#i hope you’re all having a good day too.

[moonstruckme]

emt marauders where they go away on a hokiday and reader gets sick but hides it so they can have fun?

cw: some phlegm talk? idk hardly a trigger but a little gross depending on your tolerance of all that

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

“Ow,” Sirius whines. 

“Sorry,” says Remus, clearly being as gentle as he can in smoothing sun lotion onto Sirius’ pinkened shoulders. “It wouldn’t hurt if you’d reapplied earlier.” 

“No one else had to reapply,” he grumbles, then hisses as Remus moves to a new spot. 

“You’re extra special.” James simpers, kissing Sirius’ cheek. “You can always hang back in the room if it hurts too much, you know.” 

Sirius glares. “I’m not going to sit in the room by myself while you all play Baywatch and make out in the ocean.” 

“We don’t do that.” Remus frowns. 

“I’ll stay with you,” you offer. You hope your eagerness doesn’t sound as obvious to your boyfriends as it does to you.

Sirius softens some. “You don’t have to miss out for me, baby.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

“I’m not going to waste a day of holiday anyway,” he says decisively, just as Remus puts the cap back on the sun lotion. “Onward!” 

You try not to deflate, resigning yourself to spending the afternoon as you spent the morning and all of yesterday before that: camped out under an umbrella, using toilet paper stolen from your hotel room as tissues when the boys aren’t looking. 

“Can we stop for ice cream on the way?” you ask as you make your way out of the room. 

“Again?” James laughs. “Angel, at this rate you’re going to be going through sugar withdrawal on the flight home.” 

You shrug. “That place by the boardwalk is really good.” 

You wouldn’t actually know. Your taste buds have gone rather lackluster since the onset of your cold; you wouldn’t know much difference if you got strawberry or bubblegum or peppermint candy cane. It makes your sore throat feel much better for a few minutes, though. 

Ordinarily one of your boyfriends might push back against you eating sweets for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but because it’s a holiday you’re sitting on the sand finishing off a cone of pink something a short time later. Sirius has taken up residence by your legs, slowly covering them with sand to fulfill his vision of making you a mermaid tail. You’re trying not to wince as the sun worsens your headache. 

You want to enjoy your trip, you really do, but the beach is just too hot and too bright and too coarse when what you really long for is your bed and a cup of honeyed tea. No one drinks honeyed tea at the beach. You wouldn’t even know where to begin to look for some. 

“Do you think you ought to have scales?” Sirius asks. 

You hum, furrowing your brows like you’re paying attention. “I think so. Most mermaids do, right?” 

“Probably right.” Sirius leans forward, kissing you before you can stop him. “Brilliant girl.” 

You think you’re a horrible girlfriend. Even when he does sweet things like that, you want him gone badly. Before Sirius got sunburned and took shelter under the umbrella with you, it was him and James in the water all day long and Remus lying next to you but too absorbed in his book to notice you occasionally sneezing or blowing your nose. With Sirius here, you can feel the buildup in your sinuses like a dam ready to break. 

You know it would be easier to just tell your boyfriends you’re feeling under the weather. Easier for you, but not easier for them. They’d want to look after you, and they’d be giving up their own fun to do it. You won’t ruin their holiday because you’ve got the sniffles. 

“Hey, if you lay back I can give you a mermaid torso too.” 

You frown. “Don’t mermaids have human torsos?” 

“Yeah, but with a seashell bra.” 

Before you can come up with an excuse for why you don’t want to lie down and let Sirius cover you up to your neck in sand, James comes bounding over. He’s dripping wet dangerously near to Remus, who pulls his book closer with a reproachful look. 

“No one wants to come out in the water with me?” James asks. 

Sirius pouts at him. “You need a playmate, babe?” 

“Yeah, I do actually.” 

“Too bad. Get the sun to be nicer to me, and I’ll come out.”

“Why is that my job?” James looks to you, pleading. “Come on, lovie. You haven’t been in the water nearly this whole time. Do you really want to go home without having been in the ocean?” 

Guilt eats at you. “I’m okay,” you say, apology in your tone. “I’m having a good time here.” 

“Why don’t you go for a little while?” asks Remus. You hadn’t realized he was paying attention. “Just to say you did.” 

“Don’t make me carry you out there,” James teases. 

You try to smile before eating the last piece of your cone. “Okay,” you say, “just for a little while.” 

“Fine.” Sirius throws up his hands as though he’s lost a long and onerous argument. “If you’re going to leave me here with boring old Remus” —he drops a wink, though Remus only rolls his eyes— “I’ll come too.” 

James half drags you both to the water, you and Sirius grimacing at the sun for different reasons. The water isn’t terribly cold, but you shiver still, grateful when James pulls you close before starting to make his way out to a sandbar he found this morning.

Only, the sandbar seems to have gone away further than where he left it. James and Sirius don’t mind, laughing and splashing each other and trying to coax you into their games. You smile tersely, using all your energy to continue swimming. You’ve gone far enough out that the tips of your toes are barely skimming the sand, though when you turn around Remus and your umbrella really don’t appear so far away. 

It’s because you’ve turned to look that the wave takes you by surprise. 

You’re underwater in an instant, thrown head over heels and tumbling like a piece of litter caught in the tide. You choke on saltwater. It takes you what feels like forever to figure out which way is up, but then you push down on the sea floor, shoving yourself towards the surface. 

You emerge coughing. Sea water streaming from your nose and mouth, tears welling in your eyes. It stings. 

You hear the boys laughing, James’ warm hand landing between your shoulders. He rubs consolingly. 

“Aw, sorry, lovie. It happens. That really took you down, huh?” 

You try to laugh along with them, but it’s hard when saltwater seems to flow endlessly from your nose. You realize at the same time as James that it’s not all saltwater. 

“Whoa. Needed a purge, did you?”

“Sorry.” You wipe your nose on your arm, rinsing it off in the water. You feel disgusting and embarrassed. 

“No, don’t be.” James palms your face, smiling as he wipes the couple of tears that have escaped your eyes. “This is what saltwater does. It cleans out your nasal passages. It’s a good thing, getting all the muck out.” 

You’re about to respond with something equally positive when you sneeze violently. More snot comes out of your nose. 

“Shit, baby,” says Sirius. “You were really clogged up. You feeling sick or something?” 

You think that maybe it could be a joke, but your guilty expression gives you away. 

James blinks. “Really?” 

“I’m fine,” you say. You know it’s not very convincing when you’re trying and failing to stop the globs of mucus leaving your nostrils. 

“You’re sick.” Sirius sounds aghast. “For how long? Why didn’t you say?”

“A couple days,” you admit, “but it’s really not bad. I didn’t want to ruin everyone’s fun.” 

“Ruin everyone’s fun,” Sirius repeats, muttering. He pulls you into a hug, mindless of the snot getting on his shoulder. “You are the fun, baby.” 

You nearly snort. “Not like this.” 

“Did you ever think that maybe I like making you tea and bossing you around? Hm? Did it occur to you that that might be fun for me?” 

“I think it’s occurred to all of us that being bossy is fun for you, babe,” says James. His smile has a pitying edge as he begins to shepherd you both back towards the shore. “Come on, let’s go.” 

“Please don’t let my cold mess this up for you,” you plead.

Sirius gives you a stern look. “Shush.” 

“Angel, how could it?” James asks in a nicer tone. “We’ll still be together, won’t we?” 

[gojosconsort]

loved ur older bf toji i need one for nanami RIGHT NEOW

OLDER BF!KENTO ♡ // HEADCANONS

⁀➷ CONTENT. you're kento’s sweet little controversial younger girlfirend.

♡ PAIRING. afab!reader x older bf!kento

♡ WARNINGS. mdni. age gap, bondage, fingering, spanking, oral sex, unprotected sex, deepthroating, rough sex, praise kink, size kink, cum, possessiveness, praise and degradation.

♡ AUTHOR’S NOTE. my frist request! hope you like it <3

older bf!kento who meets you at a quiet café where you’re a part-time barista, fumbling an order because you’re distracted by his looks (understandably). he tips generously, leaving a handwritten note with his number on the receipt.

older bf!kento who takes you out for a proper dinner that first night, all gentlemanly charm, but later pins you against his car in the parking lot, kissing you hard and murmuring, “been wanting this all damn night,” before sliding his hand under your dress.

older bf!kento who’s huge—like, damn, how’s that gonna fit?—but he’s so good with it. takes his time, easing into you inch by inch, whispering, “you’re taking me so well, baby, fuck, you’re amazing—doesn’t hurt, right?” and it doesn’t, ‘cause he’s so slick with the prep.

older bf!kento who smirks when you’re sore the next day, kissing your forehead and saying, “slept well? you’re so beautiful like this,” meaning fucked out. then he’s making you breakfast, all casual like he didn’t just ruin you the night before.

older bf!kento who walks you home after every date, even if it’s just down the street, holding your hand and chatting about random things. he lingers at your door, kissing your forehead soft and slow, saying, “sleep tight, darling.”

older bf!kento who brings you to his place after a long day, cooking you dinner—then bends you over the kitchen counter, hiking your skirt up, and fucking you deep and hard, whispering, “good girls get rewarded.”

older bf!kento who surprises you with a weekend getaway to a secluded cabin with a “pack light” instructions—only to spend half the trip with you naked across his lap, spanking you for teasing him by the fireplace, then fingering you ‘til you’re a whimpering mess.

older bf!kento who meets your friends at a chill hangout, and they pull you aside, “isn’t he kinda old for you?” you shrug and say, “yeah, but he fucks too good,” as a joke while he sips his drink, pretending he didn’t hear and prove to you later that he fucks you more than good.

older bf!kento who loves to strip you down to just his oversized dress shirt, then tosses you on the bed, and eats you out like a man starved—holding your thighs down when you squirm, saying, “stay still, princess, i’m not done.”

older bf!kento who’s always got a hand on your knee when you’re in his car, loving how small you look next to him—like his little passenger princess who doesn’t need to lift a finger.

older bf!kento who loves when you deepthroat him after a long day, sitting back in his armchair, watching you struggle to take all of him. he doesn’t help, just pets your hair and says, “you take me so good.”

older bf!kento who gets mistaken for a professor when he picks you up from a college class you’re auditing. he plays along, then pins you to his couch later, making you choke on his cock while he lectures, “good girls swallow.”

older bf!kento who gets quite jealous when some young coworker flirts with you at a work event. later, he’s got your wrists tied, pinning you to the hotel wall, fucking you rough, “think that kid can handle you? say my name louder,” then spanks you for good measure.

older bf!kento who’s waiting outside when you stumble out late from a girls’ night, frowning ‘til he sees you’re safe. he opens the car door for you, saying, “next time, you call me sooner—i don’t like you out here alone.”

older bf!kento who tucks you in when you fall asleep on the couch, lifting you gently to bed and brushing hair from your face with a quiet, “can’t have my baby all twisted up out here.”

older bf!kento who takes you to a stuffy work dinner where his colleagues whisper about “bringing someone so young,” but he just grips your thigh under the table, murmuring, “let ‘em talk.” because he genuinely doesn’t care.

older bf!kento who loves when you’re bratty, pinning you down and spanking your pussy ‘til it’s dripping, then filling you up wiht a low, “this what you were after, huh? my attention—fucking take it then.”

older bf!kento who ties you up with his tie after you tease him one too many times, binding your hands behind your back and bending you over before he pounds into you from behind, “tease me again, and i’ll leave you like this all night—fuck, you’re tight.”

older bf!kento who loves to tie you up in his bedroom—black ropes crisscrossing your torso, arms bound tight behind your back, legs spread and tied to the bedframe, and then fucks you from behind, “you’re a fucking beautiful like this—can’t move, can you? good.”

older bf!kento who wakes you up with slow morning sex, pinning your wrists behind your back and fucking you lazy and deep, always ending with a shuddered, “gotta cum inside you—shit, baby, you’re mine, feel it.” he stays buried in you after, kissing your neck all sweet while his cum drips out of you.

[minswriting]

LEOTARDS AND STRETCHES - A.H x Reader

About: You’re a ballerina and Aaron visits you in the dance studio.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, ballerina!reader, public sex, unprotected sex, p in v, aaron talks you through it, fluff and smut fr

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Border is made by @esote-rika ! This one shot was a request from a LONG time ago and I finally got to writing it. It’s not the greatest but I hope you enjoy nonetheless! Not proof read because that’s for losers, obviously.

Being a ballerina, you were used to moving your body around in different ways, ensuring to captured the essence of the dance you were doing. Rigorous days of training, breaking into different point shoes every time you danced, and moving your body in such a way that you moved with fluidity was hard sometimes. And yet, other times it was great.

And here you were, in the studio, practicing a dance to Swan Lake. Your body moved smoothly as you allowed the music to guide you, dancing on your toes and doing crazy spins that no one outside of this profession would be able to do. And when the song finished, you heard the sound of clapping. You looked in the mirror of the studio, seeing your handsome boyfriend standing in the doorway.

“Aaron,” You grinned, turning around to face him.

“You were wonderful as always, my dear,” Aaron spoke in that soft tone that you adored so much as he had a smile on his face. He looked exhausted, as he usually does after coming back from a case. He walked over to you, placing his hands on your hips and kissing your lips in greeting which you happily kissed back.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, tilting your head. “You don’t usually visit me in the studio.”

Aaron hummed, nodding his head. “I tried to call but you weren’t answering your phone. We finished a case early and I figured I’d just come here instead,” he said, kissing your lips once more.

You let out a low chuckle against Aaron’s lips, putting your arms around Aaron’s neck. His grip on you tightened, pulling you closer to him. What was a seemingly innocent kiss quickly turned into something more passionate as the two of you moved in sync. Truth be told, it had been a bit since the two of you had seen one another and had been intimate with one another. With Aaron working crazy hours and you currently practicing for a performance, it’s been hard for your schedules to line up other than phone calls and FaceTime sex. And while phone sex is very hot with Aaron, you wholeheartedly missed the real thing.

Aaron pulled away from the kiss, moving his lips to your neck. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed against your skin, pressing himself against you.

You made a soft noise, your fingers moving to Aaron’s hair. “I’ve missed you too,” you murmured, tilting your head to give Aaron more access as you felt his erection pressing against your thigh. The two of you were needy for each other.

