#for like two and a half hours give or take

[vikasmama]

✮ thinkin’ of helping pitfighter!vi after a loss.

cw. — (men + minors dni!) afab!reader, lowkey pwp, public sex, mirror sex, free use? kinda, hair pulling, light degradation, creampie, butchcock ˆᵕˆ use of “pretty thing”, “gorgeous”, & “baby”, vi is going through it but she’s still a lover at heart yk

“aah! mmgh— fuckfuck! oh my g-god, viii!”

you’re shameless, moaning her name like you’ve known it more than half an hour. given, you’re being stretched out so good you can barely focus your vision and she’s hitting angles you weren’t even aware existed… how could you not?

“you’resso loud,” vi slurs her hushed words due to the fading alcohol in her system. “whole damn club’s gonna hear.”

anything she says is going in one ear and directly out the other. the swell of her dick inside you is immediately addicting. her rough, bandaged hands hold your hips tight, pulling you back to meet hers over and over with no escape. you’re holding onto the sides of this grimy bathroom sink like it's life or death, much more worried about staying standing than your volume. she’s big, and so fucking good, the drag of her heavy girth relentlessly pushing into you threatens to make you drool.

she lets out her own ragged grunts and moans as she commits to having every one of her thrusts knock the wind out of your lungs. she can’t control it. after such a horrible day, and a loss in the pit to top it off, there was you. so beautiful and sweet in the middle of this bustling nightclub, so eager to listen and take her mind off some things. then she gets you here and you’re so soft, pliant, taking everything she gives; she finally sinks herself into you, just the tip. vi’s been at heaven’s gates a couple times, but that feeling might’ve really been it. she couldn't wait more than a few seconds for you to adjust, plunging into you and chasing your warmth. now she can’t stop bullying her cock into you, forgetting the rage she’s been nursing listening to you fall apart for her.

“ffuck— aah ‘m sorry!” your words don’t come easy. you can literally feel her in your throat. “you- nggh, you’re so deep, vi!”

“you don’t even give a fuck, huh? wan’ people to hear? those friends you were with- haah, know you’re this much of a whore?”

a long whine leaves you at the name she uses, your thighs shaking a bit. along with your incessant moans, the obscenely wet sounds of your cunt sing beneath you, filling the dark bathroom. yet your voice, your response is the one thing she doesn’t hear, and she frowns at the realization that she doesn’t like being ignored.

vi snakes a hand up the expanse of your back, fisting it in your hair once she reaches your nape. she cranes the top half of your body up so you’re facing the mirror in front of you, and now you can also watch how deliciously she splits you open from behind. a sob catches in your throat at the image. the dim lighting above shrouds you both, luckily enough to highlight the sweaty, debauched faces you both made. “look at yourself, baby. so fuckin’ sloppy,” vi emphasizes her last word with a sharp thrust. it makes your eyes scrunch close, and without missing a beat her grip in your curls tightens. she pulls you up and back at attention, harshly. “look.”

staring at yourself, growing dumber and dumber by the second — god, it’s hot. some of her fighting makeup is smudged against your cheeks from aggressive kissing earlier. your mouth falls open repeatedly with the sounds she fucks out of you, lurching forward towards your reflection with each movement. you two make eye contact in the mirror, and she smiles deviously, leaning her strong body over you and bringing your faces side by side. she exhales a moan as you clench around her, your walls lovingly hugging each vein and groove of her length.

“such a pretty thing like you gettin’ dicked down by a stranger.” she coos next to your ear, highlighting the depravity of your situation. your pussy talks back for you, squelching from the vigor of vi’s fucking. the slaps of skin against skin start to reverberate louder as your wetness cascades down your thighs, sticking to both of you in a lewd mess. she just won’t let up, fuck, you’re getting close.

her piercing gaze meets your fucked out one and her eyes could roll back because you look good. so fuckin’ sexy taking her dick like this, like you were made just for this, for her. she isn’t even mad anymore. it’s selfish and strange because you’ve just met, but right now vi thinks she could have you bent over every surface she could find for the rest of time.

she leans back and continues using your hair as leverage to fuck into you as deep as she was. she tucks some stray hairs out of your pretty face, helping both of you see better. the hold she has in your hair starts to sting and yet it feels great, the searing pain balancing with the overwhelming pleasure you feel with each kiss to your cervix. her cockhead twitches inside you at the same time you feel that unmistakable pressure in your core. you're so full, almost too full, and you're delirious - would it be so bad to let her cum inside you? you whimper at the thought and she almost laughs, though she’s cut off by her own desperate moans.

"s-shit, baby, oh my..." vi trails off, thrusts losing power as she grows more sensitive approaching her high. "y'feel good, gorgeous? so- fuck, so fucking good, yeah?" trying to nod proved to be useless with her fingers entangled in your hair so tightly, and she wasn't accepting the lack of verbal answer, anyway.

"say yes." her demand is clear though her voice is hoarse with need. vi finds her drive again quickly, picking up her unabating pace. you cry out, gushing out against her as more of your slick is produced from her movements. "mhm, and look at yourself. watch how pretty you are cummin' all over me. gonna look so fuckin’ good-"

"yes! yesyes- mmph, so good. best i've ever had," you're babbling, loud. she's in awe of you, the crease of your brows, your pink, swollen lips catching every desperate plea that tumbles out your mouth, the way your eyes once again catch hers in the mirror as you continue to beg. "hah, i'm gonna cum! gonna cum for you, vi pleease."

"yeah, i know. cum on my dick, baby, c'mon." vi releases your hair to resume her hold on your hips, roughly prodding the flesh as she fucks you through it with the same force she'd consistently kept. your moans compete with the club's speakers, at this point. vi's breath hitches as she feels her own climax build once again, letting such cute whines slip past her lips behind you. fuck, you love it, you can't get enough—

"inside, ngh, please! cum inside, fill me up!" before your brain can properly connect to your mouth, you're begging for her to breed you, stuff you fuller than you already were. and to your delight, with the immediate spike in her speed and the dirty, filthy way she starts to moan alongside you, you were gonna get just that.

"fuck, what a slut. i'mma give it to you, all of it, baby. fuckfuck-"

as soon as you feel your coil burst, cumming over her and squeezing her tighter than she's ever felt, vi's cursing and trying not to double over on top of you as her dick spurts. you can feel that she cums a lot, the warmth coating every single inch of your walls. she feebly thrusts a few more times, just working you both through the aftershocks of cumming so hard before she starts to shiver from the overstimulation. still, she stays plugged inside you which you're thankful for, letting out a content hum to self soothe. vi softens her grip on your hips, kindly massaging the areas while you both take a breather. you roll your shoulders back, wincing a bit at the ache when you rise from your position.

the light above the mirror flickers, and your eyes flit up at it before seeing vi, her gaze softened with a satisfied grin peering back at you. a giggle escapes you, and you give her the same sweet, gentle smile you had before you both ended up here.

"you feel better?"

"so much better. you healed me, baby."

— ���*.ﾟvikasmama.

[vaquerolvr]

Road trip! Reader is Passenger Princess (due to them giving their man a heart attack everytime they drive 😊)

i am Still Suffering on my road trip. god save me. i wrote this in my notes app while stuck in traffic for three hours. the formatting and spelling are in the hands of Our Merciful Lord (tumblr)

price

refuses to let anyone else drive unless he’s on the verge of passing out

(probably the only one you can trust to drive tbh)

does the dad thing where he’ll stick out his hand to get some of your snacks

hates stopping for any reason, wants to get to the destination as quickly as possible

when he does get forced to take a break, he’s very upset about it

backseat driver, stresses everyone out

(gaz is tempted to tape his mouth shut)

claims he “isn’t tired” and “can keep going” but is the first one to pass out when you stop at a hotel

gaz

passenger princess

if you try to get him to drive he’ll pretend to be sleepy

in charge of the music

(not because everyone likes his music but because he fought soap for the right)

hogs the phone charger

calls shotgun and will fistfight anyone he tries to take it from him

(he’ll let you have it if you want but he’ll be pouty about it)

ghost

another passenger princess (because no one trusts his driving)

the single time he’s allowed to drive, he nearly causes an accident ten minutes in

weakest bladder known to man

forces you to stop every hour

passes out after the first hour of driving

soap wakes him up when his snoring gets too loud and it causes another bout of smacking each other

takes photos of anything cool he spots on the road

(they all come out blurry but it’s the thought that counts)

soap

the only other one that price trusts to drive

decent driver, just has road rage at times

begs gaz to let him change the music (gaz always says no)

points out the scenery constantly

“look, there’s cows!”

collects souvenirs from every gas station you stop at

plays road trip games (i spy, slug bug/punch buggy/whatever you call it)

he and ghost get in trouble when it devolves into them just hitting each other

has a stash of snacks and drinks that he’ll share if you ask nicely

is awake and yapping the entire drive

(gaz actually does tape his mouth shut)

alejandro

the exact opposite of price

likes to take his time and relax

will somehow turn a 10 hour drive into 15 hours

wants to stop at every roadside attraction he sees

you have to keep reminding him that you have somewhere to be or he’ll get lost on a side quest

souvenir guy, buys magnets and keychains

has cds that he likes to listen to

very chill but you might get stressed if you’re on a deadline

is insistent on being the driver but gets traumatized when he runs over a squirrel

“ale, it wasn’t your fault. it was dark, you couldn’t see-“

“I’M A MURDERER”

rudy

probably the best person to plan a road trip with

isn’t a maniac like price but isn’t as laidback as alejandro

likes to listen to random radio stations as he drives

is really bad about speeding

regularly goes at least 15-20 over the speed limit but is lucky enough to never get pulled over

uses road trips as an excuse to only eat junk food then regrets it when his stomach starts hurting

needs a day or two to recover afterwards because his back hurts from sitting for so long

graves

scarily organized

has an itinerary and follows it to the letter

wouldn’t let you drive even if you begged

if he gets tired he’ll just get one of the shadows to take over

honestly, most of the trip consists of the shadows entertaining you with their antics while graves drives

one of them gets left behind at a gas station and you have to drive back half an hour to pick him up. graves is pissed

makarov

do NOT try to take this man on a road trip

if you mention it, he’ll have plane tickets booked before you can even blink

cannot handle long drives, the most he can manage is an hour before he starts getting annoyed

keegan

the most stressful but also the most entertaining

demands control of the music but plays the weirdest shit

not the best driver but not the worst

he won’t crash at least and he’ll only get pulled over a few times

says the most out of pocket shit to get a reaction from you

“how long do you think i can drive with my eyes closed?”

“KEEGAN NO-“

keegan has been banished to the passenger’s seat.

nikolai

another guy who is good at road trips

great driver, you can sleep the whole ride and he won’t gaf

it’s kind of terrifying. you’ll wake up from another nap to find him staring dead-eyed at the road as he drives

secretly shoplifts something from every place you stop at

doesn’t admit it until you accidentally find his stash hidden in one of the bags

“solnishko, you must understand. i need it.”

“you do not need a keychain of a frog with a cowboy hat, nik!”

nikolai is now wanted for theft in every US state (and several countries)

[hellsslibrary]

Could you write about Hiori, Chigiri, and Bachira giving their male!reader boyfriend a blowjob? Maybe Chigiri thigh fucking... Hiori sadistically making you wait to cum, and Bachira with his feet?

Blow it, move it, bite it, ride it. Just come on, make a move on it.

#a.n. : I absolutely loved writing this, so it's okay!! And it's kind of implied that you're all in Blue Lock... I have no idea where the camera-less bedroom came from, so :).

!!Warnings: male!reader, dom!Hiori and implied dom!bachira, top!reader in Chigiri's part (kind of), blowjob (Hiori), footjob (Bachira), thigh-fuck (Chigiri), Hiori is a sadist, overstimulation (Hiori), Chigiri is a sass (like always), Bachira... A little strange (but in a good way as always, yea). And reader is a football player too. Purely theoretically, one can imagine that this is a strap (except for the Hiori part, of course), so anyone can read it, I don't care anyway.

Hiori Yo.

Your hand slides through the blue hair for the umpteenth time that night. You have an incredible, overwhelming urge to grab them and plant that face deeper on your dick, but no... You just can't. How many times have you been denied an orgasm? Three or so, or maybe you've lost count.

