#i originally wanted to just make a gif of the first and last images

[zerotosixty]

We are enemies linked together.

Charles Leclerc on his rivalry with Max Verstappen

Hanif Abdurraqib, “it is once again the summer of my discontent & this is how we do it”

Leclerc and Verstappen say they share mutual respect despite having ‘hated’ each other during karting days / © Kartpix Motorsport

Oscar Wilde, An Ideal Husband

Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc at the 2022 Austrian Grand Prix © Red Bull

Markus Zusak, I Am The Messenger

Charles Leclerc looking at Max Verstappen post-race at the 2019 Austrian Grand Prix

Jonathan Coulton, “Nemeses”

[gloomwitchwrites]

Locker Room: Simon's POV

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, possessive behavior, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), dirty thoughts, multiple creampie

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: originally for @glitterypirateduck 's Ghost Writing Challenge, this is Simon's POV follower parts ONE & Two of Locker Room.

A/N(2): Remember how I said I was in the emergency room and have been feeling like absolute shit? Well I slept for 48 hours and I felt well enough to write this. Enjoy!

Part One // Part Two

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

A bloke shouldn’t have his wank interrupted in the shower.

Simon had been in his head, his hand around his cock, stroking himself to the image of the woman he’s been thinking about for the last few fucking months.

He had heard the silence first, all the banter in the locker room ceasing. That pulled him right out of it, and in seconds Simon stepped out of the shower with a towel around his hips. Your voice drifted in, demanding an audience with him.

And he knew why.

He left that little note on purpose.

The reports are just fine, sweetheart.

Simon wanted to rile you up, to push you a bit, but he didn’t think you’d barge into the men’s locker room just to confront him.

When he appeared, and everyone cleared out, Simon didn’t expect such fire from you. He thought you would fold. That with one look you’d melt into him, but you did the opposite. And then you grabbed him by the fucking dog tags and kissed him.

Simon was done for.

The moment you left, he returned to that shower and jerked himself so fast it almost hurt. He had to have you, but Simon wasn’t going to go after you right then. He made himself wait, and that was the hardest fucking part. Simon desired nothing more than to follow you out of that locker room, toss you over his shoulder, and carry you off.

He’s glad he waited. Simon took you in your office, and yet it wasn’t enough. Not for either of you. Worse, Simon could tell that you were going to end it right then, leave everything nice and tidy. And Simon wasn’t having that.

Now, you’re here, in his home.

Naked. Bare. Skin glossy with sweat. Pussy full of his cum.

You’re fucking beautiful like this, and the sounds you make are even sweeter.

With arms outstretched against the bed, you arch your back, pushing your ass up into the air. Simon fills his hands with those perfect cheeks. He squeezes, leans forward, and gently bites, pulling forth a moan from your lips that goes straight to his dick.

You’ve been milking him all fucking night. You keep demanding more, and Simon is happy to give it. He doesn’t want to go into work. He wants to stay right here. With you. In his bed.

With your knees digging into the top of the bed, you spread them a bit, exposing your pussy to Simon. He cannot help himself when he sees the mess he’s made there. Removing one hand from your ass, Simon runs his fingers over your slick pussy. The sound of his fingers sliding through you invades the room, and it is all Simon can focus us.

It’s a gorgeous sight. A gorgeous sound.

“You want more, love?” asks Simon gently.

His gaze sweeps over your body as his fingers play with your pussy. You shiver, inhale sharply, and then moan a reply that sounds like an agreement. You’re almost twitching with need. You can’t stay still. Every part of you is asking for more, opening for him, but Simon needs to hear those sweet words on your lips.

“Tell me,” he says again, this time leaning over your body to grasp your face and turn your gaze on him. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you inside me, Simon.” You’re begging, almost pleading, and Simon will happily oblige.

Gently, Simon releases you from his hold, only to press you into the position he wants. You’re flat on your stomach as Simon runs his hands up and down your back. It’s a soothing gesture, but it’s mostly to comfort you than him.

Simon is burning beneath his skin. He desperately wants to be inside you, but he also knows that he’s exhausted you, and while you’re not entirely satiated, he doesn’t want you to push it.

His hands fall upon your hips. Simon eases them up a bit, urging your thighs apart with his knees. You comply, and the obedience is delicious to him. You’re demanding—full of fire—and yet for him, you’re melting before his eyes. It’s so different from the Locker Room and from your office.

Slowly, Simon drapes himself over you, flexing his hips back to line the head of his cock up to your entrance. The moment he starts to push in, you groan loudly, body starting to lift from the bed. But Simon relaxes his weight, trapping you beneath him. He props himself up on his left elbow and forearm. While is other hand pressed into the bed next to your waist.

There is no escape. You cannot wiggle out from under him or even buck against him. Simon likes it like this. Like you beneath him. Likes you sweaty. Panting. Begging.

Simon retreats and thrusts forward, sliding in to the hilt. Even now, you’re so fucking tight it’s smashing his brain into mush. He needs to fucking control himself, to make this pleasurable for you as much as it is for him.

He starts slow, finding a rhythm that has you moaning in just the way he likes. It’s almost a tell. Even now, Simon is reading your signals.

Simon brushes his lips against the curve of your shoulder. His tongue darts out to taste the salt. “You’ve been so good for me,” he murmurs. “Taking me well all night.”

“Simon,” you groan as he hits that sweet spot.

Simon grins against your shoulder blade. His hand slips from the bed to slide underneath your body. With each stroke, Simon stimulates your clit. He doesn’t change pace. He knows better. Soon you’re melting. Shaking. Each breath of yours quickening until it’s a guttural groan that even has Simon questioning his sanity.

You vibrate and shake. There is victory on Simon’s tongue. He slips his hand from beneath your body only to tangle it in your hair. He holds firm and then he rocks his hips faster, grunting his own need out above you until his lower-half tenses, and then he’s gasping, his release flooding your pussy.

Simon almost collapses.

He is worn out. Fucking tired. How many times have the two of you fucked tonight? At least five. And this might just be the last of the evening.

Simon runs his hand over your hip and waist only to dip to your stomach. With one fluid motion, Simon curls onto his side, bringing you to rest against his chest. Brushing your hair out of face, Simon kisses a trail from the curve of your shoulder to your lips.

You greet him with a smile.

Simon’s hand roams upward, only to lightly wrap around the front of your neck. You do not protest or push back at this, and something primal within Simon awakens.

This is not a one-time thing for him. You are his, and if that means he needs to mark his territory, he fucking will. Any man at work that even looks at your wrong is dead.

Well—not dead. But Simon will make damn sure they know to back the fuck off.

You’re his. Even if you haven’t agreed. Even if you haven’t decided anything.

You are not walking away.

This isn’t over.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath @sapphichotmess

@saoirse06 @haven-1307 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @lialacleaf

@unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower

@sageyxbabey @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @umno-yeah

@mudisgranapat @ninman82 @webmvie @blackhawkfanatic @contractedcriteria

@talooolaaloolla @rogerrhqpsody @sadlonelybagel @cinnabeanz @aykxz98

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @daemondoll @iloveslasher @yawning-grave81

@voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @azkza @ash-tarte @sammysinger04

@certainlygay @soapyreaper @hantheconqueror @dakotakazansky @jaggersinclair

@suhmie @kidd3ath @lovely-ateez @marispunk

[solar-wing]

⚣ Badass 👊

⚣👊 A/N → @natef458 Last request from my previous account. Now, I can focus on one inbox (at least for now)! Shorter than what I've normally done, but I wanted to keep it simple. Hope you enjoy it! Tamaranean male image generated by AI. WARNINGS: Canon-Typical Violence | Tamaranean Male Reader | Dick Is Nightwing |

⚣👊 Summary → It's Y/N's first mission as a part of the team since he came to Earth. The Team and their leader Nightwing soon found out just how capable Tamaraneans are in a fight.

⚣👊 Words → 3.3K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

Under the harsh glow of the moonlight, the Young Justice team converged around the abandoned warehouse where Vandal Savage and his cronies were holed up. Nightwing was co-leading the mission with Aqualad, coming far in his leadership and skill since they had founded the team along with their friend and teammate Kid Flash, and new friends Superboy, Miss Martian, Artemis, and eventually Zatanna.

Many of the original members had grown much from their early days as a part of the team, moving away from their past titles as sidekicks and coming into their own identities as heroes.

One of them was the former sidekick to the Dark Knight, previously known as Robin, who’d realized he wanted to separate himself from Batman and forge his own path and identity. Thus, within a few years after the team’s founding, he left his position and title as Robin and took on the persona of Nightwing.

He’d come a long way from the kid he was before, becoming more of the leader his mentor, and friend Aqualad saw in him. So much so, that the Atlantean had decided to start letting him help co-lead missions, seeing that was their original deal during that first fateful mission on Santa Prisca. And it couldn’t have come at a better time.

Batman had alerted the Team about a new mission concerning Vandal Savage who had just stolen a prototype weapon from a top-secret government facility. This weapon, codenamed "Project Eclipse," was not only a formidable tool of destruction but was clearly another attempt at trying to make humans evolve as a race due to his crazy beliefs in Social Darwinism and survival of the fittest.

By now, the Team knew this could only be the minor puzzle piece to something bigger. But, a weapon of that capability was way too dangerous to be left in his hands. Thus, they were tasked with intercepting Savage and recovering the stolen weapon before he could carry out whatever twisted experiments he had planned.

Only now, their team had grown much larger, bringing in various new members. Some were sidekicks to other heroes a part of the League while others were just regular people who had developed powers and abilities, whether intentionally or not, and were recruited into the team so they could learn how to control them and use them for good.

They’d lost a few along the way, some choosing to leave the team on their own while others had met a different and more grave fate, one of them being the new Robin, Jason Todd, who’d taken Dick’s place after he’d given up the position of Batman’s sidekick. Of course, the team mourned the loss of their fallen teammates, but it didn’t take away from their strength, especially with the other new members who had joined.

One of them being Y/N, an alien refugee who’d made quite the entrance to Earth just two years prior. He’d escaped from the captivity of the Gordanians, an intergalactic race of slavers who’d attacked his home planet, Tamaran, and abducted him as a slave in the process.

But, the slavers were ignorant of the fact that Tamaraneans gained strength from sunlight. So, when traveling closer to Earth within view of the distant sun of the solar system and after encountering the inherent unpredictability of space travel, Y/N seized his opportunity for escape, breaking free from his confines and escaping the vessel.

They’d pursued after him, hot on his trail as he made his way onto Earth, landing in the unsuspecting municipality of Happy Harbor. Unknowingly, but thankful in the end, his arrival had caught the attention of the Young Justice team, whose base was located in the nearby mountain and had come to his rescue.

It’d definitely been an interesting first meeting, considering none of the Team could understand him since he was speaking an alien language they’d never heard of. That’s when Y/N took it upon himself to lock lips with the Boy Wonder, who had yet to give up his identity and position as Batman’s sidekick.

Apparently, Tamaraneans possessed the ability to learn language through skin contact. It didn’t have to be done explicitly through kissing, but they were also a very direct and forward race when it came to their feelings. Being a race ruled more by emotion than reason.

Simply put, Y/N found Dick attractive and planted one on him so he could learn English, much to the then Boy Wonder’s surprise, but also enjoyment. He didn’t know much about Tamaraneans, but, judging by YN’s appearance, it definitely had to be a planet full of attractive people. But, he only had his eyes on one at that moment.

Now, two years later, Y/N had become an integral member of the Young Justice team, his journey from alien refugee to valued ally a testament to his strength and resilience. Despite the initial language barrier and clear cultural differences that in the early stages separated him from his teammates, Y/N had quickly adapted to life on Earth, his determination to learn and grow matched only by his unwavering commitment to the team.

Y/N brought a unique blend of strengths and abilities to the Team, complementing and enhancing the skills of his fellow teammates in various ways. His Tamaranean heritage bestowed upon him powers and abilities that were on par, if not equal, with those of Superboy, making him a formidable force to be reckoned with on the battlefield.

Like Superboy, Y/N possessed superhuman strength, allowing him to perform incredible feats of physical prowess and to go toe-to-toe with even the most powerful adversaries. His invulnerability made him virtually indestructible, able to withstand the most devastating attacks without so much as a scratch.

But what truly set Y/N apart was his extreme proficiency in hand-to-hand and weapon combat. Trained from a young age in the art of combat on his home planet of Tamaran, Y/N was a master of various fighting styles and techniques, able to hold his own against opponents of any size or skill level.

In addition to his formidable combat skills, Y/N possessed the ability to generate energy bolts and blasts from his hands and eyes, a power known as star bolts on Tamaran. These powerful energy blasts were capable of incapacitating even the most resilient foes, adding a deadly edge to Y/N's already impressive arsenal of abilities.

Together, Y/N's strength, combat prowess, and energy manipulation abilities made him a major asset to the Young Justice team, capable of turning the tide of battle in their favor with a single well-placed strike. Whether facing off against street-level criminals or cosmic threats, Y/N stood ready to defend his teammates and protect the innocent, his unwavering determination and indomitable spirit serving as a beacon of hope in the darkest of times.

As the Team faced off against Vandal Savage and his henchmen in the abandoned warehouse, the air crackled with tension and anticipation. Nightwing and Aqualad led the charge, their years of experience and leadership guiding the team through the chaotic fray.

Superboy, Miss Martian, and Zatanna with a few of their other teammates had split off to retrieve the stolen weapon, leaving Nightwing, Artemis, Kid Flash, and Y/N to hold off Savage and his goons. The battle was fierce and relentless, with Savage's forces proving to be formidable adversaries.

As Nightwing faced off against Vandal Savage in the dimly lit warehouse, the villain was proving himself to be a most formidable foe. Savage's millennia of combat experience and immortality made him a threatening force, his strength and resilience far surpassing that of any ordinary adversary.

The two circled each other warily, each seeking to gain the upper hand in the deadly dance of combat. Nightwing moved with the grace and precision of a trained acrobat, his nimble movements a stark contrast to Savage's brute force and relentless determination.

With a calculated look, Savage launched himself at Nightwing, his fists crashing down with bone-crushing force. Nightwing barely managed to dodge the blow, rolling to the side and countering with a swift kick to Savage's midsection.