Aaron was careful not to mark you, keeping himself to only kissing your neck rather than nipping at it. You had a performance to get ready for, after all, and he didn’t want to hinder you in any way. “I want you,” he murmured.

“Then have me,” you replied.

And that’s how you ended up with your tights thrown somewhere in the room and your leotard pulled to the side with Aaron’s cock buried inside of you. You had one leg pointed upwards as your hand gripped the barre next to the mirror. Aaron had a hand on your hip, keeping you steady, while the other hand helped keep your leg up. Aaron’s pants were only opened enough for his cock to be free as he pounded into you.

The dance studio was filled with the sounds of your moans and slapping of skin. Luckily, you were the only person who had access to the studio this late otherwise, it would’ve been a wild scene for someone to stumble into. “Aaron,” you moaned as his cock plunged into you.

“My beautiful girl,” He groaned, thrusting his hips. “You feel so good wrapped around me.”

“Missed this so much,” You said shakily, eyes closing in pleasure.

“Me too, sweetheart,” Aaron replied, his breathing harsh.

After a few minutes, Aaron pulled out, causing you to whine from the loss of contact. But you knew it was simply due to him wanting to change positions. He helped you put your leg down before turning you around, tapping your other leg to go onto the barre and stretch out. Once you were in position, Aaron entered you once more, causing your breath to hitch.

The position allowed for a deeper penetration as his cock grazed your g-spot. Aaron gained a rhythm once more, fucking you faster and harder than before. “Oh fuck,” you whimpered, eyes fluttering shut from the pleasure of the new position. Your lips were parted in an “o” shape and your eyebrows furrowed.

Aaron groaned, pressing himself deep inside of you before pulling out and doing it again. “You’re so wet, sweetheart,” he said, licking his lips. He looked at you in the mirror, seeing the way your face contorted with pleasure. “Do you feel good, baby? Am I making you feel good?”

“Uh-huh,” you said, nodding your head. You opened your eyes to see Aaron already looking at you. “Feels so good, Aaron, oh my god.”

Aaron grunted, feeling the way your walls tightened around him, signaling that you were close. “My sweet girl,” he said, moving a bit faster. “You’re so close, aren’t you? Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Yes,” you let out a choked moan, feeling that familiar heat building inside of you. “I’m so close, Aaron.”

“Good girl,” Aaron cooed. “Go ahead and cum for me.”

The nickname was all you needed before you moaned loudly, clamping your walls around Aaron’s cock. Your body tensed as your orgasm washed over you, moaning Aaron’s name in a mantra. After only giving yourself orgasms for the last two weeks, being able to cum from Aaron’s cock alone was needed. Aaron followed suit, his hips stuttering and cock stiffening inside of you before he began filling you with his cum, pressing himself further in you.

And when the two of you were finished, Aaron pulled out, putting your leotard back into place before helping you out of the position you were in. The two of you were in a state of bliss, finally grateful to have had one another after what felt like so long. After a few minutes of heavy breathing and basking in the post-orgasmic feeling, you turned to look at Aaron, a goofy smile on your lips. “We just had sex in a dance studio,” you giggled.

Aaron laughed, nodding his head. “Indeed we did.”

After that, late night rendezvous to the dance studio after a case became more frequent for Aaron and you certainly didn’t mind at all.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Beyond Misconceptions

summary: joaquin is usually the poster child for positivity, but sometimes the doubt creeps in.

pairing: joaquin torres x f!reader

contents: angst, jealous/insecure!joaquin, arguing, depictions of anxiety

wc: 1,675

an: based on this requested concept! it went a bit different than expected but i hope yall still enjoy <3 (and also hope it will hold yall over until vuelve pt. v is done!!!)

danny ramirez characters masterlist

Most of the time, Joaquin loves his job. He loves the brother he’s found in Sam, the tangible way he sees himself helping people day in and day out. The feeling of soaring through the sky, the invincibility that he seems to find in the wind.

But, what Joaquin doesn’t love about the job is the rift that it can sometimes create between you. One could say he’s being dramatic by using the word rift— you have never once complained, never made him feel guilty for the unpredictability of his schedule.

You always tell him that you know what you signed up for when you fell in love with him. And you do.

Joaquin is certainly grateful for your love and understanding, but it’s days like today that make him want to find some 9-5 to nurse.

When he steps into the party you two were meant to attend together an hour and a half late, he’s eager to see you. That eagerness twists into something ugly when he sees you. You, standing in a group, but primarily talking to some guy he doesn’t recognize.

You look…happy. Happy to be talking with a guy who showed up on time. With a guy who doesn’t put his life on the line, and your relationship on hold at the drop of a hat.

He can’t decide what he wants to do more— leave and let you be happy or put himself between you and this mystery guy.

As if you can feel him, you glance over in his direction, lighting up at the sight of him. That restless mix of jealousy and guilt fades a little with you so excited to see him.

“Quino,” You call to him, waving him over. When he makes it to you, you reach for his hand immediately, drawing him so that you can place a kiss on his cheek. “Made in one piece, I see, cariño.”

“Siempre lo hago,” he murmurs, snaking an arm around your waist. “So who’s this?”

You introduce Joaquin to the guy easily, slipping him into the conversation without missing a beat. Paul. Joaquin nods along, lets you pull him closer, listens as you chat, and laughs like nothing is wrong. Like he wasn’t late. Like you weren’t having a perfectly good time without him.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you. He does. It’s just that tonight feels like a reminder of everything he isn’t—someone who shows up on time, someone whose job doesn’t put you second. And maybe it’s stupid, maybe it doesn’t matter, but it still twists something sharp in his chest.

His grip tightens just slightly on your waist. You glance up at him, brows furrowing in quiet question, but he just shakes his head, forcing a small smile. You don’t push, but something in your gaze lingers. You know him too well. You always do.

You’re driving the two of you home, music spilling softly out of the speaker when you decide to break the tension that’s been building.

“So what was that?”

“What was what?”

“You were being…possessive?” The word comes out of your mouth like a question because you’re not entirely sure. Nothing like this has ever happened with Joaquin— it’s unfamiliar territory.

“Claro que no,” he insists.

You have to force yourself not to roll your eyes. “Yeah, because that wasn’t defensive at all.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Your eyes flicker over at him momentarily, and you soften at his visible tension. You’re gentler when you speak again, “Soy yo, Quino. We don’t lie to each other, we don’t do this… jealous thing that you did tonight. I don’t know that guy, I probably won’t ever see him again and I’m fine with that.”

“It wasn’t about that.”

“Oh, but it was about something? What could I have possibly done when I hadn’t seen you in days?”

“Querida— you didn’t do anything— it’s not… I don’t know what you want me to say.”

You purse your lips, feeling a little frustrated. “I want you to tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours. And if you can’t now, then think about it and we’ll talk about it before bed. Deal?”

The silence stretches between you, the music sounding much louder in the wake of your breaths.

Eventually, Joaquin says begrudgingly, “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

“What do you want?”

“You,” He says softly, and nothing more.

—

Once you and Joaquin get home, you don’t push. You refuse to when he’s being so elusive, so guarded in a way he’s never been. You aren’t really sure what to do with it and it makes your stomach churn. You make your way straight to the shower without so much of a glance in his direction.

Joaquin wants to call after you, but can’t find his voice. Not a surprise when he feels his mind is completely scrambled.

All of this has tilted you off your axis. You make sure the water is scalding hot, hoping that the steam will steep out your thoughts of insecurity and unease. By the time you make it out, it just feels like they’ve grown louder, rooting deeper into your brain stem.

You make your way into the kitchen, walking past Joaquin where he’s sat on the couch. He watches you quietly as you make tea, unsure if you still want to talk or if he’s created the catalyst for his worst fear; losing you.

“So are we gonna talk about it or are you gonna keep staring at me?”

“Mi amor—“

You huff as you sit the chair across from him, “No, don’t mi amor me when you won’t even tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s not that I won’t, it’s that—“

“If you say you can’t, Joaquin, te juro por Dios.”

“I was gonna say that I’m struggling to figure out how. There’s too much up here, you know that. Usually, it’s just cheery.”

“I’m not asking you to be cheery, I’m asking you to be honest.”

Joaquin sighs, leaning forward to place his face in his hands. “When I saw you with him, I just— it made me wonder if you deserve better than me.”

Your brow furrows. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Sure it does.”

“Enlighten me.”

“You’re in a relationship with a man you’re going to outlive. I’m never home, I’m always late as hell. Every day I force you to wait— for me or for a call that’ll break your heart. Don’t you think you deserve somebody that can be there for you? Someone, you aren’t afraid of losing every damn day?”

“I knew what I was getting into when I chose to start this with you. I know that you want to be around and be more consistent, but Quino, you’re out there saving the world. I can’t ask you to put down your dreams because you missed the first hour of a party.”

“I‘ve missed more than just an hour of a party. What happens when it’s our wedding? Or if you get sick? What if you need me and I miss something big? That guy, he could give you that.”

You lean forward, reaching across the coffee table to place your hand over his. “Then we’ll reschedule. Or my parents will take care of me. Or I’ll need you and I’ll be really sad that you’re not there but eventually, you will be. I don’t give a fuck about that guy. I don’t even remember his name. What I do remember, is how much I love you and how long it took me to have the courage to tell you that.”

Joaquin looks down at your hands before interlacing your fingers together. Your words soothe him even as he wrestles with the fact that he wants to give you more. He’ll try to give you more— you deserve it and so does the health of your relationship.

“Are you sure?”

“Are you?” you challenge, wanting him to truly think about it.

There are things about your relationship with Joaquin that are less than ideal and certainly compromise but that’s part of love. Compromising and making things work with the people that you love. Joaquin is loyal, loving, and tender; he always makes you laugh and takes your feelings seriously. He just happens to be a superhero, one you have to share with the world.

How selfish would it be to take him away from people that need him?

He squeezes your hand reassuringly, “I’m sure. ¿Me dirás si algo cambia?”

“Lo prometo.”

Joaquin leans back into the couch, patting his lap, “Ven.”

You quickly make your way to sit in his lap, wrapping both your arms around his neck as you let your legs dangle across the couch.

“Te amo, princesa.”

“I know, I love you too,” you murmur, running a hand affectionately through his hair.

Joaquin’s eyes fall to your lips, and when he finally leans in, his mouth brushes yours softly, a quiet promise that everything will be okay. His thumb traces your cheek, and it feels like all the unsaid words are finally spoken in the wax and wane of this gentle kiss. You close your eyes, grounding yourself in the feeling of him, of home. As he pulls back slightly, his forehead rests against yours, his breath shaky, and you both linger there, knowing that in this moment, everything is enough.

After several moments of silence, Joaquin’s lips find your ear, “Paul.”

You lean away from where you’d gotten comfortable on his chest to look at him quizzically. “What?”

“The guy’s name— fucking Paul.”

You laugh, shaking the both of you. “I’ve already forgotten again. I’m more focused on this marriage you’ve mentioned.”

“I’m thinking under the cherry blossoms.”

“You should think about the blow your bank account is gonna take getting me a ring.”

Joaquin raises a brow at you, “Who says I don’t already have it, hermosa?”

You squint at him— usually, you’re pretty good at telling if he’s bluffing but his features are smoothed into the perfect poker face. “You lying?”

“Guess you’ll just have to find out, baby.”

lmk if you'd like to be on the sfw (or nsfw for 18+) joaquin taglist!

sfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @moonymeloncholymoney

[cherryyluvs]

Hi just discovered your blog and I love it❤️ can I request a mark Grayson with a s/o who's the batman of their universe like she's a rich girl and a playboy(girl?) like in the public but at night she's the dark knight and it's a regular human with the skills of batman. I just find it funny if he's like "omg the batman/dark knight is it true your vampire or what kind of powers and reader is like 🦇 "no I'm human" and he's like 🤨 since he saw her knee kick the air out of a guy for jaywalking and break the ribs of 5 guys for littering without a sweat also how they would work as a duo maybe she gains a robin?

Thank you! I love this idea so much!! ♡⸜(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)⸝♡ I had so much fun writing it I hope this lives up to your expectations — hope you enjoy!! 🦇💕

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .

Rich girl by day, Dark knight by night. Mark was aware that you were wealthy and kind of a big deal in the social scene. Designer outfits? Attending exclusive parties ? Fancy galas? Driving expensive sports cars? Yeah everything about you screams rich.

Mark had some suspicion on you, but when he found out he was SHOOK! You?? The masked vigilante everyone in the city feared? “Wait.. you're the one who put those 3 guys in the hospital last week?” You’d shrugged it off “They had it coming”

“What kind of powers do you have?” He would deadass think you had some kind of supernatural ability. Maybe vampirism? Super strength??? Nope! Just peak human conditioning and a lot of training. “So you're human?” “Yep” “…And you're doing all of this?” “Mhm” “Jesus Christ”

When he first watched you in action his jaw was on the floor, taking 6 guys in under a minute – one well placed knee kick, backflip, and some nice creative use of grappling hook. Mark just floated above you like =͟͟͞͞(꒪ᗜ꒪‧̣̥̇) “You… you just–” “Yeah” “And you're–” “Human”

He finds it funny with how different you are when you're in your dark knight mode versus your public person. Seeing you at a charity gala and that same night you’re taking down a drug ring in the city’s back alleys.

He pictures you in a fancy dress but when you suit up as the dark knight he's like “Hold up, that's the same person?!”

You’re always on the arm of a new date, you use it as a way to cover your work, making it easier to explain why you're out all hours of the night. Mark lowkey gets jealous, even though he knows it all means nothing. “So.. dinner with that tech billionaire last night?” “He was boring” “Sure, sure. Guess i'll just have to keep an eye on you” (๑>؂•̀๑)

He 100% talks about you to the Guardians of the Globe all the time. “Yeah my girlfriend? Took down 8 guys by herself last night. No big deal” Rex: "isn’t she human?" “Yeah that's the crazy part!”

You’re always teasing him, running a finger down his chest, leaning in close wherever you talk to him. Mark pretends he's unaffected but his jaw clenching when you call him handsome says otherwise. He tries to flirt back but c'mon you're too good at the game.

Training together, Mark would BEG you to train him in hand to hand combat. He would get frustrated with you wiping the floor with him despite his super strength. “How are you so fast??”