Only that smug face with those bright blue eyes glowing with joy knows the exact number.

"Yo... Am I seriously unable to cum, even after all this?" you ask, knowing the answer perfectly well, but just like in the past, smoldering with hope that he will break up and give in.

"No," of course he won't, Hiori has been mumbling around your cock, sucking on your thick shaft for the last half hour.

You practically growl in frustration, trying not to move your hips or anything else, because it will only prolong this torture. And all because of what? In training, you didn't score a goal from his pass, which made him angry at you. He gave you such a perfect pass, and you missed it.

"Absent-minded boys like you need self-control, don't you think?" Hiori asks, batting his long eyelashes at you, looking straight into your eyes with that innocent look, which makes you almost melt.

His hand moves rhythmically on your cock while his tongue licks your glans from time to time, sometimes gliding over the base and over the bulging veins. He was clearly enjoying tormenting you like that, watching the precum trickle down your head, which he rather licked off, slurping on purpose.

The bed creaks slightly under your weight, clearly not designed for two people, especially if they are muscular in one way or another. It would probably fall apart if you were doing something more active here, but you don't even want to think about it, considering that you have to explain it to the Ego.

"Please, Yo... I'll do anything, please, it hurts," your voice is quiet, a whimper escapes from your throat; Hiyori's eyes rise to you again and a smile blooms on his lips when he notices tears in the corners of your eyes.

"Whatever you say..." The football player mutters, leaning closer and wiping the tears from your eyes before they can roll down your cheeks. "Okay, I'll let you."

Your hips jerk as you are suddenly pierced by the feeling of his mouth around your cock. Not teasing. Not slow. Uninterrupted. And the persistent, rhythmic sucking of your length, which makes you feel like you're already in Heaven.

Of course, it doesn't take long for you to cum. In just a matter of seconds, the knot in your stomach unties and you cum in Hiori's mouth with a guttural moan, clutching his hair in your hands, pushing into his mouth for a couple of seconds, and then exhaling tiredly.

Yo straightens up, licking the droplets of your cum from the corners of his lips, looking at your peaceful face, and then suddenly squeezes your softened cock.

"You said you'd do anything, darling," the blue-eyed man whispers, ecstatically watching your surprised face... If you don't like the deprivation of orgasm, then you will have to accept your fate of overexcitation.

Chigiri Hyoma.

"Mmm, you're enjoying this too much, big guy" Hyoma says, as he stares at your barely present face as you fuck between his thighs.

You wanted to fuck him so damn badly for real, just slide inside those damn tight muscles, but you didn't have too much time until the end of the break, so you had to manage somehow.

"I'm sorry... You have juicy thighs, has anyone ever told you that?" you ask, squeezing his knees a little tighter, trying not to put too much pressure on his right leg, rubbing your cocks together with your movements.

"Yes, thank you. You've said that about eleven times, if I remember correctly. For the last ten minutes," he replies, shrugging his shoulders, looking at how your cock slides between his thighs, over his smaller penis, smearing the precum on your stomach.

His hands instinctively grab onto the sheets, and he moans softly, arching his back. Your cock perfectly covered his own length from below, perfectly rubbed against the head, touching the sensitive bridle. Your "waters" were mixed together.

"We have a training session soon, come on... Otherwise, they'll be looking for us. And they will definitely find us, considering that you don't even hide your moans," Chigiri cheers you on, squeezing his own hips harder, which even started to make a sound from how your cock bumped lightly against his muscular thighs.

"I'm sorry..." you mumble it again, just staring at Hyoma's stomach, where you could see your cock sliding in and out of his thighs.

He snorts, placing his own hands on your palms, which are holding him under his knees, pulling you out of your semi-trance. His red eyes seem to be staring into your very soul, still filled with their usual cocky sparkle, but now clouded with lust.

"What?" your voice is softly heard in the empty bedroom, followed by Chigiri's moan as your cock grazes the bridle of his own again, and he exhales, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Nothing, nothing... You're just drooling," the red-haired man whispers, and you see a drop of water from your chin land on the back of Hyoma's thigh.

... Well, maybe you enjoyed it a little too much. So what? You're a simple man.

You quickly wipe your mouth on your shoulder, pushing Chigiri a little harder into the bed, making his back arch even more and a moan escapes your lips when you feel a familiar feeling in your stomach.

"Huh... Come on, come on, come on. Let's get together, okay? I want you to come, please..." Chigiri whispers, completely unaware of how much more beautiful he is now with red cheeks and a face bathed in pleasure... But what's the difference, huh? Your pace started to become less rhythmic and increasingly rough.

The sound of tremors echoed more and more through the almost empty room, and there it was... White light behind the eyes, two male moaning voices.

Ka-sploosh!

Bachira Meguru.

"This is a fun position, you know?" Bachira chuckles in your ear as he literally hangs on your back, his arms wrapped around your neck and his legs resting on your cock, rubbing it lazily.

"Are you sure you're comfortable? You can always sit forward..." You ask as his chest presses closer to your back and he kisses your cheek long and hard with a smile.

"Thanks for caring! But it's okay, really... Let's give [Your name] the younger a little more attention?"

You moan, throwing your head back on Bachira's shoulder as he starts to move his feet a little more actively. One of his feet runs along the length of your cock, while the other lifts your shaft. How does he even bend his legs like that? Who knows these football players.

His lips slide down your neck, covering it with kisses, occasionally sucking on your skin, making you sigh softly in pleasure. The forward's feet wrap around your entire length, starting to rub it in perfect synchronization.

"Megu... So good, it's weird, but good," you whisper into his neck, inhaling his scent mixed with the light scent of sweat, considering you're both post-workout.

"I'm glad! And he seems to like it too... Or is it her?" Meguru is seriously discussing the gender of your dick... Oh, the things you put up with for this man, honestly.

Your hand slides behind you, supporting his hip, so that it would be at least a little easier for him. Although he doesn't seem to care, because his feet move and hold your cock just perfectly.

His toes deliberately touch your veins along the base or run along the head of your cock, his heels sometimes stroking in circles on your balls, which are getting tighter with each passing second.

Why the hell did you even think to ask him about this? You looked at some new dribble he came up with, and your brain switched off and you asked him. Of course, it's not surprising that he agreed, but fuck...

Who knew that his feet were talented with more than just a soccer ball, right? Your balls were also satisfied, it seems.

"Want to cum? You always can, you know," a sweet voice breaks you out of your thoughts as Meguru presses his heel lightly on your balls, causing you to twitch a little, causing him to smile even wider.

"Of course... You'll make me cum embarrassingly fast..."

"There's nothing embarrassing about it! You make me cum just as fast when...! Mhmhm!"

He lightly punches your chest as you push your head into his neck to shut him up and not embarrass yourself any further.

The feel and sight of his toes on your cock is enough without him saying anything. Your cock twitches in his feet, but he holds it expertly, continuing to rub your cock, as if his orgasm depends on it, not yours. Although it's the same thing to him.

"B-Bachi..." You whine, really embarrassingly fast cumming as your sperm drips down his feet and he kisses your cheek encouragingly.

And then he cries out as you fall backwards, pinning him down and he immediately pushes you aside, looking at you.

"Fallen asleep? He must have enjoyed it too much," Meguru chuckles quietly, looking at your sleeping face, and then covers you with the blanket, kissing your forehead. "Now, shower! Just don't leave marks... Or [Your Name] will scold you, Meguru."

[wonderjanga]

I May be a Kid but I’m not a Kid Kid.

When Billy’s secret identity was revealed, he started getting treated like a little kid. It really annoys him whenever these guys try to baby him.

Supes: “Billy, uhm… we were wondering if you would like to be moved to the Teen Titans.”

Marvel: “What…?” *sounds absolutely horrified at the thought of that* “Why?”

Supes: “You’d around kids your age.”

Marvel: *stares and blinks rapidly* “Are you saying you’re gonna demote me to the Teen Titans of all things? No offense.”

Supes: “Billy, it’s not a demotion.”

Marvel: “But it is. I’ve been on this team for what? Four years- almost five. You guys are acting like my age automatically means I can’t be a good hero anymore.”

Supes: “We’re not saying that. We just think it’d be good if you were on a team of heroes around your age.”

Marvel: “But you are. You’re literally all but saying it. I like those kids but not enough to want to be on a team with them.” *doesn’t know if he’d like listening to Robin’s condescension in more than small doses* “I prefer you guys. We’re still friends, aren’t we?”

Supes: “Of course!” *happy Billy is still somewhat comfortable around them*

Marvel: “Good.” *smiles* “Besides, I do hang out with kids around my age. Mary and I are the same age while Junior’s a year older than us.”

Supes: “He’s the oldest?”

This conversation got them to back off about kicking him off the team. That didn’t stop them from poking their stupid adult noses into other parts of Billy’s heroics though.

Marvel: *helping someone at like 2am because he patrols as much as he can*

Supes: “Captain! Whatcha doing up this late, champ?”

Marvel: *makes a face that being called champ, but doesn’t say anything about it* “Uh… patrolling? *finishes helping the person*

Supes: “Patrolling? It’s a little late- er early for that. Isn’t it?”

Marvel: “I guess…? I still have a couple more hours.”

Supes: “Shouldn’t you be turning in earlier?”

Marvel: “No…?”

Supes: “Aren’t you tired though? Kids need plenty of sleep.”

Marvel: *a little irked at being called a kid but brushes it off* “Stamina of Atlas, remember?”

Supes: “Oh.” *silence* “Well, maybe you could still turn in earlier?”

Marvel: *looks around for any hidden cameras* “No.”

Supes: “Oh okay…” *doesn’t really want to seem controlling so he just sulks while flying back to Metropolis*

Don’t worry, Superman trying to give him a curfew isn’t the only thing a nosy adult tried to do.

Marvel: “Mr. Batman Sir? Are the new long term mission signs up sheets out yet?”

Batman: “Ah, yes.” *hands him the sign up tablet* “There are three new ones.”

Marvel: “Great! Any potential overlaps?”

Batman: “Only these two.” *points to two missions*

Marvel: “How long would these two last?” *points to one of the overlapping missions and the one that doesn’t overlap*

Batman: “Together would be about a month and a half or longer.”

Marvel: “Cool.” *is about to sign up for them*

Batman: *remembers school exists* “And school?”

Marvel: *pauses so he can look at Bruce confused* “What about it?”

Batman: “If you sign up for these, you’ll miss at least a month or two. You’d be stuck catching up.”

Marvel: *laughs* “You say that if I actually go to school.”

Batman: “You don’t?”

Marvel: “No.”

Batman: “I see.” *takes the tablet away before Billy can sign* “Well, you’ll go now then.”

Marvel: *thinks he’s joking* “What?”

Batman: “I’ll enroll you in a school in Fawcett.”

Marvel: *stares for a solid minute* “Mr. Batman Sir, you’re not sending me to school.”

Batman: “Yes, I am. William-”

Marvel: “Don’t call me that.”

Batman: *sighs* “Billy, education is important. You shouldn’t put it off for heroics. Even Robin goes to school.”

Marvel: “Okay? I’m not a Robin though. And that only works because you guys patrol at night. If I go to school I’ll miss my day-patrol.”

Batman: “I’m sure there are plenty of other heroes in Fawcett who patrol during the day. Why not leave it to one of them?”

Marvel: “Because I don’t want to. I like saving people. The more heroes who are out in Fawcett, the less likely somebody might get glossed over and hurt because a hero wasn’t there in time to save them. I don’t wanna be the person that failed them just because I was busy with school or because I went to bed early… I say that last part because no matter what Supes thinks, he’s not subtle about wanting me to have a darn curfew.”

Batman: *stares in silence because he now feels a little bad and also empathizes with that “what if I’m not there mentality*

Marvel: *thinks that silence is Bruce still not understanding him* “Look, if you still don’t get what I’m trying to say, imagine if someone came into Gotham and tried pushing you out of the superhero business just because they thought you unfit to be hero. That’s how I feel in this situation. I don’t tell you guys how to your jobs, so why are you trying to tell me?” *reaches over to grab the tablet a sign up for the two missions he wanted to take*

Yeah… Batman started treating him normally after that. Supes also did because his superhearing caught the convo.

Then, there’s his relationship with Flash and GL. They’d taken to treating him like a little kid or nephew even though Billy doesn’t want that.

