#he’s not exactly how i envision him but it’s a start!

[fadelbison]

Of Boats and Drama; The Turning Tides on Kant and Bison's Compatibility

obsessed with how when its during their make believe phase, when fadel says "I think I love you" to Style, Style doesn't say it back and instead just kisses him at the end of ep. 6 and during the kantbison parallel at the start of ep7 when Bison says "I love you" to Kant, Kant says "I love you" back but clearly there's baggage even if he's not lying outright.

But after the brothers kidnap their respective lovers its Style that fronts with the I love you that perplexes Fadel

and its bison that wants to hear it

but Kant jumps into the ocean instead (like you can see the beach front okay Bison is clearly devoid of killing intent here) instead of lying to him or say the same things he's been saying to dupe him.

I really think this is where the Kant and Bison compatibility is finally starting to show. Bison clearly loves his little fantasies and make belief of romance (just like style dear fucking god). I've joked before about how bison has given to his brother the lover he had envisioned for himself - the one who will plead his love, cajole and give in.

But that guy is wrong for him.

We've seen that slightly off dynamic between Kant and Bison for 6 whole episodes. And it's killed me that people kept trying to interpret them with the same rose tinted glasses that we do for Fadel and Style. Because the FadelStyle and KantBison relationship parallels aren't meant to highlight the similarities between the couples but rather the differences, that's where the information about these characters come from.

The audience knows something that Kant doesn't in the boat scene; which is that he has this in the bag already. I think this is the infamous island Bison inherited from his dad and he's brought him here to literally just talk. I know I mentioned this already but bison literally looks like he just untied the boat from shore and let it drift on its own while waiting for Kant to wake up.

Like that has got to be the minimum legal distance that a boat needs to be from shore to be considered unmoored lol. This is 'I am using your vulnerabilities against you because love is pain' shore distance not 'dead body dumping' shore distance. The body will wash up on shore before the boat even makes it back.

But for Bison, Fadel's reasonable precautions while we talk approach was not enough. He needed the ropes, the guns, the added ocean trauma because the guns didn't feel enough to instill fear, the pretty necklace he put on just so he could rip it off his throat, everything is already high drama high fantasy for him. Bison set the stage for desperate begging and tearful confessions, things he already got at the hospital btw but that wasn't enough either.

Because.

Bison doesn't need to be sold on fantasies. He had that and it sucked for everyone involved, what he needs when he's totally out of control like this is this guy:

[screenshots of Kant telling bison he wants to talk on land and he's scared of the ocean]

For six whole episodes I saw Kant be wrong for Bison and not be able to pinpoint exactly why people cawing over how cute KantBison are bothered me so much. Until, of course, Kant finally does something right and all of a sudden it just all clicks together. Bison is boisterous, headstrong and because of his unique skillset also irresponsibly dangerous. The BDSM scene also shows that despite his best intentions, Bison can and will abuse power if given to him irresponsibly.

He doesn't need the Kant that plays along with everything he does. He needs the Kant that Kant is to everyone but him. The person that Kant is when they're together is barely even Kant. He needs the calm, level headed but fiercely devoted older brother, he needs the guy that helps a hookup out because that's his duty as a human being, he needs the guy that stole cars to keep his family fed. And I'll be really honest, that's the guy that Bison loves anyway, the one he hears about from Babe and Style and James.

What Bison needs is the quiet devotion of Kant choosing his own personal hell over playing this game and furthering any deception between them even though technically it wouldn't even be a lie (Bison is literally poised to believe him); the dogged resolve that once he's decided to do this on his own terms, it happens on his own terms.

[birdskullz]

who let this maniac into my sketchbook?? go home sir 🔪

[moonlit-orchid]

These two lines in the movie make me the most mentally unwell.

"I should have been the one to go. You needed your mother more than you needed me."

The amount of layers to this, oh my god. He's blaming himself for being alive. He probably wants to die. He genuinely thinks Adrian needs Emilie more.

And it's been YEARS since Emilie's passed away. Look how tiny Adrian is over there, he only just about comes about the bedpost. Gabriel still looks like he did in the pictures of when Adrian was little. It's been literal years. It could have literally been a full decade ago.

And Gabriel breaks the narrative here. He's supposed to be telling a story, he's supposed to be saying what happened in the past. But at this point, he doesn't say "your mother was taken from us" or anything like that referencing Emilie's passing. The story breaks, he's using a statement. I should have been the one to go. It's completely out of the story, because he isn't saying what he felt then, there's no "I felt like I should have been the one to go". It's just "I should have been."

Because he still thinks this. It's been about a decade, and his opinion, his feelings about this, is still "I should have died". It interrupts his storytelling because of how strongly he feels this way, almost like it's a fact to him.

And then he follows it with "You needed your mother more than you needed me." Again, he says this like it's a fact, like Adrian actually did need his mother more. Because he believes it himself. And this could be because of so many things. It could be because of the way people consider the mother to be the one supposed to care for the children much more than the father, or it could be that Gabriel himself didn't see how much Adrian needed him, or even that Gabriel didn't see himself as useful to Adrian. Especially because he said he should have been the one to die. He's essentially saying he was useless. That he was expendable but Emilie wasn't. He literally is implying he doesn't see any worth in himself regarding being a father.

And then it's not just his grief, it's Adrian's grief that has him desperate to bring Emilie back. He literally doesn't care about himself, he wants his son to be happy and doesn't see himself as able to do that. He loves him to the point of being suicidal and self-sacrificing if it would give Adrian what he need, all while simultaneously not seeing himself as what Adrian needs because he doesn't think he has that much worth regarding him.

[causenessus]

best thing i ever read i am so in love with this man

the longest contract - 💍 suna rintarō x fem!reader

  as a joke, you marry your best and longest friend for a youtube video. he isn’t confident in the idea at all, but for the sake of making you happy, he agrees. quickly after the ceremony, as you go to get divorced, you both find out that you can’t get divorced for a year. due to the newly passed law, you must find your way through the marriage and figure out whether this was a blessing in disguise or an awful idea.

main masterlist COMPLETED

chapters; 0. prologue 1. july 2 2. august 24 3. september 16 4. october 21 5. november 1 6. december 25 7. january 25 8. february 13 9. march 10 10. april 30 11. may 1 12. june 22

[pucksandpower]

Fixer Upper

Max Verstappen x interior designer!Reader

Summary: Max Verstappen is the most frustrating client you’ve ever dealt with … but maybe he can make it up to you

“How about some pops of color in here?” You suggest brightly, gesturing around the stark white walls of Max Verstappen’s new Monaco penthouse.

The Dutch driver sniffs, glancing up briefly from his phone. “No thanks. I like it plain.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he does. You’ve been working with Max for two weeks now trying to decorate his new home, but so far he’s shot down every single idea you’ve proposed.

As an interior designer based in a principality known for catering to the rich and famous, you’re used to difficult clients, but Max may just take the cake. Still, you’re determined to give him the space he desires … if you can only figure out what that is.

“Alright, plain it is,” you say evenly. “But we should at least add some artwork, don’t you think? Something modern and sleek could look fantastic against these walls.”

Max doesn’t even glance up this time. “No art. Don’t like it.”

You inhale slowly. “Okay, no problem. We’ll keep it artless.” Time to switch gears. You gesture to the expansive bank of windows along one wall. “These floor-to-ceiling windows are incredible, some of the best views in Monaco. We could do some fabulous seating here to take advantage of the natural light. Maybe a chaise lounge or two angled toward the harbor ...”

“Don’t need seating.” Max is focused on his phone, thumbs flying. “I’ll just put my sim rig there.”

Your eye twitches involuntarily. His racing simulator setup — in front of floor to ceiling windows overlooking the most coveted views in the principality? Absolutely not.

“Well,” you begin delicately, “Perhaps we could find another place for your sim, one that doesn’t obstruct the views quite so much. I’m sure we could-”

“No, I want it there,” Max interrupts flatly. “I like seeing the water while I drive.” His attention doesn’t waver from the screen in his hands.

You close your eyes briefly and take a calming breath. Alright. No color, no art, and a sim smack in front of priceless views. So much for design aesthetics. Time for a new tactic.

“You must do a lot of cooking,” you say brightly, turning towards the kitchen. “This is an amazing culinary space. We could do some open shelving with sleek finishes to highlight the quartz countertops.”

Silence. Max just gives a non-committal grunt, still absorbed by his phone.

You soldier on. “Or maybe some nice warm wood cabinetry for contrast? I have some fantastic artisan contacts who could do handmade custom designs.”

“Don’t cook much,” he mutters.

Your smile tightens. “Not to worry, we can keep the kitchen minimal too.” Is there anything, anything at all, you can propose that he won’t immediately shoot down? You’re starting to doubt it.

Switching to the living area, you smooth down your dress and try again. “For the living room, I was thinking we could do built-in bookcases along the back wall there, and maybe expose some of the original brick behind for an industrial chic look ...”

Max glances up from his phone to level an unimpressed look at you. “But we’re inside. Brick would make no sense.”

You close your eyes briefly. Of course not. “My mistake, you’re absolutely right,” you say through gritted teeth. Enough pussyfooting around. Time to be direct.

You plant yourself in front of where Max sits on the couch and place your hands on your hips. “Max, I’m going to be honest. I’m having trouble getting a sense of your style and vision for this space. You’ve rejected all my ideas so far.”

He blinks up at you blandly. “I don’t like any of your ideas. This is my place and I want to do what I want.”

You resist the urge to tear your hair out in frustration. “Of course, and I want you to have exactly what you want. But in order to do that, I need you to communicate with me. Tell me what kind of look and feel you envision for your home. Modern, traditional, minimalist? What colors and textures appeal to you?”

Max just shrugs, his attention already drifting back to his phone. “I don’t know. Just make it nice.”

Oh for god’s sake. You inhale slowly through your nose. “Perhaps you could show me some inspiration photos of interiors you like?”

“Nah, don’t feel like it.”

That’s it. You’ve had it with this infuriating man. You know you shouldn’t lose your cool with a client, but you’re at the end of your rope.

“Well, I’m afraid ‘make it nice’ doesn’t give me much to go on,” you snap sarcastically. “I can’t read your mind, Max. So unless you start providing concrete input on what you actually want, I’m resigning from this job.”

You expect anger, or at least surprise at your outburst. But Max just regards you evenly for a moment, then nods. “Okay, fair enough. The truth is ...” He pauses, looking faintly embarrassed. “I just wanted an excuse to spend more time around you.”

You blink, blindsided. “I’m sorry, what?”

A slight flush rises in Max’s cheeks. “I didn’t actually care about the decor that much. I just thought if I kept saying no to all your ideas, you’d have to stay involved with the project longer.” He gives you a sheepish smile. “Guess I took the stubborn client thing too far.”

You’re dumbfounded. And, if you’re being honest, a little charmed. “Let me get this straight — you’ve been wasting my time and driving me crazy for two weeks because you … have a crush on me?”

Max winces. “When you put it like that, I sound like an idiot.”

You have to laugh. “A bit, yeah.” But you can’t help but feel a warm flutter in your stomach too. You’ve always thought Max was cute in a boyish way. Knowing he orchestrated this whole thing just to spend time with you is, admittedly, very flattering. And more than a little endearing.

Max rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to be difficult on purpose. I just ...” He trails off with a helpless little shrug.

You take pity on him. Yes, leading you on a wild goose chase of rejected designs was unprofessional. But the hesitant smile he’s giving you now tugs at your heartstrings anyway.

“Well, I appreciate you coming clean,” you say gently. “How about we start fresh? I’d love to actually get your real input now on what you want.”

His smile widens, grey eyes lighting up. “Yeah?”

You can’t help but smile back. “On one condition.”

He nods eagerly. “Name it.”

“You take me to dinner.” You arch an eyebrow. “To make up for the stress you caused me over the past two weeks.”

Max lets out a surprised bark of laughter. “Deal.” He shakes his head ruefully. “I really made a mess of this, didn’t I?”

“Little bit, yeah.” You grin to soften the reproach. “Next time just ask me out for a drink. It’s a much more straightforward approach.”

“Duly noted.” He smiles sheepishly.

You move to sit next to him on the couch. “So tell me honestly, what kind of look are you picturing for this place?”

Max considers the blank canvas of a space. “Honestly, I’m open to anything you suggest. I trust your taste — I’ve seen your work before and it’s amazing.” His eyes meet yours. “But I do definitely want my sim rig with a view. That part wasn’t a lie.”

You laugh. “We can make that work.” Your gaze travels over the strong lines of his face, the mussed brown hair, the wry curve of his smile that makes your heart beat faster.

As you begin sketching possible layout options, you make a mental note to clear your schedule for dinner soon. Very soon.

***

“Well, this is … quite a space,” you say diplomatically as the hostess leads you and Max to your table.

You’re immediately assaulted by a riot of clashing colors and patterns as your gaze darts around the trendy restaurant he’s brought you to for dinner. Your trained designer’s eye picks out aesthetic atrocities everywhere you look.

An art deco mirror topped by an incongruous ultra-modern light fixture. Fussy rococo chairs paired with sleek metal tables. And dear god, is that shag carpeting?

“Yes, Le Chat Noir is very popular right now,” Max agrees, seemingly oblivious to the decor travesties surrounding you.

You hold your tongue as the hostess seats you. The haphazard decor choices are an assault on your senses, but you don’t want to seem rude on your first date with Max.

A server appears to take your drink orders. You welcome the distraction, busying yourself with the wine list. But as soon as he departs, Max leans forward, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Alright, I know that look. Out with it — what do you really think?”