The media loves them. Headlines like “Dark knight And Her Flying Sidekick Strike Again!” “Who is the Dark Knight’s New Partner?” Mark hates being called the sidekick but you just laugh it off and say “Well you are following my lead” “I’m not your sidekick” “Sure you aren't Grayson”

You and Mark have different fighting styles but somehow it works. He's more of brute strength and super speed, punching enemies. While you're all about precision, calculated strikes and exploiting weak points. You're the planner and he's the muscle, mapping out the enemy’s territory. He follows your lead even if he pretends he doesn't but he listens when you give orders.

Once the night’s work is done you both linger in the dark or on top of rooftops. Mark leans against the wall staring at the stars with you by his side. “Same time tomorrow?" “Only if you try to to get yourself killed” But you'll both be there

[yungistiny]

GAMEBOY ═ chapter two

[ J. Yunho ]

chapter two: flirting?

╚═════════

summary: yunho has no idea that his neighbor across the hall, the same one he’s had a crush on, was his arch nemesis behind a headset

warning: dom yunho, bratty/sub reader, slight orgothumophilia, masturbation, unprotected sex, spanking, choking, degradation, overstimulation, oral, sexting, more will be added

pairing: gamer yunho x gamer afab reader

genre: smut, romance, angst, drama

word count: 1.7k

chapter one

chapter three coming soon

masterlist

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Yunho was waiting on live, waiting for San, their other streamer friend Jongho and Juniper. He reached for his redbull, the taurine taste tangy on his tongue.

Finally, after waiting fifteen minutes mind you, the others joined him. Yunho had to lock in now, watch his tongue. He couldn’t say too much, couldn’t say what he really wanted to say without getting banned.

“Come on guys,” Juniper’s voice was dripping with teasing brattiness. “You know Yunho gets impatient, he must be a three minute man.” San and Jongho were both trying not to laugh, their snorts and snickering echoing in Yunho’s headset.

Yunho poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, his words left him before he could stop himself. “Keep getting on my nerves and I’ll show you how long I can last.” He froze for a second after he said it. The chat on the side blowing up, the other three now dead silent through the headset.

From her end, y/n too was frozen. Because how does she respond to that? Her heart racing, thighs clenching together under her desk at the way Yunho’s voice dropped just a tad deeper when he said it.

Yunho had to bite his lip to keep from smirking. He finally found a way to shut her up. The first hour they played, Juniper was quiet, throwing in a few remarks here and there at San and Jongho getting killed. By the second hour, after a much needed bathroom break, Yunho found he was actually missing the bickering.

He waited until Juniper got killed, taking a sip of his third redbull before grinning. “What’s wrong, brat, you seem off your game tonight?” His voice was deeper, teasing, mocking. The exact same way she would do him. Jongho snickered which seemed to annoy her.

Y/N ignored the way he said brat, the way she liked hearing him call her that. She wasn’t used to him teasing her back, it’s why she hadn’t started on him yet. By the halfway point into their second hour of streaming, San and Jongho had had enough. It was funny a little when it was just Yunho getting teased, but now, he was feeding into it. Teasing her back, at this point borderline flirting.

They were even playing good together. Like really good. The chat was even making jokes that the two of them were dating from the way they were acting. “Should start calling you plug with the way you’re constantly up my ass.”

Yunho smirked as he successfully took out two opposing players back to back. He was actually enjoying the little back and forth this time. Maybe he should have joined her a long time ago? “If I was up your ass you’d know it.”

“Maybe we should all log off and leave the two of you to test that theory.” Jongho teased, snorting in amusement and cursing under his breath when he got killed.

“How could he?” Yunho was just about to gain his highest score, highest rank, as Juniper’s voice dropped, something familiar in it. “He’s so big he wouldn’t fit.”

Yunho got killed. His entire winning streak gone just like that. He couldn’t even concentrate anymore, her words were on repeat in his head. Her voice. Why did it sound so familiar?

“Ok..” He cleared his throat. “I think I’m getting tired.” It wasn’t a total lie, he was still pretty tired from all the streaming he’s done the last few days, but he was actually just trying to go fix the problem that was now in his sweatpants.

Yunho closed his eyes, sighing when the stream ended. He sat there for a minute in his gaming chair, hoping his problem would just go away. A notification came from his phone, a new dm from twitter. He was curious suddenly, he didn’t allow anyone to just be able to message him, he had to following them back.

He hesitated opening it, the username, the @, staring back at him being the reason his dick was now a prominent bulge in his sweats. Juniper. He had forgotten they followed each other, Yunho only going on twitter to post when he’s streaming or to drop some random thought here and there, he wasn’t very active.

Juniper [ you better not leave me on read ]

Yunho was stuck. He’s never talked to her outside of streaming before. Not to mention how hard he was at the moment because of her.

Yunho [ what do you want? ]

Juniper [ rude ]

Yunho was mid typing, tongue darted out to wet his lips when another reply from her popped up and if his dick wasn’t already hard it certainly would have been now.

Juniper [ I want you to put me on my knees. I want you to fuck my face. I want you to ruin my fucking throat ]

Fuck. Yunho deleted what he was going to send, thumbs typing quickly, dick twitching in his sweats.

Yunho [ what was that you said earlier? I’m too big? You wouldn’t even be able to fit me in that smartass mouth of yours ]

Y/N stared at his reply, laying in her bed now that the stream was over. She was starting to get little snippets of Yunho she never thought she would. Well, Juniper was. Their bickering earlier slowly turned into them flirting, at least, she had been anyway.

But what does she do? If Yunho now liked Juniper, where does that leave y/n? She was Juniper but he didn’t know that. He had no idea the girl he was practically sexting was his friend. His neighbor right across the hall.

Juniper [ you’ve thought about it haven’t you ]

Thought about it? Yunho might of gotten himself off once thinking about it. The thought of shutting her up by making her gag on him, make her take his entire length and size in her mouth. Make her choke on it until she’s begging him to pull out. He’s never even seen her face before but fuck he knew she’d look so good with his dick down her throat.

Before Yunho could type out a response, Wooyoung’s voice echoed into his room, his bedroom door left open. “I brought takeout.” And though Yunho ate earlier, after hours streaming and all the caffeine in his system, he was starving again.

“I got sushi.” Wooyoung gestured towards the tray on the kitchen counter when Yunho trudged in and out of his room. “Don’t.” Yunho warned his roommate who noticed the bulge still in his sweats. He knew Wooyoung already had a sarcastic ass remark to his predicament waiting on his sharp tongue.

Wooyoung snickered, holding his hands up as if to say he came in peace.

He’d tease him about it later.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Yunho finally got some sleep Wednesday, thirteen hours. It was past 3:00 pm when he woke up. His hair a mess, lips puffy. He dragged his feet to the bathroom, relieving himself, washing his hands. He quickly brushed his teeth and ran a comb through his hair.

He was rubbing at his eyes, yawning, unlocking his phone and opening twitter to his dms. The last message Juniper sent sat there staring back at him.

Juniper [ I bet you like it when I tease you. you probably get off on that shit ]

They had been messaging each other since she sent that first one. Each message becoming more dirtier, crossing a line they can’t come back from. They hadn’t streamed together again yet, and Yunho had no idea how he could just go back to bickering with her back and forth after what they’ve said to each other the last two days.

Yunho [ get off on the thought of shutting you up by making you choke, take my dick in that bratty ass mouth of yours ]

Juniper [ I bet you’d be so heavy on my tongue you’d have to grip my hair to hold me up so I could take it ]

Fuck. How much longer could he go like this? Sexting a girl he’s never seen face to face before. A girl that not a couple of days ago was the biggest pain in his ass and now all he wanted to do was ruin her.

He didn’t get a chance to type back a reply as his phone began ringing, the marvel theme song making him jump slightly in surprise after been so caught up in Juniper. Y/N name stared back at him along with her contact picture, one Yunho took of her at the New Year’s party Wooyoung had thrown. One where she was smiling and giggling into a glass of wine.

Shit! How had he almost forgotten it was Wednesday? Their Wednesday. “Y/N, hey…” why did he sound breathless? Did Juniper’s messages really affect him that bad?

“I’m getting the soju but I can’t decide what to get us to eat for our binge watch.” Why did y/n sound…. different? Her voice was…. huskier, almost sounding breathless like Yunho’s own and a little…. familiar? There was something about her voice in that moment that Yunho couldn’t quite figure out that reminded him of something….. “I could get pizza? You choose.”

“Ummm…” Yunho shook his head, he was just spacing out, still half asleep, at least that’s what he told himself anyways. “Let’s do pizza.”

“Pizza it is!” Y/N voice no longer sounded different, Yunho officially putting off onto him still not being fully awake yet seeing as how he had only gotten out of bed like maybe twenty minutes ago. “I’ll see you later.”

Later. Good. It’ll give Yunho time to take a cold shower and deal with the raging hard on he once again had because of Juniper.

Y/N was also having a predicament. Wet patch staining her panties as she parked her car outside of a local pizza place. How the hell was she supposed to act normal around Yunho after all the things they’ve said to each other?

All the things he told Juniper? All the dirty little details he wanted to do to her.

It was gonna be a long night.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

permanent tag list: @straycat420 @autieofthevalley @dejatiny @hannahlilibet411 @xh01bri @jintastic-yuyu @maddycline @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @wooyoungsbrat @lucid-galaxys-world @ateezswonderland @therealcuppicake @aerangi @delulu4yuyu @hyuninslutbbgirl

[pinecavity]

You weren’t supposed to care. Not really, anyway. It was just Caleb. Just your silly older “brother,” always teasing, always calling you “pipsqueak” like it was some title you’d never outgrow. But that stupid image—him leaning against the fence outside your house, hands shoved in his pockets, a girl in front of him all bright-eyed and hopeful—was burned into your mind. You didn’t even stick around long enough to hear him turn her down, didn’t see the way he scratched the back of his head with a grimace and muttered, “Yeah, not really my thing, sorry.”

All you knew was that some girl—some pretty, older high school girl—wanted Caleb.

And that was enough to ruin your entire week.

At first, you tried to brush it off. Tried to pretend like it didn’t matter, like it didn’t make your stomach feel weird and tight. But then the questions started creeping in, relentless and awful.

Did he like her?

Did he think she was pretty too?

How many other girls have asked him out before?

What if he already liked someone?

And before you knew it, you were spiraling.

You got weird. Weird in the way only a teenager with a crush and absolutely no ability to process emotions could be. You started avoiding him, but only in the way that made it really obvious something was wrong—sitting farther away than usual on the couch, suddenly being too busy to hang out, giving clipped, single-word answers whenever he asked about your day.

Caleb noticed. Of course, he noticed. And it drove him insane.

It took exactly three days before he finally had enough. You were hunched over your lunch tray, stabbing a little too aggressively at your meatloaf when a shadow loomed over you, and then suddenly, Caleb was there, plopping down beside you with all the grace of someone who knew he was about to be annoying.

“Alright,” he said, dragging your tray closer to him just to be obnoxious. “What’s your problem?”

You scowled. “Nothing.”

“Oh, definitely something,” he shot back, unbothered. “You’ve been acting like I kicked your puppy all week.”

“I don’t have a puppy.”

“Yeah, well, if you did, you’d be treating me like I ran it over. So,” he propped his chin on his hand, watching you like a puzzle he was determined to solve, “what gives?”

You gritted your teeth. You refused to bring it up. It was stupid. If you said it out loud, it would make it real, and that was the last thing you wanted.

But Caleb? Oh, he was too good at reading you.

He smirked but didn’t let up. Just kept watching you, waiting, until finally—like a switch flipped—his teasing edge softened, just barely.

“…Is this about the girl?”

Your breath hitched.

Caleb noted it. He filed it away, leaned in, too smug, too entertained.

“Oh,” he grinned, slow and obnoxious. “Ohhh, no way—”

“Shut up,” you snapped, already burning.

“No, no, hold on—” he leaned in, eyes alight with pure, unfiltered amusement. “You’re mad about the girl, aren’t you?”

“I said shut up.”

“Holy shit, Pipsqueak, you are.”

He laughed—laughed. And God, you wanted to disappear.

“I turned her down, you know,” he said, still grinning like this was the best thing to ever happen to him.

You blinked. “…What?”

He rolled his eyes, nudging your foot under the table. “Not really my thing.”

And just like that—just from those four words, from the casual way he said it, like it wasn’t a big deal, like it never was—you felt your entire world tilt back into place.

You hated him. You hated how easily he could do this to you, how just one sentence could make all that awful, twisting insecurity vanish.

But at the same time…

God, you loved him, too.

[grimmsbride]

just a little thought:

what kink would all invincible/mark variants collectively have?

overstimulation

and I don’t mean just the typical overstimulation. I mean borderline painful

mainstream! mark — in good will; wants to make you feel mind-boggling pleasure for days

mohawk! mark — pure evil; wants nothing more than to leave you breathless, senseless, mindless, and completely mind-broken

omni! mark — dominance; as a means to show you who is in charge and WILL remind you about that no matter how much you’re sobbing uncontrollably

sinister! mark — pain; he wants you to feel pain, as much as it. he doesn’t care if it’s “too much”, you WILL orgasm how many times he wants

viltrumite! mark — uncaring; you are simply the carrier for his child, whether or not you can keep up doesn’t matter

no goggles! mark — sadistic; he knows you’re fragile, and he can’t help but “accidentally” push you over the edge, every time.

and so on. variant mayhem, more like variant freakhem am i right

𝄃𝄀⠀⠀pxssessive⠀╲ mark + variants ֤ࣨ🫀𖥔 ݁ ˖

summary mark and his variants have very few things in common, the main one being that they simply can not stop at making you come once.

tags overstimulation (ofc) | the variants being jerks | everything purely consensual | dom & sub dynamics (omni!mark) | viltrumite!mark is lowkey mean as hell | pain kink | ooc sorryy | just a little mix of blurbs and headcanons | mentions of blacking out (sinister! mark) | incubator mention (viltrumite! mark) |

notes uhm this took so long for me to write, i’m so sorry 😭, but i wanted to get it done i loved this request the “freakhem” comment had me crying during vacation. i hope you enjoy and please excuse any typos or grammar mistakes

when it comes to sex, mainstream! mark simply doesn’t know how to hold back— his entire objective is to leave you a whimpering, shaking mess. this is especially clear when his mouth is on your pretty cunt.

unfortunately for you, he could sit there for hours.. strong arms wrapped tightly around your thighs, center nice, open, and pliable to his perfect mouth. mainstream!mark is sucking on your swollen bud, tongue gliding across your slit, even driving the thick appendage right into your fluttering hole.

even when you protest about the ache running through your entire body, mainstream!mark simply can not leave you be until your throat is practically sore from how much you’re screaming his name.