Marvel: “Could you guys uh- stop treating me like a kid?” *sounds disappointed them*

Flash: *somehow still feels dread at the disappointment even though, NO, this guy is younger than him, why does Barry still feel like he disappointed his dad?* “You are a kid though.”

Marvel: “Yeah, I know, but you didn’t used to do this before.”

GL: *also dislikes that he’s bothered by the Dad Disappointment™️ radiating off of Marvel* “That was before we knew you were a kid though.”

Marvel: “Yeah, well I don’t care. I don’t need you to act like this. I don’t want you to act like this. I want friends, not chaperones or parental figures or anything stupid like that. I don’t like that you’re treating me differently now.” *sounds bitter* “You guys seem to forget that I’ve been doing this since before most of you were even, excuse my language, sperm cells. And sure, there was suspendium, but I fought Nazis, commies, and my own villains on top of that, all without being treated like a defenseless little kid and I ended up just fine. So I don’t need any of you acting like I’m a stupid little baby.”

That shut them up. It didn’t make any of the relationships between Billy and them go back to normal though. Not completely anyways. At least it was somewhat better though.

By the way, Billy, throughout all of this, just sounds bitter about being treated like this. He misses his friends guys :(.

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane Preference] And Their Favorite Hot Drink

Every time I say I want to make at least three, and every time it takes me a month to make three. But between today and tomorrow, I want to post something else with a cozy/winter theme, so stay tuned. Meanwhile, in my little self-promotion corner, I'll let you know that you can find my fanart here, and here you can find a fanfiction I'm working on, if you want to check out my other projects!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 |

Jayce:

Hot tea.

With lots of cookies, not just one or two like nobles who drink tea to be chic.

He drinks tea because it makes the cookies taste better and softer.

And if I told you he prefers fruity tea?

Basically, he likes a strong flavor, and fruity teas have the most aroma, although having grown up as the Kirammans’ ward, he’s learned to drink it in any form.

Viktor:

Sweet milk.

Or milk and honey.

Occasionally, milk, coffee, caramel, and whipped cream if he wants to be fancy, but he never has the time, so it’s usually just sweet milk.

He has such a stockpile that statistically, at least one bottle is expired, but it doesn’t matter; he doesn’t pay attention to those things.

Ekko:

Cappuccino. It’s quick, it’s hot, it gives energy, and the milk makes it sweet enough without adding sugar.

Easy to find and great for the group because it’s not expensive—just steal an industrial-sized can of milk and some instant coffee, and he can make it for more than 20 people.

Tea is problematic because there are no plants in Zaun, and in Piltover, they either sell it in small doses or loose.

Vander:

Hot chocolate, because I say so.

This man was born to be a father, and what do kids love? Hot chocolate.

Hard to come by in Zaun, which is why he always adds chocolate bars or cocoa powder as an extra price in his smuggling deals.

It became his favorite because of the connection it has with his kids and his happy place.

Silco:

Whiskey doesn’t count as a hot drink, and that’s a bit of a problem.

But luckily, coffee exists.

Not American coffee, long and watered down, but espresso.

He holds the small cup in his hands to warm himself, but subtly enough that no one notices.

Jinx:

Sugar.

Not a hot drink, sure, but any drink works for her if it has enough sugar.

Milk and honey remind her of when she was little, tied to special occasions when her parents actually managed to get honey.

But pretty much anything works for her: fruity teas with three tablespoons of sugar, hot chocolate with one spoonful, cappuccino with two…

Vi:

Anything works for her as long as the cup is big enough to warm her hands.

Simple and easy-to-find drinks are great, sure, but no one can convince me her favorite drink isn’t either hot chocolate with rum or a complex, spiced Piltover-style beverage.

She doesn’t mind sweetness but never adds sugar to her drinks—she’d rather choose something with natural sweet notes.

Caitlyn:

Tea.

English breakfast tea with sugar and milk is something her parents made her during festive mornings, so it holds sentimental value.

But the tea she’s used to drinking is Oolong or Yorkshire, typical of the five o’clock tea tradition with her mother and occasionally their guests.

Mel:

Coffee and variations.

In my little artist brain, Piltover has an ethical equivalent of Starbucks, and that café is Mel’s happy place.

Coffee is easier to find for sure, but coffee-based drinks with caramel, ginger, and plant-based milk are absolutely her favorite.

She loves sipping them slowly, savoring the flavors, taking half an hour or more to finish her cup.

Sevika:

Whiskey.

No, she won’t accept that it doesn’t count as a hot drink.

She doesn’t like milk, but if she’s forced to have it, she spikes it with whiskey or gin.

The same goes for hot chocolate.

She’s not a coffee person either; she doesn’t see the point of drinking something so bitter without a real purpose.

[countdykulaa]

﹟ ⠀ ⠀ 𝟎𝟎𝟏 ⠀ . ⠀ ⠀ LUXURIOUS⠀ ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ spoilt! reader x sevika ⠀ ❫

you're spoiled rotten . you know it . your brother knows it, and sevika's poor wallet sure knows the fact . your mother gave you everything she could though you weren't by any means rich . you went to the best schools a lower middle class family could afford thanks to a scholarship, a fancy pair of shoes bought every couple years in contrast to your peers and even went overseas on your own a few times . this rather ordinary upbringing did little to deter the pit of greed rotting your teeth away with each request .

where your mom fell short your looks picked up . all you had to do was walk down the street on a friday night and all your drinks would be paid for . you don't know what it was about you or where the sudden shift came from , but everyone around you looked at you less like the invisible one , doomed to join the shadows and more like the one with stars dancing on their skin . it took a while getting used to it , but after a while peoples generosity turned less into a gift and more into a quiet expectation . all this to say sevika swears she found you like this .

she swears the entitlement in your eyes was shining big and bright under those fluorescent lights the minute she locked eyes with you at a club with your friends . you were probably half her age , still raw with a rebellious look . she knew the moment her eyes trailed down to the scandalous two piece you had on that you wouldn't give her the time of day if she didn't buy your whole table drinks . sevika knows your type and by the way you tilt your head and gaze at her , unabashed and curious , you know hers too .

what initially started as a drunken one night stand turned into something more but it was by no means an accident . sevika took the initiative , asking you on the date while the taste of your pussy was still lingering on her tongue . she needed to make sure you knew she was serious about wanting to be with you. take care of you the way she knew you expected. you responded with a nod of the head and smile of approval , dragging her in for what turned out to be a long two days.

dating you was nothing short of exhausting in the best way possible. you were nothing like most of the other brats she dated you were something else . you never asked for what you knew she wouldn't give you and that was what made you dangerous . you let her take the lead despite the snark comments that often leave your mouth . she'd guide you down the street with her hand on the small of your back , let you order for the both of thwm and chased off anyone so much as looking in your direction for too long.

you were a pillow princess most of time . loving the way she'd lay her giant hand on your back and thrust into you deep enough to make you speechless . fucked absolutely stupid .

she buys you the best gifts money can buy and stocks up on groceries because she knows how much you love to cook for her. flowers were always a constant presence even in her absence but now they're bigger … brighter , replaced every week instead of every other week . she doesn't just take you to get your nails done and braids platted every month, but also makes sure she waits the whole five hours , phone in hand as she watches the game . her reward is the food from her favourite place , paid by her of course. she took care of you in all the ways that mattered.

...

Your hands weakly wail about only to be scooped by her large hand. She places your hands bove the bedframe, the hard slam echoing throughout the house.

The longer she fucks you the more quiet you get . your eyes flutter shut . a growing intensity settling in your lower half.

“Oh.” you whimper out , voice high pitched and downright pathetic in sevika’s eyes.

...

half the times you toyed with her lips or ran your fingers over her clit was more you playing around than it was making her cum . you swirled your fingers around her bush , felt the wetness running down her thighs . even suck your middle finger on her clit at times . sometimes making her cum was another way to entertain yourself . you especially liked the way sevika would react when your long nails accidentally swiped on her lips . the quick thrust she'd give , etching towards the slight pain . those nights always ended with her blazed out , eyes wide and dazed as you rode her to no end . at times you'd see how many times you could beg her to fuck you while her harness hit her clit in a way that would send her hurtling into another orgasm back to back with minimal stop . she rarely complained , even when it hurt , even when she , the acclaimed brat tamer was on the verge of tears herself .

your definition of topping included shoving her down the couch , lifting your mini skirt up as you straddled her shoulders and riding her face until you got impatient and whiney and made her take over . you'd never outright say it , but she'd know whenever those long stilettos sunk into her hair and grip with a harshness that would elicit a hiss from her occupied lips . she'd sink her blunt nails into your thighs and dragging you up and down her face herself . she knows you , knows you won't give her cock or hardening clit the light of day until you've had your fill . you're spoilt and lazy and greedy and … sevika's pants feel tighter than ever as she gives some aborted thrusts into the air .

she swears she could come from this . from pleasing you . from watching the money leave her bank account the moment a satisfied smile graced your features . and cum she does , right in her pants . you pay it no mind nor the high pitched whines she shudders against your clit .

PLUTO SPEAKS : updated my taglist form so make sure to check it out

TAGLIST : @saycubed

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

There's a present under the Christmas tree that wasn't there two hours ago. 

It makes Tommy stand stiff as a poker in the doorway of his own living room, his mind full of possible break-in scenarios. However, the typical signs are missing. No ripped-out drawers, no shattered glass; and what burglar would bring instead of taking something? The somewhat sad little tree, which Tommy didn't actually want to put up in the first place but then did because it's Christmas after all, seems to shine a little brighter thanks to the present. 

Carefully, he approaches the tree under whose green branches the box lies. Its red wrapping, decorated with little Christmas trees, is reflected in the equally red and shiny Christmas baubles. Of course, there’s only one way to how the present got under the tree, only one person who’d be able to do it. Buck still has a key to Tommy's house. He hasn't been in touch since the break-up, and Tommy has missed the perfect time where you presumably ask for the things that the other person still has in their possession. 

The little red box bears Evan’s signature so much, it hurts. It is not particularly carefully packaged, although you can see he's made an effort. Instead of just buying a box, he has wrapped whatever is in the parcel in wrapping paper. It’s wrinkled, the small trees on it are uneven. Tommy can almost see it: Evan sitting at his kitchen table, his tongue between his half-open lips, concentrated in a tangle of adhesive tape. A man with such skillful hands, yet he simply can’t coordinate them. Hands that save lives but fail when cutting paper. Opposites that are downright confusing - and yet so attractive. 

Tommy lets out a sigh that echoes off the walls of his room, as if his own house is mocking him for his self-inflicted loneliness. He holds the small gift in his hands and wonders whether he should really open it. What’s the intention behind it? Why give him a present? The truth is, Evan had gifted him with his mere presence, probably without even knowing it. Getting that back would be a far greater gift than whatever may be in this box. 

The only problem is that he believes he doesn't deserve either. 

Tommy carefully pulls on the adhesive strip, runs a finger beneath the paper and very gently removes it. There is a plain white box underneath. Maybe it was a spontaneous idea to wrap it, but then why go to all the trouble for an undertaking that Evan also knows he hardly has mastered? Tommy's thoughts are on a rollercoaster, a constant up and down, and every steep descent causes tingles in his guts. 

Tommy shakes the box. There’s a soft tinkling sound inside, metal scraping against the cardboard of the box. He turns the box over in his hands, looks at it from all sides, but he is only delaying the inevitable, and he knows it. Opening the lid feels like tearing off a band-aid. Inside is a folded note on a layer of tissue, as green as the little trees on the wrapping paper, but not as green as the branches of  Tommy’s Christmas tree. Green as hope, maybe. 

Tommy,

I still see a future. E. 

Tommy stares at the note, his eyes actually looking right through it, far away; back to a time perhaps when he was less afraid. His fingers carefully feel their way over the tissue in the box. There’s still time to put aside the message, the box, the hope. Maybe he's too much of a coward for that, too. Tommy reaches under the paper, lifts it out of the box and tosses it aside. It gently slides under the tree, almost exactly where the present was. A sign, or not; everything is a sign or it isn’t. 

There’s a key in the box.

