#fuck this shitty champ

[doloneia]

99% of teucers get hit with a fuckass big rock before they finally kill hector

[heelhausen]

From what I’m hearing from many the ppv last night was simply not very good. Shame

[3dsi]

idc if it's her hometown show, saraya sucks and should not have won lmao. hoping her reign is short & forgotten

[artdcnaldson]

in the sex lessons au, reader was definitely introduced to porn by patrick. i bet he also gave her massages that “required” her to take off her shirt and bra and always ended up with his hands on her nipple….

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (mutual masturbation, exhibitionism kinda, more manipulative perverts but that’s par for the course)

A/N: how did you know I eat this up. I wrote a 3 part Steve Harrington fic with this exact plot like…. This is my bread and butter simply. Unedited sozz

It was easy to succumb to temptation when it was just the three of you— holed up in Art’s dorm, hidden away from the rest of the world.

A few cans of beer, cold from his mini fridge, the warm press of your legs on top of Patrick’s, of Art’s chest against your back. There’s a movie playing on Art’s laptop— some shitty action movie he’d rented for the three of you.

“Have you ever watched porn?” Patrick asks you bluntly.

Your eyes widen in surprise. “What? No— websites like that give you computer viruses, and stuff.” Art laughs, his body shaking with it. You suppose it is a little childish, but you’re being completely earnest. “What? Doesn’t it?”

Patrick laughs, shakes his head. “If that were true I would’ve gone through a thousand computers by now.”

You grimace, toss an empty beer can at him. “You’re so fucking gross.”

But Patrick just laughs, takes another swig of his beer, leans forward curiously. “So… I mean, do you just use your imagination when you’re touching yourself?”

Heat burns in your cheeks, and you roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Well, how do you know what you need to imagine if you’ve never seen anyone fucking? Is it just sweet kisses and hand holding?”

You kick him and Art comes to your defense like the sweetest knight in shining armor. “C’mon, Patrick, leave her alone.” Art’s hand is splayed across your tummy— firm, warm, protective. Patrick pretends like he doesn’t hear him, leans closer.

“I wanna know what innocent little fantasies you get off to. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” It’s hard to resist Patrick when he’s so close, when Art’s so close, when you feel warm and dizzy all over.

You sigh softly, relishing as he presses his warm body against your side, so it’s Patrick and Art and you sandwiched hot between them. “You realize you’re being a major fucking perv, right?” You ask in a low tone, meeting his gaze through your lashes. He nods, and you’re so conscious of his hand between your knees as his eyes bear into yours. But he wants you to continue, so you swallow and go on. “I dunno, sometimes it’s not about a fantasy. It’s just about me wanting some stress relief, or, like, my body needing it and it’s too hard to ignore.”

Art’s fingers flex against your stomach and you take a slow breath. “But, I mean, I guess I fantasize about being desired, like, taken care of I guess,” you mumble, mortified that you’re admitting it.

Patrick grins, runs his thumb along the inside of your knee. “That’s so sweet.” You roll your eyes, take a long drink, and try to ignore the heat in your stomach. “Do you want to see what Art likes to watch?”

Art’s eyes go wide, and he shakes his head. “No, no, we’re not doing that,” he says firmly. Patrick brushes him off, ignoring his pleas as he grabs the laptop and pulls up his trusty porn site. You peer over Patrick’s shoulder, eyes going wide as he opens to the home page, to all the recommended videos.

Your jaw drops, just a bit, and you let your eyes rake over the screen. It’s all right there— flagrant. Pretty girls with dicks in their mouths, pussies, hands. Lewd titles, the preview videos playing brief glimpses of obscenity.

“Aww, Art, this is so adorable,” Patrick teases as he scrolls. “Girl best friend deepthroats like a champ. Morning lovemaking ends in creampie.” Art mumbles something against your shoulder, blushing so hard you can feel the heat emanating from his skin.

Patrick clicks the latter and it opens to slow, deep kissing. A mess of tongues, rife with need. You know it’s normal to watch, to an extent— a right of passage, or whatever. But watching it feels so voyeuristic, so invasive. Especially when you’re practically in Art’s lap, when Patrick’s hands are hot against your skin.

Patrick gets bored of soft kissing and wandering hands and skips five minutes ahead in the video. By the time the buffering catches up, they’re fucking onscreen, all slow and sweet. Still kissing, still holding hands. But you also see the way the man’s cock sinks into her, can hear the moaning, the wet sounds of her body taking him in.

Art exhales a shaky breath against your skin, makes you shiver. He’s hard, you can feel that clearly against you, and you know he’s provably fucking mortified over it. But he doesn’t move to turn off the video, doesn’t do anything. His hand twitches against your stomach and you realize he’s still holding you.

The video is short— too short, you decide. The man finishes, you get a close up of the woman’s pussy, of cum dripping from her entrance. It makes your face burn, makes desire burn equally as hot as your embarrassment. The video ends, and Patrick stops auto play.

“Art, that shit is so fucking boring.” It snaps your attention from the paused screen over to him, who seems completely unaffected. You might actually believe he was unaffected if he wasn’t visibly hard.

You peer over at Patrick curiously. “What do you watch?”

He smiles, like he’d been waiting for you to ask, and grabs the laptop. Art makes a weak complaint that Patrick is going to fuck up his recommendations, but is ignored. Patrick logs in to an account and opens a tab for liked and saved videos.

Oh. You lean forward for a better look, expression twisting between shock and interest and confusion and disgust. Patrick’s tastes vary widely— venturing into areas you hadn’t even known were sexual. It’s like he had thrown everything at the wall to see what would stick, and everything just stuck.

“Oh my god, Patrick,” Art mutters, equally as intrigued as you are. “What the fuck, dude.” Art steals the laptop, scrolling through thumbnails of feet and anal and gangbangs and piss and bdsm dungeons and girls in stupid fucking schoolgirl costumes.

Patrick grabs the laptop back roughly, scrolls and clicks. “This one’s good, it’s perfect for when you just want to cum fast. Art, I know you don’t have that problem.”

Art flips him off and looks at the screen, reading the title aloud. “One hour squirting and cumshot compilation. Could you be any grosser?”

“Yes, actually. Sorry I don’t watch your sweet lovemaking bullshit.” Patrick shoves him, then Art shoves him back, and suddenly the laptop is on the floor in front of you and you’re just watching while they squabble on either side of you.

The video is exactly as described— it skips all of the pretense, all of the build up. It’s just people cumming, over and over and over. Your body feels like a live wire as you watch, lit up all over.

You squeeze your thighs together, conscious of the heat and wetness between them. Patrick clocks it— of course he does. A smirk plays at his lips.

“Maybe it’s not so disgusting, Art. She likes it.” Patrick relishes in the hazy, innocent look in your eyes as you meet his gaze. Relishes in the embarrassment and the need. “It’s good, huh? Getting to watch?”

You nod and Patrick takes your hand, slips it beneath the waistband of your shorts. “Go ahead. You want to.”

You shiver, temptation itching down to your fingertips. Sensing your hesitation, Patrick spits into his hand, slips it into his own shorts. You manage to hold out a few more seconds before you let your fingers brush over your clit.

“C’mon Art, don’t be a fucking creep,” Patrick says, moaning as he works his fist faster. Art swears under his breath and quickly shoves his own hand into his boxers.

You’re all so close, bodies pressed together hot and firm. You can feel the way their bodies move with each stroke, the way their thighs tense as they instinctually buck into their fists.

You moan, head falling against Art’s shoulder. His hand splays against you, inches up, brushing against the underside of your tit. It makes you whimper.

Patrick grabs your face, redirects your attention back to the screen. “Keep watching, it’s getting good.” His voice is strained, affected.

He usually lasts longer than this when he’s in your hand or your mouth, but maybe the video really was that good. Surely it didn’t have anything to do with you, panting and writhing as you rubbed at your clit beside him.

For once, Patrick cums first— doubling over, groaning muffled into your hair. Then it’s Art, whining so pretty, pulling you closer, mouthing at your shoulder as he comes down. And then you, overwhelmed by the two boys on either side of you, cumming with a rush of wetness that ruins your already soaked panties.