But, he shrugged off the attack as if it were nothing. With a savage grin, he came at Nightwing again delivering multiple strikes that drove the young hero further back towards the edge of defeat.

Even with his own experience and endurance in battle, Nightwing found himself struggling to keep up with the relentless assault. His movements grew sluggish and tired as his body began to succumb to the pain of the attacks, his mind racing as he searched for a way to turn the tide of battle in his favor.

As he staggered back from Vandal Savage's brutal onslaught, his muscles burning with exhaustion and his mind reeling from the relentless barrage of attacks, he knew that he was on the brink of defeat. With Savage bearing down on him, his fists raised for the final, devastating blow, Nightwing braced himself for the inevitable impact, steeling himself for the pain that was sure to follow.

But just as Savage's fist came crashing towards him, a streak of emerald energy shot through the air, intercepting the attack with pinpoint precision. Nightwing's eyes widened in astonishment as he watched Y/N swoop in, his Tamaranean abilities allowing him to move with speed and agility unmatched by any ordinary mortal.

With a powerful surge of energy, Y/N deflected Savage's blow, sending the immortal villain stumbling backward with a grunt of rage and frustration. Nightwing could hardly believe what he was seeing as Y/N stood before him, his expression determined and his eyes blazing with determination.

But the battle was far from over, and Savage wasted no time in launching another furious assault. As he lunged towards Y/N, his hands outstretched for the kill, Y/N met him head-on, his own strength and resilience proving to be more than a match for the immortal foe.

With a swift movement, Savage managed to grab Y/N mid-attack, his grip like iron as he sought to crush the life out of the young hero. As he tightened his grip around the Tamaranean’s midsection, he was despondent to see Y/N unfazed by his move, his expression calm and determined as he looked Savage straight in the eye.

"I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am stronger than I look," Y/N declared, his words resonating with undeniable strength and conviction no matter how soft they were spoken.

As he spoke, a flicker of determination ignited in Y/N's eyes, the vibrant emerald glow intensifying until his eyes shone with a brilliant radiance. The Tamaranean brought his foot back before unleashing a devastating kick to Savage's chest, the force of the blow sending the mastermind staggering back. His expression contorted with pain and surprise despite his strength and healing as he struggled to maintain his footing against the onslaught.

As Savage stumbled backwards, Y/N seized the opportunity to press his advantage, launching a relentless barrage of attacks that left the immortal villain struggling to keep up. Meanwhile, Superboy, Miss Martian, and Zatanna had succeeded in securing and disabling the prototype weapon, turning the tide of battle in their favor.

As the battle raged on and the rest of the team rallied to their side, they watched in awe as the Tamaranean held his own against Savage and his goons, his strength and resilience shining through with every strike.

He was relentless, pressing his advantage with unwavering determination as he launched into a relentless barrage of attacks. Each strike fueled by an inner fire and a fierce determination to protect his teammates and emerge victorious against the forces of evil.

Also, no one was allowed to lay hands on his leader like that without repercussions. Vandal truly did not know who he was fucking with.

As Nightwing watched Y/N in the heat of battle, a wave of admiration washed over him, mingled with a sense of awe that bordered on reverence. His eyes traced the contours of his form, noting the fluid grace with which he moved and the unwavering determination etched upon his features.

In the flickering light of the warehouse, the Tamaranean seemed to glow with an inner fire, his emerald eyes ablaze with determination as he faced off against the immortal menace of Vandal Savage. Nightwing couldn't help but be captivated by the sight, drawn to the raw strength and resilience that seemed to emanate from Y/N's very being.

But it wasn't just his physical prowess that impressed Nightwing. It was the strength of his spirit, the unwavering resolve that burned brightly within him even in the face of overwhelming odds. There was something undeniably magnetic about Y/N, something that stirred a longing within Nightwing's heart that he couldn't quite put into words.

With a determined nod, he rose to his feet, his own resolve renewed as he prepared to join the fray once more.

Together, Nightwing and Y/N fought with a synchronicity that bordered on instinct, their movements fluid and coordinated as they launched a devastating assault on Savage and his forces. As they drove their adversaries back, the rest of the team rallied to their side, their collective strength and determination proving to be more than a match for the forces of evil.

As the battle raged on, Nightwing couldn't help but feel a stirring of something deeper than mere admiration. There was a connection between him and Y/N, a bond that transcended words and defied explanation. It was as if they were two halves of a whole, each complementing the other in ways that went beyond the battlefield.

In that moment, as they fought side by side against their foes, the acrobat couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to truly be with the Tamaranean, to share in the triumphs and trials of life as partners, as equals, as something more.

But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. There would be time to explore the depths of his feelings later. For now, he fought alongside Y/N with a renewed sense of purpose, his heart filled with admiration and longing for the alien hero who had captured his attention in more ways than one.

Y/N used his incredible strength and ability of flight to help launch Nightwing into the air, while Nightwing used his light and agile nature to deliver a series of lightning-fast blows against the villain. Together, they worked to bring the villain to his knees, their combined efforts finally proving to be too much for the immortal.

As Savage finally admitted defeat with a promise and retreated into the shadows, the Young Justice team stood victorious, proud and relieved smiles etched onto their faces from their hard-earned victory. They all surrounded their co-leader and teammate, making sure he was okay while praising Y/N for his prowess in his battle with Savage.

"Dude! That was like total badass moves out there!" Kid Flash exclaimed, his eyes wide with awe.

"Yeah, I know you've been on the team for a while now, but I haven't seen a more well-deserved ass whooping like that in a while," Artemis agreed, her lips curling into a smirk.

"It truly was a sight to behold. Well done, Y/N," Aqualad added, his voice tinged with pride.

"I'm so glad you're both safe," Miss Martian added, relief evident in her voice.

"Yeah, that was a close call," Superboy chimed in, his expression serious.

Nightwing couldn't help but chuckle at their enthusiastic praise, his gaze drifting to Y/N. The Tamaranean smiled, his eyes sparkling with appreciation and gratitude at the praise.

"Thank you. Though, I think my friend here is deserving of just as much credit," he replied, gesturing to the former Boy Wonder.

"Oh, no, you definitely did most of the heavy lifting," Nightwing insisted, shaking his head. "If it weren't for you, I would've been a goner."

"I do not know about that. You were holding your own quite well before I arrived. But, we make a good team, do we not?" Y/N mused, his smile widening.

"Yeah, we do," Nightwing agreed, his cheeks flushing slightly at the compliment.

"And now we know, the next time we need to save our butts, just throw Nightwing into mortal danger and Y/N goes into god mode," Kid Flash teased, breaking the mood.

"Dude!" Nightwing hissed, punching his best friend on the arm.

"Yeah, payback, Robby-Poo," Kid Flash, still using his old nickname for his friend despite his name change.

"Well, we should probably head back to headquarters. We need to get this weapon back to the cave," Aqualad interjected, ever the voice of reason.

"Sounds good to me," Superboy agreed, already heading for the exit.

As the Team made their way out of the warehouse, a warm feeling settled over Nightwing's chest, his gaze lingering on the Tamaranean. There was no doubt in his mind that they would continue to make a great team, both on and off the battlefield.

"Hold on a sec, Y/N. We'll be right behind you, guys!" Nightwing called out to his teammates.

The rest of the team shared a knowing glance, a few snickers, and suggestive grins exchanged between them. But they didn't say anything, opting instead to give their friends some privacy.

Except KF who was giving the vigilante a thumbs-up and a wink.

Nightwing rolled his eyes and shook his head, but the blush didn't fade.

Once they were alone, Y/N turned his attention to the former Boy Wonder, his expression curious.

"Is everything okay, Dick? Are you still hurt?" He asked, voice lilting with curiosity.

The acrobat tried not to blush at Y/N's use of his name, the way it rolled off his tongue like liquid gold. Even though they were technically still in the field and should be addressing each other by their alias names, he didn't mind it. Not one bit.

"No, no, I'm fine. Really. Just wanted to say thank you," Nightwing assured, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"For what? Defeating Vandal Savage?" Y/N questioned, confusion written across his features.

"Well, yeah, that, too. But, I meant, thank you for saving me," Nightwing explained, his tone growing soft.

"Oh," Heat growing under the Tamaranean's golden cheeks.

"I'm not gonna lie, I was worried for a second. But, then you came swooping in and turned the tables. I knew I was safe," the acrobat confessed, his gaze locking with the Tamaranean's.

"You are most welcome. It was an honor to fight alongside you. I would not have let any harm come to you, Dick," Y/N replied, his expression earnest, though he wanted to say more.

Ever since he came to Earth, he'd grown into the Earthling culture, which meant he was a lot less direct with his feelings, which proved to be much more frustrating than he thought. Especially when it came to expressing the lingering feelings he had for his leader.

"Yeah, I know. Thanks," the acrobat said, offering a small smile.

"Of course," the Tamaranean responded, returning the gesture.

"We should probably get going. The others are waiting for us," Nightwing pointed out, though he didn't want the moment to end.

"Yes, they are," Y/N agreed, a hint of reluctance in his voice.

"Maybe after we're finished filing our reports and debriefing, we can hang out? Catch up on things, or whatever," the acrobat suggested, his heart racing in his chest.

"I would like that," the Tamaranean replied, his cheeks flushing pink.

"Cool," Nightwing nodded, trying his best not to grin like an idiot.

"Yes. Cool, indeed," Y/N echoed, his eyes sparkling with gleefulness.

"You two coming or what? Let's go," Kid Flash yelled from the warehouse entrance.

"Yeah, yeah, we're coming!" Nightwing called back, rolling his eyes.

With a final shared smile, the two heroes made their way toward their teammates, the promise of a new beginning and a blossoming relationship hanging in the air.

☀️ | Dick Grayson/Nightwing | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[naughtyneganjdm]

Leather and Latex

Summary: Every year Negan throws a Halloween party at The Sanctuary and this year he asks you to be his date. Endlessly, Negan has asked you to be one of his wives and you have turned him down. So for the Halloween party he tries to get you to dress as one of his wives, but you have something else in mind.

Characters: Negan & the reader (OC, second person)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59504641

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Smut, rough sex, unprotected p in v, Halloween themed, no use of Y/N, female reader, little to no plot, leather, latex, Batman references, praising kink, spanking, edging, etc.

Notes: This is day 4 to go with this kinktober list. The prompts I chose were Leather or Latex and Sensory Deprivation.

You never really pictured Negan to be much of a fun guy. Or a good guy for that matter. But when Halloween came around, it was shocking how much The Saviors and Negan loved to throw a good Halloween party. For the most part, Negan did it for the children, which he’d never let people openly know. He had an image to uphold, but over the last few months you had really gotten to know a different side to Negan.

Tonight Negan had asked you to be his date for the party and you accepted. You couldn’t exactly turn down the leader of The Sanctuary. Even though, recently, you had turned him down many times before. Especially considering the situation at hand. For the last few weeks, Negan had been desperately trying to get you to be one of his wives, but you turned him down every time. It was driving him crazy and you kind of loved it. You reminded him time and time again that you didn’t want to be sitting in a room, wearing a black dress like some mindless drone waiting for him whenever he wanted you. No, you wanted to be making a difference. You wanted to be someone that people respected. And to be respected? You couldn’t be one of Negan’s wives.

So the only thing at this point you had really done with Negan was kiss. But you would quickly stop things and shut him down. Hell, you liked Negan, but you had to make a point with Negan. You weren’t just someone who was pathetic and needed him to take care of you.

Tonight, when he brought you your ‘costume’ it had only fueled you more. Negan was specific in what he wanted you to wear. And that costume was a black dress and a nice pair of shoes so that for one night, you could be one of his wives. You played along with it, but when the opportunity arrived for you to pull one over on him, you did. Many times you and Negan had talked about things you liked before the world fell to shit and Negan stressed that he was a big fan of Batman. So when you had gone on a run with the saviors and found a Halloween store that had an extensive Batman costume, you made a deal with Negan. You wouldn’t be upset if he put that on. Even though he originally wasn’t planning on wearing any costume.

So that’s where he was. In the bathroom attempting to put on the costume that you had asked of him. At first, he was uncomfortable with the idea since it had extensive amounts of latex and leather. And he didn’t know if he could fit into it.

Laid out on Negan’s bed, you hadn’t let him know that you were out to surprise him with something while he had been locked away inside his personal bathroom that was in his bedroom. The loud music from the party that was already going on downstairs filled the air and it made you smile.

“You know, this is fucking awesome, but I think I’m going to need some help with putting on all the pieces,” Negan’s voice began, stepping into his bedroom to reveal that he had the cowl on along with a long-sleeved black shirt and the full batman pants set up. At this point he only had on half the costume, but you really didn’t give a shit. Once his eyes fell on you, he came to a quick stop and gave his classic Negan lean. “What in God’s name are you doing?”

“Me?” you questioned, looking down at yourself. While Negan was away in the bathroom you had grabbed a pair of his pants, one of his crisp white t-shirts, his red scarf and his leather jacket that he had set aside to get changed. On your right hand you had snatched the leather glove that Negan often wore and put that on too. Swiftly you had changed out of the classic Negan wife get up and into this which had his hazel eyes gazing over you. “Can’t you tell who I’m going to the party as? If you let me borrow Lucille, it would complete the set.”

“Where’d your dress go?” Negan looked around to see that the dress was laying on the floor at the foot of the bed. “Damn darlin’ you really wanna test the limits with me, don’t you?”

“No, I just really wanted to be Negan for Halloween,” you pulled yourself to the edge of the bed, biting down on your bottom lip. Curling your fingers around the bed, you gave a simple shrug and looked up to Negan with a sense of innocence. Wiggling your finger at Negan had his jaw flexing and in the Batman cowl, it actually looked incredibly sexy. Stepping forward toward the bed, Negan stopped when he reached the area before you. Outstretching your hands, you hooked your fingers with his and heard him growl. “You know…I always had a fantasy about having sex with Batman.”

“I don’t have the full costume on,” Negan pointed out with your eyes gazing over the parts of the costume that he already had on. The top was clinging to his body showing every part of his slender torso and the pants already looked good on him. Taking your hand, you reached out to palm in over the front of the pants eliciting a loud grumble from Negan’s throat.