That’s not the key to Tommy’s house. Even if it would have been a weird way to return it like this, his deceptive heart feared just that for a moment. But it's also not the key to Evans Loft, because Tommy didn't give it back either. Silly, that they both had clung to this symbols so much. So, it’s neither his key nor Evan’s, and it only takes a quickening heartbeat longer for Tommy to realize. It really is a symbol, this key. One that not only relies on Tommy's curiosity, but also trusts that he will rise to the occasion. 

Suddenly, his phone is in his hands.

This the key to your heart, Evan? 

Bating his breath, he’s waiting for an answer.  

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

CoD girlies (gender neutral), this one is for you. (but also Sam Wilson coded. anyway)

So. My mom was flying home and she had a stopover in The Big Fucking Airport in Chicago, I don't remember the name right now. The point is, she gets Chicago Pizza for me. And cheesecake.

And on the flight home, she is sat next to a military boy (boy is her designation, not mine. She's three weeks away from seventy, this is not a helpful description)

And she starts talking to him, because that is who my mother is, she finds out that he's coming home for the holidays and then he's getting stationed and such-and-such base.

At some point, because of who she is as a person, and because she had spent nearly two months Momming and Grandmothering as hard as she could and had not yet turned it down, she asks this young man if he is hungry. Is he hungry? Does he need food? She has pizza. Would he like the pizza? Oh, no, no it's okay! Take the pizza! it's fine!

He then reveals that this is the first food he's had all day (it's like 4pm) and my mom :0 and finds more food to give him. As they deplane she gives him $20 which is the last of her American cash. This is the end of the story

My mom. is so, so close to being the meddling matchmaker the sitcoms of my youth promised me she would be, and she drops the ball EVERY. TIME.

However, the point is now I can't stop thinking about this with the CoD boys. Maybe it's not even a few weeks before Christmas, maybe it's the day of due to bad luck or whatever idk idk doesn't matter

Honestly Ghost is objectively the funniest just because he'd be about two feet taller than her and she would absolutely not be intimidated by him. At some point she would share stories from before she retired and would say something about how she "had to take down a big boy like you once" and that "I told him it was a good thing my daughters weren't in town". I'm sorry he would be so fucking endeared by this. And he'd track her down somehow to say thanks or to pay her back and then obviously he gets invited in for baked goods and falls in love with you (me)

Gaz is so effortlessly charming. He asks if he can Venmo her money, and she has no idea what that is. Paypal? She doesn't have one. Her daughter does that, she's not very tech savvy, you know? She goes off on a tangent about having to use a typewriter to write papers in college. Gaz is undeterred--could he send it to this daughter and she could pass it on? Then again, maybe this is a teenager, and him having the number of a random teenager feels weird. He's out of time, they're deplaning. She's hard to keep track of, a short woman, but he's, well, Gaz. He spots her making for a car at the curb, the driver's door opening, and presumably the daughter getting out. Gaz makes a beeline for them. After a moment of confusion, you get introduced to Gaz, who tries to explain the situation while you're being yelled at by airport security and honked at by other drivers. It's not ideal--but he gets your number. He waits maybe an hour before texting you.

Soap is the hardest. My mom struggles so much with British accents so I think she'd get about half of what he says to start with. He'd call her bonnie (cos he's a charmer like that) and she wouldn't know what it means. I think she shows him a LOT of grandkid pictures and he's fully endeared by how she knows her oldest grandchild likes linkin park and slipknot while having no clue who they are. Soap is the one who tracks her to the pickup area and books it to your car so neither of you have to lift her luggage ("your mam said you have shoulder troubles, cannae let you make it worse, aye?"). Something something your hands brush as you reach for the same piece of luggage

Price would be a little awkward until she weasels his age out of him and then she realizes: ah! baby age! boy! (man's 40 max). I think he'd be better at getting her to talk, she's absolutely whipping out her phone (complaining about how it's old and doesn't have enough memory) and showing him pictures of the grandkids and a rundown of their hobbies and trash talking my sister's in-laws just a little. I can imagine her realizing he doesn't have a ride and volunteering you to drop him off at a hotel. You pull up to the curb and are like. Who the fuck is this man towering over my mother. He winds up in the front seat because his legs are longer and he turns so he can keep talking to your mom which is pretty sweet to be honest. You drop him off and it's not til you finally get home and start hauling luggage out that you realize he's left something in your car, maybe his phone or a watch, something important. And you heave a big sigh, haul all the luggage in, hug you mom, and trudge back to the car to drive back to the hotel. Or maybe your mom tells you to return it tomorrow, it's too late and it's raining. And the next afternoon she sends you to the hotel with fresh baked goods for him. He asks you out to lunch and suddenly it's 5 hours later and your mom thinks you're dead in a ditch somewhere because you haven't answered her texts. It's because you're too busy flirting.

[withjaejae]

Hole-in-One | JJK pt. 3

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader

High society, richie rich setting

Warnings: Oral (m/f), fingering, car sex, superstitions, tiny bit of jealous Jk, mostly Simp JK, unprotected sex, just sex.

A/N: felt inspired by JK’s recent live so here we are. Enjoy

+++++++

“If I make this hole-in-one, let’s go to the charity ball together as a couple.” Jungkook smirks and hits the ball. He was confident that he doesn’t even look when the ball goes in so smoothly.

You on the other hand are smiling like an idiot.

Its been a month since you and Jungkook started dating but you’ve been doing it lowkey. With the finals over and graduation is just around the corner, he wants to publicly announce your relationship by going to your parents’ charity ball together. For the entire society to see.

Jungkook approaches you and bends over to peck your lips. You were about to speak when a cough interrupts your moment.

“So this is why you don’t ask me to play golf anymore.” Namjoon stood behind you two and frowns. “Auntie told me you and Jungkook would be here.”

“Okay, and?” You raise your eyebrows. His eye flicker between you and Jungkook standing very close to each other.

“What are you doing with my friend?” He finally asks and Jungkook drapes an arm around your shoulders.

“We’re dating.” You answer simply and Jungkook’s chest swells with pride. “What do you want, Joonie?”

“Jungkook, need a favor.” You groan and turn away, taking Jungkook with you.

“Aha. My days as your wingman are over, Joonie.” He teases him with the nickname. “I’m like your cousin now.” His words make you blush.

“Come on. You’re like the best wingman ever.” Namjoon groans. “There’s this girl who DJs at this club. You know people there, just give me an opening.”

“And I told you, I can’t. Plus, me and YN are going shopping tonight.” He shrugs. Namjoon groans in frustration.

You take pity in your cousin who is single as a pringle.

“You can go.” You look up at Jungkook. “It would be fun.”

“Nah. I hate clubs, the only clubs I want are these.” He hugs his brand new golf clubs that he bought yesterday. “Plus, I got a hole-in-one. Don’t I get my reward?”

“I thought your reward was the charity ball?” He groans. “Okay.” You tease.

“Ugh. I hate you two. Come onnnnnn.” You forgot Namjoon was still there. “You can tag along YN.” You contemplate.

“Damn. She must be really hot for you to let me join.” You turn back around to face him. “I guess we can go after shopping.” You look up at Jungkook.

“Fine.” He pouts.

“Would you be angry if I just drove around the block then back to the club house because I’m sure Henry or whatever can spare me a room?” Jungkook as his eyes glued to your legs. “Baby, you’re a sin.” His eyes finally met yours.

After shopping you both took an hour to prepare to get Namjoon a girlfriend. Or you hope its going to be a girlfriend.

You picked out a cute silver dress that’s too short for Jungkook’s sanity.

“If yoy’re the best wingman the way Namjoon says you are. We can be back at the club in an hour.” You trail your finger along his jaw before giving him a soft kiss.

He groans as you step away, he opens the door for you and you both drive towards the heart of the concrete jungle.

Namjoon had already chosen a VIP table near the DJ booth. His eyes light up as soon as he spots Jungkook approach with you right next to him.

“Ugh. You guys look good. Its annoying.” He rolls his eyes but hands you two an amorito sour.

“Okay, you ready?” Jungkook drinks half his cocktail and stands up.

“What? No! Its too soon!” Jungkook sits back down and pouts. “Do you have a next appointment or something?”

“No.” He continues to pout and you giggle at his cuteness.

“Relax.” You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze. “Let’s have some fun.”

A tray of shots gets served at your table and you’re just as shocked as Jungkook. But hey, you haven’t been out for a while.

The three of you took shots like actual college students. Jungkook’s hand sitting tightly in between your knees.

“Jungkook. Go time.” Namjoon nods, you both look up at the DJ booth where they switch and the female Dj exits towards you.

“Whatever you’re gonna see. Its all for show.” Jungkook whispers before grabbing a shot glass and walks down crossing her and accidentally spilling the shot over her arm.

He doesn’t apologize, instead he just walks away and you can see the dj mumble ‘asshole’ just then Namjoon approaches with a handful of tissues and strikes up a conversation with her. In a couple of minutes you feel someone sit next to you.

“Is it like a good cop bad cop sort of thing?” You ask before turning to see who sat next to you.

“I dunno.” The voice sounded different.

You turn to see Kim Taehyung, a highschool friend, you shriek and hug him.

“Tae tae! When did you get back?” You start speaking french.

You both attended a private school in Paris but he pursued art there while you came home for college. Though you knew each other since you were kids, you only became close in highschool.

“A couple of days ago, I’m in town for a relative’s wedding. Fancy seeing you here, you hate clubs.” His arm was draped over the couch behind you.

Jungkook could see it from across the room, his stare is as sharp as a spear. The moment Tae tucks a hair behind your ear, he snaps. Angrily wading through the crowd on the dance floor before he finally reaches you both.

Tae looks up at him. “Jungkook.”

“Taehyung.” The air suddenly felt cold. Your eyes going back and forth between them.

Taehyung was the reason Jungkook didn’t make swim captain in 6th grade. He’s pissed to this day. He was also the reason he didn’t join the Paris program, he didn’t want to be anywhere around the man.

Clearly you two became close while in Paris.

“Taehyung, you remember Jungkook, he’s my boyfriend.” The B word that came from your mouth made any anger from Jungkook dissipate.

“Ah. Seems that I was too late.” He teases but you reach up for Jungkook’s hand. Taehyung took it as his cue to leave. “It was nice seeing you both. If he ever breaks up with you…” he locks eyes with Jungkook. “Call me.” Then looks at you.

You give him a small wave as he left, Jungkook takes his seat back. A grin on his face.

“You called me boyfriend.” He wraps an arm around your waist.

“Are you not?” You bit your lip. But the expression on Jungkook’s face tells you he loves it.

“I most definitely am, girlfriend.” You both cringe and laugh.

You wait a couple more minutes until Namjoon gives a thumbs up while passing you both before you stood up and left.

“Well, that was fun.” You smile as Jungkook gets in the car with you.

“But not as fun as—“ Before Jungkook could finish his sentence you’re crossing the center console and sitting on his lap, landing your lips on his.

It was a good makeout session until Jungkook starts undressing you.

“Wait. We can’t.” You pull away from the kiss, his hooded eyes luring you in. He asks why, “It’s bad luck to fuck in a car.”

“Says who?” He chuckles. “Its not like anyone can see us.”

“I know and I really want to. But it’s bad luck. For the car, not us.” He full on laughs.

“I wanna test that now.” He continues to put both hands on your ass. “Shit.” He curses when he feels you wearing a thong.

“Fine. Its your car.” You crawl towards the back seat. “Do you want your reward?” You wink and he hastly follows you.

His jeep has a wide leg space for the back seat so there was no hurdle as you situate yourself between his legs. You tie your hair up in a pony tail and place his hand on it.

“Shit. I don’t think I’ll last long with you looking like a fucking goddess.” You smirk at his words as you finally take him in your mouth. “Holy fuck. You are most definitely a goddess.” You take him deep in your throat and swallow around him.

He groans deeply making your slick drip from your folds. You moan around him, you can feel his dick twitch on your tongue. You drag your tongue across every ridge and nerve, the slurping sounds echoing in Jungkook’s brain. Despite your ruined mascara, he worships how you take him so well. Whispering filthy things as he cums down your throat.

He pulls you by your pony tail, you’re facing the passenger’s side window, you feel his tongue lick your thigh all the way up to your folds.

“Baby, you’re dripping.” You chuckles. “Who did this to you?” He, again, rips your underwear off.

That’s the fifth time in the time you’ve been together.