“ma—mark, baby, please— i need to breathe!” there’s tears trailing down your reddened cheeks, coating the old trails from just moments ago. your fingers are gliding in his fluffy locks, stuck between bringing him closer and pushing him away— a silent battle between mind and matter.

fuck, do you look so good like this, mainstream! mark could practically come in his pants— grinding right against your bed whilst he came off your clit with a harsh pop; quickly replacing his lips with his thumb.

“i know you have another one for me, baby.. c’mon i got you.” always so encouraging and sweet, tone dripping with honey as he stared at you with those lidded eyes.

eyes that were so hypnotizing, you couldn’t help but give in to his every command. even if it if your “giving in” was nothing more then a whine and you practically shoving his face into your sex.

mainstream!mark would only giggle, hand gliding across your thigh a simple that’s my girl vibrating against your wetness.

. . .

everyone, and i mean everyone knows mohawk!mark is a jerk that does things for his own entertainment. this is especially true during sex.

the man cares for you, in his own twisted away, yet enjoys showing you just how human you truly are.

mohawk!mark will fuck you for hours, maybe even from afternoon to early morning. he doesn’t care, he will use your body to exhaustion all with the shittiest little smile on his face.

always bouncing between positions (doggy, reverse cowgirl, cowgirl, missionary, standing up) nothing is off the table. the man has even fucked you against the window, simply cause he could. you’re too tired to protest anyway.

three.. five? was that how many orgasms that’s ran through your entire body in the past thirty minutes or so? you couldn’t tell, with the way mohawk!mark was practically bullying your sensitive cunt, hands kept tightly at your knees as he pushed them against your chest.

your voice didn’t even sound like your own anymore, completely foreign to you with the way it sounded so raw and dry— throat abused just as much as your poor cervix. and through a glossy gaze you could see the man responsible, the way his eyebrows were pushed close together, a sickeningly sweet grin pulling his lips.

the moment mohawk!mark caught your eyes his smirk only worsened, shoving himself so deep you swore you saw stars.

“you still with me, babe?”

that gave you assurance, trying to reach over and push at his hips, a silent plea to slow down— only for it to trickle down the drain the moment the man swatted your hand away, leaning over your body as his hips snapped against yours without a care.

“nuh uh.. i’m not done with you, not one bit.”

. . .

oh, sweetheart.. what did you do? you know better, right? getting into a relationship with omni!mark, it was made clear from the start the expectations placed upon you. always obeying, quiet when needed, etc..

he wasn’t too hard all the time, you were human after all; the man made an effort to let little things slide.

only this time, he couldn’t. maybe you mouthed off inappropriately, maybe you looked at him in a way he hated, doesn’t matter— all omni!mark knew is you disrespected him, and that wouldn’t slide.

you needed a punishment, one that really drilled into your pretty little head the importance of your roles.

“i—i’m sorry, f—fuck! i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry!” tears are streaming down your face as you shoved it into the mattress below, weak sobs shaking through your entire body as the man abused your fluttering hole.

with each thrust omni!mark was practically fucking you right into the mattress, thick length dragging across your tortured gummy walls in such a steady rhythm you couldn’t even think.

your mouth hung open once again in an attempt to plead your case, only to cry out the moment his hand pushed at your neck from behind and he thrusted sharply right against your cervix.

“i’ve told you before about your mouth..” you would think the man didn’t love you, how his eyes were glaring down at your body, shoving himself into you relentlessly. “you should be thanking me for giving you so many chances..”

before he could give even get it out, gratitude was falling from your lips, wet gasps escaping between each word. omni!mark couldn’t help the way his cock twitched as a result, pulling you up to his chest in one swift motion while thrusting up into you sharply.

“why do i have to punish you for you to behave?”

“i—i’m sorry, i’m sorry!”

“i know. i’ll let you know when i’ve forgiven you.”

. . .

do you think sinister!mark just wakes up with a set number in mind and is like.. that’s how long i plan to torture the human i supposedly care for, no matter how much they protest?

honestly that’s what i think. the man has killed millions without batting an eye, you truly think he’s gonna give a damn about how much you beg for mercy? nope, not at all.

on the contrary sinister!mark simply can’t help getting harder at your instance of a break, cock swelling so much inside you swore he grew a few inches.

“tightening up so fucking much.. shit.. ha— did you black out again?”

amusement is practically dripping from every word that escapes his lips, sinister!mark staring down at you with harsh eyes, enjoying the way you tried so desperately to catch your breath— only to track right back to square one the moment he thrusted into you.

he’s giggling to himself, leaning down close, chest brushing against your own as his lips pressed against your ear.

“you black out again, i’m adding two more.”

you couldn’t help but release a sob, pathetically hitting at his arms in a last ditch effort to disclose how much you hated that idea. sinister!mark is laughing at you, shoving himself so deeply there’s a bulge protruding through your tummy.

he’s quick to snatch your hands, shoving them against the mattress as he bruised your poor walls, eyes staring down at you with so many emotions swirling through his gaze.

“you aren’t escaping this.. not any time soon, anyway.”

. . .

viltrumite!mark is.. probably the least caring out of all of them entirely. sex is fun, sure, but his main purpose is shoving his seed into you to get a kid. he’s ruling the planet with the expectation of spreading his power across dimensions, of course he needs someone to keep up his legacy.

that’s where you come in, his perfect little human partner, the perfect little incubator for his objective.

whenever the man has downtime (which isn’t a lot mind you) you will find yourself under his mercy for hours, filled to the brim with his seed so much you’re wondering if your stomach is bulging at this point. he’s quick to shove every drop back in, even having the decency to research which positions is best to get a kid.

“mark.. mark please..” you’re crying at this point, overstimulated and filled to the brim, sweat trickling down your body. however your calls of his name are falling on deaf ears, viltrumite!mark not even focused on you, but instead your pussy.

he’s pulling his hips back, spotting the sticky ring of combined juices around the base of his dick, gaze focusing on the way his seed was dribbling down to your taint.

the man is clicking his tongue, eyebrows pushed close as he gave a particularly hard thrust into your cunt.

“stay in..” viltrumite!mark mutters, as if lecturing your pussy, throughly expecting it to obey his command. his hands are tight on your thighs, legs tossed over his shoulders as he fucked into you.

he doesn’t even stop the moment you reach for his hip, instead allowing his harsh gaze to drop to your features, as if confused on why you were touching him.

“ma—“

“we will stop when i, say so. until then, quit moving.”

. . .

no goggles! mark knows no bounds. his sadomasochism is always shining, especially during sex. when he learned what overstimulation was — or rather learned the reactions he could get from you during it — every single time the two of you have sex, he’s pushing you to the brink; abusing your body so greedily, a perfect toss between pleasure and pain.

even when you beg, cry, sob— the man is only giggling above you, maybe even planting the wettest kiss to your already damp cheeks. it doesn’t help he’s encouraging too, sickeningly sweet words that don’t match the way his hips are slapping against your own without a care for your body.

speaking of, it’s trembling at this point from the aftershocks; running from your head to your toes in an ache you simply couldn’t describe. you were breathing manually at this point, splotches of black invading your already blurry vision.

you’re reaching out for your lover, blindly, hand raising about only to wince the moment no goggles! mark snatched it, linking your fingers, and shoving it to the mattress.

“can’t take it can you?..” the man is muttering, hissing in delight the moment he felt your nails drag across his skin, eyes wildly soaking in the way your swollen lips pulled into a pout, whining for mercy.

yet he doesn’t give it to you, no, he simply can’t— not with the way you look beyond delicious under his mercy.

no goggles! mark tuts, a mocking sound that you would have slapped him for if you were in the right state of mind — albeit the man would probably just ask for another, harder slap —. his free hand is tight on your thigh, angling his hips perfectly to strike your g-spot with each thrust. you’re a whimpering mess, shaking like a damn leaf with no sign of calming down.

“i’m not done, and you’re not done either— i know you got more in you.. fuck, baby you feel so good!”

[81pastrys]

Hi!! I hope you’re doing well. I was wondering if you would consider doing something where Lando and reader had a baby when they were teens and no one knew but family so the baby would be around 8-10 now and the world somehow found out about it?

Reality

Summary— Lando made dumb decisions as a teenager and his ex decided her account should be public without archiving a certain post

Warnings— secret child ; Oscar cursing ; mention of murder, but no actual murder?

A/N— I like this one (let’s be real, I like all my work)

Lando had been pondering the day that his daughter would be revealed as his daughter to the public. Everyone always believed her to be a younger sister, nothing confirming nor denying the idea. Lexie always joined him in the paddock, usually going unnoticed. She was stealthy like that. He was a good co-parent, kept it a secret and tried not to make it obvious she was always with him.

This particular weekend was weird, Lexie’s mom had asked Lando to keep her for the weekend for a mysterious trip and he obliged but worried that she was making a mistake. “No, I’m not saying I can’t take her, but do you even know this guy?” He asked her over the phone.

“Lando, you aren’t my dad, there is no need for you to worry about me like this.” She explained to him. Yeah he wasn’t her dad, or boyfriend anymore but they have a 9 year old to worry about and she was crucial to that.

“It just seems strange, you never do this.” He said. She was on her way with Lexie already, a plane set for them to be off in Hungary. “Not to mention the rumors going around about Lexie.” He mumbled nearly.

“So do you want me to keep her?” She asked. “I can cancel the trip.” That is 100% not what he meant and she knew it.

“No, I’m taking her with me to the race, I already got her a pass.” He said serious now. “It’s whatever we can talk more later.” He shook his head, finishing up on packing his suitcase.

They go to the race with no troubles and Lexie does her thing, sitting on Lando’s side. The rumors going around were that she was, in fact, his daughter and not his sister like they had thought.

Only the closest drivers actually knew she was his, but most were oblivious to the fact. It only takes one fan to go deep diving on Instagram to find the picture his ex posted of them in the hospital with Lexie in their arms.

He scrolled through a bit of media before practice and nearly freaked out. “Lexie!” He called to her. She ran right up like she was in trouble. “Lay low today yeah?” He asked, kissing her head.

“Okay, as in hide out in your driver room?” She asked, she loved his driver room. Lando nodded at her for the great idea. “Got it, love you!” She said. Lando had trained her young not to call him dad in the paddock or garage.

He returned from practice and Oscar had now seen the picture that floated around. “Mate what is this? You had a kid and didn’t tell me?” Oscar joked around. Lando scratched his neck and Lexie emerged from the driver room, hugging Lando’s waist. Oscars eyes went wide.

“When I said I was a dumb teenager what did you think?” Lando smiled. Lexie playfully punched his arm. “I didn’t call you dumb! I called myself dumb!” He laughed.

“What’s Osc-uh talking about?” Lexie asked. Oscar showed her his phone and she looked up to Lando who looked down at her. “Does this mean I have to call you dad in public?” She asked.

“Holy shit!” Oscar cursed. He covered his mouth quickly. “Who else knows?” He asked. Carlos, Max, Daniel, Charles (because Max can’t keep his mouth shut)

“Hmm the entire world now.” Lando said. “I told her not to post that but that brings us back to dumb teenagers.” Lexie playfully hit him again and he knocked her head. “Stop doing that!” He laughed. They truly did act like siblings.

Carlos saw too and headed over to the paddock he once called home. “Hey Lex.” He greeted when she hugged him. “She made her account public?” Carlos asked.

“Yeah, mate she’s going off grid.” Lando sighed. “She went off with some dude to Italy?” It was like gossiping but they had voiced their thoughts on his ex already. “I don’t mind it means I get Lexie for a week.” He tickled her and she giggled.

“Stop it!!” She got out through giggles. Cameras were on them, the graphic usually just saying ‘Lexie Norris’ but this time the graphic had ‘Lando’s daughter’ under her name.

“You’re kidding.” Lando’s face dropped. “Man what the fuck.” He whispered as he smiled. Lexie calmed down and saw it too. They played the clip of him tickling her and she hugged him.

“I love you too dad!” She said. He about melted in his racing suit. Carlos smiled at the pair and so did Oscar. “Can you call mum and make sure that guy didn’t kill her?” She was half joking.

“Killing her is a bit absurd Lexie.” Lando said. “He took her to Italy, he might just drain her accounts or something.” He joked with his daughter.

“Call her anyway.” Carlos said now concerned Lexie was insinuating her mum could be dead somewhere in Italy. (She was not)

Lando called her and she was having a grand old time with the random man and he didn’t seem all too weird either so Lando didn’t have any worries anymore. They left the paddock that day as father and daughter.

I had a feeling she needed a different name, Lila wouldn’t be able to keep a big secret so Lexie enters the chat

Taglist: @il0vereadingstuff

[sunnie-angel]

Um hello?????? This was so good and there’s going to be more at some point? July is an amazing messenger for this story and I’m so here for it. The yearning is so real.

He kissed her a little, tried to do what he was supposed to; put his hands on her waist, maintaining a respectable distance from too high or too low. But it felt…off, somehow.

I’m so emotional over this. He’s doing what he’s supposed to even though it doesn’t feel right and it makes him think that he can never have this now.

working himself to the bone as the Red Hood so he wouldn’t have time to reflect on who he was as Jason.

Insane over this part!!!! There’s a separation between the mask and the man and he’s leaning on the mask because he finds the man wanting.

He needs time to think. To lie down in his old bed, stare at the ceiling, and think about if he’ll ever see you again.

Yearner Jason Todd confirmed.

“That’s…uh…” Dick clears his throat again. Then again. “That’s great, Jason,” he says, at last regaining his composure.

Dick is the unexpected VIP of this fic, I love how you write him here

Dick has to quiet the extremely loud sirens going off in his head when he (albeit incorrectly) has the realization that his baby brother, the one he still sees as four feet tall, swinging his little legs off the kitchen island and covered in cookie crumbs is, in fact, having sex. 

Cackling at Dick losing his mind and simultaneously trying to keep it together. Yes his little brother is all grown up! But also it’s not at all what he thinks it is.