You bite your lip. “What do you mean?”

He gestures broadly around. “Of all this.”

You hesitate. “The decor is certainly … interesting.”

Max grins. “I can tell you absolutely hate it.”

You wince. Damn, he’s perceptive. And here you were trying so hard to remain poker-faced.

“Sorry,” you say with an embarrassed laugh. “I was attempting to refrain from judgment, but it appears I failed.”

“No need to apologize.” He settles back in his chair. “Please, critique away. I want to hear your professional opinion.” His eyes dance with humor. “Don’t hold back.”

Well, far be it from you to turn down an invitation like that. As your drinks arrive, you take a fortifying sip of wine before launching in.

“Alright, you asked for it.” You set the glass down firmly. “This space is an absolute disaster from a design perspective. It’s like the interior decorator was blindfolded and threw darts at a wall covered in paint swatches and fabric samples. Nothing goes together at all.”

You point above your table. “That light fixture up there? Ultrasmack modern against 19th century crown molding? Make it make sense.”

Max chuckles. “Quite the mashup.”

You lean forward, on a roll now. “And this carpet!” You gesture in horror to the shag beneath your feet. “This trend needs to retire immediately. It looks like an avocado fucked a bear.”

Max nearly chokes on his drink. “A what now?”

You wave a hand. “You know what I mean. Just tragic.”

Sitting back, you take in the rest of the garish space. “The artwork over there is just hideous. And that tufted velvet on the booths makes me want to scream. Who decided olive green was an accent color that pairs well with anything?”

You turn back to Max, on a tirade now. “Honestly, nothing works. The proportions are bad, the color palette is an atrocity, the mixture of styles is absurd. It’s like the designer threw every conceivable element at the wall to see what would stick. I could have done a better job blindfolded after downing a bottle of tequila.” You finally stop for breath, cheeks flushed.

Max has an enormous grin on his face. “Wow. Tell me how you really feel.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help smiling too. “Sorry for the outburst. Like I said, feel free to tell me to zip it.”

“Are you kidding? I could listen to you shred this place all night.” Max shakes his head, looking delighted. “I’ve never seen you so worked up. It’s adorable.”

You blush, smoothing your hair self-consciously. “Oh hush. I just have … strong opinions when it comes to interior design choices.”

“Clearly.” Max’s eyes positively dance with affection. “I love how passionate you are. And your criticisms are spot on. This place really is horrendously designed.”

You blink in surprise. “Wait, you actually agree? You’re not just humoring me?”

He snorts. “Absolutely not. My knowledge doesn’t come remotely close to yours, but even I can tell everything in here clashes hideously.” He gestures at the table. “I mean, a wooden chair back with a metal seat? Just pick one material!”

You grin, happiness blossoming in your chest. It’s such a treat to have him validate your expert opinions instead of just patronizing them like many dates would. You launch eagerly back into listing all the ways the restaurant decor offends you, with Max chiming in occasional agreement or egging you on for more.

By the time your food arrives, you’ve dissected the lighting, furniture, textiles, and color schemes within an inch of their lives. Max watches you intently the whole time, blatantly enraptured by your critiques. Your wine glass is nearly empty from all the gesticulating.

“Well, I think that covers all the ways this interior design should be illegal,” you conclude, taking a bite of your meal. “Thanks for indulging me. I know I can get carried away analyzing spaces.”

“I could listen to you trash talk bad design forever.” Max can’t seem to rip his eyes away from yours. “I love how opinionated you are. And you look so damn sexy getting all fired up about it.”

A pleasurable shiver runs through you at his heated look. Maybe ripping this restaurant to shreds wasn’t the most conventional date conversation, but it clearly impressed Max. Nothing like a shared hatred of garish decor to bring two people together.

“Well, I’m glad one of us enjoys these tirades,” you laugh. You cock your head coyly. “Maybe I could come over sometime outside of work and critique your place again now that it’s shaping up. I’m sure I can find a few more things to complain about.”

Max’s eyes darken. “I’d like that.” He leans forward with a roguish smile. “Maybe we can get out of here and you can tell me all the ways you’d redesign the bedroom in my current apartment. You know, so we can avoid making those mistakes again while you help decorate my bedroom in the penthouse.”

You nearly choke on your wine, heat flooding your face. And lower regions. Goodness, Max’s flirty side really brings out your inner vixen.

You recover and stroke his ankle lightly with your heel under the table. “I’d be happy to provide any hands-on design consultation you require.”

Max sucks in a sharp breath, eyes blazing. The temperature between you two has risen about fifty degrees in the last few seconds. Suddenly you want nothing more than to leave this horribly designed restaurant and get him alone.

Immediately.

***

“A good mattress is crucial for proper sleep and recovery,” Max declares as you walk into the upscale furniture store together. “We need to test them thoroughly.”

You allow him to lead you to the mattress section, hiding a smile. When Max asked you to come mattress shopping with him for his new bedroom, you’d naively thought it would be a quick errand. But knowing Max, you should have guessed he’d take the task of “testing” mattresses very seriously.

An eager salesperson appears. “Welcome! Are we looking for any mattress in particular today?”

“We want to try them all,” Max announces, eyeing the rows of display beds keenly.

The salesperson falters. “Er, all of them?”

“How else will we know which is best?” Max shrugs as if this is obvious.

You squeeze his arm, charmed by his matter-of-fact logic. The salesperson forces a professional smile.

“Of course, take all the time you need.” He gestures expansively at the floor models. “I’ll be right here if you have any questions.”

“Excellent.” Max wastes no time striding over to the nearest bed. He sits, then lies back experimentally. “Hmm, decent firmness.” He pats the empty space beside him. “Come try it out.”

You curl up next to him, hiding your smile at the salesperson’s raised eyebrows. When you said you’d help Max pick out a mattress, this wasn’t what you pictured. But you have to admit, lying here with him is fun.

Max frowns. “Too much motion transfer when you move.” He sits up abruptly. “Next!”

You have to smother a laugh as you follow him to the next display. This no-nonsense methodism is peak Max. Systematic and entertainingly stubborn.

At the second bed, Max immediately starfishes spread-eagle. “Well? Get over here and test it with me. It’s the only way we’ll know.” He pats the mattress insistently.

You note the salesperson observing this display with thinly veiled disapproval. But Max just looks so irresistibly eager, you can’t help but indulge him.

You crawl onto the bed and cuddle up to him happily. “Mmm, this one’s nice. Great hugability.” You pretend to grab Max in a koala hold.

He laughs. “Agreed, good hugging potential.” Wrapping his arms around you, he shifts experimentally. “But the bounce is all wrong.” He releases you and sits up. “Next!”

And so it goes for the next hour as you enthusiastically demo mattress after mattress with Max. You try them on your backs, sides, fronts, analyzing the firmness levels and motion transfer. At one point you even test out the edge support — whatever that is — with Max insisting you sit together on the very side of the mattress frame.

“Considerable sag here,” Max murmurs against your ear, his arm firmly around your waist. You have to hide your shiver at his warm breath so close. “Could be problematic.”

The salesperson looks like he’s one demo away from throwing you both out. But Max either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He cheerfully drags you from bed to bed, ticking off pros and cons on his fingers.

“Decent lumbar support, but it sleeps too hot.”

“Great responsiveness, but poor motion isolation.”

You’re having the time of your life. Testing mattresses was benign enough, but the excuse to crawl into bed with Max over and over has you both giddy. Each demo seems to involve increasingly creative configurations of your interlocked bodies as you evaluate firmness and ergonomics.

“I’m just not sure this is a good fit,” Max eventually concludes, frowning up at you from where you straddle his hips. His hands rest casually on your thighs, as if finding yourself atop a handsome man in a public place is perfectly routine mattress research.

You smother a laugh and climb off. “Valid analysis. Though some of the testing scenarios still need more data, I’d say.” You shoot him a coy look.

Max grins. “Agreed. Further testing required.”

The salesperson pointedly avoids looking at you both. “Perhaps you’d like to narrow down your top choices? I’m sure you have plenty of notes by now.” There’s a tautness to his professionalism that suggests you’ve stretched his patience to its limit.

But Max seems oblivious. “We’re not done yet! There are still at least half a dozen models we haven’t tried.” He takes your hand, pulling you toward a plush, pillow-topped display. “Now this one looks perfect for spooning. You little spoon first this time ...”

Mattress testing with Max, you’ve learned, is a delightful mix of structured analysis and shameless flirtation. You can’t remember ever having so much fun shopping. And based on Max’s boyish smile and lingering touches, the feeling is mutual.

“Too much dip in the middle,” Max tuts later, rolling you both gently across yet another mattress surface. “Though the close contact isn’t terrible.” His low voice in your ear makes you shiver.

You grin up at him coyly. “We should do an in-depth pressure point analysis next.”

Max smirks. “Crucial data to collect.”

Eventually, however, even Max’s enthusiasm starts to wane. “I think we have sufficient consumer testing results now,” he decides, pulling you up to sit beside him on the edge of a low platform bed.

You laugh. “That poor salesperson was ready to toss us out an hour ago.”

“Hey, we were conducting necessary R&D!” Max’s grey eyes twinkle. “But I am rather tired now ...”

He lies back, resting his head in your lap. You automatically begin stroking his hair and he sighs, eyes slipping closed. You take the opportunity to admire how sweet he looks, lips slightly parted and lashes fanned on his cheeks. Testing mattresses all afternoon seems to have worn him out.

You lean down to murmur in his ear. “Ready to take this mattress research home to really compare notes?”

One grey eye peeks open. “Mmm, home analysis does sound optimal.” His voice is raspy with fatigue in a way that melts you. “Wake me when it’s time to go?”

You brush a soft kiss to his forehead. “Of course.”

He nuzzles into your lap with a contented noise. Watching his breath deepen into sleep, you feel your heart overflow. There are a thousand reasons you adore Max, but these unexpectedly tender moments might top them all.

The salesperson reappears, offering you a pained smile. “So were you able to decide on a mattress today?”

You grin, fingers still carding through Max’s hair. “You know, I think we need to sleep on it a little longer.”

***

“Well, what do you think?” Max gestures with pride around his freshly competed penthouse.

You take it all in — the sleek but cozy furniture, the warm lighting, the pops of color — and smile. “It’s perfect. You have an incredible home now.”

He wraps an arm around your waist, gazing around. “I really couldn’t have done it without you. This place was a disaster before you came along.”

You lean into him happily. It’s been months since you first met Max and began working with him on decorating his new space. It was a battle at times, but you’re immensely proud of the final result.

“I’m honored I could help bring your vision to life,” you say sincerely. Though if you’re honest, the best part of this project was getting to know Max himself. The way his smile makes your heart flutter hasn’t diminished one bit.

Max turns you to face him, his expression soft. “I didn’t just get a beautifully designed home out of this. I got you.”

Your breath catches at the open affection in his eyes. Before you can respond, he dips his head and kisses you tenderly. You melt against him, the feel of his lips erasing any coherent thought.

When he finally draws back, his eyes are darker. “You know, there’s still one part of the place we haven’t officially christened yet.” He cocks his head toward the bedroom.

You bite your lip, pulse already quickening. “Is that so? Well, we should definitely perform a final inspection to confirm everything meets our standards.”

Max grins wolfishly, pulling you toward the bedroom. “Thorough testing is required.”

You laugh as he tugs you down onto the plush king mattress you’d finally agreed on after extensive “research.” The two of you bounce slightly from the momentum, causing you both to dissolve into giggles.

“Well, motion transfer still seems acceptable,” you quip. Max chuckles and silences you with another heated kiss.

You hum approvingly as his hands begin to roam your body. “Mmm, responsiveness is excellent too ...”

Clothes are quickly shed as you reacquaint yourselves with each other’s forms. When you’re finally skin-to-skin, Max sighs in satisfaction.

“I’ve been waiting months to get you in this bed.” His voice is low and gravelly in a way that makes you shiver.

“It was the longest mattress testing phase ever,” you breathe as his lips kiss down your neck.

Max laughs against your shoulder. “Worth it though, right?”

In answer, you flip him onto his back, straddling his hips. “Absolutely.”

You take your time exploring each other, hands and mouths worshiping every inch. Until late afternoon sun filters through the curtains, bathing the room in an almost ethereal glow.

When Max finally sinks into you, you moan softly at the exquisite fullness. “Oh yes, this mattress has great ergonomics,” you sigh dreamily.

Max huffs a laugh, his chest vibrating against yours. “I’ll be sure to mention that in my product review.”

You grin and shift your hips experimentally, making him groan. “The responsiveness really is top-notch.”

“We should still test a few more positions though,” Max murmurs. “Just to be thorough.”

You happily comply, indulging in acrobatic mattress testing that leaves you both blissfully satisfied and out of breath. As you lay tangled together afterwards, endorphins still flooding your systems, Max presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Well, I’d say the new bed passes inspection with flying colors,” he declares with sleepy satisfaction.

You laugh and stroke his hair. “Agreed. You chose an excellent mattress.” You snuggle closer. “Though the company in it is what I really enjoy.”

Max tightens his arms around you. “Think you can put up with me and my high-maintenance decor demands a while longer?” His voice holds a vulnerable note beneath the teasing.

Your heart swells and you cup his face. “Max Verstappen, I’ll critique mattresses and furniture with you any day. As long as at the end of it, I get to fall asleep next to you.”

His smile outshines the lowering sun. “Deal.”

***

“You know what I love most about how our place looks now?” Max murmurs, his arms wrapped around you on the couch.