“You.” You mewl and rest your head on the seat. “Kookie, please.” Your breathing becomes ragged as you feel him tease your hole with his fingers. Pushing back towards him.

“Eager, baby?” He bites your ass cheek as he plunges two fingers in you.

He’s making you scream and moan, not giving a shit if someone passed by and heard you. Begging for more, his fingers have no mercy after adding another finger. He makes you fuck yourself on his hand and he revels in your reactions.

Your thighs start shaking, a sign that you’re close but just before you dive into your climax he pulls away.

“Nooooo—FUCK.” Your complaint turns into a moan, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he rams his huge cock in you in one go. Your wetness making it easy for him to slide in.

He pistons in you, for sure someone can see the car shake but who the fuck cares anymore.

He takes a seat and you ride his huge cock facing away from him. You rest your hands on the front seats and give him something you’ve always wanted to do. And honestly, it drives him mad.

You raise your hips and start fucking yourself on his cock. As if you were twerking on him.

The view of your ass bouncing makes him lose it. He gathers up some slick and spits on your ass, you look back at him as he teases your ass hole with his thumb. You push back and nod, giving him a go.

He lets out a rough exhale as he pushes this thumb into your ass. You moan at the intrusion but surprisingly, it feels good. Maybe its the alcohol , or maybe its just Jungkook but fuck you feel ecstacy.

Your entire body becomes sensitive as you reach your peak.

“Baby. So fucking close.” You moan and Jungkook meets your ass by thrusting up. His thumb still in there. The sensation pushes you over and you’re cumming all over his cock the same time as he paints your insides white.

Your arms give out and Jungkook catches you again. You both catch your breat before you crawl to reach for the wet tissues from the glove compartment. You clean each other up.

“So… butt stuff.” You start and he chuckles.

“Its my first time too baby. Let’s put it on a shelf.” He kisses you deeply. Three words almost slipped out of his lips but he holds it back. Its too soon.

The next morning.

You both stand on the side walk, staring at Jungkook’s car as it gets towed. Apparently, it won’t start and its not because of the battery.

You open your mouth to say something but he shuts you up by kissing you. Out on the street. For your parents and the neighborhood to see. Both his hands on either side of your face, your arms wrapped around his waist.

“Yes, you warned me. But it was so worth it.” He pecks your lips. “We still have your car.”

“Nope. Its bad luck. My baby cannot have bad luck.” He keeps an arm around your shoulders as you take a stroll down the road.

“So, do you already have an outfit for the charity ball?” He asks and you nod.

You do hope he likes the deep royal purple gown you had custom made. It was also your graduation party after all.

[phyx-m]

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 30: Sans Silk

Content warning: Blood, wounds.

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

A Little Bit Closer (Do I Make You Uneasy Mix) - Johnny Hollow

* * * * *

Chapter 29

* * * * *

Beneath (preposition): Positioned underneath something, often in a way that conceals, covers, or provides protection. It can also imply being obscured or hidden behind a certain appearance, hinting at the deeper richness of what is not immediately visible.

* * * * *

It appears the King of Curses sleeps partially on his front.

With his head turned away, all you can see is a smattering of pink hair, which appears lavender in the low light. And like some kind of lumbering predator, his upper arms are folded above his head, upper right tucked under a pillow, his lower arms spilling lazily to the sides. A rich navy quilt pools at his hips, leaving the vast expanse of his naked back exposed. The black ink that sprawls across his flesh, is unreflective in the dark, snaking down his shoulder blades, stretching between sinew and muscle, fanning into sharp ridges that seem carved into him.

Under the silver-blue moonlight it renders him in such agonizing detail that you pause before the closed doors, staring, admiring him, even.

Beautiful.

The thought swims into your mind, unwanted. Then it passes. He is a canvas of complete arrogance, one that would look far better as nothing more than a sick pile of rot.

Using the light filtering through the garden door, you quietly press inside, its soft illumination on the floor guiding your steps. The brazier in the corner squats low, and its fire reduced to quiet crackles and hisses, pushing heat faintly against your bare feet.

Rounding the raised futon, your gaze drags across him. Over the steady rise and fall of his back, lingering until it reaches his face—half-hidden, nestled against the curve of his upper left arm. He must think himself untouchable, immune to everything and everyone. No doubt he believes you are nothing more than a naive, foolish girl.

You’ll welcome the feeling of hurting him as he has hurt you.

The tantō slides free from its sheath, a bright star flashing in the dark. You set the scabbard carefully on a nearby table.

It takes one, two, three strides to reach him. In the gathering shadows the right side of his face, the disfigurement of his mask, is a soft outline. Looking down at him, you can hardly breathe.

The way his eyes rest closed against that monstrous surface—it’s maddening. He looks serene. Calm. Gentle breaths rise, and even gentler breaths fall, the heavy size of his sleeping form mesmerizing. 

Your heart aches, hesitation lodging itself in your chest. But before you can dwell on it further, hurt and anger push you forward.

You warned yourself not to give him even a sliver of yourself, reminded yourself constantly—hour by hour, day after day, week after week, month after month. And yet, here you are.

Positioning your left knee into the bedding’s soft creases, it sinks next to his hip. You know a distraction is needed because knowing him, he is probably already aware that you’re here.

In one smooth motion, you pick your mark—the right side of his vulnerable neck. You raise your arm, stare at him and drive the blade down.

When steel meets flesh and wet muscle, the world is gone. You are no longer here. You are no longer yourself. There is only this.

All four of his eyes snap open.

They find you.

And all you see is red.

For a single, unbearable heartbeat, you’re caught, lost in the awareness of each other. Sukuna’s brow twitches while his gaze traces every detail of your face—every line, every curve—as though learning it for the first time. You will your hand to stop shaking, sweaty grip tightening on the cool hilt of the weapon as it sits lodged in his neck.

Neither of you breathes.

Warm blood starts to push its way out from around the intrusion, like pulsing red veins, almost dark as ink in colour. It winds down his skin, collecting on his collarbone and trickling to soak into the fabric below. He doesn’t move to stop it. The only movement is in his chest, swelling outward. Unbothered and unfazed.

“Hello, wife,” he says quietly into the dark, his lower eyes slipping to the weapon.

“Stop calling me that,” you snarl, top lip curling back in anger. “You always fucking call me that.”

His lower eyes flick back up to your face. The only sign of emotion is his brow slowly collapsing down on itself.

“Because that’s what you are. My wife.”

“If I were your wife,” you snap, leaning in closer and sliding your other knee onto the futon for leverage. “You’d take care of me. Like a husband should. But you don’t know how to do that, do you?”

Even as the blade sinks deeper, he stays so horribly calm it’s infuriating.

“And how does a husband take care of his—” He nudges his chin toward you. “wife?”

Your mouth twitches.

“A husband protects his wife. A husband keeps her safe, warm, happy, and—”

Loved.

You don’t dare utter the word to him. Not now. Not ever. You’ve erased it from your vocabulary, forgotten its sound, forgotten what it feels like.

“A husband doesn’t manipulate his wife.”

The words burst out, almost a shout. His reaction is immediate—a corner of his mouth hooks upward in a crooked smirk.

“I see you’ve figured it out.”

The confirmation hits like a blow, and despite yourself, you flinch. Anger rises in your stomach, hot and sharp, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep your trembling lips still and your emotions at bay.

Calm.

You must stay calm.

“If you’re trying to hurt me in consequence,” he murmurs, voice low, “you should know by now a blade like this won’t do anything.”

“I know that,” you hiss, jaw clenching so tightly it creaks before a strain rolls through your body from leaning over him, so much, it sets your legs trembling.

“Then why sneak into my room in the middle of the night just to stick a blade into my neck?” His eyes narrow, four voids of emotionless pits that seem to swallow you whole. “If you’re trying to kill me, you’re doing it poorly.”

He shifts slightly, the rustling quilt stirring the silence as he turns onto his left side. The movement forces your blade to follow, your body hovering unsteadily over him. His chest, bare and solid, rises with an unhurried breath.

“Besides,” he continues, his tone turns teasing, “I can see how your hand is shaking. And I know you hesitated before you struck. You only hesitate when you care. Is that what you’re so angry about? That you care?”

Your pupils thin to pinpricks of dusk as your gaze hardens.

“I don’t care about you,” you snarl, trying to convince yourself. “I never did.”

A confusing amount of emotions crosses his face before he chuckles mockingly. His lower eyes rolling back to flash only white.

“My wife,” he says with a smirk, “ever the terrible liar.”

Your nostrils flare.

“I said.” You apply more pressure to the weapon until the hilt meets skin, “stop. Calling. Me. That.”

Lapping down your own anger like sweet syrup, you draw in energy, channelling it and feeding it into your right hand which is tucked at your side, hidden. The feel of it floods into you, thrumming loudly. Louder than any other time you’ve reached for it.

Gaze locked on Sukuna, you watch him as he suddenly moves, leaning forward to place his face before yours. Warm blood spills over your fingers, thick and sticky. Your brow furrows, features twisting with frustration as you watch him put his face so intimately close.

Looking directly into your eyes, the corners of his mouth curve up, he grins, and then, softly, as if speaking to a lover, he whispers, “Wife.”

Your rage explodes.

On a wordless cry, you surge forward, your right hand thrusting upward, all that gathered energy aimed directly at his face. Desperate to touch.

For a moment, everything slows.

Your fingers splay wide, reaching.

His eyes flare with emotion.

Confusion? Surprise? Anger? Clarity? Excitement?

Ecstasy.

In an instant, his upper left hand shoots up, snatching your wrist. His grip locks you in place, your hand flexing, fingertips brushing close enough to feel the heat of his skin. A fraction closer, and you’d be able to graze his nose with the pad of your finger.

His eyes go dark.

His energy surges.

Pain slashes a fine line across your jawline, wrapping from chin to ear. The sting radiates sharply, your breath catching as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Thick liquid patters onto fabric and skin.

You cough.

You smell blood.

Your blood.

He’s sliced you.

It hurts.

It’s shallow, but it’s there, along with his index and middle fingers. 

It's then you realize he slipped his upper right hand from under the pillow and shoved it into the underside of your jaw.

Too fast. He’s always too fast.

Clenching your teeth against its bite, you swallow the saliva coating your tongue that’s making it feel swollen. You needed to be smarter than this if you wanted to walk out of here alive.

After a moment you inhale and open your eyes again, gaze catching on his.

Quiet.

No breath shared between you two.

But he smiles.

It's somewhere between pleased and cruel.

“Oh, I’ve been waiting for this moment,” he says calmly, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at you. “And you were so close this time, unlike all the others. Tch, such a shame.”

At those words, your heart topples head first, deep into your belly. The realization closes over you like dark water set to drown you. He’s not only known about your gift but that you’ve been trying to kill him.

“You’ve been aware and yet allowed me to remain here?” Your voice is a quiet hiss that sounds very far away, as if you didn’t want to hear the answer to the question you’re asking.

And he doesn’t answer. 

Instead, using his lower left elbow for support, he presses it into the futon, lifting his upper body. With that, you try to put distance between you, but his lower right hand curls around your blade-wielding arm, pulling it toward you, the metal sliding free from his neck. The wound clots and closes almost instantly, knitting itself back together. Fully healed, like it was never there.

Keeping hold of both wrists and with his fingers still poised under your chin, smoothly, he sits up, the blanket slipping from his hips to reveal a dark sirwal. Swinging his legs over the edge of the futon, you retreat slightly, your feet touching the floor, but there’s nowhere to go. He has you.

“How many times were there?” he muses arrogantly. A heavy thud punctuates his question as one foot hits the floor. You can’t tell which—you’re too focused on the predator slowly uncoiling before you.

“Let’s count them, shall we?”

Thud.

He stands and takes a step to tower over you. You tip your head up. The look on his face. He seems delighted with the thought of revisiting every past transgression you’ve committed against him.

Another step, and he forces you back.

Drip.

A trickle of hot blood escapes the wound on your neck, sliding past your yukata, snaking between your breasts, and gliding down to your navel before spattering onto the floor between your feet.

Sukuna’s eyes—so very dark—pin you in place. He begins to move forward. Every step he takes, you take another in retreat. And every instinct inside you screams, telling you to shrink away. But you don’t. If you weren’t drunk on the roiling storm of emotions churning inside you, perhaps you’d feel afraid. Terrified. But you’re not.