You sit there panting as the video continues playing— obscene wet, lewd sounds, wanton moans. Art hits stop, shuts the laptop and kicks it away.

You wonder why every time you hang out with them, it always seemed to end like this. And you wonder why you don’t mind, not even a little bit.

[blushlambs]

i just know patrick would find himself with a controversially young girlfriend. she’s a sophomore in university, so vulnerable and naive - thinks every guy she meets is the love of her life and big ol’ pat ain’t no different.

they cross paths in some dingy college town dive bar. he’s on tour.. again - wasting his last $20 on shitty beer. she’s sitting at the bar ordering a round of tequila for her friends. his mouth waters at the thought of shots, a visible grimace on his face as he looks down to find the culprit. there she is, sitting so innocently in her tight little dress, wide eyed and more than a little tipsy. “you sure you can handle 5 shots?” he teases her, a smirk playing on his lips.

“what’s it to you, old man?” she fires back, crossing her arms defiantly. “old man?!” he retorts, feigning hurt and placing a hand over his heart. “what age do you think i am, sweetheart?”

she scans his face; his facial hair unkept, smile lines and sun spots stand out prominently. “like 40?”

“not quite yet but cute.”

it’s not long before he has her bent over in the parking lot, her little pussy creaming around his cock as he ploughs into her from behind. his bicep weighs against her neck, restricting her breath. “fuck. so wet for me, ain’t ya? you ever had dick like this, baby?” he taunts her. “i know you like this old cock. god you’re taking it like a champ.” her whimpers are soft and woeful, delicate sounds that escape her lips as tears well in her eyes. “yes. yes. fuck i love it. i fuckin’ love it.”

her praise for him inflates his bruised ego excessively - makes him feel 20 again.. so much so that he gives her his number, which he doesn’t do with many girls. it’s cute. she randomly texts him to tell him what she ate, sends him selfies when she does her makeup and constantly tells him she misses him. meanwhile, he’s in another city fucking some other girl for a place to sleep.

ok so maybe she’s not his girlfriend.. but she seems to think so. what she doesn’t know won’t harm her.

(part two) (🌀)

[moonstruckme]

hi!! ngl i’ve never actually requested anything so im kinda nervous to do so but if it’s possible, do you think you could write something along the lines of eddie munson with like an anxious reader? maybe she has a panic attack and he’s there to help in the aftermath or just an overall anxious person. i know you’ve written something similar with the marauders so i hope that this is okay for me to request. i love love love ur writing!

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: aftermath of panic attack

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 642 words

Eddie’s rambling hasn’t stopped since you sat down, but it’s become background noise for you, like ocean sounds or the music they play in grocery stores. You know well enough how to get yourself through this. His hand on your back is a steady, if somewhat frantic, reassurance. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks, his rhythm slowing as you blow out a lungful of air, bending your head towards your knees. You hold up a weak thumbs-up, and it picks up again. “Shit, yeah, you’re okay, baby. You’ve got it.” 

You feel bad that this is Eddie’s first time dealing with you like this, though it’s nice to be in his trailer and not at the mall or in a restaurant or something. His couch is familiarly uncomfortable, lumpy in places and nearly flat in others, and the air smells like weed and grease, the electric fan Wayne brings out for the summer months whirring diligently in the corner. You’re glad Wayne’s not home now, though someone should probably be around to comfort Eddie after he’s done comforting you. 

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks again. “You want some water or something?” 

This time, you nod. Your boyfriend all but springs up from the couch, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and hustling it back to you like he’s training to be one of the NASCAR pit stop people. You take it from him, rubbing the condensation from the bottle on the back of your neck before taking a sip. The chill is grounding. You rest your head back on your knees.

“You feeling better, sweetheart?” Eddie grabs another water bottle from the fridge once he sees what you did with the first, holding it to your neck. “You seem better. Sounding less like Darth Vader.” 

You laugh a little, and he laughs back nervously. 

“Yeah,” you say, “it’s mostly better now.” 

He blows out a breath. “Phew, okay. Jesus. You’re a fucking champ, you know that?” 

“Thanks,” you chuckle. “Sorry I put you through that.” 

“I’m pretty sure I’m not the one who went through something just now, so consider your apology heard and nullified.” Eddie’s lips come down on the back of your head. “I’d tell you where to shove it, but I’m feeling kind of bad for you right now. Count your blessings.” 

“Oh, I’m counting them.” You smile down into the semi-dark valley between your legs and chest, taking one more deep breath in and out before lifting your head. “Okay, I’m good.” 

“Yeah?” As he pulls back to see you, your boyfriend doesn’t look so sure. His eyebrows are pulled up in the middle, freakishly huge eyes full of freakishly sweet worry. “Good enough for a hug?” 

You hum your assent, and in the next second you’re in his lap. Eddie goes all the way, curving his body over yours as his arms wrap protectively around your back and his cheek squishes into yours. 

“It scares me when you’re scared,” he admits. 

“Sorry.”

“No—goddamnit, what did we say about that? You’re lucky you’re cute, I swear—don’t be sorry. Obviously it’s not your fault, I’m just sorry that happened to you. It seemed really fucking shitty.” 

“It felt really fucking shitty,” you agree. “I’m wiped.” 

“Honestly? Me too.” Eddie chuckles. “Nap?” 

“Yes, please,” you say, but wriggle closer to him, preventing him from getting up. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. He starts rubbing your back again, contemplative. 

“You wanna sleep here, or on the bed?” 

“Bed,” you answer immediately. 

“...right. But are you gonna get up and go to the bed?” 

You make a thoughtful humming sound, grasping him tighter. “Probably not. Maybe you could carry me?” 

A sigh, long and dramatic. “Yeah, maybe I could.” Eddie’s hands move to grip you more securely, and he grunts as he stands. “You’re seriously lucky you’re cute, trouble.” 

[llamagoddessofficial]

oh, this might he an idea only i've had!

the boys with a bartender s/o

i'm talking long-ass shifts, staying up til no-fucking-thank-you o'clock, that stuff

Sans: He gets constant laughs out of her. He's always the life of the bar, but anyone who knows him can tell he's trying extra hard around her and using only his best terrible jokes. The bunny monster who used to crush on him has stopped vying for his affections, because she can tell he's completely got his heart set on Mc. Though Mc still does have to harass him to pay his tab, his jokes have her ducking behind the bar to snort, or spilling drinks because she's not concentrating. He feels like he's won when she puts her head in her hands and tries to disguise her smile with a groan.

He goes there entirely for her. He used to go for the terrible food, but now he shows up for almost every shift just to see her. Grillby swats him over the skull and tells him to stop 'swooning over the staff'. He loves her smile and her eyes, he loves the way she talks to him, how she's not afraid to cut him off or dob him in to Papyrus over the phone. He has a shitty sleep schedule anyway, he doesn't mind aggravating her until the early hours of the morning.

Red: She's got a bit of a schoolgirl crush on him. He's funny, he's hot, he handles his alcohol like a champ, his flirtation is genuinely flattering. Despite looking like the sort who would grope her, even when he's absolutely shitfaced he's never leery or gross, he never makes her feel uncomfortable. Shitfaced Red makes her feel extremely pretty and interesting. One time when he was drunk, she spotted him nearly ogling her butt, but then quickly turning his eyelights up to the ceiling at the last second.

He also actively defends her at the bar; he throws hands with the idiots who get aggressive, to the point where people don't bother her anymore if Red is at the bar. The relief on her face when he takes a seat is clear as day.

... Look, he's not the kinda guy who fools himself into thinking the sweet smiling bartender genuinely likes him. But he can tell she does prefer him to the other guys. Any time things are slow, she'll come and talk to him, picking him over all her other regulars and even the other staff. It's his favourite place for a reason.

Skull: Not gonna lie, at first, she had really bad vibes from him. He'd stare at her for hours, get one drink, then stare for another few hours. She's had more than her fair share of weird guys who think they're her boyfriend because she used her customer service smile on them.