You tear your eyes from the awful reality show you’re watching to glance up at him. “Hmm?”

His gaze sweeps over the living room, a small smile on his lips. “All the little touches that are just so you.”

You follow his look around the penthouse that over the past year has transformed from Max’s bachelor pad to your shared home. It’s still sleek and modern overall, but with warm accents reflecting both your styles.

And yes, you realize, your personal influence shows in the decor now that you live here full time. The mugs hung on hooks in the kitchen, the plush blankets tossed artfully on the chairs, the bowls of sea glass collected from beach walks that adorn the tables.

Your heart swells looking at the traces of yourself woven into Max’s space. “It does feel more like home now, doesn’t it?”

Max nods, dropping a kiss to your hair. “It’s perfect. I love coming back after a race and being surrounded by reminders of you.”

You snuggle deeper into his embrace, incredibly touched. “Well, I promise to keep leaving my clutter around to make you feel at home.”

He chuckles. “Please do. It’s my favorite kind of clutter.”

Smiling softly, you think back to when you first started dating Max after working on his penthouse makeover. Who could have guessed that would lead to sharing this life together?

Your gaze lands on a shelf displaying photos of the two of you, and your throat grows tight. There’s you and Max laughing on vacation, kissing right after he won his fourth world championship, curled up with hot chocolate on a ski trip. So many beautiful memories.

“It’s hard to remember what this place even looked like before,” you murmur. And not just the decor — it’s hard to recall your life before Max.

He rubs your shoulder idly, eyes faraway. “I know what you mean. It’s like you’ve always been here.” His voice holds a note of wonder.

You lift your head to meet his gaze. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Max’s eyes shine. He bends to kiss you, soft and heartfelt. Your lips curve against his.

When you reluctantly draw back, the television screen catches your eye. You cringe at the fake drama unfolding.

“Ugh, this show is terrible,” you groan. “Can we watch something else?”

Max grins and grabs the remote, flipping through channels. He eventually lands on a home renovation program you both enjoy analyzing and critiquing together. Some things never change.

You settle in eagerly as the show starts, scrutinizing the design choices. Max wraps an arm around you, idly playing with your hair as you watch.

Despite the show’s flaws, being curled up with Max like this fills you with utter contentment. You can’t imagine anything better than coming home to his smile and laugh each day.

During commercials, you fetch snacks from the kitchen, navigating the space with ease. Max trails behind to steal bites, ever drawn to food.

You swat his hand away from the chocolate you’re preparing and laugh. “Get your paws off, those are for sharing!”

Max just tugs you close and kisses the protest from your lips. You happily let him devour the sweetness from your mouth instead, the chocolate forgotten.

Finally you collapse back on the couch together, munching and critiquing the show’s poor tile work. Max throws popcorn for you to catch, his aim as impressive as his racing lines.

Your eyes droop as the evening wears on. The cozy penthouse, tasty snacks, and Max’s warmth — it’s the perfect recipe for relaxation.

When your head nods against Max’s shoulder for the third time, he chuckles and clicks the tv off. “Alright sleepyhead, time for bed.”

You make a half-hearted noise of protest but let him pull you up. Max keeps an arm securely around you as he leads the way to the bedroom, knowing you’re prone to stumbling when tired. It makes you feel so cared for.

He even helps you change into your nightgown, his hands impossibly gentle. As you finally crawl under the blankets, you let out a massive yawn.

“Night Maxie,” you mumble, already mostly asleep. He gathers you close and presses a kiss to your hair.

“Sweet dreams, liefje.” His voice is impossibly soft. You float away cradled in his warmth and the knowledge you’re home.

The next morning, you wake slowly to sunlight streaming in the windows and the smell of coffee. Stretching languorously, you take a moment just to soak it in.

Muffled sounds drift in from the kitchen signaling Max is already up and at ‘em. You smile sleepily. The man has the energy of a hyper puppy.

Before you can muster the will to leave bed, Max appears holding two mugs. “Morning schatje,” he greets with a smile. “Thought you might need some caffeine.”

You beam and make grabby hands until he passes you a mug. The rich aroma instantly perks you up.

Max slides in next to you, sipping his own coffee. His hair is adorably mussed and you gently smooth it down before cupping his face and bringing him in for a long, thorough good morning kiss.

When you finally separate, Max looks pleasingly dazed. “Well, that’s certainly one way to wake up.”

You grin cheekily and go back to your coffee. Max wraps an arm around you and you lean into his solid warmth, trading occasional lazy kisses between sips.

Sun streams over your entwined forms as you bask in contented silence. Eventually you stretch and make your way to the bathroom to start the day, dropping a kiss to Max’s hair as you pass.

You smile seeing your hairbrush by the sink, pink toothbrush next to Max’s blue one. Such small signs of your merged lives, but they mean the world.

Refreshed, you return to Max sprawled on the bed with his phone. He immediately opens his arms in clear demand for more cuddles. Laughing, you collapse into them happily.

Nuzzling into his chest, you sigh. “I know I was practically unconscious last night, but just wanted to say again how special it is having pieces of us both around the place now.”

Max’s arms tighten around you. “You being here makes it a home, not just an apartment.” His voice catches slightly. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

You lift your head to meet his gaze, your own suddenly misty. No words can encapsulate what it means to build a life and home with this incredible man.

So you tell him silently instead, with a kiss overflowing with love and promise: I’ll stay by your side as long as I’m welcome.

Judging by Max’s arm anchoring you fiercely to him, that will be a good long while. You melt into his embrace, spirits soaring.

No fancy penthouse or perfect decor could compare to what you’ve found with Max — a home rooted in love, laughter, and devotion.

One look at his tender smile and you know he feels it too. This is everything.

So you’ll happily leave your mugs around the sink and blankets on the chairs, weaving threads of yourself into his space. With each passing day, it matters less whose belongings lie where.

Because home isn’t things — it’s the man gazing at you like you’re his whole world. And you know as long as you’re together, any place will feel just right.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

FAVOURITISM.

tangerine x fem!reader

wc. 1958 summary. tangerine was put out of work following the events of an accident. as a result, he created his own business, applying all of his knowledge. you work as a secretary cross technical assistant for him and working very closely to the big bad boss catches the eyes of your peers. one day he notices a change in your workwear — proving to you, he’s been paying a lot more attention than you originally thought. boss x secretary. disclaimer. the images at the bottom are just a reference of what I picture the reader wearing. they are not a reflection of how I write or see yn (colour and body type) it’s merely a way to show you what I envisioned

MY 2 YEAR ANNIVERSARY! it’s only right that I write for tan seeing as it all started with him xx also a big big loving thank you to @pretty-little-mind33 for the idea and brainstorming with me. literally would not have done this without her <33

⎯ ☆ ⎯

It wasn’t often that you’d find yourself not looking forward to work — feeling anxious to get in. Your love for what you do always seeming to overshadow any discomfort.

For the last several months, you’ve been working as a technical assistant cross secretary for your boss, Tangerine. No one knew of his real name, and you were starting to think that’s the way it’ll always be. 

Last night after your shift, you were brought to HR for an unexpected meeting, being called up on a dress code violation. Multiple complaints made around the office about your bright tights and flowy shirts, being told that it was ��unfit for work’ and a ‘distraction.’ You knew you weren’t exactly well liked around the office — the sneers and scowls made your way making that evident. But never did you think they would go so far out of their way to complain about you. 

Their dislike for you felt territorial — judgy eyes always seeming to follow you as you attend to the needs and wants of your boss. The attention you gain from the broody, grumpy man in charge, simply asks and tasks you agreed to in your job description. The repetitive calls for your name only ever consisting of tea requests or computer help. It left you feeling confused and isolated, constantly wondering why they hated you so much. You were only ever doing your job. Doing what was asked of you. 

So, as you sit in your car before the start of the workday, you use your spare few moments to collect yourself, preparing for those same judgemental stares. You look down at your legs briefly, noticing the lack of colour — your usual patterned tights now being replaced with grey, drab trousers. All of your vibrancy and exuberancy —personality— stolen when told to make this change. 

You exhale, giving yourself one last second of sanity before you’re getting out of the car, juggling your bags and cups of coffee in hand. Stepping into the building and into the elevator with a small crowd, you become invisible, blending in with everyone — becoming what you’ve always dreaded: a lifeless office zombie, sharing the same apathetic, dull expression with all those around you. 

You reach your floor and exit with the few remaining others in the lift. You deviate from your colleagues and head for your bosses office at the back, giving his door a couple of knocks. 

“Yeah?” he calls out, and you slowly push the door open.

His usual rigged, intimidating gaze softens as his eyes fall on you through the gap, his attention landing on you over the top of his computer.

“You’re late,” he says, the words a reprimand for most, but for you they were more of an observation — a casual, flyaway statement. 

“I know, I’m sorry. Traffic was a nightmare,” you apologise as you step into his office, avoiding his eyes like you were ashamed. 

You look down to the coffees in hand and pass him the one without the lipstick mark, extending an arm as you move to stand beside his desk.

“Don’t worry about it. It happens,” he reassures. And as he takes the cup from your hold, he glances down, noticing the lack of your familiar flamboyance. “What’re you wearing?”

You look down confused, brows pulling together as if to show you didn’t understand his question.

“The trousers,” he looks up at you, gaze almost harsh. “Why are you wearing them?” 

He has never seen you wear trousers.

“Thought I’d shake things up,” you shrug with your lie, not wanting him to know the real reason.

You didn’t want to give your peers more reason to hate you by tattling to the boss — complaining about them being mean to you, so you decided against it, keeping him from the truth. Though it’s far harder than you anticipated, his eyes ever so demanding as he remains fixed on you from above. 

“So no smiley face is also part of you shaking things up?” he questions, showing you the blank cup — your usual sharpie smileys nowhere to be seen. 

You wince slightly, embarrassed by the whole ordeal. You weren’t sure if the embarrassment was from the fact he noticed or that you forgot. But humiliation was felt either way.

“It’ll save us the ballache if you tell me why,” he takes a sip of his drink and places it aside, giving you his full attention. “I can call a staff meeting, but I reckon they’ll get suspicious after seeing us talk,” he playfully blackmails, offering you a faint smile to show you his bribe holds no such malice.

You turn and look out through the window of his office, picking up on dozens of sets of eyes glued to you through the gap of his blinds. All of which briskly turn away upon the glance of Tangerine, his eyeline following yours — scaring your peers back into work.

“What’d they do?” he asks, redirecting your focus back to him.

“I just got a complaint, that’s all,” you shrug, trying to minimise it as much as possible.

“Why?” he asks bluntly, neck craning to keep your eyes on him.

“They don’t like the way I dress apparently,” you laugh faintly, the noise sounding far more hurt than you intended. “I mean I get it,” you deflect, trying not to slip into a habit of seeking him for assurance when people in the office turn against you. “I get what they mean.”

He’s quiet as he looks over you, head shaking disapprovingly as he mumbles something incoherent. He inhales deeply and then coughs to clear his throat, sounding like he was preparing for something. 

“I gotta meet with some people, but I’ll see what I can do,” he says as he stands, reaching for his briefcase. “Don’t let these miserable lot get to you,” he smiles weakly as he collects his coffee cup, heading towards the door until he stops, and turns around to face you. “They hate that I don’t hate you, that’s all.” 

Your eyes follow after him as he leaves his office, leaving you standing there alone to process his words. You’ve never really picked up on the hinted favouritism like your colleagues have — never seeming to notice the allowances and kindness your peers aren’t granted with. But you were only ever doing as told, why would that warrant any special treatment? 

And with that thought in mind, you head towards your desk just outside of his office, setting your things on your neatly, organised table. Placing your hot drink in his designated spot besides your computer, you log on — attending to emails and to things on your extensive to do list.

A few hours pass you by.

You’re interrupted from all work when you feel the presence of someone standing behind you, your boss now back from his meeting with a pile of papers in hand.

“Need you to sort these out for me,” he says as places the stack beside your hand. “Please,” he adds, trying to keep up with the habit he’s trying to enforce by showing his appreciation. But only to you.

You look down to the pile, noticing a gap in between the blank, plain papers. You look up at him briefly, like you were asking permission and then your eyes fall back onto the stack. And as you go to lift the upper chunk of papers, Tangerine is moving from you and into his office, a new bag —a shopping bag— held within the hand of his briefcase. You take little to no notice and turn your attention back to the pile, a square paper bag hiding within the fake forms. The perfect cloak of disguise. 

You didn’t need to look inside to know what it was, the warm circle giving it away immediately. It was a cookie. You swivel in your chair to look into his office, his eyes already on you through the gap in his blinds. The gap you’re now starting to believe holds another purpose. You smile at him sweetly, mouthing thanks before resuming with your work — wanting to get it all done before the end of the day.

And as five pm soon rolls around and as everyone begins logging off and packing up for home, you turn to look back at Tangerine, a pained expression on his face as he rolls his shoulder. His old injury you know very little about seeming to give him grief.  

The floor begins to clear and you collect your things, walking those few steps until you’re in front of your boss's door. You give it a light tap and enter when welcomed.

“You off?” he asks, turning his attention to you in his doorframe. 

“Yep,” you smile, lingering for a moment. “Thank you for the cookie, by the way.”

“It’s alright,” he gently smiles, head bowing almost bashfully. “Hang on and I’ll walk you out. Don’t want you out in the dark by yourself.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you deflect, not wanting to be a bother. “Really it’s okay, my car is only outside.”