Not yet.

“The first time was brazen,” he begins, raising his last free hand and placing two fingers into the center of your clavicle. You look down at it. He nudges you. You creep back, watching him apply more pressure, forcing your feet to move cautiously while he follows like a shadow.

“When I felt your energy, I was genuinely surprised. Thinking, she wouldn’t be that reckless.” His teeth flash. “And yet… you were.”

Your mouth presses into a scowl as you keep going, toes retreating first, then heels meeting the floor. You pray you won’t stumble over anything in this unfamiliar space. It’s only your third time in his chambers. The first time, his hands worked to heal you, a gesture that marked the moment you felt your walls begin to crumble for the King of Curses. Now, those same hands keep you captive, stretching your arms between you both while one opens a shallow, red trench across your skin.

The fucking irony.

“Well?” Sukuna cocks his head, mockingly expectant.

“Well, what?”

He huffs out a breath.

“Come on, little assassin. Surely, you can count. What comes after one?”

Your nose rises, scrunching in indignation. He can’t be serious.

Step.

And—

Drip.

You stay silent.

“Speak, you treacherous fucking snake!”

The blood drains from your face. You almost stumble backward. The sudden anger there, the sound of his voice rising and reaching deep inside to pull apart all your nerves, leaves you breathless.

“If you believe you can slip into my shrine, flash your smiles, bat your pretty eyes at me, and then sneak in here to try and kill me, you’re mistaken. We’re going to play this game togeth—”

“Two!” you snap, voice cracking under the pressure. “Two comes after one, you fucking asshole!”

He smacks his lips together and smiles with all his teeth.

“Good girl.” He’s calm again. “I was worried you’d finally succumbed to your idiocy.”

A muscle in your cheek pulses. Your eye twitches. Another step, and drip, more blood hits the floor.

“The second attempt was on the night of our union. You came wandering down here like some lost creature, spouting a pathetic excuse about wanting to say goodnight to me,” he chuckles.

Your gaze thins.

“And yet you still opened the door when I knocked.”

For a heartbeat, his lower eyes flick down, lingering softly on your mouth, tracing the bow of your upper lip.

“How could I not?” There’s a slight darkening to those words, as though you’re supposed to grasp some hidden meaning behind them.

Pointless.

You want to curse him for the riddles, the games, but something solid bumps against your leg—a low table, perhaps. You don’t look down, only angling your feet carefully as you continue retreating. The futon now disappeared into blurred shadows at his back.

“The third time…” His voice dips again, becoming raspier, red eyes flaring. “The third time was my favourite.”

One more step.

Thump.

Your back meets something solid—the wall.

Trapped.

With nowhere left to go, you tilt your chin higher. If he plans to kill you tonight, you’ll meet it head-on, looking the monster directly in the eyes.

“Do you remember it?” The King of Curses crowds closer, his grip on your wrists tightens, pushing them back, making them meet the surface behind you, folding your arms out on either side. “Or shall I remind you?”

No. He didn't. You remembered it. Remembered it very, very well.

Your back on the table. His head between your thighs. You, moaning. Him, feasting.

Your heart slowly thunders to life inside your chest and gives way to heat rushing to swarm your cheeks in memory.

Don’t.

Sukuna smirks. His hands shift. They slide from your wrists to the tops of your hands, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles with excruciating slowness. The intimacy of the gesture is unbearable, but you keep your expression neutral.

I’m not here. This isn’t happening.

Manipulating your fingers, he guides them inwards so they can’t wiggle free and touch his skin. Then, with one last squeeze to your left hand, still clutching the tantō, he forces you to release it. The blade narrowly misses your foot when it clangs to the floor.

You swallow thickly.

“No,” you mutter. “I don’t need a reminder.”

He pouts.

“Mhm. Too bad.”

Stepping closer, he plants his right foot between yours, forcing you to widen your stance to accommodate his size. His thigh comes next, pressing it forward, so it rests against yours. Your chest heaves, and your eyes dart away at the sound of a rumble emanating from his stomach.

The maw there has opened.

Your gaze shoots back up to Sukuna’s face, only to be met with his wicked grin as the massive tongue lolls out lazily.

“The look on your face,” he murmurs, red eyes turning heavy-lidded. “When you couldn’t decide whether to kill me or surrender to my mouth when I had it all over your dripping wet cunt was...”

He leans closer. Heat radiates off of him in suffocating waves.

“…endearing,” he hisses.

Your mouth presses into a tight line.

“But—”

Abruptly, he pulls back.

“That was also the first time you hesitated. After that, it got boring. You seemed to give up. I was disappointed.”

A pause.

He’s thinking, eyes narrowing to study you like a puzzle. It’s the same look he gave you after his performance at the Kasai compound when you’d thought he was injured.

Bastard.

“Why was that?” he presses, a mocking lilt to his voice. “What changed?”

You know what he’s asking you to admit. He’s needling you until cracks appear, which they have, and you wish they hadn’t.

“Nothing changed,” you bite back a bit too aggressively.

Sukuna’s eyes slit. The energy in the room shifts. The muscles in his arms grow taut, tense. Muscles straining.

“Once again. You spew these lies from this fucking mouth of yours.”

The hand beneath your jaw moves, gripping your chin roughly and forcing it higher.

“It’s tragic, really,” he snaps, inclining his chin slightly. “All that fake charm you tried to use on me, failing over and over again. Exhausting how you can’t even admit the truth to yourself.”

“Me admit something?” you spit, trying to wrench forward in his tight grip. “You’re the one fooling yourself, Ryomen. If this is all about your ‘everything I’ve done has a purpose’ bullshit, then whatever this game is you’ve dragged me into—you’re the one who needs to admit.”

It falls quiet.

Silent.

Only the brazier quietly hissing off to the side in the one bright corner of the room reaches your ears. A crack and an ember escapes.

Sukuna takes a deep breath. Inhales. Holds it. Then, releases it.

“It’s pathetic how you don’t remember anymore.”

“Remember what? ” you say tightly. 

Tilting his head, he huffs in annoyance, the space between his mask and eyebrow splitting with a force.

“Months ago, you told me about a nightmare you had. Do you recall?”

You stare at him in confusion.

“Yes. I remember.”

Of course you did. A lie to push the truth away, to keep you safe. A lie about your mother dying in childbirth. About how he wasn’t in your dream when he was. You shift on your feet, trying to relieve the tension slowly, wending its way through every limb. The sudden topic change throws you.

“Good. Because once again, you lied about it.”

A breath punches past your lips.

“Does it even matter? Why drag up every little thing I’ve done in the past? If you’re planning on killing me, then do it alread—”

“Shut up,” he growls, the air between you tightening. “I’m talking about those dreams—the ones that make you scream loud enough for me to hear all the way from your room to here.”

As if you were fidgeting with your silk gloves, which aren’t here, a picking sensation begins at the edges of your mind.

“Now,” he continues, leaning closer, his gaze bearing down like a physical force. “You’re going to be honest with me for once and tell me if you've been dreaming about me?”

You flinch both at his inquiry and the brazier that cracks loudly, its sparks popping.

“Why?” you murmur, brow furrowing in soft confusion.

Sukuna’s mouth pulls tight in anger. The hand resting at your clavicle moves to your throat, his fingers curling around it.

“Answer me!”

The darkness inside the room grows, and the wood encasing the walls of the shrine creaks and groans.

Every awareness of yourself pushes forward.

“Fine. Yes! Is that what you want to hear? I’ve been dreaming about you, and it has nothing to do with this.”

His eyes lift. Widen slightly. All that red. So much.

His upper right hand slips free from your chin to move to your temple, two fingers pressing into the curved indentation.

He pauses.

A beat.

Too long.

“Everything really has been scraped out of here…” he grumbles, tilting his head. His eyes narrow with something resembling pity—a shape you’ve seen recently—as his fingers twist and press against your temple before falling away.

You stand frozen, watching.

He inhales—deeper this time, full.

“It matters because we’ve met before, long before any of this. Deep down, you’re trying to remind yourself.”

You blink at him, shift on your feet. For a moment, you’re not sure you heard him correctly. You stare at him, your mouth trembling before disbelieving, manic laughter bursts free.

“I’m sorry, what?” The words stumble out, drawing a sneer from him. “That’s impossible.” Your eyes flick over the length of his body. “I’d have remembered something like that.”

“You can trust me when I tell you we have.”

You huff sharply, nodding your head in short, jerky bursts.

“Trust you?” You push forward again, straining against the distance he keeps between you, his grip ensuring you can’t close it. “What is all this? Another way to manipulate me?”

It seems you’ve both betrayed each other in some shape or form. However, you’re still unsure of his true depths and why.

“What’s the purpose in all of this?” you demand.

“You’re asking the wrong question.”

You shake your head again.

“Fine,” you raise your voice, deciding to indulge whatever fantasy he’s drowning himself in. “How? How have we met before?”

He smirks, leaning closer as his upper right hand buries into your hair. With a touch you’ve come to recognize, he takes a moment to brush a few stray strands framing your face, tucking them gently behind your ear. The softness of it sends an ache stinging through your chest.

But then, the room tilts.

The polished surface of the shrine’s floor disappears beneath you, replaced by cool, damp grass and dirt.

You blink, wiggling your toes to reassure yourself that you’re still here.

You are.

Not a dream.

“That’s still not the question you truly want to ask me,” he whispers calmly.

The picking sensation in the back of your mind grows more insistent, demanding your attention.

Picking and picking and picking.

“What?”

Drip.

“Try again,” he urges. “Think, little flower.”

Crack.

Your eyes flutter atop your cheeks. The wound on your neck hurts. You’re not thinking properly because the smell of blood, resin, and the tang of fire picks its way into your head.

Something’s burning.

“Little flower of the north… so easy to crush and yet still so beautiful.”

Goosebumps ripple across your arms.

“Don’t call me that,” you mumble in a sudden dizzying state. “You’ve done that before. Don’t.”

Sukuna grins.

The muscled landscape of his torso passes across your field of view as he sinks lower, aligning his face with yours.

You’ve seen this look before. Not here. Not now.

It’s dark here, inside the grove.

His gaze holds yours, and his hand slides from your hair to trace the curve of your cheek, his thumb brushing the spot where he kissed you this morning. You try to flinch away, but he withdraws first, and with that movement comes a flicker.

A memory—him, but younger, his face and body streaked with blood. It's there and gone in a heartbeat.

Crack.

No.

The baying of men and screaming of horses echo in the distance. 

“Stop it.”

You can’t breathe. Pain claws at your head, and your body strains against the wall, trapped between him and the shrine. You start to struggle in his grip.

“You’ve forgotten,” he hisses, looking down at your form in the dark. “So, ask me again.”

I killed her. I did this.

“Stop it.”

Your breath comes in tight, shallow bursts.

“Ask. Me. Again.”

I’m not here. This isn’t happening.

“Whe—” The word catches in your throat, dry and cracking as you swallow the knot forming there. The truth rises, climbing its way to the surface.

The dreams are not dreams—they are memories desperately searching for their way into the light.

“We’ve met,” you whisper, your heart pounding as you lift your head. “Because you were there. You were there seven years ago.”

When he slips his hold with all four hands, you collapse against the wall for support. Blood colours your yukata red while the ends of your fingers have dipped into the discolouration of rot.

“Finally…” Sukuna steps back, his four arms tensing at his sides as he walks toward the garden door and slides it open to reveal the night.

A cool wind crawls into the room, extinguishing the fire in the brazier with a soft hiss.

He turns to look over his shoulder at you.

“In accordance with our vow, you’ll show me once what you can do.”

He tips his head toward the garden, his gaze shifting. Darkening.

“And I’ll correct what should have been done all that time ago.”

He steps into the darkness of outside.

“You die here tonight.”

[andcars]

ㅤ [ 𝗛𝗢𝗣𝗘𝗟𝗘𝗦𝗦 𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗦 ]

premise. having a party hosted by lando norris gets too chaotic. alcohol, colorful lights, and hard fucking drugs. you learn things about yourself but max seems to be perfectly aware of what he wants

prompt # ㅤfemale reader, submissive max verstappen, consensual drugging, touchstarved [ "Don't go… not yet, not now, preferably" + "Take it slow—shit! You're eager" ] tags #ㅤporn without plot, wc #ㅤ 1.34k

ㅤㅤFEEL FREE TO INBOX ME FOR THOUGHTS OR REQUESTS !