... One night, she was closing up the bar. Someone followed her out the door and cornered her, grabbing at her and not taking no. Skull showed up and knocked their fucking teeth out. Then, like the big quiet gentleman he is, he walked her to her car; once he made sure she was safe and okay, he left without a word.

Now he's her certified favourite. He's welcome anytime, and he gets drinks on the house. On top of that, now she knows he's not a bad guy, she's started looking past his scary exterior- and she's beginning to realise that underneath all the silence and scars and spooky glares, he's actually a big cute softie.

[chai-berries]

all my friends support palestine and know neil druckmann is a zionist

A Kiss for The Ping Pong Champ (#22)

when manny said he was planning on throwing a party that night, he didn’t tell abby that it was gonna be at their apartment. so when she comes back home, covered in mud and twigs from a dumbass mission she willingly signed up for, it’s to a party in full swing and spilling out of their front door. the mission was a basic one and abby got pretty filthy but she’d take just about anything that means exploring zombie filled treasure troves. her side of the room is steadily filling with books and pins and little trinkets. she had her current “best find yet” in the breast pocket of her jacket.

abby first hears the party from the stairwell and she practically stalks towards the front door, tired and irritated but not surprised. manny and abby have both hosted parties in their penthouse apartment plenty of times in varying amounts of success. it’s just abby forgot about it and had made plans with you and now they’re fucked.

she smiles politely at everyone she walks to her bunk. grabbing her shower caddy and some clean clothes, she sneaks back out and into the communal showers.

twenty minutes later, abby is clean and back in the packed apartment. manny greets her with a wave and she responds with a prominent middle finger and a sarcastic smile. he cackles, startling the girls beside him.

she gets herself a drink and finds some guys from the gym that she sometimes trains with. one of them, joe, was defending his poorly made joke to abby and the others when abby sees movement from the corner of her eye.

“uh excuse me please?” abby fully turns to see you scooting awkwardly past a group of people. you meet her eye and grin, shouldering past the last person and are soon within her reach.

“hi,” you breathe

“hi,” abby echos.

you look around the party. “i didn’t know there was gonna be this many people when you asked me to come over. i thought it was just gonna be us —”

abby itches to touch you. the itch wins and she gently puts a hand on your shoulder. you stop talking.

“i honestly had no idea about the party. i’m just as surprised as you. do you wanna leave?” abby looks up to see where manny is.

“no,” you say a little too quickly. “i’m cool with staying if you are.”

you share a smile.

“ok then let’s get you a drink. nothing spectacular but they are interesting.” she leads you over to a table where people are mixing up drinks. she goes past all the mixes and shitty liquor and pulls a small bottle out of a box.

“here,” she hands it to you. “it’s wine. from 1993. you said wine ages well and you’ve been wanting some since last christmas sooo” she trails off and suddenly feels like she shouldn’t know that you like wineries and napa valley history and god she’s so weird but you’re smiling at her so that has to be good sign, right?

“abby, this is amazing! thank you,” is all you say but the relief that fills abby is embarrassing. this time it’s your turn to lead you both to abby’s little corner in the front of the penthouse. everyone is mostly in the upper stairs area, besides nora and leah who wave at you both as you pass by. you sit down on abby’s bed and she follows. a silence passes between you as the party becomes ambience. abby remembers her surprise and reaches into her jacket’s breast pocket. she closes her fist around the item and scoots back so her back leans against the wall and her feet hang off the bed. you follow her movement with your eyes. she makes eye contact with you for a brief second. you note that she looks bashful.

“i, uh, found you something while i was out.”

“yeah?” you turn to sit sideways on her bed, one leg tucked under you.

“you gotta close your eyes first.” you close your eyes and hold your hand out, a big smile on your face. what you can’t see is that abby is easily caught off by your smile and almost misses dropping the mysterious item into your hand.

“okay you can open your eyes now.” you do so.

in your hand is a necklace. a long gold chain and a pendant. you untangle the necklace and hold it up. the pendent is the letter of your first name. the necklace as a whole is in pretty good condition with only a little chip on the pendent.

“oh abby,” you look up and see the girl blushing. “this is so sweet! i love it. thank you.” regardless of how uncomfortable it will be, you lean forward to hug abby tightly. “thank you again, abs” you whisper and kiss her cheek before pulling away.

you quickly undo the clasps and ask abby to put the necklace on you. after a failed attempt of putting it on while sitting, you both stand up. you turn your back to abby and she very ceremoniously places the necklace on you. once it’s clasped you turn back around to face her. you reach up to adjust the pendant so it sits in the middle, by your sternum.

when you look up, abby is already smiling at you. she opens her mouth to say something when someone calls her name.

she rolls her eyes and answers with a reluctant “yeah?”

it’s joe again. “it’s raheem’s birthday and he wants a beer pong rematch.”

“right now? i’m busy.” she glances at you.

“yes now. he heads out on that week long mission tomorrow morning.”

abby closes her eyes and lets her head fall back. it’s raining outside and she can hear the rain above her head. she exhales heavily through her mouth. she looks back at you and you have the most understanding eyes in the world and abby both hates and loves it.

“okay,” she says to joe. “one game and he gets the bad beer and im taking that nice stuff.”

joe holds his hands up. “righto, captain.”

abby rolls her eyes again. she looks back at you. “this okay? just one game and they’ll leave me alone.”

you roll your own eyes but there’s a smile on your lips.

“abs it’s fine. i promise. now go, because i think joe is coming back over here.”

and sure enough he was. abby briefly squeezed your hand before heading up the stairs. you walk over to nora and leah, who have been joined by a happy drunk whitney. they were getting up to join you to watch abby kick reheem’s ass, all of you making up abby’s cheer squad.

the cups and sacred ping pong balls are already set up. you make sure to stand where abby can see you and you can see her. and she makes sure to wink at you before shooting the first ping pong of the game right into one of raheem’s cups. the boy groans loudly and his friends cheer on abby. abby holds her hands up, shrugging off the attention. you bite your lip to stop smiling at her antics. your eyes catch movement as she pulls up the sleeves of her henley to her forearms, making her arms look even bigger. pulling the sleeves up also shows off her bracelet collection. including one that you made her months ago. she’s never taken it off so it’s worn and faded. but the sentiment is still there and it makes your heart ache with love for her.

while raheem takes his time aiming, you continue watching abby as she stretches her arms over her head and twists her upper body back and forth. you suddenly remember that abby just came back home from an overnight mission and there were currently over twenty, mostly drunk, people shoved into her apartment. she’s probably exhausted but putting on a good show for these people that look up to her. you make a mental note to ask her if she wants to come back to your place until the party’s over. your room is smaller but ten times quieter. you continue to zone out a bit, watching abby while thinking about abby as the game continues in front of you.

unfortunately (but fortunately for you) everyone knew the end score pretty quickly. abby had four out of six cups left on her side while raheem had two left on his. the crowd was engaged in the action like it was a tennis match. manny had even moved to stand beside abby as her right hand man. your eyes stay locked on her.

it was raheem’s turn and everyone watches as his ball hits the rim of the cup but bounces away. the crowd groans for him. abby steps up and without even trying, sinks the ball into the cup closest to raheem. the crowd cheers. raheem goes again and makes it. abby downs the cup and wipes away the little bit that missed her mouth with the back of her hand. she picks up a ball and closes one eye to aim it perfectly before letting it go. the ball arches in the air and lands in its target.

the people cheering for abby lose their minds. manny starts to shake abby excitedly. joe and a few of the other boys from before surround her. you hear manny say something about getting abby “a drink fit for champions”. you watch abby smile and joke with her friend until the crowd by the alcohol table blocks her from you.

beside you, nora clears her throat. you stop searching for abby and look to nora.

she’s fighting off a smile.

your brows furrow in confusion. “what?”

nora shrugs. “i don’t know. i just wanna know when did you get thirsty? where did my innocent friend go?”

“what are you talking about?”