Jason can’t imagine you’d be welcoming, either, after the way he left two nights ago. He watched you splash your face with cool water, leaving him with a shaky, watery smile, then listened to you putter around the kitchen with the promise of tea for the both of you.

The little details make this so heartbreaking.

He climbed out of your bedroom window, like a coward. In his haste, he left those bloodstains he promised he would clean.

!!!!!!! Jason I’m pretty sure she cared way more about you yeeting yourself out of the window while injured and ghosting her than the stained sheets.

“You’re, uh…using protection, right?”

Dick is trying so hard to be a good big brother but also I am dying from the awkwardness. So is Jason.

You’re mad at yourself for being so stupid as to break down in front of him. It’s no fucking wonder he ran out the first chance he got.

Nooooo!!!!! I knew that bit of vulnerability was gonna come back to bite the both of them.

In the days following, the book sat there, practically taunting you until you turned it face-down so the sight of the star-constellated cover would stop making your stomach twist over in nausea. Nausea at the memory of how eager you were to pick it up at the library mere days after he had mentioned it, how you buzzed with excitement, and maybe something deeper, when you came home at night ready to snuggle into the couch with a blanket and your favorite mug to read the next chapter.

1) is this based on a real book? 2) Love the zoom in on the little details in the face of everything else. Reader’s brain/emotions can’t deal with the enormity of everything so it focuses on the little parts it can handle.

That their love was doomed from the start because, inevitably, he will have to leave her, and he has known the entire time that he would have to leave. That he loved her with one foot out the door.

Ohhhhhhh I love the parallel to Reader/Jason and the book couple. Now I really am wondering if this was based on a real book.

You hoped not; no one else needed to know him the way you did.

Let’s go possessive reader!!!!!!!

Ten days after that night, that book is one week past its due date when you muster up the will to take it back to the Gotham Public Library.

This is such a creative idea to get them back together but it also is so heartbreaking.

It would be another two months before you saw him again.

TWO MONTHS?????? Oh the angst is going to be off the wall. I can’t wait to see where you go with this!

love in withdrawal

true that love in withdrawal was the weeping of me, that the sound of the saw must be known by the tree.

or; in the aftermath of that night, you're both wracked with regret, wishing it went differently. [3.3k]

jason todd x fem!reader; warnings from pt1 also apply; typical jason-angst (so ptsd, self-image/hatred, family issues, etc) + virgin!jason YOU ALR KNOW THE VIBESSSS😝😝😝👹👹 previous: you're good to me, baby

Jason Todd has tried very hard to be normal. At least, as normal as he can get. After returning to his home city and settling into his role as the Red Hood, crime lord and resident anti-hero of Gotham, he really did try. He went out with his 'coworkers' to have a good time. He spoke to his neighbors, hoping some friendship would stick. He went to a seedy bar with Roy and stuttered through some flirting with the girl who eye-fucked him from across the bar for fifteen minutes. With Roy’s encouragement (read: peer pressure), he followed her out to the alley behind the bar. He kissed her a little, tried to do what he was supposed to; put his hands on her waist, maintaining a respectable distance from too high or too low. But it felt…off, somehow. His heightened senses made the way she trailed one finger up and down the muscles of his arm feel prickly, the scars under his sleeve sensitive and itching at her touch. Her lips were too sticky with gloss, and its saccharine watermelon flavor lingered on his teeth for days. No matter how hard he scrubbed at them.

Roy hadn’t let him live that down for months. His recounting of Jason leaving her in the bar when she invited him home, looking ‘scared shitless and fumbling hard’ was an exaggeration, but maybe not that far off. Looking back, he wasn’t sure what he expected; he could barely look his own family in the eye. How did he think he’d be able to keep it together around a pretty girl? He was quick to give up any hopes of being ‘normal’ after that.

He lived like that for a while; putting all his energy into keeping the city safe, working himself to the bone as the Red Hood so he wouldn’t have time to reflect on who he was as Jason. He fixed things with his family just enough to have a place to go every other weekend to “upgrade his gear.” When he stuck around long enough that it was ‘only convenient’ to stay for dinner, no one commented on it. He’d accepted that this was his life now.

He never meant for things to go this far with you. Honestly. He was just doing his job when he gave you a ride home after you sprained your ankle trying to fight off that mugger. When he had to hold your weight so you could walk up the stairs to your apartment, he was still just doing his job. And when you, still in shock and heart pumping with adrenaline, put your frantic energy into nervous ramblings and fretting over his bruises— making sure you were okay before he left was part of his job. But one visit to your apartment turned into two, and two turned into three, each under the guise of ‘checking on your ankle’ or ‘being on his route’. Somewhere along the line your arrangement came to be: he stopped by with wounds needing to be treated, you treated them, and then he’d leave. And if you wanted to make some small conversation, getting to know each other a little more with every visit, that was harmless. Seeking you out for the smallest injuries that he was fully capable of dealing with himself was harmless. Holding you in his arms while you clutched onto him for dear life and sobbed into his shirt, neglecting his knife wound for far too long in favor of wiping away your tears—

He never meant for things to go this far.

Two days after that night, Jason is still reeling. In hindsight, letting the slice on his arm sit in the open, stale air for as long as it did was not the best idea. Sewing it closed one-handed so as to relieve the burden from your shoulders, taking no care to sterilize the instruments that fell to the floor in his hurry to follow the alarm bells in his head that screamed go! Get out and go! was a horrible idea. Sure, having you kneeled in his lap, pressed against him for the better part of the thirty minutes he spent at your place wasn’t exactly a regret. But was it worth the round of antibiotics and week-long benching ordered by Bruce after he stumbled into the Batcave an hour ago, hastily stitched up by his own hand and running a fever? He can’t decide. Was it worth the consequence of his siblings taking turns covering the patrol route of his city sector during his absence? Definitely not.

Was it worth the sight of you looking up at him, watery-eyed with flushed cheeks and fluttering eyelashes accentuated by the shine of your tears? The feeling of your hand sliding over his chest?

Maybe.

Maybe he could use the time off, as pointed out by a sneering Timothy, considering he was so stupid as to let his wound fester to the point of infection. He’d be too distracted to give the city his full attention, anyway. He needs time to think. To lie down in his old bed, stare at the ceiling, and think about if he’ll ever see you again.

Tim’s comment earns him a smack to the back of the head from Dick, who promptly kicks Tim out of the room.

“How are you feeling?” Dick stands at Jason’s bedside, arms crossed in concern.

“Same as when you asked me five minutes ago.” Jason wheezes. His pit-enhanced immunity makes the infection symptoms much easier than they could have been, but Bruce still insisted on him staying the whole week for observation. With how much he’s grown since he last used it, his childhood room feels much smaller than he remembers.

“Yeah, but…” Dick narrows his eyes at Jason. His gaze flits to his arm, wrapped in fresh bandages with an ice pack pressed over the stitches. “How…are you?”

“The same as…before,” Jason says, mimicking his brother’s cadence.

Dick sighs, thinking over his next move. He walks to the door, closes it, and pulls Jason’s desk chair to the bedside and sits down.

Jason groans. “Do you really have to—”

“Just humor me,” Dick interrupts. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. He takes Jason’s silence as resignation. “Did something happen?”

Jason rolls his eyes. “I got stabbed, Dick.”

“Is that all?” There’s a lilt in Dick’s voice.

“What are you implying?” Jason shoots back, though his hoarse throat negates his attempt to sound intimidating.

“Nothing! I’m not implying anything!” Dick leans back in his chair, holding his palms up in surrender. “I’m just saying. You seem…bothered. By something.”

“Yeah, the stab wound.”

“Okay. Okay, fine.” Dick clears his throat. “If there’s nothing.” He stands, returning the chair to its place. As he’s leaving, though, his hand settled on the doorknob, he hears a rustle of fabric and turns back to Jason. He’s shifting around in his old bed, awkwardly pulling at the comforter and he moves to sit on the edge, staring hard at the red pattern of the blanket while opening and closing his mouth, battling with himself on whether or not he should speak. Dick waits, giving him the time to work it out.

“I think I…” Jason says finally, not looking up from his lap. “I messed up.” He looks very uncomfortable. If opening up wasn’t such a rare occurrence for him, Dick might have found humor in his brother’s embarrassment.

Dick lets go of the doorknob, but doesn’t dare move closer. He knows that Jason’s fight or flight instincts will take hold the second he feels too caged in. “Messed up how?” He asks, keeping his tone even and unemotional.

“With…someone.” Jason forces out the words, cheeks burning as bright as his bedspread. He still refuses to look at Dick, but at the surprised, choked-back sound he makes at the admission, Jason’s face snaps up to his. Dick is disguising his shock as a cough into his fist, but his wide eyes are unmistakable, even behind the curtain of thick hair falling over his eyes.

“That’s…uh…” Dick clears his throat again. Then again. “That’s great, Jason,” he says, at last regaining his composure.

“Is it?” Jason says, squinting at his brother.

“No, I mean—not that you—” Dick sighs, running a hand down his face and deciding to abandon that train of thought altogether. “What happened?”

“I sort of…left. Abruptly.” Jason rubs at the growing stubble on his jaw. “Like— like after…” He trails off, hoping Dick will get the idea.

Dick has to quiet the extremely loud sirens going off in his head when he (albeit incorrectly) has the realization that his baby brother, the one he still sees as four feet tall, swinging his little legs off the kitchen island and covered in cookie crumbs is, in fact, having sex. 

“Is it serious?” He asks through a stiff smile.

Jason, ever oblivious to the silent breakdown his brother is having at the door, is not sure if he’d describe what you two have as serious. He knows you fairly well, knows what you do from the nights you talk about what’s going on at work; what you like from the posters and trinkets you have hung up around your place. And yeah, you talk sometimes. He may not speak that much around you, and it’s usually just frustrated complaints about the other bats, but it’s certainly more than he speaks to most people outside his family. And he sees you more often than he does most people outside his family. And he feels more comfortable with you than—

“Jason,” Dick calls, pulling him from his thoughts. “Is it serious?” He asks again, though there’s a quirk in his brow that suggests he already knows the answer.

“I don’t know,” is what Jason settles on.

“When did this happen?”

“Uh, a few days ago?” Jason says, even though he knows that’s a lie. It was 45 hours and 26 minutes ago, to be precise, but he doesn’t say that. He’s not sure how it would be received.

“You can’t go back? Just try to apologize?”

He wants to see you again, but he can’t. Doing so in the first place only put you in danger, and he was an idiot for ignoring that. If the wrong person had seen the Red Hood making consistent visits to the same window of the same building? His stomach turns at the thought.

Jason can’t imagine you’d be welcoming, either, after the way he left two nights ago. He watched you splash your face with cool water, leaving him with a shaky, watery smile, then listened to you putter around the kitchen with the promise of tea for the both of you. He felt like an asshole, picturing you coming back to the bathroom with his mug in hand, only to be met with an empty room and scattered first aid supplies on the floor. He didn’t even leave through the living room, like he entered, because you were in the kitchen. He climbed out of your bedroom window, like a coward. In his haste, he left those bloodstains he promised he would clean.

“I’m not sure she wants to see me.” Jason says quietly.

Dick answers thoughtfully; “Did she tell you that, or are you just making assumptions?”

Jason sighs. “Shit.”

“But, actually,” Dick winces. “You do have to stay here for the whole week, so…”

Jason lets out a tired groan and drops his face into his palms.

“Maybe call her?” Dick offers. He gathers the conversation is over from the way Jason glares at him, and turns to leave. But when he’s halfway out the door, he turns back. “Hey, Jaybird?”

Jason lifts his chin.

“You’re, uh…using protection, right?”

Jason blinks. It’s now that he realizes what Dick thought he was talking about and it burns him, leaving his skin red-hot.

“Get the fuck out.”

“Look, I’m just trying to—” He cuts himself off with a yelp, leaping out of the doorway to dodge the projectile pillow thrown at his head.

Jason hears a ‘good talk’ from the end of the hall, but is too busy with brand new concerns about his situation with you. If he could call you, he would, but he doesn’t have your number. He could easily find it, but not while he’s confined to this bedroom; he’d need access to his gear at home. And with the entire manor breathing down his neck for the next week, there was no way he’d be able to sneak out. So he’d have to wait an entire week before coming to see you again.

Maybe showing up at your place two days after the ordeal would have you understandably hurt, but nine days? You were going to be pissed. You are pissed.

Not at the Red Hood. You’re mad at yourself for being so stupid as to break down in front of him. It’s no fucking wonder he ran out the first chance he got. You sobbed into his shirt like an idiot for who knows how long. You practically felt him up. You’re an idiot for not thinking that would make him uncomfortable. And now, he’s never coming back, and you can’t even blame him!

There’s a book on your coffee table with a bookmark near the end that’s been staring at you since that night. That night when you, more consumed with confusion than anything else, dumped two mugs of fresh tea in the sink and flopped down on the couch and…waited. For what, you had no idea. The cover art took up your entire field of vision while you lied to yourself, saying you weren’t stealing glances at the window, hoping for a certain body to appear in the frame.

In the days following, the book sat there, practically taunting you until you turned it face-down so the sight of the star-constellated cover would stop making your stomach twist over in nausea. Nausea at the memory of how eager you were to pick it up at the library mere days after he had mentioned it, how you buzzed with excitement, and maybe something deeper, when you came home at night ready to snuggle into the couch with a blanket and your favorite mug to read the next chapter.

I hate you so much, you had murmured into a nasty bruise on the back of his left shoulder one night, though you couldn’t stop the grin that broke through the words.

What did I do? He replied, turning to look at you over his shoulder. 

You never told me that would happen halfway through, you said, forcing a frown when you looked up at him.

He chuckled. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to spoil it for you.

Through the amusement there was a lull in your usual rhythm. He did not need to ask which part of the book you were complaining about. He knows, knows you well enough to understand that you would be angry, reading about a budding, hopeful love that’s marred by the revelation that the boy and the girl will not make it. That their love was doomed from the start because, inevitably, he will have to leave her, and he has known the entire time that he would have to leave. That he loved her with one foot out the door.

You turned him around, ready to focus on the small abrasion at his temple when he asks, forgive me?

Fine, I guess so, you said, standing on your toes to get closer to his head.