“Is that you or the costume?” you wondered, licking your lips and dropping your palm between his legs to cup his testicles firmly. Wincing out, Negan tipped his head back and the prominent vein was visible at the side of his neck.

“That’s all me,” Negan responded, sucking in a sharp breath of air. “What about the Halloween party?”

“I think we can have our own party in here,” you suggested, standing up from the bed before Negan. Sliding your palms up over the lengths of his torso, you curled your fingers around his shoulders to get him to lower down closer to you. “Unless of course, you don’t want to have sex…”

“Lucky for you I always had a fantasy of fucking myself,” Negan mused with an arrogant bob of his head. It was such a ridiculous line and the way he delivered it was so cheesy that you couldn’t help yourself with laughing. Grasping your hips firmly in his hands, Negan snickered and drew his tongue out over his bottom lip. “This was a bold decision.”

“I’d like to think of it as smart,” you reasoned with him, tipping up on your toes to press kisses over his jawline. Groaning out, Negan tipped his head back and allowed you to pepper his throat with wet, teasing kisses. “I’m Negan already, so why shouldn’t I look the part?”

“No one gets to wear that leather jacket, I hope you know that,” Negan was letting you know that you were somehow special in the way that he wasn’t angry with you for wearing it. “I will worn you though, this was a bitch to get on, which means it’s going to be a pain in the ass to get off.”

“Well good thing I’m determined and have patience,” you slurred, purring out when Negan’s palms slid in over your sides toward your bottom to give it a firm squeeze. “I’m still not going to be your wife. I need you to know that.”

“No, this is purely Batman and Negan having sex,” Negan snorted and it drew attention to his eyes. Negan had already put the black makeup around his eyes to fit with the cowl and you couldn’t help but smile in how serious he took this whole thing. It really brought out the color of his beautiful hazel eyes and you were actually kind of glad you did this.

Tipping up on your toes, you brought your lips together in a hungry sweep that had Negan clinging firmly to you, pulling him flush against you. With every caress of his lips, you felt your heartbeat growing stronger.

“Fuck me,” Negan grunted, dropping his head down to look between the two of you. “My dick is only just starting to get hard and these pants are killing me.”

“We’re going to have to get them off you then,” you worked with the belt realizing what he meant with it being so many pieces. It took a lot to get them undone and you had to use a lot of strength to tug at the material when you dropped to the edge of the bottom of the bed. Getting the material down to his thighs made you smile when you saw his semi-erect length before your eyes. Caressing your hands up over his thighs and toward his hips had him sucking in sharply. God, his incredible v-line looked twice as amazing in what he was wearing. “Look at the weapon you were hiding on you this whole time Batman…”

“Weapon?” Negan repeated with an amused rumble, humming out when your fingers curled around his shaft. With gentle strokes over his body, it had him growing harder within your grasps. “I like that. It’s both a weapon of mass pleasure and destruction. Because tonight, I’m gonna absolutely destroy your pussy.”

“Now that better be a promise,” you purred, reaching around to grab his small ass in order to tug him forward. A wicked smirk tugged at Negan’s arrogant features when you let the tip of his cock drag over your full lips. Extending your tongue out ever so slightly against the ridges had him breathing loudly. “I’d hate to be let down by my favorite superhero.”

“Oh, that would be a catastrophe,” Negan agreed, his head nodding slowly and his gloved hands hooking around you to grab firmly at the back of your head. Wetting your lips, you pressed teasing kisses over the head of Negan’s cock that turned to gentle flicks of your tongue over the swollen tip. You didn’t want to jump right into this. No, you wanted to make him suffer with continuous wet, hot kisses at the tip that would grow more in strength. So that way by the time you finally did take him into your mouth, his legs were uneasy with his breathing broken. Watching Negan was the key to all of this with you lapping at the underside of his cock and then taking him further back toward your throat. “Y’know, I’ve never missed a Halloween party.”

“There is a first for everything,” you pulled your mouth away with a wet sound, your lips glimmering as you pressed them up to the tip. Extending your tongue out had Negan growling out. “If you’d rather be at the party.”

“Shut up and suck my dick,” Negan scoffed getting you to chuckle against his flesh. It had him tremoring and stepping in closer to you. His free hand wrapped around the base of his erection bringing his cock to your lips. Sinking it between your lips, Negan started to rock his hips back and unhurriedly forward toward your throat. Grasping at his hips, you allowed him this. You knew how bad he wanted this whole thing so you were going to give it to him. It was a mix of him letting you pleasure him and him fucking your throat. When he thought you’d need to catch a breath, he’d loosen up before urging you down his cock firmly. “Good girl.”

After a few firm thrusts to the back of your throat with a gagging sound following, Negan pulled his hips back and away from you. It had a line of spit connecting your lips and his cock. An amused sound escaped him when he pushed into your shoulders to get you to lay back.

“I’ve never given head before with something like this on my head, but let’s give it a shot,” Negan pulled at the pants you were wearing and it didn’t take much to get them from your body. Tearing at your panties had you gasping out, but Negan didn’t take his time. Dropping to his knees, his hands forcefully pushed your thighs apart and it was pretty immediate that you had his head between your legs. A rough, forceful kiss was pressed against your folds causing you to arch your back up toward him. Humming out, Negan dragged his tongue out between your folds teasing at your sensitive body. Slurping faintly at your clitoris had your fingers reaching down in search of his hair, but you realized that he was still wearing the cowl and it made you laugh. “What?”

“This is just new for me Batman,” you liked the smile that he gave you with his head tipped back. This was both incredibly sexy and ridiculous at the same time, but you weren’t going to complain. Dropping his head back down, Negan was very dominant in the way that he ate you out. It was no time before you were a shuddering mess beneath him clinging at whatever you could grab. You may have preferred to see Negan’s face and not so much his Batman mask, but you were making it work. “Negan…”

With your moans, Negan kept up the pace of his mouth and tongue working to bring you right to the edge of your orgasm. Bouncing your hips toward him, you were in desperate need of the orgasm that he was working up inside of you. It had been so long and he was surprisingly doing such a good job even with that cowl on.

Negan’s fingers hooked with yours right when you were about to come and you threw your head back into the pillows. It had an amused rumble falling from Negan’s throat when he sat down at the bottom of the bed. Your thighs were tremoring, your eyes slammed close leaving you with the sensation of spinning. Even though you were trying to catch your breath, Negan was ready to keep going.

In a haste, he pulled you in over him. Together the both of you shakily worked to pull the tight material of the long sleeve that he was wearing up his body to toss it to the floor. Crawling further in over his lap, you curled your fingers around his neck and it felt strange with the way the cowl felt against your fingertips.

“Wait,” Negan demanded, reaching for the red scarf that you had put on. Lifting it, he wrapped the material around your eyes and it had you releasing a shuddering sound. By his low rumble of a laugh, you could tell that he was amused. By taking your sight away, you couldn’t see a thing and he knew that. Maybe just simple shapes, but that was it. Gasping out, you tried to keep yourself balanced by holding onto his shoulders when he firmly tugged the white shirt up over your breasts and yanked down the cup of your bra. Negan’s mouth was quick to cover your breast, his tongue circling the nipple eagerly. “So fucking perfect.”

Whimpering out, you felt the length of Negan teasing at your entrance and you bucked up against him wanting to have him enter you, but he wasn’t giving you the satisfaction of that yet. Instead he continued to pamper your breasts with kisses until he hooked your arms behind your back in one of his hands.

“You are my prisoner after all,” Negan nipped at your neck, having you cooing out at the sensation. You could feel the leather of Negan’s jacket hot against your exposed flesh with Negan firmly rolling you over onto your stomach. Pulling your hips to the bottom of the bed, Negan roughly pushed into your lower back before kicking your legs apart. The warmth of Negan covered you with him wrenching your arms behind your back. “You are a naughty girl.”

“I’m so naughty,” you purred out with Negan’s cock hovering over your bottom. A soft tapping was felt against your cheeks before Negan led his cock to your entrance. In a swift, fluid movement Negan filled you completely having you throw your head back. A loud cry fell from your lips when he pulled his hips back and then firmly smacked forward. The movement was so strong that it had you bouncing forward up the bed. “Fuck!”

“I did say I’d deliver on a promise of destroying your pussy,” Negan growled in your ear and with your sight taken away from you, you felt everything in so much more detail. Every powerful thrust had you moaning out, your cries not being held back with Negan pounding into you with reckless abandon. Loud smacking sounds of your flesh filled the air and he wasn’t letting up on the grasp of your arms behind your back. “Such a tight pussy. It feels like it was made for only me. Who does it belong to?”

“It’s yours,” you whimpered, biting down on your bottom lip with every powerful forward thrust he made inside of you. It was hard to form words with your face buried against the bed and your eyes covered. What Negan was doing to you was both incredible and mind blowing. It wasn’t romantic, but that was never really something you pictured Negan being.

“I asked you who it belongs to,” Negan finally released one of your arms, giving your ass a firm smack. Whimpering out, you clung tightly to the comforter on Negan’s bed.

“Negan,” you were quick to answer wincing when he dropped your other arm. Both his hands were squeezing at your ass while he led you back over him repeatedly. Plunge after plunge of his body was rough, powerful and had you attempting to crawl upwards, but he would pull your hips back to him.

“I know this big cock has to be new for you sweetheart, but you’re going to take it like a champ,” Negan assured you, his right hand reaching out to press between your shoulder blades to keep you in place. Leaning over you, his weight braced against his arms that were beside you. Hooking his left hand with yours, Negan squeezed his fingers tightly with yours when he started rolling his hips forward, his lower abdomen smacking against your bottom. “Good girl.”

There was some racket downstairs from the party, but you were so lost in this that you didn’t care. There was a heat growing in your belly with every deep thrust Negan left you with. Negan’s mouth was covering your shoulder, neck and jawline with hot kisses.

“You feel so fucking good,” Negan growled in your ear, drawing chills throughout you. Turning your head just enough had you begging for his lips to cover yours. Giving you what you wanted, Negan stole a kiss from your lips that had you desperate to kiss him back. “Are you going to come?”

“Yes,” you panted, your body bouncing back into Negan’s thrusts. He had you trapped beneath him, but you liked the way it felt with him surrounding you. The smacks of his testicles against your clit felt amazing with him plowing into you. Grunting against the side of your neck, Negan bit at your jawline and hissed when your body started to tense up. Feeling your body contracting around his, Negan’s hips seemed to falter leaving you with a cry. “Please. Negan!”

“Not yet,” Negan snickered, pushing up and away from your body. The drag of his cock from your warmth was agonizing with him leaving your body. He seemed amused with your whining as he flipped you over onto your back. Crawling in over you, he urged your right leg to curl around his waist and you frowned. “You’ve teased me this whole time and you can’t wait a few extra minutes to come?”

“It hurts,” you frowned getting a deep rumble of a laugh to fall from him.

“And now you know how it feels when you’ve sent me packing with the blue balls every time you made out with me,” Negan breathed against your lips, amused when your hips arched up toward him begging him to enter you again. “You’re a greedy little thing.”

“I thought Batman was supposed to be the good guy,” you reminded him with Negan snickering against the side of your neck. “You’re going to leave a lady aching and in pain?”

“Batman isn’t liked by everyone you know,” Negan reached between the two of you, his lips hovering over yours. Leading himself back into you with ease had the both of you moaning in unison. At first, the roll of his hips was slow. It was almost torture with the slow pull back and the unhurried push forward. It was having him fill you completely and then almost leave your body before smacking forward again. Your arms hooked around his shoulders, you fingers digging into his flesh. “Give me what I want and I’ll let you come.”

You didn’t respond. He wanted you to be his wife, but there was no fucking way. Your silence didn’t bode well for him with his thrusts becoming more forceful having you bounce upward with every movement, “It’s not that hard to just give me what I want.”

“I won’t be one of them,” you denied him, your nails biting into his skin with how hard Negan started to fuck you. It had your back arching with you crying out his name again and again. You were thankful that the music was loud downstairs or otherwise you would have drawn the attention of someone in The Sanctuary. It was so fucking good, but just like before right when he got you to the edge, he stopped leaving your heart hammering in your chest. “Goddamn it Negan.”

“Only good girls get to come and you’re being very bad,” Negan slurred, his mouth covering your exposed breast. Nipping at the taut bud had you purring out, your fingers sliding up toward the back of his head where that fucking mask still was on him. And then he started moving again. Sharp, torturously slow movements that had you gasping with the sensation. “You wanna come? Give me what I want.”

“I’d be miserable,” you whined, your throat tensing up with Negan kissing up over your chest toward your neck to bite at the side of it. That would certainly leave a mark. “I want to be beside you, not waiting for you to return.”

“Goddamn,” Negan snarled, pulling away from you again, but this time he was tugging the blindfold down to get you to look at him. Trying to get the cowl from his head, you helped him when he hissed out and managed to get it off. Tossing it aside made you smile. He was soaked, his messy hair clinging to his head with him rolling you over so that you were on top of him. “If you don’t want to give me what I want then make yourself come.”

You weren’t going to fight that one with you bracing your hands over the center of his chest. Negan’s palms cupped at your breasts while you started to bounce yourself eagerly over his hips. You wanted to feel all of him and you were so desperate for that release. Winces were falling from Negan’s throat, his hazel eyes narrowing while you had your way with him.

Breathy pants were falling from your parted lips. Negan’s hips were meeting yours with every downward thrust you made over him. Your motions went from careful to forceful with Negan grasping to your hips to help you rock over him in swift movements. Your face was hot, your heart hammering when you threw your head back finally reaching that orgasm that Negan had held off from you for so long.

“Don’t stop,” Negan hissed, pushing up so that he could kiss over the side of your neck, forcing you to continue to move your hips over his even though you were already weak from how hard that prolonged orgasm took to get. Grasping at his wet, dark hair you knew he was looking for that same kind of euphoric feeling you allowed yourself to have. Short, pronounced winces were pressing against your throat. A few more powerful thrusts beneath you had you clutching to Negan when his cock twitched inside of you filling you with the first line of his cum. Bouncing up toward you, Negan clung tightly to you until the end of his orgasm, his breath warm against your lower neck. His arms were holding tightly to you and you were clinging to him. “I don’t know why you don’t want to be mine.”