“c’mon. you are so obvious. you were practically undressing abby during the whole game. we are in public, girl. have some class,” nora laughs.

you look down. “i’m not undressing her with my eyes,” you mumble. nora scoffs

“i don’t know why you are so in denial. you have the girl,” nora’s eyes move over your shoulder. “and speak of the devil and she shall appear. hey abs! congrats on demolishing raheem! i just know he’s going to be sulking about this in the clinic for months.”

abby shrugs. “all in a day’s work.” she turns to you. “you okay?”

you smile at her. “yeah i’m fine. nora was just bullying me.” you pout. abby’s head swivels to nora who has the common sense to be already walking away with leah and whitney shuffling behind her. “it’s fine. it wasn’t serious.”

abby looks back towards you. “okay…do you wanna get outta here? i feel like if i stay, someone is gonna wanna challenge me again or something.”

“yeah! i was just gonna ask if you wanted to come to my place? ya know, until the party clears out.”

abby blushes. “yeah i’d love to. let me just grab my bag.” she moves to go down the stairs but stops at your hand grabbing her bicep.

“wait abby?”

she stops a step below you. “yeah?”

she is taller and generally bigger than you because of her muscles but having her be a step down makes it easier for you to cup her face and very gently press your lips to hers.

the gentle kiss is met with abby’s own passionate response. she reaches for your waist. your hands go from her face to her neck and then down to her shoulders.

you pull away first. “and that’s a kiss for the ping pong champion”

abby opens her eyes and hums in response. she squeezes your waist and let’s go, walking down the stairs to grab her bag. when she comes back she simply takes your hand in hers and interlaces your fingers.

just like the way she arrived, abby smiles politely at people who say hi but doesn’t stop walking until the sounds of the room fade away and she can only hear you and the sounds of both of your feet along the hallway.

[thriftedtchotchkes]

love like you

pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader

summary: mike helps you through a rough patch by reminding you of the many, many reasons he loves you

warnings: established relationship, angst, comfort, mentions of depression, anxiety & panic attacks, self-doubt, intrusive thoughts

word count: 2.1k

"Why do you love me?"

You ask the question so quietly, Mike almost misses it over the movie playing in the background. At first, he's not sure how to respond—or at the very least, where to begin.

You've never asked him that before, and he'd never given it much thought if he's being totally honest. He assumed you hadn't, either. It's just something he feels.

It's something he's always felt, gradually building since the day you led his sister back to him after she'd wandered off in the supermarket. He took one look at you, your kind eyes and patient smile, and asked you on a date without a second thought. That's what it's like to love you—instinctual.

He glances away from the TV and looks down at you curiously. Your head is nestled on his lap, eyes already locked on his and filled with apprehension he can't even begin to understand. There are a thousand and one reasons to love you; don't you realize that? He'd tell you every one if you asked.

He loves you because you're always there, through the late-night shifts and nightmares, helping him parent a child you shouldn't have to be responsible for at such a young age. You confiscate his controller every time he tries to smash it in a fit of rage, beating whatever boss he'd been fighting for hours like a champ. He thinks you're so fucking cool.

And you understand him like no one else ever has, so attentive and always willing to try. You kiss away his fears, strip him bare, unmask him. Allow him to seek shelter inside you, ride him to a mind-numbing release when his darkest thoughts threaten to consume him.

You hold him when he wants to give up, when the weight of the world is too much and persevering is too hard. The familiar, soothing tone of your voice reminds him to breathe, to tune out the little things and remember that there's still good to be found in life.

It's everything you do and everything you are. That's why he loves you.

But before he can say anything at all, your face screws up and your bottom lip begins to tremble. His chest immediately tightens.

"Woah, hey. It's okay," he murmurs, keeping you grounded in the present despite his rising panic. "You're okay."

You're prone to spiraling, but after years together, he knows the best way to mitigate it is to stay calm. Regardless of the raging storm in your head, you're safe with him, warm and dry at home on your couch.

He caresses your cheek, then trails up to scrub at the crinkle in your forehead. "What's going on up there?"

"Nothing. It's—really, it's nothing. I'm sorry, I don't know why I asked you that," you shake your head, averting your gaze elsewhere. But after a moment, your eyes snap back to his, and there's so much pain there, he can almost feel it.

"No, it's...it's everything. My brain won't shut up, and it's mean and loud, and I just—," you pause, clenching your jaw in frustration. "I just don't get it. Of everyone you could've been with, why me? I can't understand why you chose me."

The question feels like a slap in the face. Like he had so many choices and only picked you based on some predetermined criteria of what someone should want in a partner. He didn't just pull your name out of a bowl, either. You chose each other.

He wracks his brain to figure out what he could've said or done to make you believe otherwise, but then remembers this isn't about him. He tries again to explain all of the reasons he wanted to before, to tell you that the unrelenting thoughts ping-ponging in your head are wrong, but you continue on, unraveling before his eyes.

"I'm a shitty person. I'm selfish and useless, and all I do is make everyone around me unhappy. There's always a crisis, I'm always sad. And I always make everything about me," you tell him, getting angrier by the second. "Ugly, worthless, selfish, selfish. I’m a fucking burden. You know, I—I just keep waiting for you to figure it out and leave. To get sick of this...of me."

He listens helplessly as you tear yourself apart, the ache in his chest intensifying the worse your verbal barrage becomes. He knows he can't just reassure away your insecurities or magically heal your trauma, no matter how badly he wants to. But he also can't let this go on any longer.

"Stop," he says softly, cutting you off. Hearing the full extent of your criticism is agonizing, and if it's hurting him this much, he hates to think what you must be feeling. "None of that is true. I think...I hope, deep down, you know that."

The broken look you give him tells him you don't, or maybe that you can't, at least not right now. You open your mouth to retort, but he shakes his head and hauls you up into his arms. He holds you close as you start to tremble, guiding you to rest your cheek on his shoulder.

"There's nothing shitty about you, alright? You're the least selfish person I've ever met. Kinda wish you were so you'd stop prioritizing us over yourself all the time," he murmurs into your hair. "And you're fucking gorgeous. I don't want to hear you say any of that ever again."

He tilts his head to meet your eyes. "Got it?"

You shake your head, turning to hide your face in the crook of his neck. He sighs. He just can't fathom how you could possibly look at yourself and not see what he and Abby do. But then again, he might understand more than he'd like to admit.

Everything you've told him tonight feels jarringly familiar. The self-hatred, the unending criticism—he wallows in those thoughts all the time and knows better than anyone that they'll eat you alive if you bottle them up for too long.

He hates that you have to suffer through this just because brain chemistry is indiscriminately cruel. It's unfair. He, at the very least, deserves it.

Except, that's not actually true, is it? And if your roles were reversed, you'd remind him as many times as it takes for him to believe it. You'd tell him that he's perfect exactly the way he is. That he's a good parent, brother, and partner, and regardless of all of the shit life has thrown his way, he's still a good person that isn't defined by his lowest moments.

So, he'll do the same for you.

He shifts you on his lap so you're face-to-face, your legs bracketing his thighs, and cups your cheeks to keep your attention on him. He's not letting you hide anymore. He needs you to hear what he has to say and trust that he'd never lie to you.

"You're not worthless or useless or anything else your brain is telling you right now. Okay? You're perfect," he says quietly, stroking your cheek. "I've always thought you were perfect, from the moment I met you."

Doubt clouds your expression. "I don't believe you."

"Why would I lie to you?"

"B-because that's what you're supposed to say when you're trying to make someone feel better," you reply shakily.

Ouch. He hadn’t expected that answer. It stings that you'd think so little of him, especially after all this time. He feels like he’s grasping at straws now, but everything he wants to say is just a variation of how highly he sees you. It’s all equally true, but if you can’t accept that, then what else can he do?

"Then, tell me what you need to hear right now. Tell me how to help you through this, because I love you so fucking much, and I will do anything," he pleads, his frustration bleeding through despite how hard he tries to suppress it.

It’s starting to affect you. You’re shaking like a leaf, and he can tell you want to run away, but instead of letting you go, he wraps his arms around you as carefully as he can to keep you from leaving. He doesn't want to force you to face this. He just needs you to stop hurting yourself. Your face crumples, and he feels his own do the same.