That night replayed in your mind too often. The way he moved a ghost of an inch closer to lean into your fingers. The smell that was purely him in the grime and sweat in his hair when you pushed it back from his forehead, hoping he wouldn’t notice the extra second you lingered, fingers threaded into those streaks of white. You always wondered if they would feel different than the rest of his hair. They didn’t. They were just as soft. You wondered if anyone else knew that. You hoped not; no one else needed to know him the way you did.

(No one needed to know that you revisited that night with such frequency, either, in the middle of the night hidden under layers of blankets and darkness with nothing but your hands and imagination. You’d take that to the grave.)

Perhaps, deep down, there was a small part of you that wished he would turn up at your window again, this time armed with reasonings and apologies.

There was an emergency.

My team needed me.

I didn’t want to leave.

But after five days of radio silence, there’s not much you can do except take the hint.

You go about your normal routine, trying your hardest to push him out of your mind. Things at work are steady, your position intact and safe from usurping coworkers. You resign yourself to a fate of friends with questionable compassion, grateful to have any at all, and call up your best friend to smooth things over. She accepts, moving on to squeal about her boyfriend’s friend that she’s been dying to set you up with. You reluctantly agree to a double date somewhere down the line, but start preparing excuses and illnesses in the back of your mind.

Ten days after that night, that book is one week past its due date when you muster up the will to take it back to the Gotham Public Library.

(So maybe you still held out a small flicker of hope. What matters now is that you’re here, ready to return it and blow out that flame.)

There’s one person ahead of you when you fall into line at the front desk. He makes easy conversation with the librarian while she scans his library card; judging by the waves he garners from other passing staff, he must be popular around here.

“Thanks again, you’re the best,” he says, taking the book she hands him.

“Oh, of course,” the librarian gushes, a faint rouge coloring her face. “You let me know how you like that one.”

“I will.”

He turns around, halting suddenly to stop himself from walking into you. You mutter out an apology, ready to move past him, but he stares at you, saying nothing. His large hand tightens its grip on an old and worn book. The ends of jet black strands peek out from under a red beanie and he searches you with wide, teal eyes, mouth agape like he wants to speak. He’s looking at you like he’s been looking for you for ages, and he can’t believe you’re here.

“Hi,” he says, sounding a little breathless.

“Hi.” You clutch your book tighter against your chest, not knowing what to make of this man. It draws his eyes lower and he sees the title.

“Hi,” he says again. Then; “I— I was wondering. About that book.” He nods toward it. “I’m, uh, thinking about reading it. What did you think?”

“Oh,” you exhale. “I actually never finished it. Sorry.”

“Oh,” he echoes. His face falls, but only for a moment, before returning to a neutral expression. “Okay, sorry.”

He brushes past, leaving you addled in his wake, but also next in line. The librarian flashes you a glare when the book is scanned in as one week late. Sheepishly, you pay the fine and watch as it gets rolled away on a re-shelf cart, the last of your connections to the Red Hood rolling along with it.

It would be another two months before you saw him again.

remember after the last part when i said "ignore how his open would is just sitting there marinating"? well i figured out how to amend that👍 idk why i feel like this is so short i tried to write more but yk how it is the story goes the way it wants to i am but the messenger. i've been experiencing mad writer's block this past couple of weeks please pray for me🙏🙏🙏

listen to the inspo song!!!

[writermai05]

Under the Weather

Summary: Joaquín takes care of you when you’re not feeling good. 

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x fem! reader 

A/N: This is honestly a self call out. I had (have?) the flu recently, and it fucking sucks. Take good care of yourselves guys 😭 You can imagine this as a High school Sweetheart! Reader extension fic, as it takes place when you and Joaquín are students at the University of Miami.

Word Count: 1,329

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to  anything Marvel related, I am merely a nerd who hyperfixates a lot.

Warnings !: Having the flu, reader is stressed and overworking herself. Not revised, we die like men. 

Joaquín had warned you that this would happen. You’d spent the entire semester really pushing it, working full time at the University of Miami’s  student complex, being a full time student with 15 credit hours, and being heavily involved in student organizations. It was exactly what you had wanted, and nothing was going to stop you…that is until your body started to betray you. 

You figured it was because it was almost finals week, and that if you could just last until spring break, you would finally stop feeling so shitty. Maybe if you just completed your assignments during your nine hour shifts, and if you took naps in between work and extracurriculars, you’d be fine. People do it all the time, and so could you! Like, what’s one more shift gonna do? That was, until you hit the four hour mark. Staring at the computer at your front desk, a headache began to rear its ugly head right into your temples. Before you knew it, you had tried everything. Lowering the brightness on the computer, putting on blue light glasses while you studied, anything to prevent your eyes from the harsh blue lighting of the technology you were nose deep in, as well as the bright white lights overhead to worsen the migraine you felt coming on. But hey, you only had two more hours of work left. You could do this. You toughed it out, clocking out early and scrambling back to your dorm room as fast as you could. 

The next morning, you felt even worse. You were supposed to go on a lunch date with Joaquín today, but with the way you were feeling right now? Fat chance. You shot him an apologetic text, explaining how you weren’t feeling too good, and that you’d probably have to reschedule that date. Ever the sweetheart, Joaquín had said it was no problem, and to feel better soon. Feeling an ounce of relief, you took some tylenol and went back to bed. Hopefully tomorrow was better. 

Except it wasn’t. Neither was the day after that. Not wanting to worry your boyfriend, you had told Joaquín that you were fine, just a little bit under the weather. You should have known that that would not be enough to satisfy the worries of your ever loving boyfriend. About an hour later, you heard a knock on your door. Begrudgingly, you slithered out of bed, your sinuses clogged and your head pounding and opened the door, only to be face to face with the very person you were hoping would not see you like this. 

Joaquín’s face flooded with concern the moment he heard your slow footsteps from outside your door. He had just spent the last hour getting medicine to help you feel better, but to actually see you in this state was crazy. He had just seen you on Friday before he went to the gym! You had looked fine then, tired, but everyone was tired. Finals were in two weeks. He promptly entered your studio dorm, pushing you by the shoulders gently back to your bed. He had you set on the edge while he gently cradled your face, looking you over.

“Jesus, Angel, you do not look okay.” He brushed a hand up against your forehead, trying to check your temperature. Warm but not hot. No fever. 

“Thanks, Quino, I missed you too.” You mumble back sarcastically. You couldn’t even enjoy the feeling of his hands on your face, you felt so shitty. Joaquín deadpans at you, pushing you to lay down on your bed. You oblige, not having the willpower to protest. 

“You know what I mean. You’ve been sick since Saturday, why didn’t you let me know sooner?” You shrug in response, eyes fluttering shut. You hear as he digs around in the bags he was holding, and subsequently as he presses something to your chest. You open your eyes to see a box. It’s a flu test. 

“Take that.” He says simply. He grabs the bag of things he had brought and walks over to your little kitchen area. 

As you open the box and take the test, he unloads a series of groceries and some tupperware containers, navigating your kitchen as if it were his own. He grabs a pot and pours one of the tupperware containers into the pot, turning it on and beginning to heat it up. About 10 minutes later, the test is ready and it’s confirmed; you do in fact have the flu. You walk over and show him the test, to which he hums and rubs your shoulder with his freehand. 

“Go lay down, Baby.” He murmurs.

“What are you making?” Your voice is somewhere in between congested and gravely from coughing. 

“My Mamá made caldo de pollo. She heard you weren’t feeling good, and told me to come pick this up and bring it to you.” Your heart warms at his words. You lean your head against his shoulder for a moment. 

“She is an angel on earth.” You mumble. He squeezes your hip gently before patting your side, reminding you to go rest.

“It’ll be ready in a few minutes. Just need to heat it up for you.” You nod, and go back to bed, laying down while he gets it ready. 

Once that finishes he brings it back to you, placing it in your lap with a kitchen towel so that it doesn’t burn your lap. You mumbles a thank you and takes a sip of it, singing in relief when the hot liquid goes down your sore throat. Joaquín pushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

“What happened? You were fine when I saw you last.” 

“I don’t know. Had a headache before I finished work on Friday, and I was a little congested but I thought it was allergies. Then I woke up on Saturday feeling awful.”

“You mean during your double?” He raises an eyebrow, continuing to stroke your hair gently. 

“Yeah-”

“On top of everything else? The assignments for class and such? I thought you were like, super stressed on Thursday.”

“I mean-”

“Baby, don’t you think that maybe your stress is playing a bigger part in you getting sick?” He asks gently.

“Maybe. But it’s almost finals week, that’s normal.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been doing this for like, the entire semester already. You just get so focused on everyone and everything else that you neglect everything else, and since you’re so stressed, your immune system is weak, and you get sick, basically forcing you to stop for a while.” You sigh. You know that he’s right, but you’re stubborn. 

“I can’t just stop. Nothing’s gonna stop for me. My assignments are going to keep piling up whether I'm sick or not, so I have no choice but to keep going.” He gently grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him as he speaks. 

“Maybe. But you can email your manager and professors and let them know, ‘hey, I’m sick, I can’t come in.’ or ‘I have the flu, my assignments are gonna be turned in late.’ They’ll understand. I promise you, it’s not that serious. Everything will be fine. They’ll find a way to get it covered for you.” You sigh, but nod in reluctant agreement. He presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“Good. Give me your laptop, I'll email them for you. Have you left your room yet?”

“...No.” 

“...We can go on a walk later. I bought you a couple things from the pharmacy.” He grabs the bag from the kitchen, pulling out the various medicines.

“Cough drops, Tylenol in case you have a fever, nasal decongestant, Nyquil to help you sleep, Theraflu-” 

“Buy me the whole pharmacy, why don’t you?” You joke, continuing to drink the soup. Joaquín chuckles, putting the bag on the floor.

“For you? Of course I would.” Your face felt warm, and no—it wasn’t just the soup or the flu.

[cherryredstarz]

hiii :3 ! can i request a silly smut where the lads guys have the readers legs over their shoulders rearranging her guts then reader starts feeling a lil mischievous and grabs the guys hair with her toes (i hope i worded that properly, i thought about it the other day and ive been giggling about it ever since)

A/n: hehe I love this 😂

Cw: FEET 🦶, Nsfw smut, unconventional use of toes, this is disgusting I’m sorry (I’m not into feet), if you like Rafayel then brace yourself, i didn’t know what to write for Xavier other than that he’d prolly like it 😭 YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Caleb 🍎

Caleb is absolutely raw dogging you right now—your thighs thrown over his shoulders, in a mating press as he mercilessly pounds your gummy, cum filled hole. He’s been like this for hours, and you definitely can’t say you haven’t been enjoying it—he’s made you cum like, five times, and you’re feeling a little delirious.

“H-hey Caleeebbb—” your words are a skewed moan from the unrelenting pistoning of his hips.

“Yeah baby? You like this?” He grunts softly into your neck.

“Lookie..” your words slur again. His thrusting slows ever so slightly, and he watches you weakly wiggle your foot, before stroking his scalp with your toes. You clench your muscles, making them latch onto his messed up dark hair. Caleb laughs.

“Yeah, wanna play around Pipsqueak?” He returns to destroying your wet cunt, making you mewl and moan. The Colonel is absolutely used to your antics by now—he’s absolutely unbothered.

Sylus 🐦‍⬛

Sylus is lazily rubbing his dick against the wet slick of your cunt, his red eyes looking at you with a teasing yet adoring gaze. “Ready Sweetie?” He kisses your cheek. Your thighs are over his shoulders, marred with hickeys: a declaration of his devotion to you.

“Sy—!” You moan as he pushed in.

20 minutes of being fucked into a blissful state, the mushy fragments of your mind get an idea—you wiggle your feet, and managed to make your toes touch his hair, giving the white strands a tiny tug.

Sylus paused, and looked at you. “What was that?”

“M’ toes.” You giggle, practically delirious.

“Mn.” He murmurs, before grinning.

His thrusts become ravenous after that—totally into whatever you give him.

Rafayel 🐠

He’s pounding into you, whimpering and whining how badly he needs you. “Ngh—so good baby—m’ sorry—need you—”

Your beloved fishy is somewhat manic, crazily pounding away at your frothy hole—he’s already come three times and it still wasn’t enough. You moan into his chest, shifting your knee so your toes grab onto his purple curls. The Lemurian moaned lewdly, grabbing your foot and taking your toes into his mouth.

You gasp and squirm, trying to wiggle your foot away from his feverish grasp, but he just moves his tongue against your little appendages. “R-Raf—” you whine. It’s kinda disgusting, but you can’t deny the tingling in your belly.

“Yeah? You wanna mess around?” He moans, slamming into you. “M’ bride. Mine..”

Safe to say, Rafayel’s gonna tickle your toes any time he is presented the opportunity, from now on.

Zayne ❄️

The doctor is moaning into the plush of your skin, his hips bucking against your cunt, stuffing you full repeatedly. And then he feels it—someone’s toes touching his scalp. He’s a little confused, his furrowed expression relaxing as he looks at you, and your silly, blissful grin.

But he’s not opposed or grossed out—he’s a doctor, after all—it’s simply human anatomy. And it’s you, his girl.

He’d be damned if he let you being a goofball stop him from satiating you.

Xavier 👽

Oh, Xavier’s into it. In fact, he’d coo at you, telling you to tug harder with your toes. This man would find a way to do it while giving you backshots too; because he’s a cute little freak.

[katsu28]

summer's golden haze - chapter seven

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: a bracelet, a promise, and not a goodbye, but a see you later. (3.8k)

warnings: minimal swearing, a little bit of angst but mainly fluff

a/n: lando win gave me just enough inspo to finish up this chapter! sorry this one's so short, butttt next chap is halfway done rn so stay tuned <3

previous chapter | masterlist

Tonight is a bittersweet night. Like all good things inevitably do, your trip is coming to an end.

It’s the last night you’ll get to spend with Lando and all your new friends for a while. Come early tomorrow morning, you’ll be on different planes heading opposite directions of each other. 

You’re in the same place as the first night you all really bonded with each other, flames flicker bright in the firepit as you bask in the food coma of the enormous dinner you’d all had a hand in making happen.

It was a team effort from everyone, a whole day’s worth of prepping and cooking to make one big last meal to share together before going your separate ways. 

All the boys except Max were absolutely useless in the kitchen, but much better for sending back to the store to get something they’d forgotten. Pietra did eventually shoo Max out of the room for eating too much of the food before dinner was even ready. 