He shakes his head at you as he gives his desk a quick tidy, packing things up for the night. Tangerine stands and collects his belongings, picking up his coat from the rack and small bag from the side before he’s heading to you, guiding you along. 

You each walk towards the open elevators and head in, standing side by side —close— within the confined space. 

He twists inwards to face you. “I uh,” he starts, extending the shopping bag from earlier to you. “I picked something up for you.”

Your brows tug in the middle, looking up at him like you were questioning the reasoning why. You take it from his hand and look inside. 

“No,” you whisper, sheer disbelief in your voice as you pull out the gift. “These are beautiful! Where did you even find them?” you question, looking over the tights, marvelling at the pattern. 

He keeps his head cast downwards, looking between his feet as he smiles, appreciating your appreciation. “It’s a secret.”

The elevator dings, cutting your time short and you both look at each other, the glance brief. He holds his arm out, gesturing for you to step off first,  and you do. You linger, waiting for him to join so you could walk besides one another. 

The walk towards your car is slow, as if both of you are trying to savour the short journey, hang on to it. Small chuckles and shy, stolen glances being the only form of communication during your minute long walk.

You reach into your bag and pull out your keys to unlock your car, the dozen chains and charms jingling and clattering with the movement of your hand. 

Tangerine reaches for your door, pulling the handle to open it for you — nodding you inside. You smile at him sweetly as you get in, placing your bags on the passenger seat. 

“You get home safe, alright?” he says, grinning softly.

“I will,” you look down coyly, smile faint.

He nods once. “Good.”

“See you monday?” 

“Mhm-hm,” he hums, expression gentle as he goes to close your door. “Have a good weekend,” he says before shutting you inside.

You exhale shakily within the quiet sanctuary of your car, the lack of noise allowing your mind to run rampant with repeats from the last few minutes. You glance down to your gift, trying to process it all until your eyes land on the tag — his name, his real name squiggled on the note.

The favouritism you’ve struggled to notice becomes as clear as day. Every interaction from the past now being thought of differently as you look back on it all. 

⎯ ☆ ⎯

in my mind she’s very penelope garcia/ louisa clark/ phoebe buffay coded (more so in dress sense) she’s cute and i love her

[kaisaerinlover]

inspired by @twijaxx take on the kaiser scene at the end of ep 14 😍😍😍

imagine kaiser booked a nice little hotel getaway for you both to get a way for a bit on his break, a really rare occurrence for him. he barely ever gets a break from football so it’s nice to escape once in a while and have some normalcy. berlin is a really nice city too, and kaiser’s pockets are deep enough to afford the best of the best. that’s why you’re both sitting on the balcony after his shower, sipping at champagne worth more money than either of you could have envisioned a few years ago. kaiser likes treating himself to the luxuries of life; expensive champagne, 5 star hotels, designer robes, exquisite jewellery. but most of all you. you are the greatest luxury of them all.

and you know how to use that nice little mouth you have on you as well - so almost every single night like this ends with you on your knees sucking his cock, taking it so well.

and tonight isn’t any different, he’s a bit drunk, you’re sober. he throws you that charming smirk that no girl can resist, not even you, and you know what he wants. the city is so beautiful at this time. it’s a shame your view is obstructed by his cock, or not, you like the sight and he knows you do. he has you on your knees beneath the opaque table, has you at his feet exactly where he likes you, almost spoon feeding you his length. and you open your mouth so meekly. so willing and so obedient for him just how he likes it.

you know you’re doing a good job the way his hand is tangled in your hair and he’s pushing your head down on his cock so hard your nose is smashed into his pubic bone. but neither of you care; you’re both as disgusting and perverted as each other. “keep going f’ me baby” he breathes out. and he feels like he’s about to cum, he really does, until his phone vibrates on the table. you expect him to not answer because of the way he growls in such an irritated manner, until you hear him breathe a sigh of relief. before he can even answer you stop sucking him and look up at him with big pouty eyes. “micha are you really gonna answer at a time like this?” god he wants to destroy you, he really fucking does. looking at you with saliva coating your pretty pink lips and teary eyes whilst you’re on your knees looking so desperate to have his dick lodged in your throat again, you’re a sight for sore eyes. but he just rolls his eyes and snaps at you “obviously, if i was going to press answer before you stopped sucking me, stupid whore” you’re used to his chastising at this point. so you just whine up at him, before he shuts you up again with one thrust of his cock back in your mouth. you’re mad, you look ridiculous with your angry pouting face and his shaft in your mouth. he does a shushing motion to you before he starts speaking on the phone.

he knows you won’t do anything against him, so he just leaves you to cockwarm him whilst he talks. you’re dumb and malleable, so he knows the call doesn’t need to be made in private. every so often he leans down and smacks your cheek affectionately, but god. the wait is so fucking agonising. it really feels like it’s been an hour. you just want to taste his cum, feel his cock, have his fingers inside you, anything. but you’re forced to sit on your knees whilst he makes some stupid call.

so you do something a little unprecedented, especially for a girl who kaiser thought was so obedient. you stand up from where you were originally kneeling and sit yourself down on his cock. and boy is he mad, he’s never shoved his hands over a phone speaker so fast. “what are you doing you fucking idiot?” his words are sharp and he hisses them at you. you just whine back at him. “you’re making me wait too long- don’t w-wanna wait- ah” he wants to fucking punch you right now, wants to grab your jaw and break it. he really fucking does. thank god he’s holding his hand over the speaker or they’d hear those precious moans that only HE deserves to hear. kaiser is really angry at you, but this call is important, so he simply brings his mouth to your ear and whispers, “fine stay like this then, but you better be a good fucking girl yeah? behave or you won’t cum tonight.” and you’re elated, you really are. you feel so full with his cock inside you. kaiser just dead eyes you and goes back to talking with whoever is on the other end. some boring football stuff, you suppose.

but god, this is even more agonising than before now; you stupid horny little thing. it’s even worse now, you wanna bounce on his cock so bad. you want him to fuck you so hard oh so desperately, but if you move you know you’re in trouble. he has one hand holding his phone to his ear as he talks and the other twirling pieces of your hair around his finger as he stares off into the serene view of the city. god you hate this, you hate it so much. you hate how sweetly he’s playing with your locks, how the city is so fucking peaceful and boring, and how he’s not doing anything. kaiser is a man who knows how to control all of his stimuli, he’s toying with you, you’re too stupid to realise it. he wants to laugh at you and your pathetic state, but he can’t; he has matters to attend to!

your pretty little head is filled with nothing except thoughts of how hard you want him to bang you on this stupid little table. how you want him to just bend you over and fuck the living shit out of you. but he’s still talking. you’re so desperate, poor stupid you, you contemplate moving despite his words. but that won’t end well. but i called you stupid for a reason, you did it anyway! you try to do it as lightly as you can; you really swear! you’d never want to anger your boyfriend on purpose. but it’s on his fucking cock you idiot. you think he can’t feel it. he growls in your ear, getting agitated now “listen you fucking whore, if you can’t even wait a few minutes for me to finish talking what does that say about you?” he’s insulting your self control. it’s true you’re so pathetic. but he keeps going to your surprise, having muted his end of the line to give you this scolding. “pull that shit on me again you little bitch and i swear to fucking god i will leave you like this and i won’t touch you ever again. understand?” he’s angry, and you gulp. kaiser’s wrath is not something anyone would ever want to face. but you’re so desperate, you beg, you plead for him to reconsider “p-please- can’t wait more- i can’t micha i can’t i can’t i ca-“ and god does your sweet begging just make him even harder. pisses him off even more. he has your throat in his tattooed hand now. “i said, do you understand, don’t make me ask again, engelchen” engelchen, what an ironic nickname for what you’re doing right now. “mmmhm- micha-“ he slaps you a bit. “use your words or i might not know what you mean, baby” he’s such a fucking tease. it’s so hard to speak without moaning, and you know if you get him in trouble he’ll be super pissed. that’s a line you don’t wanna cross for sure. “u-understand micha-“ and he glares at you. but he releases his grip, picks up his phone and praises you before he unmutes himself again. “good girl, wait a few more minutes yeah? then i’ll give you what you want.”

those few minutes were the most painful minutes of your life. even torture couldn’t compare to this. you want him so fucking bad, you’re like a bunny in heat, and he forced you to wait and sit still the entire time. if you so much as moved he shot you a look so cold and mean it could probably kill the average person. you’re used to it; and you hate the fact it turned you on even more. you’re literally foaming at the mouth, bless your poor soul. you don’t even realise when your boyfriend finally hangs up the phone until he grips your waist again and takes a swig of his champagne. ready? and you’re so ready, oh you’re so fucking ready, you nod so eagerly - when you hear the glass clink on the table and feel him picking you up off his lap you know what’s coming.

it’s like heaven when he bends your sweet little ass over the table and fucks you into oblivion. you whined so much, god your moans are music to his ears. the neighbours probably thought there was an early christmas choir with all the slapping and the noises. no; that’s just you and your boyfriend’s disgustingly crude display of love. kaiser is a rough fucker, and today is no different; well, yes it is. he’s mad at you, he’s so mad, you can tell from the way he’s holding your head down against the table and smashing his fat girth so hard into your little cunt. you might just split open. it wouldn’t surprise you. but who cares? this is like heaven.

all of his rage from your stupid, impatient, slutty antics is poured into each thrust. after he was nice enough to let you sit on his lap? “you fucking slut, you- ah- deserve this so much-“ he condescends you as he pounds your little backside. your pussy is aching and his cock is filling you up and hitting the right places so well. he pulls your face up by the hair just enough for you to be able to respond to him. he wants to hear you. “m-michaaa- hard-der- more- micha- ‘m sorry- love you- love your cock- love you lo-love you-“ your cries are so cute. he loves your teary face and your desperate whines. with a final hard thrust he finally finishes inside of you. and just the feeling of his hot cum in your womb is enough to give you an orgasm too. the feeling of him inside you is incredible. you’re kinda like a jigsaw puzzle; you want to laugh at that thought. that would be a really disgusting puzzle.

when he finally pulls out, your saliva from before and his cum drip out of your pussy. there’s slick rolling down your legs and your hair is all messed up. he doesn’t like seeing his essence leak out of you though, so he roughly pushes it back in with two fingers and leans down to peck your forehead. “today i was nice, you and me both know that. fix up your act, prinzessin” and all you can do is nod, you both know nothing will change, you’re a cockdrunk little slut. but you can pretend, you’re both good at that. all you can do is pant as you feel him lift you into his arms and lean into his chest.

tonight’s sleep is gonna hit so different.

[mixingandmelting]

hello! may i request for how would the batboys be with an "i'll eat only if you eat too" type of s/o? thank you <3

A/N: I’m not familiar with that trope so I’m assuming it’s the tiktok couple trend? if I interpreted wrong, let me know 😔

Dick: 

As someone who also values the “together” part between couples, it always warms his heart when you insist on eating together. He knows it’s your way of showing how you care for him and his well being as he’s being loved as himself. Not as Nightwing. Not as his civilian persona. If the reverse were to occur, he definitely wouldn’t be able to eat as he’d be feeling that he's being negligent and inconsiderate of you. It’s how he develops the habit to always eat with you whether it’s getting back on time to eat something you cooked or getting take out for two. He always wants to do things with you no matter what it is so he can always be with you and doesn’t want you to ever think you’re lacking or not doing enough. In fact, to him, the way you are is more than enough. You being you was what had him fall head-over-heels for you from the start and he’ll honestly die with a broken heart if you try changing because of him. 

Jason:

Surprising enough, he also understands and appreciates the sentiment. To be fair, when he was caught by Bats after his failed attempt in stealing the tires from the Batmobile, he was treated to a meal at some diner before getting taken in. The appreciation of sharing a meal didn’t come back once he was revived until meeting the Outlaws which then was cemented when he met and envisioned his future with you in it. The first time he got you a meal and not himself was his last as it had led to an argument between the two of you. When you reveal you wanted to make sure he’s also caring for himself, it made him think how he’s not going to be able to find another person who’ll treasure him like you. He does acknowledge that his family cares for him despite their differences, but it won’t match with how his heart speeds up from how you look out for him. Since then, he’s been eating most of his meals with you as he finds food tasting better when he’s with you rather than eating alone like usual. 

Tim:

He is very much aware that he can’t argue against you when it comes to you telling him you’re eating only if he eats. With the number of times you caught him going through energy drinks including the other day when he was on his third can of Celsius, even he admits his diet isn’t exactly healthy. So, it won’t help his case when, at rare moments, he complains about you saying that only to get shot back with your fears and concerns for his health. In those moments, he gets sheepish and gives in from the justification of your argument, ordering something for himself and you when stopping by at a drive-through or pulling himself from his work to head to the table where you set a plate in front of you and him. Most of the time, you aren’t saying that line as he’s already planning ten-steps ahead on where and what the two of you will eat (of course with consideration of your taste) in an attempt to get you to stay with him longer. 

Duke:

He gets where you’re coming from but the reason he pushes back is because he wants to show that he’s dependable and capable of caring for both you and himself. If he’s hungry, he’s going to get himself while asking you if you want something as well. If you aren’t hungry, he gets sneaky and buys something small knowing you’ll want a snack or drink later. When it comes to you and you’re hungry while he isn’t, you are his priority and he’s going to make sure you get fed. He ends up consoling you when he sees the guilt and worry in your eyes, letting himself take a bite of whatever you’re having or a sip. He stops there though, which you have no choice to begrudgingly accept as he promises to go get something if he gets hungry. It’s endearing and he always cracks a smile whenever you tell him that, getting fuzzy from how tender you are to him.