"I don't know. Probably nothing," you tell him, voice cracking. "Look, we don't have to talk about it anymore. I'm sorry for bringing it up in the first place. Can we just go back to watching the movie? I’ll rewind it—“

But Mike doesn't want to let this go. Even if he should, even though you're asking—he's determined to make sure you go to bed tonight knowing how loved you are. His next words come out harsher than he wants them to, but he’s getting desperate. He’s only human.

"Fine. You want the truth? Being with you is hard. It's one of the hardest things I've ever done, and sometimes, it hurts like hell," he starts. Your expression morphs from sad to devastated, and he feels terrible for upsetting you, but he has to say this for both of your sakes.

"But that's what makes it worth it. I've never felt this way about anyone, probably never will again. Not because it's easy; because it's you. Sure, no one's perfect, but you're about as close as it gets. You're it for me.”

He truly believes that. Maybe you do, too. The tension in your body is beginning to bleed away, and you slowly sag against him, tucking yourself into his chest. He catches a glimpse of your face as you melt into him, and for the first time tonight, you look hopeful. Nuzzling into your hair, he continues.

"I can't imagine a life without you anymore. It's like you're part of me now, maybe even the best parts, and I fill in the gaps in between. We just…figured it out at some point. Together.” He’s starting to ramble, but he’s too invested to stop. Judging by the fact that you haven’t interrupted him or tried to intervene, it doesn’t seem like you want him to, either.

“Even the small shit other couples fight about. Like the dishes—you hate doing those because digging the silverware out of the sink grosses you out, so I do it. And you fold the laundry because I always burn myself taking the clothes out of the dryer. We talk shit out. We try."

He squeezes you a little tighter. “Maybe those seem like shitty reasons to love someone, but they’re real. Just as real as what I told you before," he says softly, pausing to kiss the top of your head. "You're beautiful. You're kind and passionate, and I’m just the lucky guy that gets to be with you. I’ll be here as long as you want me.”

When he finally finishes, he’s all but gasping for air. His heart pounds wildly in his chest, and he’s breathing so heavily, he feels like he just ran a marathon. But it’s worth it to see the look on your face as you peer up at him, cautious but peaceful.

“How could I not want you?” you whisper, splaying your hand across his chest, just below his collarbone. You're feeling his heartbeat.

"I've been asking you that all damn night," he chuckles. Cradling your head in his palm, he swipes away a few stray tears that fall with the next flutter of your lashes. "So, did I answer your question or should I keep going? Because seriously, I can keep going—"

You snort, effectively cutting him off, then give him a wry smile. The relief he feels is palpable.

“You know, I really don’t deserve you," you murmur as you lean up to kiss the underside of his jaw. When your lips linger, he ducks down to press his against yours, kissing you deeply and pouring in everything left unsaid.

"Sure, you do," he says kindly, but with finality. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, you're both starting to look as tired as you feel. But more than that, he's grateful; to have you in his life and to be able to comfort you when you need it most. You taught him that. "And I think we both deserve some sleepytime tea and a really soft blanket...if Abby didn't already steal it off our bed."

Your face lights up, and it's as if he solved all of the world's problems with that one simple offering. It's the same look you give him when he tells you he loves you. The corners of your eyes crinkle as you say it back.

"I love you, too."

thanks for reading!

divider by @saradika-graphics

a/n: this was a homework assignment from my therapist 💀 oops

[orisquirrelking]

do you have any p2 x reader headcanons? 👉👈

P2 dude/reader HCs

—---------------------------

I think that he has one major thing in common with all the other dudes and that is that P2 is a huuuge slug for physical affection. He isn’t subtle about it at all. Ever. Arms will constantly be around your waist, slung over your shoulder, linked with yours.

^^^^ despite this, he always gets flustered when you just simply. Hold his hand. He’ll make a joke along the lines of “Really? Before marriage?” but he’ll tend to stay quiet, (er. Quieter than usual for him, anyways.)  because when he starts talking he can’t look you in the eyes and oh god he’s rambling and your finger just twitched and-

We’ve already gone over dates, but let's refresh! He just likes spending time with you. His ex just sent him to go and do things, and while fucking around and shooting up napalm factories was good for his anger management, it got lonely being out 24/7. He’ll wake you up in the middle of the night just to talk, or take you out of work to say hi to Champ on his walk past your office.

PDA? Yes please! P2 will not hesitate to be a little (or, y’know. A lot) handsy in public. Going back to how touchy he is, he wants to be touching you in some way while you’re both out. Lots of little kisses on your hands, arms, forehead, and general facial area. Will gie you his jacket if you’re even slightly cold (doesn’t matter if it’s too big or too small, he’ll drape it over your shoulders either way.)

He’s not much of a jealous type. Other than some solid glares at people who attempt to flirt with you, he’s pretty confident in your relationship. Loves showing you off and talking about you to almost everyone he meets though. He’ll be at the checkout at the Lucky Ganesh yammering about how the two of you are going out later in the day, meanwhile the line is piling up behind him and the cashier is about to blow his brains out.

Withdrawals are a bitch. He’s trying to ease off of the “health pipes,” citing the cost as the reason, but sometimes it’s just too much. Withdrawals dude is a hell of a lot more irritated all the time. He’ll yell (and feel shitty about it) for everyone to shut up, especially if Champ’s barking goes on for too long. He’s grumpy as hell and tends to spend the day on the couch. When he’s at his worst, he just wants to lay on your lap while you massage his scalp. He swears it's magical.

Overall he’s definitely an. Interesting guy to date. Hiding from the cops together has happened more times than you could care to count, but y’all wouldn't have it any other way :)) <3

[shaisuki]

“you're a cocky prick.”

his white brows rise from that and a smile broke in his lips.

“yeah.” his grin growing wider when he suddenly thrusted his hips upwards making you moan, throwing your head backwards and your fingers digging the skin in his shoulders.

god, he's insufferable but the great gojo satoru got fine dick though.

your pencil skirt bunched up into your waist. showing your thick, doughy thighs that looks like squished marshmallows in his lean thighs. your top stripped, showing your bare, plump body in front of him.

your body jiggling while he continues his thrusts in your sopping fat pussy. hitting the soft spots inside you that leaves you breathless and making your cunt weep.

gojo had never seen such a wonder in his whole life. who knew you'll take the form of it and he relished into it. your soft body jiggling from his powerful thrusts and fuck, you riding his cock earlier like a champ.

the six eyes and limitless holder drowns in the pleasure of your fat pussy clenching around him like a vice. the squelch of your juices coating his cock like melted sugar— sticky and hot. the sound echoing in the teacher's lounge. his blindfold in his neck, his top unbuttoned and his pants pooling in his legs.

if every break time would be like this. gojo would have it. your annoyance visible plus his shitty attitude combined in a steamy sex.

his long slender fingers sinks in the plushness of your waist, holding you steady to receive his thrusts.

gojo drags his tongue to your sweat-coated skin in your chest. nibbling at the soft flesh like he's savoring a rare delicacy he's yet to taste and he groans when he feels your pussy clench in his length.

good, you're close and so he is. looking at you biting your lip and his hand cups your jaw before pulling it to crash his lips to yours. it's all tongue and sucking each other's mouth like there's no tomorrow.

pushing his shoulders while you slam your hips. god, forbid if the chair broke. gojo smirks in the kiss. holding your wide hips to assist you in reaching your peak and his.

so close. he can hear you whine and fuck it's the best orgasm he have in his whole fucking life. the knot in his belly breaking as it fills you up with ropes of ropes of his thick, white cum coating your insides.

your fat cunt gushes as you reach your high. soaking his cock along with his cum. thighs trembling while you break the kiss, panting while you catch your breath from the earth -shattering orgasm you had. fucking gojo satoru is the best, you have to admit it.

looking down, gojo sees his cum and yours dripping down and it's hot. a creamy white ring surrounds his cock and yours while it's still stuffed inside you.

gojo licks his lips.

“hate me all you want, (y/n)-chan,~” he said in a sing-song voice making you squirm at the voice.

“i fucking hate you gojo satoru.” you retorted.

and he grins. “ i love you too~” he fires back and your eyes widened, not from him saying the l-word but the feeling of his cock hardening inside you.

he pulls you closer before you made an attempt to escape him. pressing your soft body against his muscular one.

hate him all you want but he ain't stopping until he stuffed you full of his cum.