Lando fancied himself quite the DJ—if being a DJ meant pressing play on a carefully curated playlist, yet skipping the ones he didn’t like.

He also proved to be a great distraction, so much so that he also got himself banned from the kitchen after nearly making you burn your contribution to dinner. 

It’s warm out tonight, stars shining over the Greek countryside in a beautiful display of serenity. Crickets chirp in the distance loud enough to hear over the crackling fire.

Of course, now you’ve got Lando to keep you even warmer with the way you’re snuggled up together on one side of the same comfy sofa as last time.

You’ve got your head on his shoulder, the rest of you curled into his side as you laugh and reminisce about these past few weeks with everyone. Every so often, Lando presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, rubbing a hand up and down your arm. 

You’ll miss these nights of talking until the wee hours of the morning, making memories with these people who’ve become so important to you in such a short amount of time. 

You’ll miss Lando and everything about him. His quirks and bad habits, his squeaky cackles and big squinty smiles whenever he’s truly happy. The way he loves and cares and makes you feel like you’re walking on clouds all the time. 

Personally, you’ve had to fight from tearing up all day. Lando can probably tell, because he hasn't strayed far from you when you’re all together unless he has to. Or maybe he’s in the same boat as you. 

You know it’s not the last time you’ll see each other ever, but you’re going from seeing Lando almost everyday to not knowing when you’ll see him again. You haven’t even had the long distance talk yet. It has to happen tonight, yet you’re still dreading it. 

This might be as good of a time as any, with everyone in their own conversations and not paying attention to if the two of you sneak away for a bit. 

Lando is on you the second you’re out of view, brows furrowing when you stop him with a hand against his chest after a few seconds of making out. 

“I have something for you,” You say. His pouty expression morphs into one of curiosity, head cocking to the side not unlike an intrigued puppy. “It’s small, but I…I dunno, I thought you’d like it.” You press the bracelet into his palm carefully before you can chicken out, a hopeful smile aimed his way. 

Recognition dawns in his eyes immediately at the bracelet he’d had his eye on what seemed like ages ago, and he lets out a breathy chuckle. “Baby…when did you get this?” 

“Our first date, actually. The first first one, not the do over. I was gonna give it to you at the end, but uh, y’know,” You say sheepishly, shrugging. “I didn’t get to give it to you then, but I figured better late than never.” 

You’d done a little adjustment to the bracelet itself a few days ago, once you were absolutely certain you wanted to give it to him. Instead of securing the woven strip by tying the two ends together, you’d turned it into a tiny bead clasp, on which were the first letters of your two names with a plus sign in the middle etched in. 

It was small, not noticeable to the general eye, but something that would make him think about you while you were apart. Something that would remind him of your time together here.

He notices the subtle difference immediately, squinting at the small detailing for a better look and immediately perking up once he figures out what it means. 

“I love it,” He says softly. You help him secure it around his wrist amongst his other bracelets, the brightness of the blue and white standing out nicely in the pile of them. “I’m never taking it off.” 

“You can if you want, it’s fine,” You giggle. 

Lando all but tackles you in a hug, sweeping you off your feet in a much too grand way for your small gesture. “Never.” 

“Glad you like it.” 

“Oh! Wait here, I’ve got something for you too.” He starts off in a jog towards the house, but stops suddenly before he can get far, whirling around like he’d forgotten something. 

Before you can voice your confusion at his actions, he takes your face in his hands and he kisses you, hard. But just as quick as it happens, he runs off again, leaving you gawking after him, stunned into silence. 

You’ve barely managed to get your breath back before he’s in front of you again, pressing a small book into your hands. A photo album, you realize, upon opening it gently.

One of the first photos, you recognize as the impromptu pictures Lando had snapped of you on your first date, with your palm outstretched towards him as you’re mid laugh. It’s only been a few weeks, but that day feels like a lifetime ago as you remember it now. 

As you flip through the pages, every photo stirs up a memory. Meals you’ve all shared, things you’ve done together as a group, candids of all your friends. You don’t even recall Lando having his camera out for half of these things, but photos don’t lie. 

“You took these?” You ask. Lando nods, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “They’re gorgeous, Lan.” 

“You think so? I wasn’t sure if it was too much.”

“I love them.”

Warmth spreads through your chest every time you spot yourself, because you look…different. You’ve never really been one to enjoy having your photo taken, but Lando has managed to capture you in a way that nobody else has been able to before. 

For once, you look truly content and happy with your life. 

The last one is your favorite one out of the whole album. You don’t even fully recall where or by whom it was taken, but it’s of Lando and yourself, sitting next to each other at a table. Well, next to is putting it loosely. You’re well in each other’s space, fingers intertwined, seemingly mid conversation with one another. 

The way you’re looking at Lando, the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only two people in the world despite not being the only people in the shot, gives you butterflies in your stomach. 

It’s the type of photo you want framed on your dresser at home, so you can look at it everyday and never forget how lucky you are to love and be loved by Lando Norris. 

Sadness hits you like an abruptly sudden punch to the gut right then.

Home. 

You wish you could call home wherever Lando is, but you can't. 

The atmosphere of love quickly grows somber with the weight of the conversation you’ve both been putting off hanging above you like a dark cloud. 

“Guess we should talk about the elephant in the room then, huh?” 

He shakes his head. “We don’t have to.” 

“Yeah, we kinda do. We’re leaving tomorrow.” 

“Shhh, don’t say that!” He huffs, casting a wide eyed glance around like saying the words out loud will make the time arrive faster. 

The conversation goes exactly as you assume. His schedule is unpredictable and busier than you ever could’ve imagined, and you don’t know when you’ll see each other again.

You’ll both do everything in your power to find time to talk, but it’ll be hard. Still, you’ve never been more determined to try and make things work, because what you have is worth the effort. 

Lando is worth the effort. 

You sigh, sliding your hands down to rest on his chest. “Will we be okay?”

“We’re gonna be more than okay,” He insists, nodding firmly. He cups your face in his hands, palms warm and broad against your cheeks. “We’ll be golden, baby. I promise.” 

His words do wonders to soothe your turbulent emotions, and deep, deep down, you know he’s right. No matter how far his life is away from yours, no matter how complicated, you’ll be just fine. 

-------

Lando drops you off at the airport early the next morning. 

You’re trying your hardest not to cry the whole way there, and you almost succeed. Your bags are on the pavement, Camille’s doling out your boarding passes—everything is going fine. 

But then you make the mistake of glancing over at Lando messing with his hair in the reflection of his car and suddenly you're hit in the chest with a whole flurry of emotion. He turns around just as you surge forward to wrap your arms around him, drawing a grunt of surprise as you plow right into him. 

“Hi there,” He hums, rocking you from side to side. “You alright?”

“No,” You grumble, face buried into his neck. It makes him chuckle and squeeze you tighter. “This is the worst day ever.” 

“I know,” He sighs. His nose dips into your hair, lips pressing a kiss there too. “But think of it this way, yeah? The next time we see each other will be so much better than this.” 

“How do people do this all the time? Saying goodbye.” 

“Don’t think of it as a goodbye then. Think of it as a…see you later,” He says thoughtfully. 

“See you later,” You repeat, a tinge disbelieving. Lando nods encouragingly. “Sure. I’ll keep that right next to ‘no, baby, you don’t have to worry about the media’.” 

“I know you’re just lashing out because you’re sad, so I’m not going to take that personally.”

“Thank you,” You sniff. “Thank you for everything, Lan, I—” Your voice breaks before you can finish your thought, but you don’t need to in order for Lando to know exactly what you’re trying to say. 

Thank you for filling that missing piece in my life. Thank you for being what I need, for loving me as I am with patience and without judgment. 

He smiles warmly. “I know. Me too. You’ve done more than you know for me, love, and I can’t thank you enough.” 

“Shut up,” You huff, pouting. “You’re gonna make me cry.” 

“Can’t have that now, can we?” He chuckles. 

“As much as I hate to break up this heartwarming moment, we have to go.” 

To Samira’s credit, she genuinely does look like she feels guilty pulling you away from Lando before you’re ready, but you're not mad at it. You’re not entirely sure you’d be able to leave him here on your own free will. 

You try your best not to look back at him as she marches you away with a firm hand in yours, but something in you itches for one last look and you give in just as you're about to pass through the ticket gate. Lando still stands right where you’d left him, hands shoved into his pockets. 

He waves when he sees you turn around—a small, sad wave that has your resolve breaking in an instant.

Nothing can stop you as you run back towards him, weaving through other airport goers like you’re an expert until you reach where he is once again. 

Lando catches you with fluid ease as you throw yourself at him like he’d been expecting you to run at him all along, arms tightening around your waist eagerly the second you’re in his embrace. 

“Long time no see,” He says, grinning ear to ear as he sets you back down on your feet. “That was really dramatic, by the way. Nice job.”

“I know. I think you might be rubbing off on me.” 

“Well, aren’t you lucky?” 

“Luckiest girl in the world,” You say softly, pressing a kiss to the tip of Lando’s nose. It makes his face scrunch up into that bashful expression you adore so much. As much as you don’t want him to hear your voice waver, it does. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” He murmurs, rubbing a hand down your back. “See you later, remember? Everything’s gonna be fine.” 

“I love you, Lan.” 

His concerned expression melts into something syrupy sweet as your name falls from his lips like it’s his favorite thing to say. “I love you too.” 

“How am I supposed to leave you?” You sigh, cupping his face in your hands. Lando leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut momentarily before refocusing with purpose. 

“You gotta go, baby,” He urges, though his tone of voice makes it sound like the last thing he wants you to do is leave. You shake your head, and it makes Lando chuckle quietly. “I know. But I can’t have you missing your flight because of me, and I can’t afford to miss my flight either. My team would have my head, and I’m pretty sure Samira would have yours.” 

“Your team,” You huff, rolling your eyes. 

Even the mention of McLaren leaves a bitter taste on your tongue. You want nothing but for Lando to give them a piece of his mind, but he’s been surprisingly level headed about things now that he's had some time off to think. 

“I’ve made my peace with it. You should too.” 

“No thanks. I’ll fight them if you want me to.” 

Lando chuckles, raising an amused brow. “All of them?” 

“Every single one of them.” 

“I’m sure you would. But no, it’s fine. I’m gonna keep pushing, keep trying my best. Try not to be too hard on myself,” He explains, shrugging. “Someone really wise gave me that advice, but I can’t quite put my finger on who.” 

“I don’t know, she sounds like a pretty smart person,” You hum, grinning at him. 

“Yeah, she’s amazing. She should really get going, though. Her friends are giving me a death glare right now.” 

You hasten a peek over your shoulder to see that, yes, all three of your girls are sporting various degrees of firm looks at the two of you. 

“Ugh, fine, I’ll go. But I’m not happy about it.” 

“Neither am I. Wish I could just whisk you off to the Netherlands with me.” 

“Maybe one day.” You smile, letting your hands slide down to rest on his chest. “But for now, I have to go. I’ll text when I land. Or you text me when you land, whichever happens first. Some of us are flying boring old commercial.” 

Lando rolls his eyes playfully at your teasing dig, cheeky smile only visible for a moment before he’s tilting your chin up with a finger and pressing his lips against yours. 

The kiss is short and sweet, yet so full of love that your heart threatens to beat right out of your chest. 

“See you later, Lan.” 

“Soon. See you soon.” 

-------

You’re dead on your feet. 

Getting off the plane had taken forever, finding an Uber to take all of you home was even worse. You want nothing more than to pass out in your bed as you finally make your way to your apartment, dragging your suitcase behind you with aching limbs. 

However, you know there are things you need to do before you can relax. Laundry, catching up on work emails, figuring out what to do for dinner, just to name a few.

You can almost see the to-do list in your near future as you dig around in your backpack for your keys, and you’re expecting it to take a while. 

What you’re not expecting is a massive bouquet of flowers sitting propped up against your door. 

Frowning, you pluck out the pristine white notecard nestled in the bunch, and through tired eyes, you see that it’s actually from Lando. 

A breath of laughter escapes you, face fighting the grin pulling at your lips as you let yourself in with all your things. As soon as you’re safely inside, you flop onto the sofa, grabbing your phone to give him a call. 

The line barely rings a few seconds before he picks up, beaming face filling your screen. “Hi babe!” He chirps. He props the phone up against something, pulling the hood of his jumper up over his head.

“Did you seriously send me flowers from forty thousand feet in the air?” 

“Aw mint, they got there! I had the florist put a rush order on them.” 

“What’re they for?” 

“Did you not read the note?” 

Your brows furrow, and you flip over the card to see something on the back. In all your excitement about the beautiful arrangement, you hadn't even noticed anything else. 

Neatly printed letters spell out a simple question—

Will you be my girlfriend? 

“So? Will you?” Lando asks earnestly upon seeing your mouth curve into a smile, looking hopeful even through the screen. 

“I thought I already was!” You exclaim, nose wrinkling in confusion. 

You’ve certainly been acting like his girlfriend, doing things a girlfriend would, caring about him the way a girlfriend would. So, and this is to your knowledge, you’ve been his girlfriend this whole time.

“Well, yeah, you are. Duh. But I realized that I never actually asked. So…yes, no? Please say yes, otherwise I’ll be so confused.” 

“Yes, of course, I’ll be your girlfriend, Lan,” You chuckle, tossing the card back onto the table. “You didn’t have to make a whole grand gesture of it, but thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”  

“Of course. I miss you already.” 

“Ugh, tell me about it,” You whine. “I’ve never wanted to be in your arms more right now.” 

Lando tips his head back, groaning miserably. “Don’t say that to me, baby. I’ll have this jet turn right around, I swear.” 

Your focus is captured by the column of his throat, the way his neck flexes when he swallows, but you manage to put together a response. You clear your throat, composing yourself by the time he looks at you again. “You’ve got a car to race this weekend.” 

“Unfortunately.” 

You settle deeper into the comfy cushions to chat. “How’re you feeling about going back?” 

“Oh, y’know, fine,” He says airily, waving a vague hand. “Just this giant amount of weight from the championship fight looming over me like a massive storm cloud.” 

“So no pressure at all then.” 

“Nah, none.” 

“I know I don’t really know what I’m talking about when it comes to what you do, but I think you’re gonna do just fine, Lan.” 