Damian:

He’s the one who won’t get it. It always leads to you two fighting whenever you get stubborn and refuse to eat unless he does. No matter who he had asked so far from Dick to even Tim of all people, he still doesn’t get it. He’s not hungry. You are. So you’re the one who should be eating, why do you need him to eat with you when you’re old enough to feed yourself? There’s nothing hard; it’s pure logic. When you try to explain food tastes better when it’s shared, it never goes well as he simply points out nothing is being done to the food when it’s being shared except for the portion getting smaller. That’s how arguments always go along with the same ending where you’d get fed up and simply stuff his mouth. Cue his expression morphing from offended to reluctant acceptance as he’s awarded with either a grin or blush from you, both equally lovable and adorable. By the time the food is gone, he has been eating as if he’s disgruntled when he’s actually enjoying sharing a meal with you.

[dixons-sunshine]

Private Space | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine.*

Summary: Moving into your first apartment with your long-term boyfriend seemed like a dream come true. It wasn’t the most fancy apartment, but it was the first space that was truly only yours and Daryl’s. And Daryl was excited to finally be able to have some much deserved privacy with you—without the risk of others walking in.

Genre: Smut.

Era: Pre apocalypse.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of Daryl's scars, oral (f receiving), allusions to piv.

Word count: 1.3k.

A/n: I genuinely suck at writing smut, but this request won the poll, so I toughed it out lol. I hope this is somewhat enjoyable!

“Alright,” Daryl began whilst putting the box down on the ground in the small living room of your new apartment. He dusted off his hands before turning to look at you. “That’s the last of it.

You smiled at him and looked around the apartment—your apartment—with a look of awe. The small space certainly wasn’t what most people would fancy as a living space, but that didn’t matter to you. It was the first place that was truly only yours and Daryl’s, and you cherished it with your whole being. The two of you would figure out how to make it look prettier on another today. At that moment, however, you’d just bask in the fact that the two of you were finally able to be independent.

“This is great,” you told him, a contented smile on your face.

Daryl hummed and sent you a small smile of his own. “Yeah, s’good.” He looked around the small space as well, trying to envision what you saw when you looked at it, but failing to do so. “I mean, it ain’t much. Ain’t exactly pretty, but s’somethin’, right?”

You took a step towards him and looped your arms around his neck, Daryl’s hands going to rest on your hips. “It’s perfect, Dar. It’s ours. I can’t ask for more than that.” You rested your forehead against his, letting out a small sigh. “I love my mom, but I’m happy I finally moved out. And I moved in with you, into our own apartment. I don’t need more than that.”

Daryl smiled softly. “Yer amazin’, ya know that?”

“I know,” you joked, before leaning up to close the gap between your lips, softly kissing him.

Daryl hummed into the tender kiss. However, it soon escalated. His tongue lightly swept over your bottom lip, silently asking for entrance. You allowed him to do so, and his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring the warmth of your mouth with his vocal muscle. In an unexpected move for you, Daryl picked you up, eliciting a small squeal of surprise from you. Daryl chuckled as he walked forward towards the couch, carefully laying you down on the plush surface.

“More than okay.” For added emphasis, you pulled him down for a deep kiss. Daryl’s hesitation evaporated into thin air, and he quickly moved to hover over you.

“This okay?” Daryl asked you, giving you an out if you didn’t want to do what he was initiating. Daryl was amazing like that, always making sure you were comfortable before doing anything. You loved him for that.

That is what Daryl wanted. To be able to do that with you without anyone walking in. It took a couple of years, but the two of you could finally do that without the risk of your mom making herself known. That made Daryl extremely excited. Somewhere along the lines of the two of you heavily making out, Daryl’s shirt got removed. He was vaguely aware of his scars that were on full display, but he quickly forced that from his mind. He wouldn’t ruin this moment for you because of his insecurities. He did that once, but never again.

You eagerly reached down to start unbuckling his pants, but Daryl caught your hands before you could. You let out a small whine in protest, but Daryl only chuckled. “We can get to that later, Princess. Lemme take care’a ya first, yeah?” To further prove his point, he slowly and carefully started inching your shirt up, slowly revealing your skin to his gaze. However, your patience was wearing thin, so you grabbed the hem of your shirt and quickly helped tug it over your head. “Someone’s eager, huh?”

“Less talking, please,” you practically begged him, your eyes looking at him in a silent plea for more.

Daryl smirked. “As ya wish, Sunshine.” Daryl pressed another kiss to your lips, before trailing down jaw, your collarbone, your chest, down your stomach and stopped just above your pants. He looked up at you once more, silently asking for permission. When you nodded, he resumed with his task. He placed a few more open-mouthed kisses to your stomach before eagerly tugging your pants down, successfully taking your panties with it. You helped him get rid of your clothes, carelessly discarding it somewhere on the floor.

Daryl quickly got to work. He placed a few kisses around where you needed him most, wanting to draw out the inevitable. However, when you bucked your hips up against his face and whined your plea for him to stop teasing, he couldn’t resist any longer. He delved face first into it, licking a long stripe up from your core all the way to your clit.

Your body jolted in pleasure. You threw your head back and tightly gripped at the couch, hoping to ground yourself back to reality. However, when Daryl repeated the action and let his tongue slip into your aching core, that attempt proved to be futile.

“Daryl! Oh, fuck!” you moaned out, your hips unconsciously bucking up against his face. Daryl groaned and pinned your hips down to the couch. He could feel himself getting painfully hard in his jeans, but he tried to ignore it. His attention was solely on you. He could take care of his own needs later.

He switched his tongue out for two of his fingers. His fingers started pumping in and out of you at a steady rhythm, his tongue instead moving to lap and suck on your clit. The moans you were letting out were downright sinful, and the sweet sounds you were emitting worked straight into his arousal. His dick was painfully straining against his jeans, just begging to be released.

“Daryl, f-fuck!” you cried out. You were seeing stars, Daryl’s fingers hitting that one spot inside you each time. The feeling was overwhelming, but so good at the same time. You could feel the coil in your stomach start to tighten, and it was clear that you were about to go over the edge. “I’m so—I’m clo—” You could barely get the words out before you came undone.

Daryl groaned again and pulled his fingers out of you, instead opting to lick up all of the juices your body spilled out. He licked and sucked until you twisted your body to the side as a way to tell him you were oversensitive. Daryl slowly moved to hover over you again, leaning down to kiss you. You moaned at the taste of your arousal in his mouth, your hands moving up to his hair and lightly tugging, eliciting a small whine from him. You smirked against his lips before gently pushing him off, guiding him to lay back on the other end of the couch while you climbed on top of him.

Your hands moved to start unbuckling his jeans. “Your turn now.”

Daryl definitely liked the sound of that. And as you pulled his jeans and then his boxers from his body, gently taking his cock into your hand and lowering yourself onto it, he couldn’t help but let out a small whine. He was immensely grateful for the fact that the two of you moved into your own place, because he was sure that neither of you would be able to keep quiet for long.

And as you fully sunk down onto him and the both of you let out a moan, his theory was proven to be correct.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[aliwritex]

WITH THE RED DRESS ON mv1

summary: Max finally has a free time, all for his girlfriend after working for so long and he wants to make a night that they’d remember.

warnings/contents: max being a sweetheart, brief mention of reader being petite, garter and stockings, slight size kink and stomach bulge mention. oral (f) and pinv

an: inspired by Red Dress by MAGIC! ENJOY!! (this was so not the dress i was envisioning)

Max had been waiting in your room for what felt like ten thousand lifetimes.

He told you about two hours ago that he had made a reservation at your favorite restaurant. He watched you through the open closet door. Your makeup was done, your hair was ready and you even had a pair of shoes set aside but Max had already seen you try on five different dresses.

He looked at the time on his watch – 09:01 P.M. If you don’t make it to the restaurant before nine thirty his reservation will be discarded and you’ll probably be seated at a terrible table, not the one he picked at the outside area of the place.

At this point, all Max wanted to do was walk into the closet and make you fall apart on his tongue and his cock until you regret making him wait so long. He couldn’t take any more of you wearing only see through panties and those fucking pantyhose as you looked for the next dress.

As he walked over to you, Max debated on skipping dinner and just having you to himself but he remembered why he was doing this anyway. You mentioned how you’ve been working over time and wanted to make a night that you’d remember.

“It’s nine, darling” his hand snaked around your waist, head resting on your shoulder.

“I know, Maxie, just haven’t found anything to wear”

He stared down at the arm wrapped around your waist – 9:05 P.M.

“Put on whatever, you’ll look good regardless” he kissed your neck and walked back out.

Max left the bedroom to refresh, he paced around the kitchen before pouring two glasses of water. He finished his water and even put the cup back before walking back to the room with yours. When he walked into the closet you had already taken off another dress.

“I didn’t even get to see that one on” he handed you the glass.

“It looked terrible, need to get rid of that one.”

“‘kay, you have fifteen more minutes. We need at least five to get there.”

He grabbed your empty glass and made his way back out. Max decided to stay outside to ease his anxiety away so he threw himself on the couch with a sigh before pulling out his phone to scroll mindlessly. As much as he tried keeping his mind on his phone it started to wander back to you. You in your pantyhose, you in his shirt last night, you in nothing this morning.

He was starting to lose it but with exactly ten minutes left on the clock he heard the bedroom door close. His head snapped back, chin settled on the couch’s backrest as he looked at you, smiley eyes twinkling in the dim light.

“‘M ready. Can you take my phone in your pocket?”

“Wow”

“Do you like it?”

He walked over to you, taking your hand in his and making you spin around for him. You chuckled at his actions, finally feeling pretty and comfortable in your outfit. He pushed you up against the closest wall and kissed you with need but you stopped him almost instantly, making him groan.

“Thought we were late” you teased “now you have lipgloss on your mustache”

He looked down at you as you wiped his mouth with your thumb. The small red dress fits you perfectly, hugging your chest and snatching your waist before flowing more freely around your hips. Maybe a little too freely, Max thought, as a quick wind could make it flow higher than you’d wish. But you felt good and it was perfect for a summer night.

On the way to the restaurant all he could think about was how he would take that dress off the second you got home.

As you sat down at your table you started telling him how much you appreciated that he used his time off for a simple night like this with you. He wasn’t really paying attention and if you were being honest, you could tell. His eyes were shifting from your lips to your chest to your hair to your eyes but never hearing a word you were saying.

“Max!” you called, pulling him away from his daydreaming “I want the same as always, do you need the menu?”

“Huh? No, sorry”

He ordered for you both, including a red wine and turned back to you, face red with embarrassment.

“Shiraz?”

“What? It’s what you always have with this dish, no?”

“It’s probably the most aphrodisiac wine ever”

“Well, I didn’t know that. But I guess we’ll have a fun night then”

You would’ve teased him about you finally knowing more about something but Max was distracting you too. His beard was more present than normal and you had done his hair yourself, just the way you liked it. But what you stared the longest at were the rolled up sleeves of his shirt, and how his chest filled it.

You eventually caught each other starring and chuckled, quickly falling into daily banter. He had you feeling like a teenager with every small flirty comment about you. When the plates came you were both about to lose your minds. You were feeling hot all over, your feet running up and down his calves under the table.

“Stop teasing me”

“Finish up, we can skip dessert tonight”

Max ate as fast as he possibly could, almost choking from not chewing enough.

Max probably drove over the speed limit all the way back to his apartment but you were inside in less than ten minutes.

“Baby, slow down” you chuckled as he completely attacked your neck and jaw.

He had pressed you against the wall right next to the front door, his hands fisting your wrists above your head as his hips pressed against yours.

“Can’t” he muttered, “you made me wait so long. Just wanted to bend you over in your closet and fuck you so good”

“Maxie” you whined at his proposal.

“I know, love, c’mon, lemme make you feel good.” his hands traveled down to your thighs, pulling them up so he could pick you up and walk you to your room.

You giggled on your way in, his soft hair tickling you as he kissed down the straps of your dress. He placed you on the bed, legs dangling off the edge and kneeled down in front of you. Max reached for your shoes and started unbuckling them slowly.

“Max! Just pull them off.” you told him in a groan.

“You told me to slow down” he kissed your knee.

You rolled your eyes and waited as he pulled them off and smiled when he finally started kissing up your calf. You lifted your torso onto your elbows to look at him as his lips brushed against your skin through your stockings making you shiver. He kissed all the way up to your naked thighs, placing his head between them as he went under your skirt.

You chuckled again and bunched up your skirt around your waist to find his face buried between your legs, kissing closer and closer to your middle. Your hands ran through his sandy hair, messing it up before you tugged on it to make him look up.

“C'mon, Max”

He dragged his lips past your underwear and started leaving kisses up your stomach, biting the skin that covered your hip bones.

“Take this off” he told you and got up from his knees.

Max watched you unzip and take off your dress as he unbuttoned his own shirt and took off his shoes. His eyes caught how your tits were almost spilling out of the thin lace bra and how you shivered as the cold air hit your skin, your hairs going up and your nipples getting hard. He walked back over to you, standing between your knees as he looked down at you.

“Aren’t you just the prettiest?” he ran his big palm up your stomach right to your tits, folding the bra under them. “And look at these, fuck!”

He took one of your tits in his hand and bent over you to mouth at the other. He took everything he could into his mouth, making sure to swirl his tongue around your nipple. You arched your chest into him, running your fingers through the short hair on the back of his head.

