy

[pastafossa]

"Don't Let Go" (Michael Kinsella x F!Reader, Fic)

Time for Day Six of the Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! I chose the angst prompt, "Shh, I've got you now. I'm here." with Michael Kinsella! I originally planned to use all three prompts (the above plus 'love bites' and 'spread your legs for me') but this one just sorta worked beautifully focusing on the angst prompt alone, despite my plan. May come back and do a sequel with the other two prompts eventually. You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications! And off we go!

Ship: Michael Kinsella x F!Reader

Wordcount: 1.1k

Warnings for this chapter: angst, blood, injury care, mention of reader briefly held hostage, language, mention of domestic violence, some shouting and breaking things (Michael is very angry here, just not at you).

His hands shaking, Michael cleaned you up in the bathroom.

You weren’t sure if that tremor was due to fear, or… or exhaustion, maybe. He probably hadn’t gotten much sleep the past two nights while you’d been missing, held captive in an abandoned building by a group of men who’d been looking to blackmail the Kinsella family. It hadn’t worked out well for them based on the dead bodies you’d seen when Michael had grimly carried you out past his brothers, his hands stained heavily with blood and smelling of fresh gunpowder. 

It was those hands—the very same hands that had so recently dealt out death and destruction—that now tended gently to your wounds. With barely a word save a soothing murmur whenever you winced, he washed away the crusted grime and dried blood from your body in the shower before settling you down on the side of the porcelain tub. Once you were comfortable, he set about cleaning out and bandaging the bloody cuts on your hands and face, the torn skin on your wrists left by the handcuffs, and the burns along your forearm from the cigarettes one man had decided to put out against your skin when you’d spat in his face.

With every injury Michael cared for, however, the more his hands shook, his breathing growing sharper, hissing out from between his clenched teeth. 

No. This wasn’t fear or exhaustion making his hands shake, you realized. This was… 

He rose from where he’d been kneeling in front of you. He stared down at you for a moment with those dark eyes of his, taking all of you in for the first time since bringing you back home—taking in every last swollen bruise and vicious cut, every bandage and mark of pain left behind by those who had wanted to harm his family by using you against him.

…This was rage.

He snatched up the first aid kit, turned, and hurled it with a furious scream. It shattered against the wall in the hall, its impact leaving a crumbling hole in the drywall. Gauze and ointment, bottles of pills and splinters of plastic scattered left and right.

“Michael,” you said weakly. “I’m ok now.”

It was as if he hadn’t even heard you. “I’m goin’ ta find the rest of ‘em and kill 'em for this!” he snarled savagely, his accent even thicker in his fury. Gone was the gentle lilt, the familiar softness he always seemed to gain in his voice when he spoke to you or about you. Now he was every inch the dangerous Kinsella that so many feared, though not you. Never you. Even now you weren’t afraid, despite the way he whirled and paced wildly in front of you, as if looking for the very same ones who’d so recently hurt you. This was rage in your defense, and that made all the difference. 

“Michael—”

“They think I can’t find ‘em?” he spat. “They really think I can’t? I’ll hunt down every last fuckin’ one’a them filthy little cunts fer puttin’ their hands on ya! By the time I’m done wit’ em, there won’t be enough’a their fuckin’ bodies left for their mams to bloody bury!”

This time it was the drinking glass on the counter that paid the price. It flew out into the hall to shatter violently against the wall just beside the mark left by the first aid kit. Glittering shards of glass, some pieces still damp, joined the rest of the debris on the floor.  

“Michael.” You heaved yourself upright on shaky legs, wobbly as a newborn fawn. And it hurt, it hurt to move, cuts tugging, body aching. You tried to blink the dampness away in your eyes, not now, come on. “It’s alright—” “Don’t tell me it’s alright when they hurt ya!” he roared. But the moment he swung back around to face you and saw you on your feet, he spat out a curse. He stormed across the bathroom before you could take more than a step. “Daft woman, sit your arse back down before ya fall over!”

One hand still braced against the wall, you lifted your other arm quickly towards him. He lurched to a stop before he could touch you, an expression of horror twisting across his face, all furrowed brow and parted lips. Only then did you realize what that must have looked like to him—your arm held up to fend him off, trying to stop him from coming towards you, tears in your eyes as if you were… as if you were terrified of him and what he had been doing. 

Gone in a breath was the rage, the fury, replaced by a gutted, heartbroken grief. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d have said he was about to cry, too. “Ya didn’t think I was goin’ to…” he whispered, swallowing hard and taking a cautious step back. “I… I swear, pet, I would never—” 

“God, no, Mikey. I know you weren’t going to hit me,” you croaked, trying to put your arm out again in a more welcoming way, and if your breath started to hitch, tears now beginning to roll down your cheeks despite your best efforts, well, surely you were entitled to that, because it had been a horrible few days and the longer you stood here, the more you began to shiver and hurt. It had only been a few minutes since you’d been in his arms, but your body clearly wasn’t ready yet for even that much separation. Emotion welled up inside you like a dark wave, endless, bottomless. You were terrified you’d drown beneath it without him to help you keep your head above water. “I was trying to… could you come over here and… and hold me? I just need…”

He caught you just as the first choked sob tore its way out of your throat, the strength of the sound so violent, so raw it almost frightened you. One of his arms quickly wound around your waist, pulling you in against the comforting, familiar warmth and strength of his chest. His other hand rose to gently cradle the back of your head, bringing your head down so you could bury it against his neck. He rumbled low, soothing notes into your ear, tender words of comfort as you desperately tried to breathe in the scent of whiskey and leather, gun oil and rain between your heaving breaths and broken sobs.

“There ya go. Shh, I’ve got ya now, pet,” he whispered, laying his cheek against your hair. He shifted the two of you carefully across the floor until he could ease himself down on top of the toilet seat, pulling you slowly into his lap. You went without a fight, clinging to him, the fabric of his shirt held tight between your fists as if it were your lifeline. “I’ve got ya now. Let it all out. I’m here, darlin’. Yer safe with me.” 

“Don’t let go,” you choked out, “Please.” “Never. I promise.”

[masterrainb0w]

"I kiss you on the top of your forehead. Uh—May I?"

“You may not, but instead I kiss your lips. May I?”

"No."

[c2-eh]

throwback to Suzuka 2023 🫶🏻

[sainz100]

waiting the same way