Lando sucks in a breath through his teeth. “God, I hope you're right about that.” 

“I’m always right.” 

That gets him to laugh. “You are, aren’t you?” 

The call quality goes fuzzy for a moment, but when the camera refocuses it’s not Lando you see anymore. 

Max’s smug beaming face fills the screen. “Hey, you!” He exclaims. “How was your flight?” 

“Don’t even get me started,” You groan, rolling your eyes. Customs was such a pain in the ass, even Maren looked like she was about ready to deck someone.” 

“Maren?” He says, surprised. You nod. Maren would never harm a soul, and Max knows that. “Oh man, I’d pay to see that.”

“Max! Let me talk to my girlfriend, you fuck!” Lando huffs in the background. The phone shakes like he’s just hit Max, but it doesn’t phase him. He just laughs maniacally, stretching even further out of reach. 

“Mate, would you stop it? I’m trying to have a conversation with my friend here, if you don’t mind!”

Lando lets out a frustrated groan. “P, tell your boyfriend to give me my fucking phone back!” 

The phone gets plucked out of Max’s hand, and suddenly you're looking at Pietra, who has a look on her face somewhere between fondly amused and not at all surprised.

“Hi,” She says, moving over to the other end of the jet so as to not get accidentally smacked by either boy during their brotherly rough housing. “They’re being boys again, you know how it is.” 

“Boy, do I,” You chuckle softly, shaking your head. There’d been no shortage of them wrestling around with each other, playful jabs and things thrown at the other person. It was one of the things that endeared you the most about Lando—how he shows his affection towards the people he loves in different ways. 

A lump grows in your throat at the thought. 

Is it bad that you already miss all of them so much your chest aches a little bit? Is it completely and utterly clingy of you to want to be there on that jet instead of halfway across the world? 

Pietra must be able to tell you're deep in your head, because she smiles warmly at you. “He wishes you were here too. We all do. But he understands why you couldn't be. You have a whole life to get back to.” 

“Thank you, P. I think I needed to hear that.” You smile gratefully at your friend. 

You’re able to chat for a little while longer before Lando finally commandeers his phone back, plucking it out of Pietra’s hand much like Max did to him earlier. 

“Yeah, hi, remember me? Your boyfriend?” He bites out, only a little pouty at how long it’s taken to get you back to himself. 

“No,” You say, teasing brow arching. “Who’re you?” 

“Wow. Wow, I see how it is. Not even a day apart and you’ve already forgotten all about me.” 

“Always so dramatic,” You huff, rolling your eyes playfully. Your smile grows fonder than ever as you look at him. “I don’t think I could ever forget about you, Lando Norris.” 

“Promise?” All traces of humor are gone from his face, replaced with a flash of something more along the lines of worry. 

Under all that sass and good energy he always brings, Lando is worried. Worried you’ll forget about him, worried you’ll somehow fall out of love with him because of the situation you’ve found yourselves in. 

The thing about love is, it transcends distance. 

It doesn’t matter if he’s across the world or sitting right next to you, you love Lando just the same—with everything you’ve got, no matter what. 

“I promise.” 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new chapter :)

[ratatoastwrites]

Do you have any aftercare fics? I love your writing

My Spencer Reid aftercare HCs <3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader (can be read as gn!afab!reader)

a/n: sorry for the long wait anon 😭 i’m really not great at writing aftercare, so these are just my hcs 🧚‍♀️ but i hope you’ll like it 💕

cw: mentioned sex, mentioned sub! and dom!Spencer (he’s a switch in my mind teehee), bruising after intimacy (hickeys, teeth marks, general bruising) but it’s all consensual, cleaning up together, Spencer is a Sweetheart Angel Darling, this is mostly just fluff <3, also I edited this in my economic politics class, so if there are any spelling mistakes or anything, i’m sorry 😭

suggestive content, 18+ MDNI

he’s clingy after sex

i’m talking cuddling, head on chest, legs tangled

there’s barely any room between you two, barely any surface of your skin that isn’t touching

only for, like, half an hour at most, though, before he makes you get up, reminding you to pee

he’s definitely the type that reminds you to pee after sex, even if you’re tired

this man won’t take any chances of you getting a UTI, or anything like that

likes to clean up together after sex

it could be taking a shower together, but baths are much preferred for him

sometimes when you’re both too tired, he’ll make do with a wet towel

but i think that he wouldn’t want you to do all the work, even if he was the more submissive one between you two

he does like getting taken care of, he likes it when you help him clean up in the shower

but if you just want to clean him up and then take care of yourself, he won’t have it

he also gets sleepy after sex pretty often

with how demanding his job is, sometimes he only has energy for one round and then a quick clean up, and then he’s out quicker than lightning

when he gets more dominant, sometimes he’ll get carried away and leave marks and bruises on your skin, in the heat of the moment

he always makes sure to take extra good care of you after that

he massages your sore legs or hips, presses featherlight kisses to the love bites, or teeth marks on your skin

his touch is tender and gentle as his fingers ghost over the bruises in the shape of his fingers on your skin

he has a certain look in his eyes after nights like that, a mixture of guilt and satisfaction –like he’s pleased that you’ve been marked and branded as his, but he doesn’t like the fact that it means you getting bruises

you always reassure him that it’s fine and that you liked it, which seems to placate him, at least for a while

sometimes, on his rare days off, he’ll take the time to properly worship your body, going multiple rounds during the day

he always makes sure that you get enough hydration and nutrition during the breaks between rounds, makes sure to check in on you every step of the way

he’s also big on pillow talk

he’ll ask about your day, and he’ll share what he can about his, mixing in fun facts and statistics when he thinks they’re relevant

this man will talk until he’s out cold –sometimes even after that, soft, unintelligible mumbles leaving his lips in his sleep

he’ll also continue clinging to you during the night, like you’re his only anchor to this mortal realm

all in all: Spencer is a very clingy lover, especially after being intimate with you. He’d also rather die than to slack off on taking care of you. He’s the biggest sweetheart ever, and you can’t believe how you ever got this lucky. <3

[moonstruckme]

hiii this my first request ever, and ur one of my absolute favorites on this app so i figured ur the perfect person to ask my first request🙏 kinda simple but anything with lily evans and fem reader would be beautiful🙈 i love that girl and there’s never enough of her:(

ok aggh ur awesome byee<3

Honored to be your first request babe! Hope you like it <3

Lily Evans x fem!reader ♡ 824 words

Lily wakes to sunlight streaming through the windows and flowers on the nightstand. She turns her head to see them better, stretching as she does, enjoying the warmth of the light that kisses her bare shoulder beside the strap of her tank top. It’s a mix of tulips, baby’s breath, and, because you can never resist, lilies, pink and white blooming out of a thick bottomed vase. 

She leans out of bed to smell them. It’s nice, sweet and fresh to offset the slightly chemical smell that lingers from painting your room the night before. The color is called sea foam, and in the morning light Lily feels gratified that you’ve made the right choice. Your walls are the color of a clear sky. It’s going to look perfect with your art and photos and all the little pieces of your life put up against it. 

There’s a different sort of nice smell coming out of the kitchen, which is where Lily finds you. Humming something from the radio while scraping eggs around in a pan with a plastic spatula. You don’t startle when she wraps her arms around you from behind. Lily likes to think it’s because you feel as safe and at home here as she does. 

“Good morning.” You smile. Lily kisses the corner of it, your jeans scratchy against her hip. 

“Good morning,” she says back. “You’ve been busy.” 

“Yeah, I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep.” You turn your attention back to the eggs, but your fingers tangle with Lily’s. “Figured I might as well get some things done.” 

“What time is it?” 

“Around eleven.” 

Lily lets out a little breath, though she’s not very surprised. “I don’t know how I slept in so late.” 

“I think you needed it.” You pivot slightly, just enough to rest the side of your head against hers. “You’ve been working hard.” 

That’s true; you both have. After moving into the apartment last Sunday, the rest of the week has seen the two of you coming home from work every day and unpacking, hunting for furniture, priming walls, changing light bulbs, and organizing your things late into the night. It’s Saturday now, and though Lily is pleased with the results of your work, she’s exhausted. You must be, too. 

“Maybe we could have a nap this afternoon,” she says. Turns her face into yours to smush a kiss into your cheek. “Thank you for the flowers, by the way. They’re beautiful.” 

“Guess you were named appropriately, then,” you hum. It’s an overused line, from your lips, but secretly Lily loves it every time. 

She slips her hands beneath the cotton of your shirt, hugging your bare skin. “What are you making, lovely?” 

“Scrambled eggs.” Your voice has softened at her touch. “I cut up some fruit, too, it’s in the fridge.” 

Lily lets out a sigh that’s a little like a moan, but at the way your skin warms she can’t bring herself to feel shy over it. “You’re too good for me.” 

“Not true. I’m just trying to get even. You’re the one who picked the color in the bedroom, and that looks amazing, did you see?” 

“I did see.” Her earlier satisfaction grows at the thought that you’re as pleased with it as she is. “We did a good job, there.” 

“That was all you,” you say, turning your face into hers for a kiss. You taste bright, like the fruit Lily now suspects you sampled while preparing it. Strawberries, maybe. 

Happiness spreads through her like honey, slow and warm and sweet from the center of her chest where she imagines her soul is to the very tips of her fingers spread over your navel. Lily hopes that this is what the rest of her life looks like. It’s better than she would have dared to imagine for herself, not so long ago, but it feels a surer thing now that you’re here. First month’s rent and a security deposit down, painting walls and creating the backdrop of your life together. It feels like every morning could start with sunlight and flowers and strawberry-flavored kisses. 

“Can I make a proposal?” she asks. 

“Hm?” 

“I know we just got our new table.” And it hadn’t been easy, the two of you taking up nearly the entire sidewalk and needing to stop for water only to cave and phone James to bring his car. “But would you want to eat this in our room? So we can enjoy the color?” 

“Wow,” you breathe, smile audible in your voice as you lean forward to turn off the stove. Your eggs are done. “Breakfast in bed? That just does not sound appealing at all. Where would you get an idea like that?” 

“Forget it.” Lily lets go of you, making like she’s going to walk out of the kitchen. 

Your laughter follows. “Wait. Would you grab the fruit? I’m right behind you.” 

[sacredsorceress]

hi, it’s me again

could you please write something inspired by “but original trilogy logan would be ALL over you with that” as you said in this post

tysm you’re so awesome <3

my mom and i were just having a conversation on facetime this morning about logan and i'll repeat what she told me to the rest of you: "he's not like this anymore, but the old wolverine [referring to triology!logan] used to be SO charismatic and funny." so yes I would be more than happy to explore further on how logan would get SUCH a kick out of teasing you. (not proofread)

⋆˙⟡ Baking for Triology!Logan ⋆˙⟡

inbox | logan masterlist

The mansion was uncharacteristically quiet.

The day before, winter break had begun. Although there were a few stragglers who stayed within the building's fortress-like walls year round, the majority had left in no less than a hurry. Most professors would take this as an invitation to sleep in until noon.

You, however, saw the rare opportunity to have the kitchen to yourself.

Before the sun had even risen, the indigo hue of twilight stretching its fingers through your blinds, you were awake. When you had shuffled into the kitchen the stovetop clock had read 6:17 back at you. Now, as a loaf of bread sat baking in the oven while bowls whisked themselves around you- who said telekinetic abilities couldn't be used for baking?- you had lost track of time.

The yellow warmth of the sun had just begun to kiss your skin when you heard the door creak open.

Logan's eyes ran over the microbakery you had established in the kitchen as he turned on the coffee machine.

"You ever sleep?" Logan asked, throwing open the fridge.

"I could ask you the same thing, Logan." You said, picking up a chocolate chip cookie from the cooling rack. "Here, try this."

Logan raised his eyebrow.

"C'mon, it's good!" You urged.

Leaning himself against the kitchen island, he rolled his eyes and accepted your offering.

When he took a bite, the gooey chocolate stained his lips and your eyes grazed his throat, staring as his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. To your relief, he didn't notice- too engrained in the flavor hitting his tongue. You even swore you saw his eyes roll into the back of his head.

Logan groaned, taking another bite.

"Are you tryin' to fatten me up?" He asked.

The timer rang.

You laughed as you went to pull the finished bread from the oven.

"Well I always heard that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach."

You hadn't thought about the words until they escaped your lips. Even then, you hadn't considered them too seriously. It was a phrase, a common one at that, but when said to Logan they carried an all too real weight in honesty.

You bit your tongue, hoping it would blow over. Knowing Logan, you should have guessed that wouldn't be the case.

"Oh yeah?" He asked, planting one hand against the fridge to lean over you. He was so close, so intimately in your space, that his hot breath warmed your neck. "Trying to steal my heart, darlin'?"

Despite the pounding of your own heart against your chest, you feigned annoyance; groaning and swatting Logan with your towel.

"You know what I meant."

Logan told you once that you had a shit poker face. You could hear his voice rattling around in your skull, reminding of how easy you were to read as you turned back to your work, hiding your face from view.

But Logan had time and a prompt. Two hell of a things for an instigator to be in possession of.

He stepped into your path.

"I'm not sure I do, sweetheart." Logan teased, a coy smile on his lips. "Didn't know you thought about me like-"

Maybe you should have let that loaf of bread burn and engulf the kitchen in flames, you thought. Maybe then the heat of the room would outweigh the burning of your cheeks.

"Logan!"

Logan gestured towards the door with one hand while the other rested against his chest. Faux-sincerity.

"I thought you'd be into those square assholes like Red."

You grimaced. Scott was a wonderful guy, but it was difficult to imagine him as anything other than a friend when he stood next to Logan. Scott was a shimmering light in the dark, but Logan hung the stars in the sky.

At times, it was difficult not to be envious of Jean- a woman who casually dismissed the love you so desperately vied for.

"Logan, I'm serious." You huffed. "Stop."

As if your words slid off him like water, he ignored them. Instead grabbing another cookie from the rack.

"Cute gesture," He said waving the baked good in the air. "Cooking f'me."

He winked and took another bite.

"A few more of these and you might get a ring outta me."

Your breath caught in your throat.

You thought of everything you could say- every insult you could hurl at him for making your affection a game, for playing with the feelings you suspected he knew about. But none of them landed.

Instead, all you managed was:

"You're an asshole, Logan."

And swatting his hand away from another cookie.