“Maxie,” you whined, bucking your hips up to feel him growing against you, “please, need you so bad”

He listened to your pleas and popped your breast out of his mouth, starting to kiss down your sides and leaving a mark right on your ribs. His fingers hooked on the straps that connected the stockings to the garter around your waist and unsnapped them, freeing him to tug your underwear down your legs.

“You know what? I like the straps”

“Thought so” you teased as he snapped them back together and pulled away from you to see them.

Max got down on his knees again, this time throwing your legs over his shoulders to bring your cunt as close as possible to his face. The kisses he left to your thighs were loud and wet, making you squirm in anticipation. When he finally got to your cunt all he did was gently lick at your clit, slowly and barely applying any pressure. He felt you shiver under him as his tongue slowly worked harder against your core, applying more pressure with every small lick.

You pulled his head closer to your cunt, forcing him to dive in properly and push his tongue to your hole. You moaned when he circled it around the opening and took it right back to your clit. Max did love to drive you insane but he was done teasing so he finally took your clit between his lips and sucked on it. You pushed your hips to his face and he smiled, happy with the state he had gotten you to. He took his fingers up to your cunt and spread your wetness around before pushing them in, you clenched around them, feeling them pump in and out of you.

“Max, baby” you whined

“What is it, love?” he asked between kisses to the sides of your thighs “Tell me what you need”

“Just- don’t stop please, feels so good”

Your boyfriend took the encouragement and dived back into you, his lips and tongue working your clit relentlessly as his fingers started curling up inside you. It had been way too long since he last took care of you like this, you were way too sensitive as you felt it build up, a warm and agonizing feeling down your belly. It was too soon and it felt too strong but you couldn’t hold yourself back, the alcohol making you lose all control of your own body. You felt your orgasm take over you like a strong wave, your mind going completely blank as Max groaned onto your core, his fingers still working you all the way through it.

Moans left your mouth freely as you clenched and spasmed around him, your hips rocking back and forth onto his face and hand till they came to a stop. You finally looked down at Max, lifting yourself on your elbows to catch his face completely soaked in your squirt as he looked at you with a smile on his face.

“I missed this” he kissed anything he could reach, stomach, thighs, cunt, “you made a bit of a mess, though, think we’re gonna have to sleep in the guest room.” he chuckled.

“C’mere,” you reached for his arms and guided him to hold himself above you, “please, fuck me.”

“Anything you want, love”

He stood up and undid his belt and pants as you climbed up on the bed so your legs weren’t dangling anymore. Besides everything, the look Max had on his face translated into – mostly – tenderness, he was so in love with you, you were the only thing on his mind and all he wanted was to be close to you. He climbed on the bed, fully bare and positioned himself between your knees, his hard cock brushing against your wet folds made you moan.

“So sensitive, huh?”

You just nodded, taking your bottom lip between your teeth to try to contain any other sound that threatened to spill from your throat. He rested his cock on your stomach for a second, loving to see the comparison of size, before lowering himself to kiss the skin behind your ear. It was one of your biggest soft spots and Max knew it well, making you let out a suppressed moan past your lips. He then went down to mouth at your clavicles as he drove himself into you. Then you couldn’t even try to suppress the moan, it came from deep in your chest, loud, desperate, even. Your eyes screw shut and your nails dug into the skin of his arms and back.

“Look at me,” he asked, “so beautiful, schat. I love you so much, fuck. Gripping me so good”

You just threw your head back, completely lost in pleasure as he slowly dragged in and out of you. His hips moved as slow as he possibly could, watching the way your face curled in pleasure and desperation. It wasn’t like he could go faster, really, you were still adjusting to his girth and he could barely pull out from how tightly you clenched around him.

But when you finally molded around him, allowing space for him to move, he started going at it, thrusting so deep you could see your uterus move on your lower stomach. Despite the ‘roughness’ of his thrusts, Max kissed you soft and gently, a hand caressing your hair as the other lifted your leg up to give you a better angle of his cock, it was all about balance.

“Baby,” you called “let me ride you”

You heard a slow sigh of ‘fuck’ leave his lips before he pulled out to sit against the headboard. You threw your leg over his to straddle him and lifted yourself up only to sink onto his cock again. You both groaned as he filled you up and you reached for his face, his beard scratching your palms as you pulled him closer for a kiss.

“Missed you, missed your cock”

“I missed you too, darling, everyday”

You kissed him again as you started to move back and forth, slowly dragging your clit on his lower stomach. Max’s hands were on your hips guiding your movements as he took a tit into his mouth, licking and sucking at it, at that point your chest was covered in his spit. You felt so much closer to him like that, feeling his chest press to your stomach as you hugged his face to your breasts.

Max started guiding you faster, his own hips moving slightly to match yours. His lips left your boob to kiss at your neck and one of his hands moved down between your bodies, circling your clit with the pad of his fingers. And there it was again, your stomach tightening as you clenched around him.

“Close, schat?” he whispered

You could only whine and hum a positive sound as he rocked you harder on him. You grabbed his face with both hands, bringing him into another kiss. Your tongues were sliding against each other’s as you came around him. Max shot his cum inside you immediately, bringing your hips to a smaller movement so you could ride out both of your orgasms.

“If you don’t stop i’m gonna need another one” you told him after resting your head on his shoulder, his hands finally stopped moving your hips.

“Sorry, darling.”

He left a trail of kisses from your shoulder to the spot below your ear, small pecks that made you shiver. Max rested back against the pillows with you on top of him, taking a somewhat comfortable sleeping position without disconnecting you.

“I love you so much, darling”

[chalametluvrz]

dating timothee chalamet

timothee x afab!reader (mainly gn! expect on nsfw bits)

towards the start of the relationship, i think he'd be pretty anxious

he'd often find himself messing around with his hands a lot on dates

or stumbling over his words a little too much with a small giggle

if you've ever seen old interviews of him when he was younger. you know the ones where he gets all shy and giggly? that's exactly how i envision him to be with you

after some time, that's slowly replaced with his hyperactive ass

and let me tell you, boy never shuts the fuck up that's not a bad thing

because of his schedule, he rarely gets to see you in person

so whenever he does, he just has so much to tell you and so much to talk about that he just ends up coming out with a cluster-fuck of words

he always tries to facetime you at least a couple times a week

and let me tell you, the call will always start with him saying 'oh, i missed your pretty face' or 'seeing you has made my day'

boy is madly in love

and even though he hasn't said it yet, it's fairly obvious he's not hiding anything

he's the kind of person to want to keep your relationship on the down low

because if you're also famous, he wouldn't want to cause any issues or drama through tabloids

and if you aren't, he'd feel awful dragging you into the world of hollywood

eventually though, as most celeb relationships do, you got found out

someone caught you out on your 6 months anniversary

and that was it; twitter was going mental

timothee soon figured out that he probably had to say something

but honestly, he was kind of relieved he didn't have to hide you anymore

the morning you two woke up and saw yourselves going viral on twitter, there was a bit of a mad scramble between the two of you

before eventually, timothee chilled out

'but now i don't need to hide we're together, anymore. i can let the world know you're mine.' he'd say to your confusion at his relaxed state

cute but also now all of timmy's fans are stalking your instagram

cooking meals together!!!

i have a feeling timothee's love languages are more tailored towards physical touch and acts of service tell me im wrong

so cooking together is such a beautiful thing for him

as much as timothee loves taking you out, i think he'd much prefer to cook a fancy pasta dish together with wine over that any day

he also strikes me as a cosy movie date guy

but honestly, it more than likely turns into something else

don't fight me on his, he's a horny guy

like bro would get a hard-on just snuggling with you

when you first started dating, he'd get all shy about it

he'd apologise frantically and his face would be redder than ever

after dating for some time, he'd be less phased

unless you showed and expressed discomfort with it of course

after the shock of you dating slowly weaved out of the fans

timothee would definitely start posting you on his instagram

he just needed the world to know how obsessed he is with you

arguments are rare

extremely rare

they usually only happen when timothee is stressed

feelings get heated and you end up making some snippy comments at each other before one of you gets up and leaves the room

after you've both had time to cool down, you're both mature enough to talk it out and apologise for whatever each of you or one of you has done

communication is a big thing for timmy, so i think arguments are heavily avoided because he encourages you to come to him about anything

any concerns, rants and problems you have, he wants to know

he's a flirter, let me tell you that thankfully not with others

always dazzling you with compliments

you're in the crowd at a press tour? he's staring, smirking and winking at you the whole time

you're supporting him whilst he's on set? the man can't take his eyes off you and is coming to hold you the second the shot is taken

you're on facetime? every odd sentence is him saying some suggestive comment or simply how stunning you are

the man cannot get enough of you

going back to the horny thing...

he has a high sex drive

there's absolutely no doubt about it

he is a giver!!! the man aims to please!!!

could eat you out for days

i've already made a headcanon about him eating you out so i will be brief BUT!!!

he's messy!!! the wetter the better!!!

will overstimulate you with hid tongue any day

and then make sure you cum on his cock as well

you know what they say about tall, skinny boys? wink wink

i'd say he's a good 7 inches, 7 1/2 at a push

he knows how to please you, and he's eager to learn what makes you tick

even though he's mainly a dom, i can see him being a sub at times

only on rare assurances though

being his date to things like the met gala, oscars etc

after being open about your relationship, he couldn't wait to take you everywhere and anywhere with him

loves it when you wear his clothes

but i feel like all boys do?

especially when he's away, opening up a facetime call to see you sat there in one of his t-shirts. he actually thinks his heart might implode.

this boy will actually love you with his whole heart

the cutest, softest and proudest boyfriend around fr

[hargreeves-duncan]

Hey! I saw that you’re taking tua requests and after season 4 I’m in desperate need of fluff fanfics. May I request a Five x Y/N where Y/N looks exactly like how Five envisions Delores but they haven’t met yet and right when Five and Lila were about to kiss in the greenhouse, Y/N appears with a gun because this two strangers invaded her greenhouse and Five would be utterly shocked and immediately let go of Lila and went to Y/N calling her Delores and she would say something like “I don’t know who Delores is but the two of you better start explaining what you’re doing in my greenhouse or I’ll bury a bullet in your skulls.” And after that it could be all fluff with a happy ending. Maybe Five takes her to meet his family when he finds a way back?

a/n: thank you for your lovely request! the idea of reader as a dolores variant is so sweet, i just had to write this! i hope you love it!!

summary: five mistakes you for dolores, you turn out to be quite the opposite

warnings: reader has a gun😟

word count: 2.4k

Trying to traverse this damn subway was driving Five insane. If he had been keeping track accurately, he and Lila had been stuck down here for seven years. For someone that had made it through forty years alone at the end of the world, you’d think that he’d be able to hack it, but a couple of key factors had changed since his first time around.

1. This time he wasn’t alone.

When he’d brought Lila down to the station, the thought of getting stuck there hadn’t even crossed his mind. Every other time Five had visited the subway, he’d made it home with no problems whatsoever.

It was typical that when he was accompanied by the one woman he’d never want to be around for a prolonged amount of time, that the universe would screw him over and trap them there.

He did have to admit, the more time that they had spent together, and the less likely getting home seemed, Lila had become tolerable. He might even go as far as to say he liked her now.

She was smarter than he’d given her credit for and painfully determined in working out their way home. Lila had always kept them both going, insisting that if they’d gotten there in the first place that there had to be a way out. Five wasn’t so sure anymore.

2. Dolores wasn’t here.

Whilst Five could pretend that if he stopped looking for a way out and settled down with Lila in a new timeline he would be happy enough, he knew that in reality, he wouldn’t be. There was no way that his friendship with Lila would ever measure up to the company of Dolores and the love he had for her.

She had been his everything for more of his life than not and his connection with her had truly meant something to him. Unlike whatever circunstancial friendship he had built with Lila.

For a long time, Five’s daily routine had revolved entirely around making sure that Dolores was cared for and making sure that they were always one step closer to finding a better way of life. Because he would be damned if his girlfriend had to live a life with anything but the very best.

This time, without the motivation of holding Dolores in his arms at the end of a long day, Five had found little reason to keep searching for a way to get home. He was beginning to lose all hope entirely as he and Lila had got off the subway for the fiftieth time that day.

As they stepped out into the sun, it became clear that of all the timelines they’d been to, this one was, without a doubt, the most peaceful. They were surrounded by woodland that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Somewhere above their heads Five could hear birds twittering. That was a good sign, this timeline was still habitable, many of the last ones hadn’t been.

Five walked out into forest. The trees there shot up almost 70 feet into the sky. It was breathtaking.

Somewhere along his stroll, Lila, had ended up off course, discovering the new world around them, “Wow.” She whispered to herself.

Five chuckled and raised an eyebrow as he walked towards her, “If you’re done here, there’s something much more interesting that we ought to take a look at.”

He pointed to the bottom of the hill that they stood on, where a small cottage sat. It looked as if it came from a fairytale, with its thatched roof and adjacent greenhouse, that housed all sorts of plants and flowers.

A small seed of doubt planted itself in his head the more he looked it over. It looked too nice. What if it was some sort of trap?

Lila clearly didn’t have the same trepidations. She gasped with excitement, then turned back to him, saying, “What’re you waiting for? Let’s go.”

As suspicious as he now was, he wasn’t strong enough to crush Lila’s hopeful expression. He hadn’t seen her look this spritely in weeks and if this didn’t end up being what they wanted he needed her to be okay to keep going. So, he followed her down the hill.

By the time he’d reached the bottom, Lila was already waiting, hands on her hips as she laughed at him, “Come on, old man, what is taking you so long? I want to explore this cottage before someone comes and tells me that I’m imagining it.”