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His skin was always too smooth. The way it felt light to the touch, innocent, soft, and addicting. When you move your body under an unintelligible rhythm, you yearn to touch Max’s skin. He’s right in front of you. The man embraces a wild side unknown to you when he moves. There is a light drunken step to him. He sways side to side and a loopy grin on his face, amused at nothing but himself.

Preserving control, you only get to wrap your arms around him. He’s not surprised by you. “Hm? Hi, baby.” His smile is sleepy but he’s happily becoming puddy in your hold. Pursed lips, half closed eyes, and blush red cheeks tempt you too much. “Have you tried the wine? They won’t tell me what fuckin’ brand it is… D’you think you could ask? We could have it at home.”

“I think what you need is water,” you laugh, he does too. You’re allowed to drag him away from the neon floors. He’s not wasted. “Let’s calm you down for a bit, yeah?” Max doesn't say no.

The intoxication only got his pupils dilated, body heated, and skin looking so fucking soft. You briefly rub your finger against the back of his palm, admiring his knuckles and his rough hands. It's not as soft as his body—his palm is, you mean—and it’s marked by the hours of racing and training he puts in. It makes him all the more adorable, you think. The man works out every week and yet you can still squish his stomach when you hug him from behind.

In the midst of a conversation, Lando joins. He wraps an arm around Max, clearly more drunk than your boyfriend. “Hey, man! How’s the party? Are we holding up good?”

Lando is laughing and Max is light enough that he is too. “Yeah. We are just taking a break for a bit—seriously, what is that alcohol, mate? It’s so fucking good, I’m considering buying it to keep.

“No, it’s my brand!” Lando shakes his head at a complaining Max. “Here, I’ve got something for you to try. No charge, mate. I’m like too fucking nice for my own good around here.” He pulls out two pills, forcing Max’s hand open to take them. “Take some, it’s great. You and your girl have fun with it.”

Max looks at the pills and to the retreating figure of Lando. Without any more prompting, you guess what it is. “Did he just give you drugs at his own party?” Max laughs at your blunt statement, shrugging. It’s almost obscene but Formula 1 drivers are always another breed, you always guessed.

How you end up in one of the club’s hook-up rooms (a replacement to the lounge chairs and the bathrooms, a completely plain bedroom) is almost a blur. Taking the drugs with Max, you both delve into the feeling of ecstasy and bad decisions. It's almost rewarding. Max is touching you up with warm hands and you're craving to fuck him into the mattress. Your head isn't in the best mindset. It's completely determined to turn Max over and make him your toy for the night.

The air in the room is clogged with arousal. With heightened senses, you both act like animals driven to instinct. He’s panting. The duvet under him is crinkled as he’s writhing on the bed, grinding his erection on your clothed pussy. Sweat slickens his skin, creating a sheer glow to his fucked out look. For a moment you think how this is bad, both of you are barely aware of each other and it’s like you can barely focus. The fucking pill is intense. Your body is heating up more than it should. Both of you are craving for each other as your heads fill with sex.

Your name in Max’s mouth sounds lewd. He places his hands on your hips, wanting to control the friction so bad. “‘ts hot…” he breathes, eyes unfocused and clouded. “Fuck… I need your clothes off. I wanna f-feel you. I need you so bad—“ his rambles are unintelligent as he rushes to take your top off. Your bra is unclapsed and thrown as he mounds it.

Max is thoroughly enjoying this, though he doesn’t look like he’s all aware of what he’s doing. “Max,” you say, “maybe we should just… stop?” The noise he makes sounds like it was from an injured animal. “Max, I think we’re a bit too out of it to consent. I’m gonna go get us s-“

“No!” His hands clench, almost painful. Your pained expression gets him to soften, sitting up instead to embrace you. “Sorry, no… Just don’t leave, please? Not yet. Maybe later—no, don’t.” He’s not making much sense. With his nose buried in your shoulders, he’s trying to take your scent in, “Please don’t leave. I want this so much.

“You love me, right?” He pleads. “If you love me you’ll stay. I wanna fuck you so bad, please!”

"Off," you demand, no longer feeling like playing nice. "Take off your clothes for me, baby."

He looks crazed. Max's lips turn as he grins, satisfied to finally get the release he has been itching for. You came here wanting to cool down from the heat building inside of you. Now it seems impossible to do anything but fuck. Neither of you seem to be protesting now. It's all hands on each other and begging for relief.

Both of you sit naked. You let him pull off your panties. He's mesmerized. Max's cock grinds against the folds, aching to be inside. "Don't. Don't put it in yet."

"Fuck... why?"

"Take it slow, Max." You're lying to him and yourself. "I want... fuck, baby. I need you to be patient for me."

Maybe it's the alcohol and the pills that's made Max more malleable than you. He's whining against your skin. With his hands behind him, he lets you do whatever you want. Your lips latch onto his skin, needing to taste him. He's soft. He's how you imagine. It's like you're feeling him for the first time and it's addicting.

Your cunt kisses the tip of his cock, almost engulfing. The warmth of your pussy is teased, dangled over his head. When you push yourself down, he moans out loud. “Yes… I love—“ his whines cut off his own words. Desperate, he wraps his arms around your waist. He’s whimpering against your body, in love with the way your pussy takes his cock. Little ah ah ah ah’s a repetition in his lax mouth.

Halfway taking his cock, he starts to thrust up. “Max…” you try to tell off. It’s met with pained whining. “Baby, take it slow. I wanna—hmph!”

Without getting fully inside of you, he’s already thrusting up. You hold onto his shoulders. Every thrust, he pushes further and further. The lack of preparation has you reeling, back arching and toes curling. Pain comes hand in hand with the pleasure. Max has his mouth open, completely addicted to the feeling of your pussy struggling to take all of him. It’s not wise to let a drugged Max try to take the lead. He’s all pace and almost no game, just a desperate mess.

“S-so good,” you manage to catch his words. “Oh God. Feels so good. I love it. I love it. oh god, fuckkkk~!” His words have turned Dutch, unintelligible to your ears. He’s holding your body against him as he uses you like a toy. The pistoning of his cock has you hearing your heartbeat in your ears. It’s overwhelming. Without anything else, your pussy gushes out when it orgasm. You can feel the tide of orgasm washing over you when Max doesn’t even feel like stopping.

Your hands caress his head. “Good boy for me,” that gets a particular hard thrust against your g-spot. “Such a good boy, Max. Gonna cum for me? Let it out, baby. I wanna feel you cum inside of me.”

It’s when Max kisses you did he cum. You know he came when his hips jitters, attempting little thrusts as his cock spurts out his release. The little jolts has his cockhead rubbing against the deepest part of you. It’s got your mind numbing where the drugs can’t reach. The right amount of dopamine hit you as his tongue wetly coats your mouth. You think to yourself how Max does not feel like he has soften inside of you. Briefly, you think if the drugs Lando has given you were aphrodisiacs.

What it is doesn’t matter. Max switches the position, ready to go again as he fucks his cum inside of you. This time, you’re just going along with it.

@Delululeclerc @hiireadstuff @bicchaan @fallingforpvris @rtorresblog @Tribbisweetdear @Jamie2305 @mv1simp

FOOTNOTE ────── sorry if this one seemed a bit rushed ! was trynna do this and the thing i'm posting on christmas ! i'm going w/o my pc so i have to schedule these posts and this one came late. also, for some reason the original ask got deleted or was lost as i was starting to format it ? sorry anon ! but this one is for you and every sub max enjoyer. merry christmas eve ya'll !

[mychlapci]

Wheeljack tools around in his lab with a new formula that would enhance an autobot in every way with the resources they've been able to find on earth and he uses himself as a tester for it. He gets no visible results and gets bummed out thinking the whole thing was a fluke. Ratchet sees his favorite lab partner is down in the dumps and decides to cheer him up his way.

Somehow Ratchet's baffles shorted out, and he ends up sparked from Wheeljack. No big deal, just adds another scrappy autobot to their forces. Problem comes though when Ratchet winds up huge after just a few months. By the time he's halfway through carrying, Optimus puts him out of order and he's on mandatory berth rest. That's actually fine for Ratchet, cause he can barely get up with the weight of his belly. It's so active, and he's so sore and achy the whole time. Just an absolutely miserable pregnancy, he has no idea how his frame is supposed to go back to normal after.

Finally Ratchet's water breaks, and he has to call Wheeljack for help with delivery since their engineer had been filling in as the team medic while Ratchet was decommissioned. The first bitty starts crowning and Ratchet feels like his valve is getting ripped in two. Wheeljack exclaims to Primus when the sparkling's head is out, and Ratchet is so scared something's wrong with his baby. Wheeljack assures him it's fine and to just keep pushing, so Ratchet breathes and keeps trying. He just wants to hold his bitty to see if they're okay. Wheeljack can finally pull the little one out after hours of Ratchet wailing, but he won't pass the sparkling up to its carrier. Ratchet is yelling at Wheeljack to give him his baby, so he finally turns his head to see Ratchet. Wheeljack apologizes many times and promises to find out what happened as he turns around to let Ratchet hold the little one.

Ratchet screams as he sees his sparkling, what the hell was he looking at? It looked like he birthed a scraplet! It had such horrible sharp teeth, and its servos were clawed. The thing even had a tail, what was this?? Wheeljack, who was always hard to read, was clearly visibly guilty. That hard plating and metal tearing claws were just like his formula was supposed to give their front liners to better take down decepticons, apparently it did have an effect on him after all.

Ratchet's scream alerted the other autobots, suddenly half of high command was in his quarters watching him cry while his little monster was trying to latch to his nozzle. Its huge jaws were so big, it had half his pouch in its mouth, and Ratchet had to hold it while his carrier responses kicked into overdrive. Spike moved around the other autobots to see the sparkling, and even he knew something about that thing wasn't right. He got Bumblebee's attention and asked how on earth Cybertronians went from dinosaur babies to giant robots. That got a lot of attention, and suddenly Spike had to lecture the autobots on what a dinosaur was.

A scan on teletraan-1 and wouldn't you know it, Ratchet's bitty looked just like a tiny dinosaur! Problem solved, all good, except that Ratchet was still pushing more chunky dinobots out of his valve. Primus, that dense plating hurt. They were so, so big too, he was almost positive he had some snapped calipers from just the bitties being too heavy and crushing them. Wheeljack owed Ratchet a hell of an apology for using him as a guinea pig and making him carry his monster babies. That's the last time Ratchet's ever carrying (he says, until he has 2 more dinobots and plenty more sparklings later down the line) -🌱

Yessss that's exactly how the dinobots were born. Poor Ratchet, the babies were soooo huge, hrgh i bet Grimlock came last and he was the biggest of the bunch, giving Ratchet’s exhausted valve tons of trouble. Ratchet's gonna be on bed rest for weeks after the birth while his body heals, his tits constantly bruised and nozzles bleeding because of the bitties’ sharp teeth. Their horrible monster babies…

[feychild1225]

Okay, I bow to the Japanese team. If you had told me that they would take the thirteen 45-minute episodes of Lita and make eight 30-minutes episode, I would have been like no way. But they did, and they did a good job while also making it feel fresh and new enough to watch both.

You would think that by doing both kidnappings in one episode, one would suffer, but they managed to make both extremely emotional.

Rei felt like he was in a lot more danger than Rain. It helped that there wasn't a ridiculous memey kidnapped photo to sort of break the mood.

My heart hurr for Kai. I was also screaming for Fuma to get there to help him

No, Kai, don't stop him. That asshole needs to die. Although it felt like he was more protecting Fuma there from the consequences of killing someone.

Yes, Arashi got to actually fight while still proving he would give up his pride to make Rei safe.

Ha ha, Rei going WWE with the chair that was almost as good as dick stomping.