“Because I can be yours without having to be your wife,” you hushed him, dragging your thumb across his bottom lip. Nipping at the pad of your thumb, Negan’s hazel eyes hooked with yours and it made you smile that he still had the Batman make up around his eyes. “I’ve been yours this whole time Negan. You’ve just been too blind to see it.”

----

Tags: @slutlanna976​ @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @pixelb4rbie @ibelongtonegan

@smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan

@redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted

@akumune @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx @haleygreen23 @xhannahbananax03

@sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf

@promiscuousbarnes @tone-stark @lanadelnegan @peachihellcat

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

AHHH hii angel thank you so much for responding to my last request, it was more than perfect!! 💗

idk if you'd do this because it's a very sensitive topic and i don't want to make you feel uncomfortable but i need a little bit of comfort and reassurance since my bday is in like an hour hehe.. but can i have a bucky with a reader who's attempting to lose weight by dieting and working out but it kinda goes downhill (i think you know what I'm hinting at), and she's like a bit insecure and compares herself to models. and bucky finds out and helps her.. and just a bit angsty but turns out very fluffy with cuddles and stuff. you absolutely don't have to write this request if it's too overwhelming, lot's of love, take care! 💗💗💗💗

- 🦢

my love hi!! you’re more than welcome, glad you liked it!! happy belated birthday, hope you had a great day!! I love stuff like this so it’s no problem. sending love, hope you’re well. thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

SMALL CHANGES.

bucky barnes x fem!reader — angst & comfort

word count. 1073

warnings. potentially triggering content? mentions of dieting and working out. might be a hard read for some?

Comparison is the thief of joy. 

It's something you've always struggled with, the endless questioning of yourself, picking yourself apart in ways you believe you don't fit in. It's an easy habit to slip into but a difficult one to break out of. 

As of late, those feelings resurfaced - finding more and more 'faults' when you put yourself up against others. Models. It was as if you got sucked into a spiral of scrolling through images and doubting yourself, all of it leading to you curled up crying in bed. Always. 

No matter how upset you'd be, you'd still find yourself swiping up to see more - feeding that little gremlin in your mind. 

And after a little while, you decided you wanted to do something about those feelings - granted the reasoning behind it wasn't coming from a good place, but you'd be bettering yourself, and that's what you originally wanted.

So you changed your routine: waking up before six, secretly squeezing in an hour workout before joining Bucky on his morning runs, coming back home to have breakfast —an apple— then going about your day only to workout again once you get home. 

You thought food was the enemy, so you restricted yourself with crazy diets and regimes you hear about in Hollywood. You tried a water cleanse, a juice cleanse, keto, even fasting, but no matter how hard you thought you tried, your efforts would not be enough for what you wanted.

All it left you feeling was tired and crappy. No matter how much you hated your body, your body hated you more for what you were doing to it.

You thought you were being sneaky and secretive in the way you were going about it, but you couldn't be more wrong. Bucky, your boyfriend, knew something was running rampant in your mind: every dismissal of a snack you previously loved, every time he watched you dodge a mirror —or on the contrast of seeing you stare too long in one— all of it only confirming what he had hoped not to be true.

It's a sensitive topic, especially to bring up to a loved one. Bucky knew you weren't going to be forthcoming, so he wanted to take the first step.

You were in your shared bedroom, sorting through your dresser to find a clean pair of workout clothes - all of your others drenched in sweat from your previous workouts. 

"Hey, honey?" Bucky calls out, knocking on the ajar door. 

You turn around to see his sweet face, your own almost embarrassed from being caught. "Yeah?" 

"It's almost dinnertime. What do you say about going to that restaurant downtown? The one you love?" he asks, trying to scope you out.

"I have some stuff in the fridge. I bought a bunch of kale that needs eating before it goes bad," you reply, turning away, redirecting your focus to the clothes in your drawer.

Bucky leaves his spot in the doorframe, instead walking over to take a seat at the foot of the bed - behind from where you stand. "That's not food," he softly shakes his head. "Rabbits eat that. Let's get something good. What about a chicken sandwich? Pizza?"

"It is food," you reply. "Put on some pepper and olive oil, then bake it— it's good," you add, trying to convince him and yourself. 

He faintly sighs, resting his elbows on his knees. "No one likes kale."

"Maybe you're not cooking it right," you playfully protest, trying to distract him. 

"No, I cook it right," he stands up, walking to stand beside you. "We haven't gone out to eat for a while. I miss spending time with you like that."

You missed it too - far more than you'd ever anticipate. But you didn't want to slip up again. You already had a few times this week and you didn't want to make a habit of it. 

"I do, too, but I already ate. Maybe in the week?"

"What did you have?" he asks, craning his neck to look at your face.

You hesitate, not having an answer. "I can't remember."

He exhales weakly, your unknown confirmation making his heart sink. His hand reaches for yours, the act like he was pulling your attention back to him. "That means you haven't eaten," he utters, his tone soft - the meaning behind his words almost scolding. 

You feel cornered, and once again, you have no answer for him. 

His grip tightens, gently turning you back to him. "You need to eat, honey. Your body needs it... I know what you've been doing."

After hearing something you didn't want to, your stomach drops. Bucky knew.

"I should've said something when I noticed it," he shakes his head, feeling at fault. "You know you can't keep doing what you're doing?"

You nod meekly, avoiding his eyes. You did know that what you were doing was unhealthy, but you wanted to be like them. If they can do it, why can't you?

"Why have you been doing it?" he asks faintly, cocking his neck to meet your gaze.

"Are you telling me off?"

He's quick to shake his head, denying it almost instantly - both his palms reaching to cup your face. "God, no," his soft eyes bore into yours. "Of course not, honey. Never," he reassures, thumbs grazing over your cheeks. "I just want you to look after yourself."

"I do," you hesitate a response, the words delicate - almost inaudible.

"You don't," he mumbles. "The working out, not eating? You're hurting yourself," he pauses. "If you want to change, I can help you. But we'll do it the right way, okay? None of what you've been doing."

All you can do is nod, silently acknowledging your accidental wrongdoings.

"Just small changes," he leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips. "That's all you need, okay?"

"Okay," you faintly smile, agreeing to the help. 

"So," he starts, removing the placement on the sides of your face. "We're going to go out for dinner. And you're going to order whatever you want— whatever it is you've been wanting to eat," he pauses, noticing the hesitancy in your expression. "And we're going to order water instead of wine. Small changes."

The thought of ordering a meal you've restricted yourself from is enough to make your smile genuine. The idea of having your lover's support making it all that much easier.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: A New World {9}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Two more races closer to the end of the season and all that means is the competition is fiercer than ever and every point is a battle to win. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, assault, angst WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten

Round Sixteen - Singapore GP

Charles was worried about you. You had barely said a word since the race ended, only congratulating your boyfriends on their great results. You were disappointed in yourself for finishing last place. Technically it was 15th place but everyone behind you had DNF’d so you were the last one to cross the finish line.

The bath did little to ease the tension embroiled in your body and you sank down beneath the surface. A wavering image of Charles filled your vision as he took a seat at the edge of the bathtub and trickled his fingers through the water. Only when your lungs began to burn did you resurface with a deep gasp for fresh air.

“You’re going to catch a cold, ma chérie,” Charles said softly as he wiped away the rivulets of water. It was almost like he knew they were mixed with your tears. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you whispered. “I think I am just going to stay in tonight, I don’t want to hold you back from celebrating. You guys did great today.”

“You are being too hard on yourself. It sucks, Lando and I know that first hand,” he chuckled, referring back to the first half of the season. “But you’ll come back stronger, I know you. You’ll be back in the points next week.”

You smiled weakly at his confidence and accepted his hand that helped pull you from the bath. “Are you willing to bet on that?”

“D'accord,” he nodded, wrapping you tightly in a towel before kissing your forehead. “I have faith in you, mon amour.”

“That makes one of us,” you joked, feeling a little better now that you were wrapped in his arms. “You should get ready to go, Lando is going to need you to carry him home tonight.”

“Mon Dieu, him and Carlos drinking together,” Charles groaned as if just realising what he was in for. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

You nodded and stepped out of the bathroom to grab your phone. “I think there is another Verstappen somewhere around here feeling sorry for himself too, and misery loves company.”

Max arrived before Lando had finished styling his hair and he came bearing gifts, a bag of mouthwatering food packed full of local dishes in one hand and a bottle of gin in the other. 

“Now it’s a pity party,” you laughed as he made himself comfortable in the living room. He didn’t even bother with plates, just eating straight out of the containers while he changed the channel off MTV. “Are you planning on sharing or do I need to order my own?”

“Depends if you care what Kristian thinks,” he shrugged, pushing a container aside. He grinned knowing you couldn’t turn down the grilled kebabs slathered in a sauce that would give your PT a heart attack. “Live dangerously, zusje.”

You snorted and dropped into the seat beside him, grabbing a pair of chopsticks and the dish from the coffee table. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh, heard that before,” he teased as continued to flick through the channels until he hit the movies. “Fast X?”

“No,” Lando answered for you as he finally appeared from the bathroom with his hair perfectly styled and his shirt half unbuttoned. He explained that it was to combat the humidity in the country but you and Charles knew it was because he loved to flash his tanned and toned chest, almost as much as you liked to see it. “She’ll get pissed off that it is too unrealistic.”

“It is unrealistic,” you pointed out.

Max laughed, “It’s a movie.” But he still changed the channel. “Maverick? The original.”

“Sure,” Charles said with a grin as he pulled his shoes on, “if you want to comfort her when Goose dies.”

“You are impossible.” Max shook his head and tossed the remote on your lap. “You choose something.”

Ready to leave, Charles looked like he was going to ask you if you had changed your mind before thinking better of it. Instead he kissed you as innocently as he could manage with your brother sitting beside you. “Je t’aime.”

“Love you too, have fun.” You held your hand out to Lando and pulled him down to your height for a kiss too. “Not too much fun. I don’t want to wake up to any new CarLando rumours.”

He knew you were joking and he nipped your bottom lip for it before pulling away and holding his necklace up. “Holy trinity, baby: you, Charles and me.”

“That’s why you are missing your top three buttons,” Charles teased as he slung his arm over Lando’s shoulder. “All for the necklace and definitely not vanity.”

“Me? Vain? Never,” Lando scoffed. “I am humble, thank you very much.”

“Mhmm, so humble, mon cher,” Charles agreed sarcastically as he led them to the door before blowing you one final kiss. “Bonne nuit.”

Round Seventeen - Japan GP

Lawrence wanted to speak to you after the race finished and you hoped it was because he had some answers as to why the car was struggling. The upgrades seemed to make it worse and it was a hell of a push just to get back in the points, but you had made it like Charles assured you would.

Walking into Lance’s side of the garage, you assumed his father would be nearby. What you didn’t account for was Lance storming through the engineers after his DNF. It was a moment of wrong place at the wrong time that put you into his path and you felt the need to at least say something to him.

“Sorry, man, that was a rough one.” Hindsight was a real charmer as his green eyes narrowed with rage and you were shoved to the floor. Your ass met the hard concrete and the garage fell silent as they witnessed the attack.

Your shoulders ached where he had pushed you, but your butt would surely have bruises come morning. Calmly, you swallowed down the pain as the cameras waited for your reaction and you rose to your feet. You wiped the dust from your backside and looked at Lance. “At least I know how you injured your wrists, you’re a real fucking wanker.”

Word spread like wildfire as the footage was shared around the paddock and the world and your call to the Stewards came before Lando finished his podium celebration, the first you hadn’t been there to witness. It only added to your sour mood as you stepped into the meeting room and found an empty chair opposite Lawrence and Lance. You were by no means alone but everyone who had been asked to come as witness were all on Lawrences bank roll so you might as well have been.

The tedious hearing details were read by the Stewards, along with footage that showed the push that put you on your ass. They turned to Lance first, asking for his take on the event and whispered with his father before sitting back.

“It was an accident, I didn’t see her there.”

You scoffed under your breath but caught the look Lawrence sent you as the Steward asked you the same question. It was a look that everyone had warned you about. It was the look that drew the line in the sand of who had his support, and why wouldn’t he take his son’s side - he was a father first and a principal second. It was a look that said you would be finding another team next year if you weren’t careful.

Looking down at your hands the words tasted like ash. “Like Lance said, it was an accident.”

The steward nodded and typed some notes on his laptop. “Then the matter is settled, you will be fined €20,000.00 for unsportsmanlike behaviour.”

You lunged out of your seat and slammed your hands on the table at the ruling. “For what!”

“You saw the same evidence as I did,” he said, ignoring your outburst. “You clearly called Mr Stroll, Lance, a ‘fucking wanker’ on live tv. If that is all, we have another review about to begin.”

You left the room to see Bottas and Sargeant waiting with their team representatives and kept your head low as you passed by, feeling their curious eyes following. Lawrence kept pace with you as you left the building, Lance lagging somewhere behind, and you debated breaking into a sprint to see if the old man could keep up.

“Thank you,” Lawrence said, nearly making you trip over in surprise.

“Thank you?” you growled as you turned on him. “I saved your toddler’s career, you can do better than a fucking ‘thank you’.”

“Lance is struggling and it’s affecting him badly, but that’s no excuse for how he treated you.” Lawrence placed a hand on your shoulder but you shrugged it off as you remembered the look in the meeting room. You may both be wearing the same colours but you were not on the same team.

“You can still be a good father and not protect him from everything. In fact, it might just do him a lot of good in getting his head out of his ass. Now, I am going to go and take an ice bath and you are going to pay my fine. If there’s a bonus in my bank account when I get back to the hotel, we’ll call it even.”

You left without giving him the time to respond and jogged back to hospitality, an unfortunately long distance from the FIA building. Some of the teams were already starting to pack their motorhomes down but Aston Martin was still lively, even more so when you stepped inside and saw Charles, Lando and Max looking tense amongst a group of Lance’s friends that travelled with him .

“Woah, stand down, killers,” you teased with a flippant attitude you didn’t feel. “Shouldn’t you take it out to the parking lot?”

“Too many witnesses,” Max muttered.

“I was joking, we can all relax. You three, my room. Now.” You pointed your finger to the stairs and waited for them to start walking before you followed, glaring at the rest of them. “Don’t you have more important things to do, like I don’t know, check Lance has warm milk in his sippy cup?”