She reached out, pulling on his arm impatiently and he couldn’t help but smile back at her. He supposed he could entertain this fantasy of normality for a while.

Lila grinned as she led them up the steps, peering in through the glass at the throng of shrubbery packed into the building. With a tug on the door, Lila led them into the greenhouse.

Five had to appreciate the organisation of it. One corner of it hosted a mix of plants and herbs, another held flowers, another for vegetables as well and even one for- “Strawberries!” Lila gasped, dropping his arm and rushing over to them.

In that moment, there couldn’t have been a better sight in the world than home-grown fruit. It’d been a painfully long time since they’d last eaten real food and Five suddenly felt starving.

He watched as Lila picked a strawberry, taking a bite. She groaned in pleasure, closing her eyes. Mouth still full, she beckoned him closer, “Five, come here, you have got to try these.”

Five obeyed, walking over to her. Lila took another enthusiastic bite, as she declared, “I think these might be the best things that I’ve ever eaten.”

Tossing the hull of the strawberry behind her, Lila reached for another. She smirked at Five, waving the strawberry in front of his lips tauntingly, “Open up.”

Five rolled his eyes, trying to repress the smile that was creeping onto his lips as he relented, opening his mouth. Lila pressed the strawberry to his lips and as he bit down…

Click.

Five froze, eyes snapping open. Lila spun around and her lips parted in shock as she took you in. There, you stood, shotgun cocked and pointed at the pair of them.

You were a sight for sore eyes, with your tousled hair around your shoulders and polka dot dress that fell effortlessly around your hips. Five was completely mesmerised.

Your soft hair, the polka dots that covered your dress, it was all so familiar to him. Your presence felt like a greeting from an old friend and he smiled lovingly at you as he said, “Dolores.”

Lila’s presence was entirely forgotten as you stood in front of him, just as beautiful as he’d remembered. Lila raised an eyebrow, asking, “You know her?” at the same time as you asked, “Dolores?!”

You looked them both in the eye, stepping closer and aiming the barrel of the gun at their heads, “I don’t know who Dolores is but the two of you better start explaining before I shoot you both.”

You had to admit, you were slightly intrigued by the appearance of the two of them. More specifically, the man in front of you. Even more so when he audibly laughed at your words.

You raised an eyebrow at him, smirking with amusement as you said, “You do realise that you’re trespassing, right? That I’m well within my rights to pull this trigger and put a bullet through both of your skulls?”

Five was still looking at you as if you’d hung the moon and the stars and not just threatened to shoot him.

Lila shoved her elbow into his chest and he groaned, clutching it, “Jesus… Lila!” He said, glaring at her.

“What?” Lila groaned, looking over at him with a huff, “She asked you a question.”

“Yes, thank you.” You said with a small nod as you watched her. She nodded back with a pleased smile, holding her hands behind her back.

You look back at Five, expectantly, gun still raised, “Well?”

He smiled saccharinely at you, being sure to emphasise his words as he said, “Me and my friend here just got a little lost, that’s all.”

“Hm… getting lost is what we’re calling breaking and entering now?” You challenge and your combative demeanour only made Five want to get to know you more.

He grinned, shrugging his shoulders innocently, “It would appear that way.” He said, making it impossible for you to ignore the cockiness in his tone.

You simply laughed at him, lowering your weapon slightly, “And Dolores?”

“She’s…” He paused, thinking it through. He couldn’t exactly say who Dolores really was, you’d think he was crazy and that was the last thing he wanted.

If he ignored the fact that you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, he could also tell that you were exactly the kind of woman he wanted to know and he was not going to mess up any chance he might have with you, “…my ex-girlfriend.”

That wasn’t entirely untrue, he thought to himself. Lila’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Slowly, a look of realisation spread across her face and she stifled her laughter as she asked, “Hold on, you don’t mean that manne-“

“Please, excuse my friend.” He hastily cut Lila off with an infuriated glare thrown in her direction.

“She has terrible conversational etiquette.” Five offered, smiling politely at you as if he hadn’t just completely shut Lila down, “I’m Five, and that over there is Lila.”

You nodded in return. Lila smiled but made no more attempts to initiate a conversation as she wandered off deeper into the green house.

Five, happy to have the chance to speak you alone, stepped closer, “It’s a nice place.” He said, putting his hands in his pockets.

You lowered your gun, slinging it over your shoulder and offering him a warmer smile, “Thanks, I think so too.”

You were funny. He felt himself grow more smitten with every word you said. He brushed his hair out of his eyes, raising an eyebrow at you, “What did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t.” You answer, brushing off your skirt. His eyes followed your fingers as you did.

You walked by him to pick up a bag of compost and dropped it onto the countertop beside you. Five walked after you, placing a hand on the table in your eyeline, practically begging you to keep the conversation going.

The last time he’d gotten so quickly attached to a girl, he’d been with her for forty years and he was already thinking about what that might look like with you, “Are you going to tell me it?” He pushed, tilting his head to the side as he smiled at you.

You stopped breaking up the soil, laughing softly as you looked over your shoulder at him, “You know, you’re very interested in knowing about me for someone I just caught breaking into my house.”

“I thought we’d agreed that we were just lost? I can confidently say that there was no ill intent on my part.” He replies, smirking at you.

“Maybe not.” You say, smacking your palms against each other to dust them off, “But there is intent of some kind.” You bend down, pulling out an empty plant pot from below the counter.

“True…” Five hummed, tapping his finger on the counter as he watched you place the pot onto the table and begin to fill it with compost.

He looks around the room some more - noticing the lone chair and table in the observatory by the back door, “You live here alone?”

He asked, watching your nimble fingers form a well in the centre of the pot. He looked over his shoulder to where Lila was prodding a venus flytrap and then back to you for your answer.

“I do.” You reply as your fingers continue to press deeper into the soil. Five nodded, rolling his sleeves up and leaning them on the countertop with a sly smile.

You dust off your hands again and go back to kneeling on the floor. Five watches with interest as you sift through pots and packets of different flowers.

“Okay and why is that?” He asks, bending down beside you as you consider which flower to pot.

You look over at him and notice how his eyes lingers on the bright, yellow marigolds tucked away to the left. You take them out.

“Because…” You say, hauling the smaller pot onto the counter again, “I’ve never been much of a people person.”

“Hence why you live in the middle of the woods.” Five nods along, smiling to himself. He was beginning to get an idea of what kind of girl you were and he liked it.

“Exactly.” You nod, gently prying the marigolds from their original pot and settling them into the divet in their new one.

You scooped some compost into your hands, sprinkling the marigold with an extra layer of dirt, “That’s me, but what about you? What makes a guy like you take a wander in the woods?”

A guy like him? Five glanced down at himself, suddenly feeling very self-conscious of his dirtied appearance. He hadn’t looked in a mirror in a while but he couldn’t imagine that seven years without a shower had done him any good.

Then again, your arms were buried elbow deep in dirt right now, so he figured he couldn’t look that awful, “It’s a long story but… simply put, my friend and I are looking for a place to stay.”

“I see.” You hum, touching up the marigolds. You pull open a drawer, taking out some pruners and making tiny adjustments to the flowers.

Five appreciated the precision with which you worked on them, he imagined that you treated all of your plants with the same amount of time and care. He was beginning to feel a little jealous of them.

You tilted your head to the side as you looked back at him, “So, you just thought that you’d crash here?”

Five looked slightly embarrassed as he stood up straighter, searching for the right answer. Lila smiled, yelling from the other side of the room, “Yeah, pretty much. It’s a really nice place.”

You laugh at her bluntness, placing down your pruners and dusting off your hands again, “Good to know.”

Five chuckles and looks back down at the counter. Taking in the sight of the finished marigolds, sitting plump and pretty in their new home, he smiles, “They’re beautiful.”

“Consider them a welcome gift for the two of you.” You say, pushing the pot towards him. Then, you wink, walking past him and back into the house.

Five is rendered speechless.

[dilfenthusiast-union]

Can you please do Josh and reader watching a movie?

I absolutely can anon! Gonna do a horror movie cuz that’s on theme HAHA. I hope this satisfies your Josh craving 🫶 feel free to request something different if not 🫡

Study Session

Joshua “Josh” Washington x Reader

I ended up referencing an old German film so if anyone can figure out what it is from the very vague description I gave then here’s a sweet treat 🍰

Gonna update the gif when ppl start making gifs of the sexy delicious remake

GIF updated with cutie Josh passed out in front of the fireplace literally the exact vibes IM LIVING

“You got the snacks, princess?” Josh calls out from the living room, as he sets up the projector for your weekly “special movie” night.

As part of Josh’s psychology degree, he had the chance to pick a major, and to him and his parents, it was a no brainer— film.

However, what he didn’t anticipate was the amount of weird, silent movies from the 1920s that he had to analyse in his classes.

“It’s like watching paint dry!” He exclaims, “I get that I have to understand the rules of film before breaking them, but Dad’s been doing this since before I was even an idea!” Josh drags on.

“Josh, babe. You’re starting really to sound like every nepo baby in Hollywood. I love you!…but shut up.” you peck him on the lips before pulling back to smile at him, a kinder way of telling him to shut his trap about his first world problems. He smiles dumb from the small act of affection and touch love, unable to recall what was bothering him in the first place as you dissolve his worries.”

Upon hearing his complaints, you suggest making it into a movie night, as opposed to a traditional study session where you’re both hunched over your laptops and textbooks.

Your idea sends a colony of butterflies into Josh’s stomach— you want to watch a boring movie with him? The fact that you want to spend time doing mundane things, like studying with him, makes him envision a life of pure domesticity. How could he say no to an opportunity to cuddle and be with his partner?

Before you know it, you’re microwaving popcorn and opening packets of lollies to enjoy (and to pass the time).

“Just about done! The popcorn is extremely fresh so enjoy with caution!” You mention as you pinch the bag from the top to avoid burning yourself.

He stands back up from setting up the projector equipment, looking at you with warm eyes. He questions “Are you saying that because you nearly burnt your mouth trying to eat it?”, his tone underscored with amusement.

“Guilty.” The one word expresses your regret for attempting to snack early. You settle the bags of snacks and popcorn on the coffee table, and sink into the pullout couch, ready to be entertained.

“What is this movie about exactly? The cover looks kinda freaky, I won’t lie” you examine the starting screen projected on the wall. Josh appreciates how you’re eager to demonstrate an interest in his studies despite not knowing too much.

“In the most succinct way I can say it without spoiling things…” he trails off, “A vampire tries his hand at real estate, and rats wipe out a town of people!” Your face morphs from interested to deadpan at the lack of proper context, “I guess I just gotta watch and see, hey?”

“Precisely, princess.” Josh affirms as he sits down next to you. His pet names for you never cease to make your core temperature rise with the influx of butterflies. As he wraps an arm around your frame, he presses play on the film.

Josh adds, “Thankfully for us, there’s English subtitles… because this entire movie is in German. So you’re gonna have to focus just as much as me, and resist the urge to go on Instagram.” He kisses your head to avoid any rebuttal from you.

An hour passes by and at this point both you and Josh become extremely comfortable on the couch. Lying down whilst cuddling, you hold eachother accountable by not scrolling in your phones and actually discussing the plot of the film and the main points Josh needs to remember for his analysis. The movie finishes and you’re both still awake.

Josh breaks the comfortable silence, turning to admire your features “Thanks for watching this boring movie with me, babe. You made this way more fun for me.” he pecks your forehead, followed by the tip of your nose. He gazes at your lips longingly, before looking into your half-lidded eyes and receiving a small nod.

He leans into to kiss you passionately, receiving a mutual signal from your eagerness. He can feel the heat radiating off your cheeks and he’s sure you can hear his pulse rapidly increasing the longer you two occupy the same space.

You place your hands on his broad chest, feeling him gently and slowly. Josh wraps his arms around your waist and places you in his lap, and breaks away from the kiss. You catch your breath simultaneously, staring into eachother’s eyes, as if you’re telepathically communicating your love for each-other.

“Josh, there’s no need to thank me. I’ll do just about anything with you. Because, as long as it’s you, nothing can possibly be boring.” you cut into the hot silence.

Josh revels in your statement, his eyebrows raised “Are you saying you liked the movie?” his amusement is discernible at this point. He looks at you like you contain galaxies in your eyes.

You give him a kiss on the lips again before breaking away again and grinning widely “I actually did, and I like spending time with my boyfriend.. let’s study more often!” You suggest lightly.

Josh picks you up to carry you bridal style, walking down the hall to your shared bedroom, “I can think of a different kind of studying we can do. Don’t you have an anatomy exam soon?” he smirks before laying you down on the bed, wedging a knee between your legs and trapping you in his arms.

Maybe this studying will involve an all-nighter for the two of you.

[misctf]

My Dad has been really on my case lately. He’s always wanted me to be more manly like him, and he’s never been good at hiding how disappointed he is that I’m so feminine. He says he’s sending me to a special camp to ‘Man Up’. I’m really nervous. What should I do?

Your dad stood at the entrance to Mu Alpha Nu Camp, a stern look on his face. Trying to do his best to contain his excitement. It had been a few days since he dropped you off here. Initially, when your dad told you he was sending you to one of these “Man Up” camps, you thought he was joking. But your old man had tricked you- promising to take you to a concert to celebrate the end of your first year in college. Foolishly, you believed him- thinking he was trying to start anew. But he had no feelings of guilt.  