[viktor-leagueoflegends]

I adore this account, I have notifications for when you post, Riot literally took league Viktor to the back of the farm AND SHOT HIM and brought out a new puppy and said it was an improvement. And said it was canon (fr). What my ass isn't getting it how the fuck is Arcane canon if Ambessa and Heimerdinger ARE DEAD. from what I saw, THEY'RE DEAD??? SO AM I MISSING SOMETHING OR WHAT? Or is it some bullshit where the ingame versions are before they died, which I think is big bullshit. And if they're making Arcane canon they should make the Arcane skins free BUT THEY WONT BECAUSE THEY LIKE MONEY. Where are the other piltover/ Zaun champs? They don't have another season to show them so?? Anyway, I love league Viktor. I love him so much fr!!! And I was introduced to the greater league lore by watching Arcane and prefer league Viktor!! Hexcore story so bullshit. <3 THE VOID? CRAZY WHY WOULD THEY INCLUDE THAT IN LIKE WHAT I THOUGHT WAS A VERY INTERCONNECTED STORY WITH PILTOVER AND ZAUN. I'm rambling I took like 4 shots, LOVE BLOG LOVE YOU UR SO COOL!!!! Fav blog rn <3<3

First of all I'm so sorry this took a billion morbillion years to answer, idk even what to say about that it was just My Bad.

Anyhow, it really is just such a dogshit decision to have Arcane be canon, all the way down. It's more work for Riot that they clearly don't have the resources to commit to, it doesn't contribute to a healthy lore-state, it pisses off existing fans, and Arcane fans won't even care because they already have Arcane itself! Like why would an Arcane fan give a shit about navigating to the league game lore to read Viktor's new bio, which is just a shitty summary of what happens in Arcane, when they can just, y'know, watch Arcane? And yeah it throws some major wrenches in the works, not just wrt Ambessa and Heimer like you mentioned, but also, Viktor as Herald of the Arcane is only actually Herald of the Arcane for like, an afternoon. Lol. Plus Cait isn't sheriff, etc. So I supposed they're going with this 0 timeline game-state where any character may be pulled from any point in their timeline which! Is fine, I Guess. But they really did Not have to do all that. and stupid to change it to given that (afaik) the current lore was mostly timeline-stable save for like. viego. who is Alive but in cryo or whatever

Probably the thing I think is the most bullshit is the way they claim this lore merger + the VGU's to bring featured champions to arcane canon was The Plan All Along -- which, no the fuck it wasn't? I forget where but some rioter said some shit about how Cait's ASU when Arcane s1 dropped was meant to do this and -- no it wasn't? no the fuck it wasn't? she wasn't even purple. she's not even a sheriff. Her ASU is clearly meant to honour her in-game state and you can't cite her as a reason for why Viktor gets the great Honour of being deleted.

Anyhow. Glad you're here, it makes me really happy to see people enjoy league viktor :] That's really all I wanted to achieve with this archive, so thank you!

[doctorgirlsblog]

Merz Prinzessin vs. Dutch Lion (series)

Part 2: Drinks on me, shame on you

Warnings: throughout the series, there are mentions of cheating, explicite sex scenes (+18) and swearing. Brief Mention of Lando x Aria

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Max was sipping on his drink, Kelly tucked at his side, telling some jokes to the rest of the group seated. He had agreed to go out to clear his head after the dream he'd had last night. So when Kelly offered, he had been tad too quick to agree.

Yet right now, seeing the said German devil walk in, wearing a silky red dress that left little to the imagination, he started to regret it, nearly choking on his drink in process.

None of them seemed to notice his distress, nor did she, so he pulled his gaze away and back to the woman on his arm. She was leaning into his side, smiling softly, and he felt bad because, for the first time, her touch was suffocating him.

She deserved better.

Aria sipped champagne in her lounge, chatting with her friends, well aware of Max and his wandering eyes. Of course she noticed, her best friend bumping her shoulder pointing with her eyes to the blue piercing eyes eyeing her like a prey.

What could she do to make the composed Dutchman squirm a little?

Suddenly, she smirked, an idea forming in her head as she motioned with her hand to the waitress. She leaned in, whispered in her ear, and sent her off. Let the games begin.

-------------------------------------------------------

The waitress came to Max's lounge, carrying two bottles of Moët and setting them on the table in front of them.

Max was confused. "I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong table. We didn't order any champagne."

"No, sir, this was sent over from one of our VIP guests. They send their regards," the waitress quickly explained before excusing herself and leaving. Everyone else was already too drunk to care who had sent it, as they cheered and opened the bottles. Max was still confused.

He stood up, saying he needed to freshen up and headed for the toilets. On his way over, the same waitress from earlier stopped him.

"Excuse me, sir. From our VIP guest. It's for you," she said as she gave him a folded piece of paper and left before he had the chance to answer.

He opened it, and his eyes widened.

"Next time you decide to stare, just keep in mind that I mignt not be wearing anything underneath. Enjoy the drinks.

xoxo"

She saw him. She knew. Fuck.

He suddenly sobered up, frantically turning around, trying to spot her, but without success.

Then he felt the presence of the body behind him, warm breath on the nape of his neck. He stood frozen, not daring to turn around.

"Looking for someone, champ?"

So, he had two options. Both looked...shitty.

1. He could keep walking and pretend he hadn't noticed.

2. He could turn around and face her.

"Fuck my life", he thought as he slowly turned around.

There she was, in all her glory, with that signature smirk on her red lips. He checked her out, remembering her note about not wearing anything underneath. Every curve was visible, the dress clinging to her desperately like a second skin.

"Cat got your tongue?" she laughed.

"No. I—why did you send those drinks? What the fuck Aria? What are you playing at?!" -he refuses to look anywhere but her eyes again. It will be easier to stay mad at her, so he doesn't do anything stupid.

"Why, just a treat for the night, Maxie. I'll send the next round after you lose next week."

-"Why would I lose?"

She stepped closer and looked up into his eyes. They darkened.

"Oh, but you just might. In fact, I'm so sure of it, I can bet on it."

-"Bet? For what?"

"If you do lose to me next Sunday, I get to ask you for something. Anything."

She knew he would take the bait. He was that cocky.

"Okay then. Just because I won't actually lose. Much less to you. And because I don't want this kind of your games happening again." - maybe it was the alcohol talking, maybe he actually wanted her to win and ask him for something. Something...

He shook his head to sort out his thoughts.

"Whatever you say, champ. You're the one with experience, after all." Her lips briefly touched his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his lips. He held his breath. She pulled away, smirking, and for the second time that week, was already walking away from him.

Why does he let her do this? He is Max Verstappen for fuck's sake. She is just another girl, a driver like the rest of them.

But he surely doesn't have wet dreams about other drivers. Fucking hell. He dragged his hands down his face before walking back to the table.

Everyone was already too wasted to notice his absence, but he wasn't anymore. Not when he looked at the end of the table. There, in Lando's lap, sitting and giggling, was none other than Aria Wolff herself. Lando was smitten, obviously head over heels for her and the attention she was giving him. He kept caressing her leg while whispering in her ear, but her eyes were trained on Max, not looking away for a second. He stood frozen. The room suddenly felt too hot. His shirt was suffocating him, and the growing bulge in his black skinny jeans wasn't helping. She was still looking. She had noticed. He needed to leave. He grabbed Kelly's hand, pulling her up—to which she was more than happy to oblige—and told the rest that they were leaving.

Back in their hotel room, he fucked her like never before. He was usually very gentle with her, making love sweetly, but tonight his mind was imagining the red silky dress rolled up to her hips, black haired girl moaning and begging him to fuck her harder, her manicured nails leaving marks on his back, drawing blood..

He didn't last long, pictures in his head bringing him to the edge of pure bliss. She didn't complain, though, as she was drunk and surprised with his rough ways, and fell asleep right after. Max, however, was more awake than ever. He was sitting on the balcony, clutching his phone for dear life as he looked at her Instagram pictures. Despite his fantasies, he wasn't the one who got to touch all that. Lando probably was. Lucky bastard.