“Little bitch.”

“Fils de pute, va te faire enculer!”

You blocked the stairs but Max had already grabbed Charles and held him back. “That’s an insult to his mother,” you said as the door opened and Lance arrived. “It’s not her fault her son is a sycophant, and here’s his sugar daddy now. Tighten the leash on your little friends, Lance. It’s the least you can do since you owe me.”

His lips twisted into a grimace at the reminder but he jutted his head to the other end of the motorhome and his friends followed him, their disappointment palpable. You could only imagine what he had been telling them in private to create that sort of reaction and realised why the driver had gone through so many teammates on the grid. He was insufferable.

You gently pushed on Charles’ arm when he didn’t move, he was intently watching the group leave and the staff return back to their jobs as if nothing happened. “Come on, babe, let’s just get my stuff and go home.”

“Since when are you the rational one?” Max asked as he led the way with Lando and left you to hook your arm with Charles and follow.

“Maybe I’m finally maturing.” you said with a grin that finally had the tension lifting as they all started to laugh. “Rude.”

Click here for the next part.

[atomicbland]

Just A Mirage

Hello I'm outting myself as the ──★ ˙🍓anon from @ghoulphile. Anyways they've inspired me to fall face first dip my toe back into writing and might as well share the brain rot with the class. This is my first time writing smut or anything relatively like this so any questions comments critques are welcome! I dont bite unless you want me to

pairings: cooper howard x fem!reader rating: 18+ MDNI! warnings: bondage, degradation, pet names, mentions of age gap (obviously), Cooper Howard being a jackass in general, canon typical chem use, smoking AO3 Link

You were tired, thirsty, and hungry. Your rations had been finished earlier that morning though it was not by your hand. The tall ghoul who looked like he had walked right off the set of one of those western movies with his cowboy hat, ragged leather duster, and shotgun strapped to his back had stolen the last of your food and water while you stepped away to relieve yourself. You had come back to him chewing on your stash of jerky while letting his scruffy companion, “Dogmeat”, drink straight from your water flask. You learned quickly that no matter what, he’d treat the dog better than you. He kept you on a leash, his lasso was tied around your waist and tethered to the weapon belt that might as well have been fused into his skin. Anytime you weren’t keeping pace he’d give a rough tug of the rope, causing it to bite into your belly. Argued it’s easier to keep track of you that way. 

While you lamented over the loss of your food and water and debated if hiring the old ghoul was a smart choice something catches your attention stopping you in your tracks. Along the edge of the tree line, you spot the remains of what looked like a house, bigger than any house you’ve come across. The roof and windows were still somewhat intact and something that looked like brick peeked through the vines that had taken over the structure. You felt the bite of the rope at your stomach. 

“Now, I done told you what’ll happen if I gotta tug this damn rope again…” the Ghoul threatened from in front of you.

“I saw someth-”

“You ain’t seen nothin’,” he spat. “A mirage. Just that pretty lil’ head of yours playin’ tricks sweetie.” He tugged the rope again, urging you to move along not even bothering to look in the same direction as you. 

Sweetie. Whenever he called you that you could feel the heat of a thousand rads shoot through your body, making your blood boil. 

“Maybe my mind wouldn’t be playing tricks if I still had my food and water!” You didn’t budge, refusing to play his stupid game. You were in charge, hiring him to escort you to the Old World Wall safely. 

He turned to face you, his eyes hidden by the brim of his hat but his features were twisted into a scowl. “What was that lil lady?” 

He didn’t scare you. You cleared your throat. “I said. I NEED water. You don’t get any caps or vials if I’M dead!” He stays silent, still glaring. A month's supply of vials upon arrival was on the line and he knew it. You point towards the treeline. “I saw a house over there. We're out of rations and it's getting dark. Can we at least set up camp there?” 

His answer is wordless, whistling a command to Dogmeat to run ahead to the house. He gives another tug at the rope, commanding you to follow behind him, a cautious hand at his holster. 

The inside of the house was far nicer than the outside led you to believe. While everything appeared to be overrun by nature the original bones were still there. Holey yet plush couches formed a sitting area around a fire pit that recessed into the tattered wall. The floorboards creaked and moaned under the new weight as the three of you walked around making sure the area was clear. Dusty paintings littered the walls, images nearly impossible to make out in the dim light. 

“Now smoothie,” the Ghoul started, taking a quick break to puff his inhaler, “I’mma take you off yer leash and scope the perimeter ‘fore we hunker down.” 

You nod, happy to have some relief from the scratchy fibers of the rope and to get some sort of break from your freakish travel partner. Not that you didn’t hate him but the way he spoke and stole from you did wear on your nerves. All of the stupid pet names that cowboy gave you did something to you. You couldn’t place it, a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach, a milder feeling of what he did when he’d make a pass at you. And despite how much he annoyed you, you found him strangely attractive. On those sleepless night when you were sure he was sleeping, you’d study his features, imagining his strong hands around you as he pulled your hips down onto his, his cock hitting your core just right making your back arch and pulling the same loud cries of pleasure you had heard him pull from others in the adjacent room of whatever hostel would allow a ghoul and his dog. 

The smell of viscera and tobacco cloud your senses, and you feel a gloved hand around the back of your neck, ripping you back to reality. “And be good for me while I’m gone.” The heat of his breath travels down your neck and straight between your thighs. 

You watch as he slinks away, stopping at the crumbling doorway—a dark shadow masking the top half of his face. “Oh and sweetheart,” he pulls a cigarette from one of the pockets of his duster, lighting it before he continued, “be a doll an’ rangle somethin’ up for dinner. Ain’t much in the mood for ass jerky t’night.” He flashes you a smile from underneath his hat before leaving, Dogmeat happily cantering after him. 

The house is larger than it looks on the inside and despite its current state of ruin, you could see it in all of its glory, like one of those fancy houses you see in the movies. People smiling and laughing around a table piled with food, dressed in the most beautiful clothes that shimmered against the light. Women with beautifully painted faces and clean, perfectly styled hair. Those movies always made you wonder about the world before the bombs, before everyone wanted to kill everyone else, before the fear of radiation. 

You find your way into the kitchen, cracked black and white tiles decorate the floor, dingy teal cabinets matching the Atomic Queen appliances hug the walls. You take care to peek behind every cabinet door checking for any food or water that might have been missed by whoever came through here last. You manage to find some unlabeled booze and canned food tucked behind the remains of some long abandoned animal nest, while it isn’t much at least you’ll be able to eat tonight. In another cabinet you find some Sugar Bombs, the box is dented and beat up but surprisingly unopened, lucky you. 

You move towards the back of the kitchen, finding yourself in a small dark room. The smell of mildew and rot is so strong your stomach would've turned if it wasn't already empty, it's so bad you couldn't bother to examine the shelves that lined the wall. You make a mental note to ask the Ghoul to check for loot, of the two of you, he had the stronger stomach to rifle through damn near anything. Pushing through the door to the other side, fresh air greets you, a welcomed relief to your lungs. The very last dregs of sunlight shine through the windows that made up the roof, tall green trees kiss the glass in a desperate attempt to break free. If it wasn't for the roof you would've sworn you accidentally found your way outside. 

With one hand on the holster of your knife you creep with the brick of the wall at your back, slowly examining the plants in front of you. You recognized a few, Daffodils, Marigolds, even Tato vines. However a majority were new to you;  large flowers the size of your head, and plants that seemed to grow from the roof. You spot some pear and apple trees with the largest fruits you’ve ever seen further into the room. As you found your way to the perpendicular wall, you noticed that it was made of a giant window. You remember seeing building plans for something similar in a pre-war book years ago, a glass house that kept the plants inside at the ideal temperature. For whatever reason the plants in this glass house were thriving on neglect, carrying on with life as if the bombs never dropped. 

BANG! 

The sound makes you drop to the ground, covering your head. Whatever it was you just hope it was coming from the Ghoul. 

Just as you're about to get up, something catches your eye. You crawl towards the brush to get a closer look, little red fruits perched on vines decorated with white flowers cover the dirt by your feet. You pluck one, rolling it between your fingers the skin is rough, yellow dots littering the surface of the red flesh. The sweet scent of the fruit travels to your nose and entices your palate you know better than to put anything in your mouth. Instead, you procure the small tin that you use to store food from your bag and fill it with the mystery fruit. 

BANG! 

Hastily you shove the container back in your bag, whatever was going on outside had you a fair bit more concerned now that you could hear Dogmeat barking wildly. You quickly get up and make your way out of the glass house, through the dark storage room, and past the kitchen. Not stopping until you've collided with a large solid mass, sending a plume of dust into the air as your ass hits the cushion of the couch. 

“You’re ‘sposed to say ‘scuse you after runnin’ into a fella sweetheart.” 

You look up, your eyes meet the dark shadow of the Ghoul's from under his hat. Yellowed teeth show through as he grins wide. You look down to see in his gloved hand are two Rad Rabbits, in the other an unopened can of purified water. Relief washes over you, knowing that your dinner would be more than just Cram and Sugar Bombs. 

“I believe a thank you's in order.” His stupid handsome grin growing even wider. Clearly proud of himself despite him having taken down much harder prey. 

You glare at him before softening, in some way, you feel like this is his way of apologizing for earlier. Any time he pissed you off he would at least make up for it with his actions. Stolen stimpak? Within the next day, you'd find it replaced along with a bag of RadAway. A few bottle caps would find their way into your bag too, when you brought it up to him he'd deny it, telling you to keep a better eye on your shit.

“Thank you,” you pause, it just dawned on you that you didn't know his name. He was the Ghoul, the Cowboy, your escort across the wasteland. But no name to attach to him. You fish for a polite title for him, and if you knew him better you would've punctuated your gratitude with a kiss, yet the older man didn't seem like one for physical contact. “Thank you, Sir.” Is what you land on. 

His smile fades as if your gratitude offends him and he tosses rabbit carcasses into your lap.

“Make sure Dogmeat gets her fair share. She found ‘em after all.” He says, patting the mutt beside him before making his way to the firepit, and lighting another cigarette. 

[acaciusbride]

Jealousy, Jealousy (Alternate Version) [ Tommy Miller x Reader ]

Summary: an alternate version to Jealousy, Jealousy, where instead of making up with Joel? You go back to Tommy to pick up where you left off. 

CWs: age gap (implied) / oral sex (f!receiving) / cum play / cum eating / use of pet names / derogatory language / questionably safe sex / spanking (with hand and with a belt) / light dom & sub dynamic but only if you squint.

Tag List: @pedritosdarling @chaotic-mystery @loquaciousferret @bearsbeetsbeskar @funnygirlthatgab @dreamingofdaddydin @pr0ximamidnight @joelsgirl @mydailyhyperfixations @cutesyscreenname @serenaxpedro @beskarandblasters @darlingpedro

Notes: It probably makes sense to read the original first?

Buy Me A Coffee?

It’s been two days, and you’re still hurting. Still bitter, still can’t get the image out of your head. Not just the image, but the sound.

Alcohol isn’t helping. Hell, the only thing that did help was the distraction in the form of Joel’s younger brother.

The implication that you could have had more still hangs between you, and it’s that, combined with your own frustration, that leads you to Tommy’s apartment door.

He doesn’t seem remotely surprised to see you, but then again, he’s been thinking about your last… interaction… a great deal, as well. The way you looked so pretty on your knees for him, your mouth full of his cock…

Yeah. Safe to say he’s been hoping you’d show up, and here you are.

You shrug off your thin denim jacket, leaving you just in your dress, having already left your shoes by the door.

“And what can I do for you, hon?” He has his arms crossed over his chest, trying to at least attempt to be a gentleman, but you both know what you’re here for.

“I was hoping we could pick up where we left off.”

You don’t bother sugarcoating it, there’s no point, not with the way he’s looking at you, undressing you with his eyes.

“That so?”

You nod, chew your lower lip in between your teeth, take a little step closer.

“If that’s alright with you?” You try not to let your nerves show, worried fleetingly that you might have made a mistake.

“More than alright with me, didn’t I offer the other night? I try to be a man of my word, you know.”

The smirk on his face makes it easier to relax, gives you the confidence to slide your dress from your shoulders, let the fabric pool at your feet as you step closer to him. No underwear. You knew what you were doing, wanted to be as enticing as possible.

As if you just showing up and asking wasn’t enough to make him so hard it hurts.

His eyes burn a searing gaze as he looks you up and down, takes in every inch of bare skin as you approach him. Once again he wonders, vaguely, whether his brother is a complete idiot to have not noticed you, to have simply strung you along for as long as he has.

Or maybe he just doesn’t have the control that Joel does. Maybe he’s easier tempted by a younger, pretty girl, especially when said girl shows up at his door and practically begs for his dick for the second time in as many days.

He’s not the sort to look a gift horse in the mouth, after all. That, and he’s only human, only a man, and quite frankly the way you’re looking at him has him far too hard to ignore.

You’re so tiny he has to lift you up to kiss you, but that’s fine; your legs lock around his waist as he carries you over to the nearest surface - the island kitchen bench - and sets you down on it.

You keep your legs wrapped around him, keeping yourself as close as possible.

He’s used to coming second, used to being the other brother. Everyone either wants to be Joel or fuck him, and he’s always been the second option.

Make no mistake, he knows you’re here because of Joel, knows that something has happened between you and his brother to push you to him, but it doesn’t bother him. It doesn’t bother him because he knows Joel hasn’t touched you. Just this once, he gets something first.

Knows he isn’t your first choice, but you came back to him. You chose to come back to him, and that prompts some sort of smug reaction in him, some sort of need to prove a point, to prove that you made the right decision.

He loves his brother, truly he does. But he’s also tired of being in constant competition. Having you here… it feels like a win.

Your lips latch onto his neck, sucking a mark into his collarbone as you unbutton his shirt, wanting to get rid of the damn thing so you can run your hands along bare skin.

Vaguely you remember him saying something about being in the army before the outbreak, but even then, you hadn’t been excepting him to be so solid against you. Everyone’s a little worse for wear in the QZ, but he’s still bulky, and you like it.