Truth be told, you two never really got along. His interests and yours were polar opposite, even antagonistic. He couldn’t understand where your feminine hobbies came from and instead of trying to understand, he resisted them. Time at college- sissy liberal university as your father would say- only cemented these interests. No matter what he did, he was never able to mold you into the rugged, masculine specimen that he wanted in a son. And while his disappointment initially hurt, you came to realize he was the epitome of toxic masculinity- a true narcissist.

“Hey bro,” A jock greeted him, “Your son is done.” He chuckled dumbly.

Your father nodded, a smirk forming on his face. He would never really know what you went through over the past few days. He would only see the end result. But when he dropped you off, he did give the facility specifications. He checked off boxes, indicating what qualities he wanted in his son. He would never know how they would initially start easy. Daily gym sessions and lectures about masculinity. How you ignored them at first and resisted their brainwashing. But then it became more intense. They threw you in a chamber. Metallic hands gripping your weak arms. Others massaging your lean chest.

“Wait! Let me go!” You had cried out.

But they continued to manhandle you. Continued to massage your muscles with their ‘special lotion’. You had cried out as your muscles expanded rapidly, at first with firm muscle, and then followed closely by fat. Your new abs and pecs quickly covered by a layer of soft fat. You tried to use your new strength to break free, but even with your massive bis and tris, you were powerless. Only able to watch your metamorphosis in a mirror on the wall adjacent to you.

“No! What is that?” You groaned as you were injected with a serum.

Tears filled your eyes as your skin lost its youthful glow. Wrinkles formed and your skin weathered with age. The firm fat sagging ever so slightly. You looked to be in your late 40s, just like your dad. And before you could fully process this horrific realization, you were sprayed from head to toe with a foul smelling liquid. The burning, prickling sensation that followed caused you to squirm. And as you watched closely in the mirror, you could see your hair follicles come alive. Tufts of manly hair erupted from your chest and abdomen, coating you in manly fur. Even your clean-shaven face became blanketed in a manly beard. And your hair darkens considerably, interlaced with a few grays.

“Please... please stop...” You groan.

But you’d find no mercy. You were being molded exactly to your dad’s specifications. Before you could resist any further, the screen in front of you comes alive. Spirals interlaced by manly images fill your vision. Images of beer, trucks, guns, and working-out are forced into your brain. And as they enter, your prior interests start to fade. You envision a life working construction, just like your dad. Drinking beers at the bar. Picking up chicks. And this continues. For hours, days even. Your cock rock hard.

Your dad’s eyes widen when you approach him. Naturally, you were shirtless. Showing off your manly chest. A smirk plastered on your face. And your dad can’t help but feel as if he’s looking in a mirror. The stupid jock smiles.

“We’ve followed your specifications to a tee.” He says with a dopey grin.

And then it dawns on your dad. He wanted you to be more manly, just like him. Just like him. In his self-absorbed narcissism, he didn’t realize that his specifications led them to create a twin. Gone was his son. Instead, he had a twin brother. One that matched him in all ways- stench, masculinity, and size.

“What’s up, bro?” Your baritone voice matches your father’s brother���s, “You wanna grab some beers?”

Your twin brother nods, slowly accepting his new reality. And the two of you head out. Perhaps not what your father initially intended. But as you throw back beers down at the local bar and cheer for your favorite football team, he can’t help but appreciate the newfound camaraderie.

[shy-writer-999]

OP Headcanons: Ace & Law on the phone

WARNING: MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

A/N: How would Ace & Law act during a spicy session on the phone? (+ written description of what they’d say to afab reader) See Part 1 with the Monster Trio!

OP Headcanons: Ace & Law on the phone

Law: The Instructor

Sometimes Law calls you first, and sometimes you call him. You’re both a fan of phone sex because of how much teasing there is. Law loves telling you what to do. He’s in control, and he knows you’re going to follow his instructions exactly. Law wants to know how it feels when you finger yourself and rub your clit—he’ll ask you all sorts of questions and press you for longer descriptions, making you speak clearer through your moans. For him, the appeal is not only in helping you feel good, but also in envisioning you tensed up and wet, fingering yourself at the thought of him.

Law prefers to sit upright in a chair when you’re getting nasty over the phone. He’ll hold off on touching himself until he physically can’t anymore. Law gets off on the image of you pleasuring yourself to his commands, and he gets more worked up as your moans get increasingly desperate. When you don’t follow his instructions, Law gets annoyed, scornful, and cold. But really, he loves it when you get bratty (even though he won’t say it). Law’s voice is smooth and deep, making fire bloom in your core as soon as you hear him on the other line. When Law is instructing you over the phone, these are some of the things he says:

“I want you to touch yourself over your panties. Play with your clit, rub small circles around it.” “Are you doing what I said?” “Use your words.” ��Keep going until you’re so wet it starts seeping through the fabric.” “Now, pull your panties off, prop your knees up, and spread your thighs.” “Do you want to touch yourself?” “Slide two of your fingers up and down through your lips, and when you’re done, insert one. Slowly.” “What does it feel like?” “I need you to say more than that.” “Curl your finger inside of you and then take it out. I said take it out.” “Do you want to keep going? Tell me how much you want it.” “I know you want it, but you have to follow my instructions. Doctor’s orders.” “Put another finger in and start fucking yourself with it. Tell me if it feels good.” “Say my name.” “Keep going. Don’t stop until I say so. Don’t cum either. I want to hear you beg for it.” “Do you like touching yourself to the thought of me?” “Wish your lips were wrapped around my cock?” “Fuck yourself with your fingers so hard that you cream thinking about me.”

Law spreads his own precum around his tip and down his cock, hissing through his teeth at the feeling of the lubrication, imagining for a second that he’s thrusting inside of you and dragging his cock in and out. He’s letting out guttural, filthy sounds. He needs to hear you moan his name one more time before he loses it. When Law cums during phone sex, he shoots ropes of milky white all over his abdomen. His hair is matted down on his forehead in sweat and he’s panting. Law loves to think of you following his instructions, he thinks of it like he’s helping you feel your best. When he tells you what to do, he knows that he’ll make you feel good. The next time Law sees you he acts like nothing happened, until he unexpectedly grabs your ass when he walks past you. He’s got the slightest smirk on his lips.

Ace: The Sweet Talker

Note: She/her pronoun used for reader once, also "pretty girl," etc.

Usually, you tend to be the one to call Ace first—but sometimes he calls you first and his voice is so sweet it sounds sugar coated. When you’re feeling lonely and heat is blooming between your legs, you know Ace will gladly help you out, and you’ll do the same for him. It doesn’t take him long to get completely wrapped up in the fantasy. Ace will drop everything he’s doing to get you off over the phone; he’ll do it just as enthusiastically if he has to step away to the bathroom or wake up in the middle of the night from your call. Hearing your needy voice on the other line gets him hard in seconds—he anticipates the sounds of your desperation and looks forward to using his honeyed voice to praise you. Ace wants you to moan his name, but more than that, he wants you to put your phone up to your cunt when you finger it, so he can hear how messy and wet you are for him. Ace has always been fond of pet names, and when you’re on the phone with your fingers inside of yourself, he doubles down. He knows you like it when he sweet talks you, and for him, it’s a way of showing his love. When Ace is saying lovely things to you during phone sex, these are some of the things he says:

“I want to hear you touch yourself for me, okay princess?” “Mmmmmm, that sounds good, sweetheart.” “Pretty girl with her fingers stuffed in her pussy just for me” “Hold the phone up to your fingers, baby, I want to hear how wet you are” “Good job sugar, keep going, just like that. You’re doing such a good job.” “Does it feel good, beautiful?” “Tell me how good it feels” “Getting so hard thinking about you touching yourself for me, baby” “I know you want my cock, but for now you’ll just have to fuck yourself with your fingers for me, ok?” “Reach deep inside and find your sweet spot, I want to hear it” “Press on your clit while you think about me, angel, I want to hear it” “Doing such a good job for me” “Wish I could fuck you right now” “I want you to cum. Say my name, gorgeous” “Keep pressing on that spot until you cum, baby, I wanna hear you moan my name as sweet as you can” “Just like that. Good job, sweetheart.”

After you cum, Ace always says thank you. He doesn’t need to, but he thinks it’s the polite thing to do since you’ve been so vulnerable with him and so good for him.

(◕ㅅ◕✿) ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧˚ (´ω｀*)

thank u so much for reading!! here's my masterlist!

also i have an idea for another fic, what do you think? reader means to call one one of the OP men for phone sex, but accidentally dials someone else. He’s surprised but goes along with it happily. (thinking of Sanji, Ace, Zoro, and Law, here…) Would anyone be interested in that…

TYSM!!

-Z

[zriasstuff]

Underwater fun—Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, public teasing, fingering (fem receiving)

“What do you think you’re doing”, you whisper to Mattheo while both of you are standing in the black lake, seemingly just chatting in the water. The cold water went all the way up to your collarbones, so much that you could still stand, but not very securely. It made you feel a little wobbly on your feet.

You had asked Mattheo that question because you felt his knee creeping up higher, almost touching your lower private area now. His leg fit perfectly between both of yours.

“Matty, whatever it is that you got planned-”

“Just enjoy the water, won’t you”, he responds teasingly, interrupting you mid sentence.

His smirk indicated to you that you were about to enjoy a lot more than just the apparent water. You gradually realized that he had envisioned something very risky in his mind.

Mattheo’s knee between your legs was now placed so perfectly, that whenever you even moved in the slightest, your cunt would automatically rub against it. He even held you tightly by your waist, so that you couldn’t get away from him.

It was surely his intention, for you to get loose, to get you all riled up. Aware of the rather public situation, you spin around to make sure no one was watching.

“Don’t be shy darling, no one is watching”, he baits you once again, not even hiding his desire for you to get off on him. When you wouldn’t indulge, he props his knee even further up, making it directly touch your cunt.

Without it being your intention, one shift of your position suddenly made you feel a wave of brain melting pleasure. The strong pressure on your clit started to feel a little too good. It felt nasty to practically grind against his hard knee, like some touch starved, pathetic slut.

But the more you rubbed against him, the needier you got, feeling yourself get wetter in the process.

“Enjoy yourself princess?”, he cockily asks. He knows exactly that within seconds you’d be begging for him to make you cum.

Mattheo had always had this persuasive aura around him. Whatever he set his mind to, he would achieve. Of course he knew your limits, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t push them a little for fun.

“Please Mattheo, want more”, you moan quietly, while desperately aching for more friction to please your throbbing cunt. You never imagined it’d feel so good to grind on his knee, so good that it turned your cunt into such a wet mess.

He somehow always managed to get you craving his touch, whether it was his cock, fingers, or even knee now.

“Well, since you asked so nicely”, he granted you your wish, and within seconds his knee was replaced by his hand. Wasting no time, he smoothly slid two fingers inside you. Your soaking wetness had allowed him easy and quick penetration, and he felt your cunt sucking him in with its tightness.

“Look how wet my princess is”, he coos, “I told you you’d have fun”. That cocky look on his face was provoking all the more impure thoughts. You imagined what it would be like if there were no people around. How he could then fuck you in the water, have you get high on his cock. You wish everyone would just magically disappear.

The way his fingers stretched your aching cunt wide open almost made you reach your climax right then right there. They kept exploring your walls from every possible angle, brushing against every spot. His thumb additionally circled your clit to create even more simulation, so much you couldn’t hold in the sinful moans that escaped your mouth anymore.

You’d gotten used to how good Mattheo was with his fingers ever since you started dating, but this time, the possibility of being caught made it all so much more exciting. That meant you’d really have to try to not draw everyone’s attention on your public sexual cadaver.

“Can’t even keep your mouth shut anymore huh”, Mattheo points out. You bit down hard on your lip and tried to keep a neutral face to not raise any suspicions.

Knowing that he had such a delicious effect on you, he tried all the more to get you cracking and get caught. It didn’t matter because everyone could then see that you were his, and that only he could get you all riled up like this in the water.

His finger thrusts were becoming quicker and viciously hit your sensitive spot, causing you to struggle to keep still in the water. Your legs were squirming around and firmly clinging onto his leg, and your nails kept digging into his torso. All so you wouldn’t lose balance.

“Plea- Please, go slower”, you whine, not sure how much more of this you’d be able to take without exposing yourself.

“What was that, you want it faster?” Mattheo got extremely turned on watching you barely being able to keep it together. He was this close to pushing you over the edge right now. His fingers continued going in and out of you at an ungodly speed, solely focused on your pleasure. Meanwhile his cock was begging for some friction too, the bulge becoming clearly visible through his swimming shorts.

At that point, the rough fingering was becoming too much, and you felt your rushed climax approaching. “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum”, you whimper.

But all of a sudden he pulls his fingers out. The sensation was gone. While he was licking his fingers clean with a smirk plastered on his face, you were desperately clenching around nothing anymore. “Mattheo, please make me finish”, you impatiently beg him. He couldn’t just leave you hanging like this, after all he’d started it.

There was nothing more that you wanted right now, than to have him stroke your sweet spot repeatedly, to have his fingers torturing you into orgasm after orgasm. It didn’t matter anymore that you were in public, all you wanted was him.

“Sorry darling, party’s over”, and with that you saw everyone leaving the lake to get dressed and go back to your dorms. Awfully convenient you thought.

Seeing from Mattheo’s devious expression, you realized his goal was to leave you feeling unsatisfied all along, so you would be even hornier later on.

And just like he predicted, his mischievous plan succeeded. At least you were sure that he was going to make it up to you back in his dorm.