The interactions between the two couples post kidnapping were both so good.

and they even managed to throw in some friend group interactions. How did they manage all that in half an hour, and like the rest of the series, it didn't feel rushed

Now I need the special episode. I wonder where it will air

[caspiansinclair]

A LIST OF TFC KANDREW QUOTES/CRUMBS (i love them. i probably missed a good amount since this was from a light skimming through):

- to andrew: “you already have kevin”

- “[andrew] said he’d break his fingers if Coach ever made him play with kevin again.” “but he’s playing now?” “only because kevin is. kevin got back on court with a racquet in his right hand, and andrew wasn’t far behind. up until then they were fighting like cats and dogs. now look at them. they’re practically trading friendship bracelets and i couldn’t fit a crowbar between them if it’d save my life.” “but why? andrew hates kevin’s obsession with exy.” “the day they start making sense, let me know. i gave up trying to sort it all out weeks ago. you could ask, but neither of them will answer. but as long as i’m doling out advice? stop staring at kevin so much. you’re making me fear for your life.” “what do you mean?” “andrew is scary territorial over him. he punches me in the first time i said i’d like to get kevin too wasted to be straight.”

- “andrew was only here because kevin day never went anywhere alone.”

- about andrew: “he has only eyes for kevin”

- ‘“look at me,” andrew said. kevin turned a haunted at him… “it’ll be fine,” andrew said. “i promised, didn’t i? don’t you believe me?” it took a while, but at last kevin visibly relaxed. the dead edge melted out of his eyes as he absorbed every ounce of strength andrew could give him. the unwavering trust kevin had in andrew was amazing.”

- about andrew: “kevin needs him right now and that trumps whatever agreement you two had”

- “kevin had andrew to lean on”

- “i hate you.” “you don’t.” “how would you know?” “because if you did, andrew wouldn’t let you anywhere near me.”

- “andrew put his hand to kevin’s back and shoved him into the bedroom” (this one’s here for sillies.)

- “since kevin appears to be in the center of his (andrew’s) strange world”

- “this means andrew is keeping you, same as he kept kevin”

- “you’re the reason kevin’s going to stay with our team. andrew’s got kevin’s back, but you’ve got kevin’s attention. that makes you invaluable to andrew.”

- “kevin had to climb up andrew’s side to get to his feet after downing 13 drinks in an hour and a half”

- “Kevin was standing with Andrew inside the goal line, left hand out so Andrew could tug at his outer glove. Andrew undid the straps and peeled it off, then hooked it under his arm so he could take off Kevin's arm guard. He left Kevin's under-glove on, but unhooked the loop from Kevin's middle finger so he could slide the black cloth to Kevin's wrist. Kevin flexed his fingers slowly, staring at his scars, then turned his hand over and flexed his fingers again”

- “The look on Matt's face said he was just getting started, but Andrew stepped between them before Matt could go after Kevin again. Andrew was smiling and his stance was casual, but Matt knew better than to try his luck against the short psychopath. Matt took a step back, silently conceding the fight, and shot Neil a worried look. Kevin got to his feet behind Andrew and glared at Neil.”

[harrywavycurly]

Christmas fluff with the Lonely couple? I miss them🥹

Hiii babes!! I’m sorry I haven’t given a Lonely update in a bit! I miss them too!! So I hope you enjoy this little fluffy holiday blurb for them!💖

-find all things Lonely here✨

CW: None

Tag List: @blckburd @fangirl509east @ell0ra-br3kk3r @youngpastafanmug @mattieshattuck1 @outofthisworl-d

Summary: You and Harry come home after a holiday party and he’s upset about the outcome of a certain competition✨

You have to fight off the laugh that’s trying to bubble its way out of your mouth as you see Harry standing in the middle of the kitchen with his eyes set in a hard glare and one hand on his hip while the other is resting on the kitchen island. You notice his suit jacket is draped over the back of one of the barstools as you take a step into the kitchen, you place your handbag on the same stool his jacket is on and walk around the island so you can look at him from the other side. Harry bends down and leans in closer to the object in front of him as if he’s searching for a flaw and you decide to copy his actions, leaning in and giving it a good once over.

“What exactly are we looking for?” You whisper, not wanting to break his concentration. Harry’s gaze softens as his eyes find yours from across the island, you give him a smile as you stand up.

“Do you see anything wrong with it?” He questions as he looks away from you and goes back to looking over the object in front of him.

“No? It looks nice.” You answer honestly making him let out a sigh as he runs a hand through his hair while he stands up straight.

“Then how the hell did Jim’s gingerbread house beat mine? His was basic and didn’t even have a theme.” You shrug as you walk around the island so you’re standing next to him.

“Was his the one with the skittles as roof tiles? That was cute.” Harry turns to look at you with a look of absolute betrayal on his face as he takes a step away from you with his hand that was on the counter coming up to clutch at his chest.

“Cute? You thought his tacky skittle roof was cute? How can you be my fiancé but fancy another man’s gingerbread house?” His words come out with a more playful tone that you know he intended but you ignore it and turn to look at the gingerbread house he spent probably a good two hours on earlier in the afternoon, wanting to win the contest at the neighborhood’s little holiday party the two of you just got back from.

“I mean Harry your icing job does look a bit rushed on the icicles coming off the roof.” You feel Harry take a step towards you as you lean in and point to the candy cane he used as a support for the roof. “And why is there only one of these? It looks like an after thought.” You add with a playful smirk because you know Harry ran out of candy canes half way through since his roof is covered with icing and crushed up candy cane pieces.

“You voted against me didn’t you? You wanted Jim to win?” He accuses as he stands behind you and looks at the red and white themed gingerbread house from over your shoulder, you roll your eyes as Harry places his hands your hips giving them a little pinch.

“Now why would I do that?” You question while you stand up and turn around so you can place your hands on his shoulders. Harry looks down at you and can see the smile that wants to take over letting him know you did in fact vote for someone else’s gingerbread house over his.

“I thought you loved me?”

“I thought I did too but then I saw Jim’s skittle roof and it was just so colorful and-”

“Colorful? Really? Baby you helped me pick my whole candy cane theme.” He says cutting you off with a playful glare and you just bring your hands up from the tops of his shoulders to the sides of his face, cupping his cheeks.

“I love you.” Your voice is sweet and soft making Harry want to melt against your touch. You smile as he lets out a clear sigh of defeat while his hands slides from your hips to your lower back so he can gently pull you closer.

“You’re mean.” He pouts making you giggle as you reach up on your tiptoes and place a quick kiss to his lips. “But I love you too.” He says with a smile when you pull away.

“Now admit it Jim’s skittle roof was impressive.” Harry laughs as your hands fall to his chest where the first few buttons of his dress shirt are undone allowing your fingers to trace the edges of the swallows on his chest.

“I don’t know if it was impressive but it was cute.” He admits before he leans down so he can place a kiss to the top of your head. “But not nearly as cute as you.” You smile at the line that although it may be super cheesy, still makes your cheeks turn pink because even after all these months together as a couple you still find yourself in shock sometimes that Harry even says things like this to you even as you catch a glimpse of the engagement ring on your finger, a clear sign that he not only thinks you’re cute but wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

“God I’m going to have to deal with lines like that for the rest of my life aren’t I?” You tease as you look up at him and you smile when you see he’s already looking down at you.

“Oh yeah and don’t worry they’re only going to get better when we’re actually married.” He reassures you as he pulls you even closer while he leans down and places a kiss to your lips and in that moment Harry finds himself forgetting all about the gingerbread competition he didn’t win because all he can think about is how this time next year you’ll be his wife and not just his fiancé.

[aguacatetoast]

Christmas Cookies

Female Reader x Monkey D. Luffy

A/N I don't really write fluff but I really hope you guys like it!!<3 Merry Christmas to those who celebrate:)

Warnings: None pure fluff!!

Word count:1,061

(Likes and reposts are greatly appreciated!<3)

You bake Christmas cookies with Luffy on christmas eve!

You rarely had the kitchen to yourself, but when you did you let the chef know in advance. Today was one of those days, Sanji had finished cleaning up after the Christmas feast and let you know the kitchen was free to use and wished you Goodluck. The reason being, that you were going to bake with Luffy.

You knew better than anyone just how gluttonous your boyfriend can be, but he always insisted on being by your side while you baked. His reasoning was that he liked to 'help' you, when in reality it was just you scolding him and swatting away his stretchy hands from eating all the raw cookie dough, and this time was no different. "Luffy!! Don't eat that, the raw ingredients can make you sick" you scolded him as his face was already covered with the flour and dough. His mouth was stuffed with the cookie dough as he spoke "But I'm hungryyyyy" he moaned as if he hadn't stuffed down a Christmas feast. You roll your eyes at him "Luffy you just ate like 30 pounds of meat and you're still hungry?" His stomach growled right after you asked that, he pouts slightly and pats his stomach "See? I wasn't lying."

You couldn't help but laugh at how cute he was begging for the cookie dough. He looks at you pouting and with pleading puppy eyes. "Okay fine... I'll give you some more cookie dough, but that's it because we need to leave some for Santa." His eyes lit up as you gave into his begging and immediately swallowed whole the sugar cookie dough you gave him. His cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk. You made more cookie dough, rolled it out, and started using Christmas cookie cutters to get the right shapes. Luffy was having a blast using his gum gum Gatling move to cut the cookies faster, the room was filled with his laughter.

After putting a batch of cookies to bake, Luffy is sitting by the oven admiring them and impatiently waiting for them to be ready. You hear him slightly groaning and muttering how the cookies are taking too long to bake. You ruffle his hair and smile "Be patient...they're almost done" He groans again "This is taking so long..." You come over with two mugs of hot cocoa and hand him one, "Here, to make the wait easier" He swipes the mug away from you and grins "Thanks! You're the best" He sips it slowly since it was piping hot, but that didn't stop him from trying to chug it.

After a few more sips of the hot cocoa, the timer indicating that the cookies are ready rings and he jumps up, "They're ready!!" You make your way to the oven and carefully place them on a cooling rack. "Careful babe, you'll burn yourself" but he was practically drooling over them. He ended up stealing one although you warned him, and he was trying to play it off "I-It's not that hot..." You saw how red his face was and smiled at how stubborn he is.

-

After the cookies cooled off, you had set a variation of decorations. Things such as various colors of icing, sprinkles, gummy, candies, and colored sugar. As you set your half of cookies on one side, you set his half on the other side. You called him "Babe the cookies are ready to decorate!" He rushes in and immediately grabs an icing bag. Noticing how eager he is you ask,"Oh how are you going to decorate your cookies?" He snickers and looks at you "It's a surprise...just wait and see." You were still extremely curious as you watched him gently squeeze and spread the frosting on the cookies, but you knew he wouldn't budge if you continued to ask, so you let him concentrate. You started playing some Christmas music as you decided to start decorating the cookies you'd leave out for Santa.

After an hour, you finally finished. You tried your damn hardest to make the cookies as precise and jolly as you could. You admired the decorations you made, the Christmas trees, the snowflakes, and the Santa hats. But you were so focused and in your zone you had forgotten about Luffy. You turned to look at him as he has a prideful grin on his face, and you saw the mess he made and the frosting all over his face, and he even had some in his hair. "Check it out! what do you think?" He moved away from hiding his cookies and let you see the surprise design he made. You felt an overwhelming sensation in your chest as you saw the surprise design he made was actually everyone in the crew.

You saw all the hard work he put into the cookies and admiring how adorable everyone came out, noticing sanjis extra curly eyebrow, and Zoro's face being grumpier then ever. You felt him looking at you for approval on how he did, when you turn to look at him "Luffy...these are the cutest cookies I've ever seen, you did amazing." His eyes lit up at your praise and he smiled, "Really you like em' that much?" You giggle softly as he pulls you closer by the waist "I love em', who knew you were such an artist." His laugh bubbles out loud when he pulls you even closer, "Let's leave our cookies and milk out for Santa..." You kiss him softly and admire that sweet excited expression he has all over his face, "Whatever you say Cap."

With that, you two set up a little table on the deck outside on a sunny, placing a mix of both of your cookies and a glass of milk. He smiles and looks at you while placing the cookies neatly before speaking up, "Wait... I wanted to eat this one" He points at the one he made of you. You felt your cheeks heat up a bit "You wanna eat me?" He nodded eagerly "Uh-huh! It's my favorite cookie out of all of 'em!" You couldn't say the cookie he made of you, "Of course babe...whatever you want." You saw as he devoured your cookie,

He wrapped one of his arms around you pulling you as close as possible to him and you hear him say "This was the best Christmas ever!"

-