It makes you feel safe, which is stupid because there’s no such thing as safe anymore, but really you just want a distraction and he’s right there, exactly what you need, solid and warm, his mouth so, so hungry against yours.

This is exactly what you need, to feel wanted, to forget what’s hurting you.

“Now if I remember correctly, I owe you something, hon…”

You blink at him, confused, but also intrigued.

“Wha-?” Your half spoken question is answered when he pulls you against him, leans down in a half crouch so he’s eye level with your thighs.

“Didn’t forget that pretty mouth… figured I’d return the favour.”

You can feel the blush rising to your cheeks as you understand what he means, your suggestion that he doesn’t have to halfway to spoken, dying on your lips as his mouth latches onto you, sucking on your clit greedily.

Fuck, he’s done this before. Done it a lot, if you’re guessing right. That or the men you’ve been with before are seriously lacking in this department.

Your head tilts back, eyes half closed as your hand finds his hair, settles into it, keeps him in place as his hands hold your thighs open for him.

The sounds he’s making as he devours your soaked cunt are absolutely obscene, but there’s nobody here to eavesdrop, just the two of you, the wet sounds of his tongue laving at you and the whimpers it draws from your throat.

When you walked here, you half expected to be thinking of Joel the entire time, but he’s a fleeting thought right now. Oh, sure, it hasn’t escaped your memory that you’ve chosen his brother of all people to take your mind off things, but you’re in no danger of accidentally moaning his name.

Then again, you didn’t expect that he’d have you dripping onto his tongue within moments of touching you, either. You gasp out, brace yourself on the counter edge as you feel your climax creep up on you, splinter you apart, thighs shaking beneath his sturdy hands.

All too soon he’s pulling away from you, albeit with an air of reluctance as he gets to his feet, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, dark eyes glittering with lust as your hands find his belt, yank down the zip of his pants.

“All eager for me, hon?” He leans in to kiss you again as your hand wraps around his cock; god, you love how thick he is, the slight curve to him.

“Tasted so good, been thinking about it all day, ever since you got on your knees for me…”

Remembering how he tasted, how good he felt in your throat, makes your mouth water and your pussy ache.

You moan into the kiss, stroke him, try to scoot yourself closer so that he gets the damn hint. Lucky for you, he’s just as eager, wasn’t lying when he said he’d been thinking about you since the other night, has spent the last two nights fucking his own hand, hoping that you’d come back.

Guess luck was on his side. Luck, or some deity who’s just as fucking needy as he is.

He teases you, traces the thick head of his cock along your dripping cunt, taps your clit with it until you half glare at him, wordlessly pleading.

“Fuck.” He groans it as the practical side of his mind kicks in.

“What’s wrong?” You blink at him, suddenly worried you’ve done something wrong.

“Don’t have a condom.”

You shrug. “They expire anyway. I trust you.”

You have a point; while an expired condom is better than nothing, it’s about as foolproof as pulling out anyway. And besides, the thought of fucking you bare…

His cock throbs at the thought.

“I’ll pull out.” He promises you, and he means it. There’s no fucking way he’s risking that, putting you through that.

“I trust you.” You repeat, wriggling again so the tip of his cock is brushing your entrance.

For an army boy, he has a considerable lack of self control, hands gripping your thighs again as he pulls you closer, lines himself up and presses into you in a single fluid thrust of his hips.

Your hands rest on his shoulders, bracing yourself as he leans you down against the cool surface of the bench, bigger frame caging yours as he starts to move.

You love how big he is, how he fills you just enough to be almost too much, the slight curve to his cock ensuring he hits that sweet spot inside you while barely trying.

Fuck, everything about this feels good, feels right, no longer about being hurt or about anything but sheer need for this man, the precise distraction you needed as you cling to him.

“God damn, hon, you feel so fucking good.”

His voice is low in your ear as he moves, slow, lazy thrusts that build into a steady rhythm, easing you into it, even though he knows you can take it, can feel how wet you are.

“Yeah?” You look up at him with half lidded eyes, pupils blown wide with lust. “This what you’ve been thinking about since the other night?”

He groans softly, presses deep into you, holds himself there and grinds against you.

“Figured any girl with such a sweet little mouth would have a perfect pussy to match.”

He’s still just grinding into you, not actually moving, and you know almost straight away that he’s doing it on purpose, trying to get a reaction from you with those filthy words and lazy movements.

Lucky for him, you’re in a giving mood. That, and he just feels too fucking good, it’s been far too long since you had anyone inside you, and god, he knows what he’s doing.

“Did I prove that theory correct?” You tease, smirking.

In answer, he starts to move again, hard and fast, losing what little restraint he had. It’s been a while for him, too. He isn’t really in the habit of sleeping around, not enough that he’s been intimate with someone recently.

That and you’re just so wet and tight around him, soft pussy milking his cock just right, drawing him in deeper, even better than your mouth.

Joel doesn’t know what the fuck he’s missing, but it doesn’t matter because he’s just as good, just as capable, and he’ll take care of you now, the way you deserve to be taken care of, fucked into a needy mess beneath him.

“How about we try something a little rougher, hm?” He won’t push you, but he’s curious, wants to know just how much you can take.

Your hazy eyes flicker with interest.

“What did you have in mind?”

One hand leaves your waist to toy with the buckle of his belt as he considers for a moment.

“Pretty thing, but you’ve got a mouth on you… has anyone ever spanked you?” He stills to barely moving inside you as he speaks, wants you to have a clear head to answer him.

“With their hand, or?”

“No, hon, not just my hand.”

You chew your lip, eyes wide as your gaze falls on his hand resting on his belt, understand what he’s suggesting. It’s not that you like pain, it’s that you like the idea of submitting. Truthfully, nobody’s ever done it beyond using their hand, but you want him to.

He takes your silence for hesitation.

“We don’t have to, don’t feel like you have to say yes.”

“No,” you say, staring him right in the eye, “I want it. I want you to.”

Fuck, can you get any more perfect? Effortlessly he lifts you into his arms.

“Gonna put you somewhere more comfortable.”

His apartment is small, one room and a bathroom, so it’s only a few paces to deposit you on his bed, reluctantly pulling out of you to set you down.

“You want me on all fours?” A thrill rushes through you as you look up at him, as he unhooks his belt and discards his jeans, loops the belt in half in his hand.

He’s holding it in a way that the buckle won’t hit you, only the soft, worn leather.

“That’s right. All fours.” He can’t help but admire the way you move for him, arch your back up so your ass is in the air.

One handed, he grips your waist, pulls you to him so he can tease his cock against you as he moves to kneel behind you.

You whimper, feeling the length of him sliding against you.

“Please…”

You sound so pretty when you beg, he can’t help but give in, lines himself up and slams back into you, buried to the hilt. The momentum drives you forward, hands gripping the sheets to steady yourself.

“I think we’ll start with four, don’t you?” He brushes the soft leather of the belt across your ass. “One for each day and night you kept me waiting.”

He can feel your cunt pulse around him at the words, knows you’re anticipating this just as much as he is.

“Do you want me to count?”

You can’t see it, but he smirks slightly.

“If you can.”

You open your mouth to comment, to suggest that of course you’ll be able to keep count, but then he starts to move again, steady, deep thrusts that feel, somehow, even better than when he was fucking you on the kitchen bench.

A ragged moan leaves your throat the moment he brings the belt down on your ass, arguably a gentle swat. He doesn’t intend to hurt you, has no plan on beating you, he’s practised enough to know how to be gentle and controlled.

“Start counting, sweet girl.”

He doesn’t seem remotely flustered, drilling his cock deep into you.

“O-one.”

“Good girl.” He brings the belt down on the opposite side, making your cunt tighten painfully around him the moment it makes contact.

“Two, fuck…”

He doesn’t bother demanding more from you, brings the worn leather down again, twice more, waits for you to count them out for him.

“Such a good girl. Do you want me to stop?” He can feel you tightening around him, knows how close you are.

“No, please… need it…”

It surprises you, how addictive it is, the sharp sting of the belt hitting your ass, no more painful than if he had used his hand. It leaves prettier marks, though.

“God, so needy… gonna cum for me if I keep fucking you? If I keep spanking this perfect ass?”

He’s honestly losing his own composure, impressed by how well you take him, by the way your tight little pussy milks him, so desperate and needy.

“Please please please…”

It’s all you can get out, that one word, repeated as he slams into you, rough, erratic thrusts, all of his control focused on bringing that belt down on your ass just hard enough to sting, but not to hurt, until he curses under his breath and tosses it aside so he can grip your hips with both hands, pulling you roughly onto his cock.

Your hands fist in the tangled bedsheets, moans and mewls filling the tiny apartment as he hits your sweet spot, again and again, finally bringing one hand down to slap roughly at the marks his belt has left on your ass.

It’s that slap that pushes you over the edge, that and the way that he pulls you up so one hand can roughly palm your breast, toying with your over sensitive nipple.

It’s too much, all too much, and your body shatters beneath him, cunt tightening and fluttering around his cock, pulling him in deeper, responding perfectly to his touch.

He holds you up through it, doesn’t slow, fucking you through every blissful moment of your climax, until you slowly come back to your senses.

“Gonna cum soon, hon. Where do you want it?” His voice is steady, but barely, his own pleasure evident in his expression, in the way his cock aches and throbs inside you.

“Don’t care,” you manage, still dazed.

He considers as he slams into you; you’d look so pretty with his cum all over your bruised and marked ass, and he knows you’re happy to swallow it…

He pulls out of you, flips you onto your back effortlessly, watches the way your tits bounce lightly. There. That’s the perfect spot, marking those perfect tits and soft, sensitive nipples with his spend.

His hand wraps around his cock, strokes roughly until he feels himself getting closer, moves at the last moment so that every drop of the warm liquid coats your tits, watching the way your eyes flicker with lust at the sight.

It takes him a moment to come back to himself, to take in the absolutely beautiful mess he’s made of you.

Your fingers are skimming through the mess he’s made on you, bringing your coated fingers to your lips, tongue darting out to lap at the stickiness.

He groans softly, pulls you into his arms so he can lean down and lick at your hard nipples, sucking on them, uncaring that he’s tasting himself on your skin.

Your eyes are half closed, your ass sore from his belt, pussy aching with satisfaction from how urgently he’d fucked you. Your hand settles in his hair, keeping him where he is, his mouth so soft on sensitive skin, the fact that he’s licking his own spend from your nipples making you want to pull him down to you and beg him to fuck you again.

He could stay there all day, honestly, might have if the door hadn’t opened at that precise moment. Only Joel has a spare key.

“Tommy, are you - fuck.”

Your eyes fly open, meet the gaze of the very man you’re trying to avoid. Trying to forget.

“Christ, Joel, get the fuck out.”

Your body is mostly hidden by his bigger frame, but there’s no mistaking that Joel’s seen your face, a flicker of something in his gaze as he walked in on you, when he saw the raw pleasure in your expression.

“You and her, huh?” Joel looks about as pissed as he sounds. You want to argue, point out that he chose Tess over you, and that you aren’t going to sit around pining over him. But you don’t have to speak.

“Not your goddamn business, Joel. Someone had to take care of her. Now get the fuck out, before I throw you out.”

It shouldn’t mean anything, but hearing Tommy defend you? Lay claim to you? It lights some sort of furnace inside you, makes you feel a warmth that has nothing to do with your recent activities.

For a moment, you think they might fight, but Joel says nothing, just gives you a look before he turns and slams the door behind him.

Maybe once, you’d have followed, but right now? Right now you’re more interested in staying right where you are.

[dabisbratz]

DADDY’S HOME — gojo satoru x male reader

w.c: 4.3k

warning: light angst, daddy kink, bottom male reader, finger sucking, fingering, apology sex, dubcon (gojo’s a lil pushy but everything is consensual), dacryphilia, dirty talk, praise, biting, reader’s kinda bratty, possessiveness, established relationship, secret relationship, reader’s a regular civilian, anal sex, spit, mating press, sexualizing gojo’s thermographic xray vision, amab body terminology

a/n: the title to this is actually ‘kiss it better’ but i can’t give up ‘daddy’s home’….. s’too funny to changejsgshsgs

Tomorrow, like most days as of late, doesn’t come easy.

You don’t know exactly where Satoru is. Your last memory of him is rushed— it’s foggy and barely there, but you try to recollect how it went anyway. Over and over, you try to recall the curve of Satoru’s lips, his distinct scent, his words. It’s all a blur now, but you’re certain it wasn’t a goodbye. Not like how it feels now.

You’re tired, of that you’re certain, with your eyelids weighing more than the grief on your shoulders and your scleras burning a dark shade of red. Your bathroom mirror mocks you with your very own reflection, and as the bristles of your toothbrush are pushed to and fro, you catch yourself frowning at the dull depiction of, well, you. The distorted image of yourself stares back, tired eyes sunken in and rimmed in deep, dark circles. You try to put on a smile, eyes flickering up to meet your own heavy, mourning gaze.

But you know you’re being dramatic. It hasn’t even been a month yet (you still had eleven more days), just nineteen days of radio silence. Excruciating, lonely, isolating radio silence. The cordolium is almost too much to handle, heavy pangs in your chest as your heart twists and turns and squeezes itself. Like a washcloth wrung out to dry, you dampen and deflate as you make your way out the bathroom— but not before putting your things away and flickering the light off.

When you think about it, really think about it, you wonder if it’s all worth it. The waiting, the secrets, the silence, the mental gymnastics. The gangly limbs and unruly hair, pale and silky. The blotchy shade of pink that clashes with the rest of his face when you refer to him with a pet-name. Is Gojo worth it? If the ground opened up and swallowed you whole, would he be the first person you’d wish to see one last time? Satoru? No, it’s indubitable— he’s worth everything and more.

And to say you miss him would be an understatement.

Tomorrow, like most days as of late, doesn’t really come at all for Satoru.

In a way it does, of that he’s certain, but it doesn’t exactly feel like it. There’s no concept of time here, something a regular human wouldn’t be able to comprehend. If he were that— a regular human, that is— he’s sure his brain would’ve shut down the second he was sealed in the damned prison realm. Physically, he feels just fine. Almost akin to the moment he was originally sealed, as if the amount of time he’s actually spent here was a mere sliver of sixty seconds. Maybe like going to sleep, only with the visuals of the dream being dark skeletons and an inky black skyline, had it counted for one.