He glanced back at the bed, where Kelly stirred and rolled over to his side of the bed, hugging his pillow. She didn't deserve this. She was good. She loved him and had been there since the beginning. He loved her too. She was safe place.

He needed someone like her, not someone like...

Or at least, that's what he told himself.

-------------------------------------------------------

Back at her hotel, Aria rolled her eyes at Lando's lame attempt to get inside her room.

"Come on, baby, let me in. I'll make it worth it, I promise," he whispered in her ear, one hand on her hip, the other squeezing her tits.

"Lan, Liebchen, go back to your room. I want to sleep." She pushed him away gently and opened the door, blowing him a kiss before closing it in his face. Poor thing. He really thought he would get some. She stripped out of her dress and went straight to the shower. The night was pretty eventful. After she got comfortable in bed, already sobered up, she picked up her phone and noticed many messages. Some of her friends who were still at the club, a couple from Lando where he was still begging to let him inside, and...Max??

Max had texted her? Curiosity killed the cat. Ignoring other messages, she opened his first.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

She blinked. The only explanation was that he had probably texted the wrong person. She'd leave it alone; he would eventually realize it. Just as she closed the tab, another message arrived.

"Why do I fucking need you?"

Wait, what?

She quickly texted back:

"Max, you probably texted the wrong person. Or you're drunk. So yeah, just to let you know, it's Aria."

-"You know i fucked her so good, imagining you underneath me instead."

Her eyes widened. She turned off the phone and kicked it away from her. What the fuck just happened?

She did not get any sleep that night, tossing and turning as she looked at her turned-off phone lying beside her.

Neither did Max, who thought he was just drafting his messages and then deleting them.

Guess he was in for a surprise in the morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, part 2 is now out lovelies!

Greetings from rainy Germany 💙🧡

Tag list:

@amz824

[blackdollette]

Getting high with Clyde and sucking his fingers cuz yall are giggly as shit and he dared you to. Getting high with Clyde ans having sleepy wholesome makeout sessions, kissing till droll drips down your chin. Getting high with Clyde and being absolutely railed while the room spins. Getting high with Clyde 69ing him. Getting high with Clyde and lazily grinding against eachother as he moans into your mouth. Getting high with Clyde and tugging on a bit of his hair playfully, but then he makes that sound. Getting high with Clyde and joking about fucking him in the ass and he's just all like "unless 👀". Getting high with Clyde and making very sweet love in a grassy knoll under the stars. Getting high with Clyde and sitting on his face to the point of smothering but he just does not care. Getting high with Clyde and cockwarming him while y'all watch Fantasia and lose y'alls shit cuz colors. Getting-

(Source: I'm high af rn and can't stop thinking about doing this man on every surface of this shitty RV 💀)

you're a whole damn author, anon 🙈

"you and i were forever wild." | clyde

young and beautiful. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999@josibunn @livingdead-materialgirl @romanroyapoligist@auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @vanlisbon @lankysimp @livingdead-reilly@imoonkiss @lankysimp@nom-nommmm1@xxbl00d-cl0txx@k1ll3rh0rr0r@wildathevrt@mommymilkers0526 @greenxgloss

female!reader x clyde

word count: 649

contents: use of drugs, unprotected p in v, anal training, 69, public sex

smoking a blunt in the back of his van, a dumb little grin on his face as he watched you take the tip into your mouth and take a long inhale of smoke. he slowly trailed his finger along the cursive of your lip, teasing the entrance as you looked at him through your pretty, hazy eyes. with a few slurred words, his fingers would be in our mouth and he’d be awestruck as he watches your pink tongue making such a mess of him. he’d be all restless and giddy, looking at the features of your face a little too deeply as time went completely elastic. the innocent gesture would turn into him fucking you on any surface he could find, the van rocking from the intense and intimate movement.

spending most nights at his place because you were completely stoned and he was too scared to let you spend the night alone. clyde lets you wear his biggest hoodie, ignoring your pleads for something smaller because he loved seeing you in something that made you look this precious. he’d have one arm wrapped around your waist as you shared sloppy kisses, slow and quiet whimpers escaping his lips and entering yours. you tug on his hair, making what sounded like a cross between a groan and a whimper. strings of saliva would connect your lips and he’d giggle, twirling a lock of hair around his finger.

pieces of your clothing would come off one by one until you both were in your underwear, you on his lap as you lazily grinded on eachother, clyde feeding his moans into your mouth as the friction brought a boiling heat to your panties. the room spinning as cool air hits your bare bodies. he’d be lying on his back, his shaky hands keeping as firm a grip as they could on your hips as he suckled on your slick pussy. his pretty pink cock would be halfway down your throat, bubbling with precum as you both just lived in the moment, completely oblivious to how you got here in the first place.

you and clyde trying things you never even thought of. a funny joke would be cracked, one thing would lead to another and you would be anal training him, holding his hand as he whimpered and told you to go faster and deeper, your hand lazily stroking his cock as a knot tied in his stomach. your strap would slowly move in and out of him, his shaky breaths filling the room. you’d gently massage his balls to distract him from the feeling of being stretched out, and soon he’d be taking in every inch like a champ.

forgetting all about public decency one night on an empty field. he’d lead you under a tree, picking you up and kissing you deeply. in that space, you’d completely forget about the outside world and only focus on you and him. he’d lay down on the cold grass, staring up at you as you slowly sank down onto his face, his angular nose coming into contact with your clit as he languidly drew up tongue up and down your wet slit. his only source of oxygen was cut off, but he couldn’t have cared left. this felt like heaven to him.

you and clyde tripping out to the overly bright colours of nostalgic shows and movies on his old tv. he’d have you swaddled in a large blanket as you tangled with his hair, murmuring a bunch of nonsense as you felt your brains rotting from being completely fried. you would melt into one another, letting eachother’s presence clothe you like a warm sweater. and then you’d fall asleep in that same position, dreaming of happy things like getting married and having a family together. then you’d finally wake up in his arms, ready to do everything all over again.

author's note: this was a bunch of drabbly mess but thank you so much anon for the request!!

[fruitbasketball]

wnba recap 8/23

EXCELLENT night of hoops to cover tn 😮‍💨 i’m so ready y’all

las vegas aces vs minnesota lynx

we got to see this matchup again and i gotta say it feels like 2017 the way the lynx are so dominant rn. the fact that the aces are losing to them not once, but TWICE in a ROW… man. MAN.

a’ja was a little off her game - i rarely see her w out a double and shooting under 50%. problem with a’ja being off her game is it doesn’t feel like the rest of the starting five is stepping up. nobody even broke 15 points y’all like… this the back to back champs??? shitttt

like this is a team that is not taking care of the ball on either end of the floor. every single one of the starters turned the ball over at least 3 times except alysha, their efficiency was fine but come on. it’s the ACES. i’ve seen it way better, and considering this is a team they just LOST to??? obv we’re not even worried about playoff berth here - but damn! that should be an ego hit at the very least!

i just wanna talk about napheesa collier for a second. phee needs to be in more mvp convos. like in my head rn, the mvp ranking goes a’ja, phee, stewie. i don’t think that’s anything crazy, and obv i got AT up there, too.

look at what phee did tonight y’all!!!! i mean this shit is WILD: 27 points, 18 REBOUNDS??? ONE EIGHT?? EIGHTFUCKINGTEEN??? on 73% SHOOTING???? 50% from three y’all and 5 dimes and a couple steals like. that’s an insane stat line bro. it’s fucking NUTS. WHY are we not TALKING ABOUT PHEE??? maybe we are and i’m just not seeing it but… phee, man.

lord look at that husky

atlanta dream vs phoenix mercury

i cannot wait until the atlanta dream aren’t playing anymore bc i actually cannot stand watching them play. i got my stanny loyalties but haley jones is so painfully mediocre rn so i’m really just gonna leave it.

diana lorena taurasi a 360 pass is stupid. it’s STUPID. oh my god that shit is so dee i love it.

los angeles sparks vs washington mystics

hellooooo bueckers bowl!! paige watching this game, biting her fingernails, knowing she’s going to whichever team loses… man i love the w 💀💀💀

battle of the shitty franchises i fucking GUESS like… anyway slim had a gameeee (28 points), kira w a nice double double (14/11), ariel atkins with 15 too (you know i had to get my longhorn in there)

you know what LA’s fuckin problem is??? imma tell you what LA’s fuckin problem is. DOGSHIT efficiency. and y’all are like… yeah, no shit. but like ACTUALLY consider how ridiculous this is: they play a four-forward lineup and not ONE of their bigs breaches 50% fgp except rickea this game. WHAT the FUCK.

especially with THIS lineup?? clock the mismatch!!! you’re gonna have smaller guys on you - there is literally NO REASON they should be out scoring y’all in the paint.