But it doesn’t last long— not for him at least— as he eventually finds himself fishing out unused, silver keys and standing in front of your apartment door. Should he. . . just walk in? As if nothing happened? It’s November ninth now, he was sealed in October— realistically, he’s been gone for nineteen days. But not for you, as he only had so often to find the time to actually be with you, he was lucky to see you throughout the entirety of the weekends.

Fuck. He misses you.

Your laugh, your smile, the boyish glint in your eyes. . . The way you frown when he makes an impossibly childish joke, as if you want to laugh but don’t want to give him the satisfaction. Your hands, so warm and gentle as they card through his opalescent strands of hair. Your throat, bruised and painted with fresh bites so everyone knows you belong to him.

That’s enough to get the door open.

Your apartment is dark, not dark enough that he can’t see, but it’s obvious you’re fast asleep. Gojo shuts the door behind him, turning the lock to warn a soft click in return, and immediately makes his way to your bedroom. He’ll be sentimental and sappy about the state of your house later— he just wants to see you.

And- ah, there you are. Facing away from him (or, the doorway) as you lay on your side. You look peaceful— the slow rise and fall of your bare chest as you hold onto your pillow like a lifeline. He’s missed those arms, warm and welcoming as they’re wrapped around his strong form. With your back turned to him, he watches your back expand and deflate, your face enveloped in the cool, soft fabric of your pillow. Your handsome face, something he’s missed more than you’ll ever know, completely covered. Gojo frowns, despite the light building in his chest as he makes his way to the bed.

You’re warm despite only sleeping in your boxers and— is that his t-shirt? He can feel the soothing heat of your body bouncing off your shoulders (your skin is entirely too bare for his liking, no longer littered in hickeys or indents of his teeth). It makes him want to curl up beside you, holding you until he’s stuck with his arms around your frame. Together.

“I’m home,” Satoru whispers, tracing the hill of your shoulder with delicate fingertips as he looks down at the side of your face. Peaceful, you’re unmoving, eyelashes resting against your cheek and pretty, soft lips relaxed. Your breaths come out in stifled, hushed chords, and Gojo finds himself enamored all over again. “Did y’miss me?”

You mumble something soft, not entirely there yet, as his big hands slowly part you from your pillow. He’s jealous of it, he’ll admit, seeing as it gets to press against your body every single night. A constant in your life, he supposes.

“C’mon,” His voice is a gentle purr, sweet in your ears as he coaxes you awake, “Wake up,” like a silent prayer drifting into the night, as he gently shakes you. He’s never been one for rude awakenings, after all. He’s missed your pretty eyes.

Almost on cue, your eyes slowly flutter awake with a groggy groan. Gojo watches the curve of your lips, the furrow of your brows, the way your fists clench around his shirt. Just as handsome as the day he left you, confusion fills your face until your jaw goes slack. The words die on your tongue, your brain slowly working to connect the dots as Gojo fondly watches questions mold your lips.

Nothing of Satoru has changed. His eyes are still so blue; and sparkling with shades that remain unrecognizable to this day. His hair’s still the cleanest twinge of white you’ve ever seen, brighter than the sun during early evening, quilting the rooftops and pavement. His glossy, rosy, lips curl into a small, genuine smile, chirping a quiet ‘good morning!’ and at this angle, shadows meet to frame him perfectly. The curve of his face, the slope of his adam’s apple, his silhouette blanketed by the yellow hue emitting from streetlights that peek through your desolate curtains.

His shoulders have never looked more broad, the expanse of his body large and big as he leans forward. He smells remnant of soap, and there’s something in his scent that makes you sleepier, gets your brain foggy as he looks at you.

With your lover hovering directly above you, an incredulous tremor racks your body. Your hands reach out to touch him, as if he’s not real, and once you’re met with the solid, silky skin of his collarbone you can’t help but gasp.

You watch dimples paint his cheeks as he leans in with his head, staring at your lips with darkening eyes.

“Satoru,” Cold shivers run down his spine, sucking a sharp breath through his teeth at the sound of his name leaving your lips. Like a broken record, you repeat yourself, completely at a loss for words. The love in your voice is audible, desperate, “Satoru.”

Curling your fingers into a fist, you bunch up the fabric of his— Jesus Christ, did he come here in a compression shirt?—shirt and pull him forward, shutting your eyes as your lips crash into his.

You can feel his teeth grazing your mouth, pearly fresh as he smiles. But you swallow it down, using your other hand to snake up the nape of his neck, bristles of his faded undercut prickling your fingertips. He tastes just like how you remember, sweet and soft, with his tongue as wet as it is sharp. He’s home, and he feels like it, too.

Gojo follows suit, snaking a large hand up your chest until it’s resting at the base of your neck, wrapping around the warm flesh. He can feel your heartbeat in your throat, rapid and sharp as he delivers a small squeeze. Frustration bubbles in your stomach, fast and sudden as you pull away, eyebrows knitting together the more you think about it.

“You left me,” It’s not a question, laced with anger as you keep him close with your fist in his shirt. He left you, and has the audacity to turn up in the middle of the night for what— to fuck? You try to ignore the slight fall of his lips, the flash of guilt that sparkles in his irises. “For two weeks. Now you just wanna fuck?”

No— that’s not it. Satoru has half the mind to paint his face with a smile, to block out the question like some kind of declaration against him. But it’s you, you’re saying it because you’re scared, because you care. Because you missed him just as much as he missed you, if not more. You’re not picking a fight, you’re worried. So Gojo lets himself visibly deflate, the smile on his face flickering as he squeezes your neck once more. Yeah, he wants to fuck you, but that’s not all.

“You know that’s not it,” And yeah, maybe he’s right, because you have yet to let go of him or push away his hand. You know he’s right, because you’re subconsciously leaning into the strong hand around your throat, the edges of your brain fogging up the longer he looks at you, “But you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” Gojo's gaze is dark, intense. He cocks his head to the side and smirks, showing off his sharp, shiny canines. Fuck. You’ve fallen right into his trap, letting him snake his hand up your jaw to make you nod, slow and steady, “You know I can’t help myself.”

Heat pools in your stomach, intense as he laughs at whatever pathetic face you must be making in response to his casual manhandling. Pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, again and again, he takes initiative to gather your wrists in his warm palms, pressing your hands against his chest to feel his heart beat. The steady thump, thump, thump-ing is nothing compared to the vibration of your own, showing no signs of slowing as he lets go to lift your (well, his) shirt off your body.

“Feel that?” He breathes, immediately burying his face in your neck. He inhaled your scent, groaning low in his throat as he sinks his teeth into the soft skin. His eyelashes tickle your jaw, long as he closes his eyes and sucks along the skin. With short, stinging bursts, your neck is blemished with indents of his teeth and deep, blooming bruises.

“Mhm, yeah…” You whine, baring your neck as he reaches down to rub circles into your inner thighs. He's heavy lidded, following the curve of your cupid's bow and drinking in the way you bite down on your bottom lip between gasps- the plump flesh covered in a thin sheen of saliva that has his mind racing.

Pulling away, Satoru pushes you down on your back, spreading your thighs apart with two long, big hands. Sparks fly in your groin, legs instinctively coming to close around the pale hands holding you open until Gojo’s grunting, tightening his grip at your thighs to keep you still. “Don’t go runnin’ on me now.”

Sounds of protest bubble up before he can berate you, your body squirming under his strength as he moves a hand to tug at the fabric of your boxers.

He's watching your lips, pretending to listen to what you're saying: even playing the role well enough to add a low hum of response when it's required of him. You’ll never admit how hard it makes you, how your hole flutters around nothing in response to the intentional neglect— but he seems to get it anyway.

Satoru hums, offering a spare, stern glance as he frees your cock from the confines of your underwear. Springing to life, you feel yourself throbbing and achy as he lets out an involuntary moan. Hiking your knees up to your chest, Satoru doesn’t have to tell you to hold them there. You do it yourself, tilting your head to keep watch of his movements.

His biceps ripple and bulge against his shirt as he rids himself of his slim-fitting, matching black pants. He watches you the entire time, pausing to squeeze the base of his cock through his pants as if he’s impatient. There’s a wet patch adorning his underwear, ghosting over the head of his cock that you can make out through its long, thick indent. Saliva gathers in your mouth, threatening to spill as you watch him lift his shirt overhead.

“Gojo,” You hear yourself whine, holding your legs with one hand as the other claws at the sheets, pulling them forward. “Hurry up.”

“Tellin’ me what to do now?” His hair falls over his face, wisps of white disheveled enough to have him carding a hand through it. It falls back into place seamlessly. You’ll be damned if it doesn’t make your brain a little slow, but you don’t have much time to dwell on it because he’s grabbing you, pulling you down so your ass is flush against his bulge.

A small gasp leaves your lips, wet and watery as he ruts his hips against the swell of your ass, your thighs, your balls.

“Two weeks, Go’,” You’re rambling, wiggling your hips against his big, throbbing dick. Damned boxers, the most you get from him is the wetness of his pre-cum grinding against you. “Two weeks, nothing. Thought you left me. Could’ve fucked someone e—”

He cuts you off before you can finish, shoving his long fingers in your mouth to shut you up. His face is scarily calm, like the comment didn’t phase him at all. But you regret it before it even left your lips, your eyes widening as you gag on his fingers. Like he’s fucking your throat with them, wet squelches and drool slides down tithe seams of your lips. Then it’s there, a possessive fire in his eyes as he watches your pretty mouth wrap around his knuckles.

“Wanna try that again?” Narrowing his eyes, he presses his fingertips into your tongue. The weight of his fingers makes you short circuit, your brain blank as you blink up at him with glassy eyes. The cocky asshole has the audacity to look at you like you’ve grown another head. “What? Daddy's fingers fuckin’ your throat remind you who it belongs to? Make you stupid enough to drop the attitude?"

Oh.

He slowly slides out his fingers, giving you a chance to explain yourself. Glimmering and shiny with spit, Satoru inspects them before sucking the drool off with an expectant raise of his eyebrows.

“Be. . .” Quiet. He can sense the end of that sentence from a mile away, tutting as he shoves his fingers back in your mouth with a disappointed shake of his head.

“Where’d my good, sweet boy go?” With his ring and middle fingers fucking your mouth, he uses his thumb to smear your saliva along your lips. Fighting back the urge to spread your legs and whine, suckling on his fingers with a long, drawn out whine, it’s your turn to shake your head.

His good boy. . .

You gurgle around his fingers, sputtering something he can’t understand, as his free hand spreads the globes of your ass apart. He spits down, landing right along your perineum and slowly sliding down onto your cute, winking hole.

“Sorry! You’ll have to speak up!” He chirps, finally removing his fingers for good. But now you don’t have much to say, pursing your lips in defiance as his wet fingers trail down your shaft, balls, and crack. He finds your hole in an instant, rubbing the pads of his fingers in slow, tantalizing circles. “What was that? You know where he went? You sure?”

So deep, he pushes in one knuckle at a time, his fingertips sliding along your gummy, creamy hole, cursing out, “He does that too, grinds his pretty hole on my fingers.”

“Hate you,” Him and his stupidly skilled fingers. Him and his stupidly pretty dick. Him and his stupid, stupid mouth. You sniffle, vision blurry as you sit up on your elbows to watch Satoru’s long, skinny fingers push past the first band of muscle, slick and slow, “You….left me.”

“I know, I’m the worst,” He pouts, pink lips curving downward as he closely watches your velvety walls suck his fingers in deeper. So pretty, your rim stretching and fluttering along the digits as their own special greeting. He’s missed this. “Gonna let Daddy apologize?”

He doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re shaking your head, pouty lips persistent as ever. It’s what he loves about you, though. Satoru can’t help but coo, high in his throat. You’re just so teary-eyed, he can’t take you seriously. But you nod, small and sweet as you avert your gaze. He’s sure you can see him from the corner of your pretty eyes, so he makes sure to keep his pride apparent.

“There he is,” He smiles, watching you clamp down on his fingers from the praise. His fingers hit your prostate, the special bundle of nerves sending electricity up your body until you’re wailing, back arched with tears spilling down your cheeks. “There’s my good boy.”

His cock grinds against your bedsheets, hard and throbbing. As torturous as it is for you— the slow drag of his fingers as he continuously spits into your hole— it’s tenfold for him. He’s nearly losing his head, eyes scanning over your body, then to your sobbing face.

You hiccup, wet and loud and pitiful, rocking your hips like some kind of slut, desperate to feel full again. Full of Satoru. But then you’re empty again, clenching around nothing but air and spit as he pulls away. He mumbles a few profanities, kicking off his boxers in a display that has your bed creaking and shaking— you along with it.

There’s a slick sound of his thick dick taptaptap-ing against your rim, wet and sticky as he grabs handfuls of your ass. Briefly admiring the skin that spills between his fingers, Satoru’s gaze lifts to meet yours. Your survey is lazy now, eyelids heavy as your drool-covered face contorts into a wobbly smile. He wants to fuck that stupid look off your face. He wants to make up for lost time.

“Ohh,” You sigh, melting into the mattress as he lifts your ankles over his shoulders and readjusts so he’s hovering over you in a squat, the head of his cock sliding along your sensitive hole and neglected cock. He’ll take care of you, he promises. “Daddy…”

He nearly shoots all over you.

What a pretty picture that would make, too. Your fucked out face blanketed in thick ropes of cum, your chest shiny with a thin layer of sweat and drool. But there’s somewhere else he’d rather shoot, somewhere deep and warm and mushy around his cock. Inside.

“Fuck,” It’s a sloppy, pathetic sound. The squelch of Satoru’s long, curved cock slipping past that tight band and into your messy hole. You’re not much help either, with your babbling and incoherencies and constant whining of ‘Daddy!’ and ‘please!’ Your hole is plush and tight, gripping his cock like a vice and refusing to let go. And with every drag of his dick comes more sounds, more sticky, clear precum (how cute, your cock is leaking down to your hole) that turns creamy and thick the more he pushes in and out. “Fuuck, don’t move. Sit there and take it.”

“Oh my—” You sob, thighs tightening and trembling at the stretch of his fat dick in your little hole. An intrusion really, because you’re struggling to take it— too big, too much, too good. If Satoru’s talking you don’t hear it, not over your own squeals and wailing, anyway. “. . .Please..!