OH MY GOD A1 FUCKIN TANK JOB LIKE JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

chicago sky vs connecticut sun

clock how close this was y’all: 82-80 sun win.

then clock that marina mabrey got 24 tn to get the W over her old team.

you can’t even script this shit bro it’s just too good 😭😭😭

man just one more board for AT for the triple: 12/9/11 like she really like that bro.

speaking of stats… how angel reese had 20 BOARDS?? just wiping down that glass tonight HOLY SHIT

yeah this should’ve been an easier win. every day i wonder how the FUCK chicago could’ve given up marina and why the FUCK they did when somebody got their pick anyway… jesus christ y’all

anyway… excited for the rest of the season and the postseason. college football coming up, i won’t yap about it but i’ll be internally insufferable about being in the sec now 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽 have a blessed night y’all

[blckbrrybasket]

22. “Eyes On Me”

Agent Whiskey x Fem!Reader

꒰Bondage + Femdom꒱ - 1.2k

• handjob, leaving him tied, Mean!Reader, Mean!Whiskey

kinktober m.list

Jack always had a mouth on him. When he was younger it got him into trouble so much people expected that he was going to mouth off before he actually did. Getting to the age where he needed to work he was able to put enough of a filter on to not get fired. With the Statesmen he was able to speak a bit more freely, but he always pushed it with you.

Whatever had sparked the rivalry was forgotten by now, though you’d find a way to blame it on him and vice versa, meaning it didn’t stop. Jack always challenged you, but it wasn’t too big of a problem. You always pushed back and fought to prove him wrong. Champ let it play out naturally, only stepping in if either of you had gone too far.

Poor Jack didn’t keep any filter on today though and bad mouthed you too Champ during the meeting today. Your shock and anger was palpable, but Champ quickly put a stop to it. He was like a dad, giving a stern talking to then promptly ushering Jack out of the meeting.

After that Jack was…basically the same. He had gone back to his office, smug as ever. Being kicked out of a meeting wasn’t new, Tequila had it happen to him all the time, once was a drop in the bucket. But you? You were pissed, and on a mission to teach him a lesson.

“What the fuck was that?” Your voice cut through Jack’s peace as he sat at his desk. His eyes glanced up, self-satisfied smirk on his lips. “Fuck was what?” You scowled, slamming your hands on his desk. “You know what, Whiskey. How dare you talk about me like that in front of Champ?” Jack rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair.

“Calm down a little.” Your mouth fell open at his audacity. Thinking, you straightened up and walked around his desk. Jack chuckled and raised an eyebrow, “Whatcha doin?” Hand sliding against the top of his sleek desk, you slowly bent to his height as he sat down. 

You grabbed his whip that laid on his desk. Jack sat up, watching you intently. “What’re you plannin’?” He asked again, eyes focused on you wrapping the whip around your hands. Ignoring his question, you leaned your hip on his desk. “You know what I think?” You questioned in a low voice, one Jack knew from certain nights a few months ago. 

“I think you were out of line.” Your other hand slid to hold the end of his whip in your palm. “And I think you need to learn your lesson.” You straightened out the whip, holding it tightly between your hands. Jack’s eyes grew several sizes, looking up at you, swallowing thickly. Silence settled before he broke it in a husky voice, “You think you can teach me a lesson? I’d love to see ya try.” 

Smirking, you jutted your chin out. “Wrists out.” And Jack for everything he was, was weak when it came to you, wrists shooting up. You laughed haughtily, wrapping it under his wrists, bringing it around. Intricately weaving it, you stopped around his elbows, tying it off with enough room to not wound him or cut off the blood flow. “Good?” “Well if I’d been a hostage I’d be gone by now,” he remarked.

You smiled sarcastically, pushing his chair back. “Well I don’t see you leaving. Must be a shitty hostage.” Jack could sense you definitely had prior experience by how quickly you managed this. “Are ya tying every enemy like this?” Instead of answering him, you gave a test yank on your handiwork. 

“Only you.” You moved forward, gripping his hip with one hand and holding the end of the whip in the other, pulling him forward. “Want to see what else I’d like to do to you?” Jack eagerly scooted his chair back, making space for you to stand between him and his desk. 

At his insistent, too eager move, you moved into the new space. “Aw look at you…all tied up with no complaints. Do you like being manhandled?” Your sickly saccharine tone made it seem more like a statement than an actual question.

Jack was always so turned on by your nonchalance and dominance. You kept the same energy, unzipping his pants to tug them down. His slacks bunched around his knees, giving you plenty of room to push his boxers down as well. 

He felt like he was going to burn up under your gaze, hips lifting in a silent beg when you pulled his boxers down. Jack was already half-hard, a little vulnerable when you studied his length. Lips puckering, your spit landed in your hand to wrap around his dick, stroking him leisurely. It didn’t take too long for his cock to swell with the flow of blood, standing in the grip of your hand.

It wasn’t unknown that Jack wanted more, for your fingers to be your body wrapped around him, or his fingers in you, but he wouldn’t complain. The warmth of your spit was enough for him to squeeze his eyes shut and imagine you were riding him. You flicked his forehead and he hissed, eyes flying open, yet unable to mask the jerk of his cock.

“Eyes on me,” You demanded, increasing the pace of your fist to jerk him off quicker. Unlike previous times, you weren’t here for pleasure. Your hand squeezed around him, thumb pressing at the spot under his tip that made him go crazy. Jack groaned, head falling back, eyes forced to stay on your face. If he so much as looked down, he knew you would stop.

Thick pre-cum leaked over your fingers, making it easier for him to fuck your fist. “Christ, you don’t let up do you?” Jack managed to choke out as his chest fell in a concave manner, gasping for another gulp of air. “Why would I? This is a punishment, not for me to take my time.” He scowled, going to open his mouth before he was cut off. “You’re at work, act like it.”

You had started it though! Jack was ready to tell you that when you removed your hand, a broken groan passed through his lips. However, you didn’t completely pull away. Lowering your head, you blew air on his darkened tip, watching more pre-cum desperately leak out.

Jack grumbled, lifting his tied hands to cover his face. What he didn’t expect was for you to flick his cock, watching it kick, on the edge of cumming. You laughed meanly, brushing your knuckles up his length and it was enough for him to fall over that edge.

His cum shot up onto his suit, ruining the blue of his suit coat. Jack didn’t seem to see it as his face pushed into his tied arms, hips humping up into nothingness. Eventually he had finished, hands falling haphazardly directly onto where his cum hand landed.

This time his groan was one of defeat. Eyeing him, you scrunched up your nose at the mess. “Clean yourself up,” you commented, turning to walk away from his desk. “Hold..hold on now! Yer jokin’ right? I can’t get outta this.” Jack knew he could. He knew, you knew that he could. That didn’t stop him from whining though, wanting the easy way out.

“That’s your problem now.” His expression slackened at your boldness. Jack watched in stunned silence as you left his office, the door swinging shut a tad too quickly for his liking. Reality set in and he raised his wrists from the pool of cum on his suit. “Fuckin’...god dammit,” he grumbled, attention turning to his bound wrists.

tags: @babybatlover, @starrgurl46, @wowzers-07, @nenukkjhj, @morgan0lw21, @kinokomoonshine, @slut4ddn, @amyispxnk, @adventures-of-impala, @dreamerjj