“You even know what you’re begging for, baby?” Satoru keens, your tears spurring him up until he can’t do anything but mindlessly thrust, kissing away the fat, crystal tears rolling down your handsome face.

“Uh… Uh-huh,” You nod, fast and rushed as you lock your legs together. Your head luls to the side, as you’re much too weak to keep it upright as Satoru watches you. You just can’t help it, your lips parting as his cock bullies your prostate, poking and prodding and pounding. You’re sure you look stupid- utterly and completely fucked out on his dick, your tongue slipping from your mouth and panting like some sort of bitch in heat.

“Yeah? What is it, then?”

“Da—ddy,” You sob, blinking away tears as Gojo’s hips grind in slow circles, deeper and deeper and deeper. “S’so big, I can’t— How s’it even fit?”

Oh, fuck.

“I don’t know, baby,” It’s the genuine surprise that does it for him. Looking down, Satoru rests his forehead on yours as he watches his cock disappear inside you. In and out, in and out, sloppy and messy and— oh. He can see the warmth of your hole, the warmth of his dick, watches it leave and enter, fills you up and leaves you empty again over and over. The way your rim stretches special for his dick, then back to its tiny, winking state just to be split apart all over again. Fuck. “You’re just special like that. Perfect for my—fucking—cock.”

“Missed,” You hiccup, jolting up and down as Satoru pounds into you, relentless and desperate like he’s trying to get you there— trying to get himself there. He is, seeing as your cock feels just about ready to burst and your hole is sensitive it almost hurts. “Missed you, Daddy. . . N’… Missed your cock.”

“T’aww,” His cooing is genuine, not nearly as mocking as early, and heat prickles your body, even if you already felt on fire. “Really? Know something, I missed you too. And my cock— yeah, missed this pretty little hole too. All mine, isn’t it?”

That does it.

Your cock spurts against your stomach, your chest, with the help of a few short, shallow strokes on Satoru’s part. But it felt better, the twisting of his wrist that doesn’t stop even as you start to convulse, eyes rolling back until your vision goes white and cum ropes out your dick in quick, short, sensitive bursts.

You’re clamping down so hard, nearly spitting and pushing out Gojo’s cock the harder he pounds into you, murmuring into your neck until you feel warmth in your tummy. In thick, longer spurts that feel sticky and cling to your gummy walls. You’re full, whining and whimpering as Satoru slowly calms his feverish thrusts, fucking his cum in deeper and deeper, as if it’ll do anything.

“Daddy… too much…” You’re cut off by your own hiccups, feeling some of his cum seep out your sloppy hole and down your crack, globs pooling beneath your ass and sticking to Gojo’s heavy, spent balls. Despite your own protests, you make no movement to unlock your legs, your cock twitching pitifully as your lover’s thick cock nestles against that special spot deep inside you.

“I know,” Satoru doesn’t pull out, instead nuzzling his face into your neck and coaxing you into releasing your legs with small, languid circles to the back of your thighs. “I’m here. Daddy’s right here.”

You know what he’s trying to say, even in the cockdrunk state you’re currently stuck in. With foggy eyes and an equally foggy brain, you pepper tiny kisses along Gojo’s temple, smiling wide when he laughs into your sweaty neck. “Mhmm. . . Know you won’t leave me, ‘Toru.”

Never on purpose, anyway.

“Maaan, you’re always so honest after we fuck! I’m like some sort of elite sex therapist,” You don’t have the energy to grunt or roll your eyes, let alone push him. He continues anyway, teeth nipping at your sensitive neck. “I knew you didn’t mean it. You looooove me!”

Biting back the urge to take it back, you nuzzle your cheek against the silky, soft bundles of Gojo’s white hair, whispering a quiet declaration of love straight into his ear. You hope to stay like this for the rest of the night, limbs entangled as Satoru breathes you in, strong arms holding you in place— his cock inside you, slowly softening until you’re both asleep. Cleanup can wait— after you’ve talked about everything, after you’ve finally gotten a full night of uninterrupted sleep. Tomorrow.

Tomorrow? Yeah, tomorrow comes easy. Of that, you’re certain.

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 6)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 7 | Part 8

GIF: Originally posted by @harleytudinous

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Nudity. Language. Mentions of sex.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Hello there! We're back in Morpheus' POV for this chapter. I've really enjoyed exploring the softer side of Morpheus with the aftercare but still keeping that foreboding undertones. Hope you like it too. Let me know what you think! All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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

Morpheus can see he has pushed your body to breaking point.

The only movements you are able to make are those that are involuntary. The intake of breath, sharp and shallow. The blink of eyelids, slow and drowsy. And the aftershocks feathering along the walls that still hug his softening cock.

The rapture of his own high vibrates in every cell, the humanoid form he takes being the epicentre, with waves of it expanding out across the expanse of the Dreaming, bathing it all in euphoria. He smiles faintly - anyone asleep during your union would have been privy to it in some aspect. Flashes of noises and sensations perhaps, or images of you entangled with him.

With a tender gaze, he looks at your exhausted form. He takes time to notice the details that others might have overlooked. The gradient of the dip of your navel. The vellus hair gracing your skin. The delicate lines on your face brought on by years of smiles. Every inch of you is perfection, the starshine streaming down enhancing your already incandescent air. Soulmate or not, you are the most remarkable person he has met.

There is no denying that you are to be his muse. Now that he has introduced you to his world he can resume work on creating new dreams, and your temperament and features are inspiring him already. His dreamers will be spoiled once the concepts are given life and sent forth into the Dreaming.

He is pulled away from observing your body by the sudden overflowing of silent tears. In the glow of the room, as they track down your cheeks, their lustre is like pearls washed up on a lonely seashore.

He's searching your expression for an indication to the source before they get close to wetting the sheets, cupping your face instinctually as feverous fear infects him. Is pain afflicting you?

His initial assessment gleans that they are falling despite there being no tangible signs of pain or sorrow, anger nor disgust. Further investigation is required.

He drops his register to the mellowest he can manage, whispering your name first, next asking, "Are you alright?"

You dip your chin in a solitary nod. A truthful nod.

You then take a deep breath, voice hoarse as you speak, "I just -"

Words fail you and you look down at your chest in lieu of finding the desired descriptors, hoping that he would catch on.

Your soul.

You make a little high-pitched sound in the back of your throat as he places a palm over its housing. Still very sensitive. With good reason.

Those last layers of defences that had been protecting you from the intensity of the soul bond had been steadfast in their resistance. Of course, they were never going to prevail over him, being the Endless that he is, yet the challenge could not be denied.

And now the conquest was over. He had you exactly where he wanted; physical form in the Dreaming, the Fates' prophecy fulfilled, soul tie complete.

He zeros in on your soul, using his aptitude for the metaphysical to see it in its actual form. The ball of light, two centimetres in diameter, that not too long ago was shattered, now criss-crossed with threads of rich blue, reminiscent of Kintsugi pottery. A mark of the small amount of his power - power that he'd quite literally fucked into you, that was slowly spreading out from your soul through your body, altering as it went. Only time would tell as to what enhancements it would bring if any.

His own soul was cleaved open at the end too, now infused with your essence; twines of seafoam green that he can feel rebalancing the constitution left so weary and depleted by his imprisonment.

It also appears that your mortality has been removed in the process; you are as eternal as he is now. He's against broaching this with you presently, feeling it would be misguided to do so. At this point in time you deserve the most diligent and gentle aftercare. It was your first time; you had trusted him with your wellbeing and that meant the moments after as well.

He will make his touches and movements so very delicate from here, continuing to keep his focus on your facial expressions and body language as much as possible.

Beginning with how he rises out of the position he had held over your body, giving him the ability to ease your crossed ankles out of the firm grip around his waist. Reluctantly, he withdraws himself from the warmth of your core, more trembles breaking free from the fluidity of the movement.

It makes you whimper loudly, the unintended stimulation and the way he guides your legs down to the mattress, as the recognition of how locked up your thigh and calf muscles are bark in your nerve endings.

"Would you allow me to clean you?" He asks, gesturing to the fluids that are now leaking from your cunt.

You seem surprised yet you agree nonetheless.

He conjures a bowl of water and a linen cloth, setting the former to the side of your right hip. The display has you propping yourself up on your forearms, fascinated by the shaping of form that comes so naturally to him. He moistens the fabric, pitter patters emanating erratically as he squeezes out the excess.

"I will stop if it is too much." A promise made while holding eye contact before beginning a gentle yet meticulous cleanse, re-dunking the cloth when needed.

Aside from a couple of flinches early on when he brushes over your clit, you cope with the touches very well, and Morpheus shows he acknowledges this in the murmured praises he looses with the completion of each swipe.

A stumble in your breathing has him stopping immediately though, drawing his attention to your startled face, eyes wide as you take in the pinkish tinge of colour in the water.

"Shit. I'm so sorry. I can finish taking care of it," your voice is warbled as you try and fail to close your trembling legs.

He puts a steady hand on your knee. "You have no reason to apologise."

A little dimple forms between your eyebrows, lips pulled thin by a grimace; evidently you are unconvinced.

"I want to take care of your needs. Please let me," he says with gentle candidness.

You blow out an unsteady breath as you struggle to look at him, attention darting all around the room, actively choosing to go anywhere but towards him.

These hallmarks of humiliation, vulnerability, they unreservedly rile him. Who had made you feel like this was unacceptable? No doubt your world's societal norms. Though Morpheus has seen improvements in them in recent years, there are lingering, foolish ideals on what was decorous when it came to the human body.

He relays his thoughts on the matter, "It is a natural occurrence, as natural as any other bleeding from broken skin. There is nothing to be ashamed of, Y/N."

He lets the reassurance settle in as he rubs his free hand up and down the outside of your left thigh.

"You know I speak the truth," he adds when you still remain silent.

Eventually you let your head slump back. "You're right."

His chest swells with pride at his successful reframing. "May I continue?"

You make a noise of affirmation.

Once he is done, the bowl and cloth de-materialise along with the patches of fluid that had been glistening on the sheets.

He leaves the space between your splayed legs, pausing as he kneels next you. You look like a ragdoll that has been dropped from a great height, limbs askew and head limp. He wishes to scoop you into his arms and re-arrange you, cocooning your beautiful body in the most luxurious fabrics his mind can create. So he does just that.

With a hand flat between your shoulder blades and another under your knees, he moves you to lay further up the bed, fashioning a sumptuous silk sheet to settle over you, a twin of the one tucked over the mattress. A knitted cashmere throw weighs down the sheet to seal in warmth. The last step is a plump pillow; he cradles your head carefully as he positions it.

"Thank you," you say shyly as he puts his head on an identical pillow, laying on his side so he can watch you.

"You are most welcome, my soulmate."

A beat. "Is there something I can do for you, Morpheus?"

He feels a thrill go through him, lust rising once more. Hearing his name on your lips is everything. Undoubtedly it always will be. He's instantly grappling with the urge to fuck you again and it is by sheer force of will he just manages to leash his lust.

"All I require is proximity to you," his words sounding much more gallant than he feels.

With visible effort, you roll onto your side, intent on providing him with delightful closeness despite the aches. Face to face, he decides now is time for a debrief.

"Is there anything you wish to discuss about the acts we performed together?"

You fiddle with your fingers, tentatively asking, "Did I do okay?"

The question is so endearing, it makes his chest tighten.

"Yes. You were, are perfection."

He catches the bashful glance your throw towards him and he draws even closer.

You had done so very well, taking everything in your stride since he found you in the waking world. Gone through a myriad of emotions, dealt with intense, sometimes painful physical reactions. And the sex... Well.

He runs a hand from your temple to jaw a few times to distract from the ever-mounting desires, thankfully taking the edge off with the affections.

"It is true. You are so trusting, communicative, generous. Receptive."

You huff out a noise of amusement. "How do you know that I wouldn't respond like that to everyone?"

Possessive jealousy drives a dagger into his heart, stiffening every part of his being, hackles rising as the sickening idea of anyone else touching you takes form in his expert imagination. Your question had been teasing - obvious from the impish quality in your eyes yet he cannot stop the rage that flares at the idea.

He extinguishes his temper, pushing it into the usual spot deep within, speaking with a level and authoritative cadence.

"You were not meant to be touched by anyone but me."

He holds your gaze resolutely, fascinated by how your pupils dilate from the covetous statement, fingers digging into the softness of your behind to add further weight to his claim.

"You derive pleasure from hearing me say that."

"Yes," you confirm, a telling half-smile appearing. "Though it would appear I am not the only one."

You nudge against the growing erection hidden by the sheets with your knuckles. The simple touch is a catalyst, his restraint almost breaking, eyes shifting to match the backdrop of the night sky above you both.

"Not right now," you assert.

His answering glare makes you raise your eyebrows. But you do not back down.

"Very well. I will keep myself contained. For the time being."

You press a sweet, quick kiss to his cheek. "I appreciate you enduring such hardship."

You laugh a little at the end of the teasing sentence. It is an effervescent sound, one that makes him feel so alive. When was the last time he truly felt like that?

He would do anything to keep you laughing like that, make you happy.

Inspired by that sentiment, he drapes an arm over your body and pulls you closer. You sigh in contentment, smiling warmly at him.

A crescent moon rises to accompany the stars in the ceiling sky. The slip of light it reflects is as peace-giving as your skin against his. Quiet descends.

Finally - after the frenzied events of the past couple of hours, the delirium that had ensnared the both of you in body and mind, spurring him to reveal the truth to you and initiate the binding of your souls - finally everything stills.

And in this stillness, after a considerable number of minutes, Morpheus begins to register the results of the soul bond between you; a direct line broadcasting your every emotion to him even though you are awake.

They are not particularly stable right now, kaleidoscopic in how quickly they evolve from one to the next. He is accustomed to knowing humanity's emotions, exposed to every facet of them for millennia yet this is different. With the dreamers there is a certain level of detachment. Being his soulmate, the impartiality is gone.

He is peering around the curtain.

And the emotions you are feeling are about him, directly influenced by him.

Exhilaration, fondness, trepidation, pensiveness.

His eyelids flutter at the intimacy, mouth dropping open with a shaky sigh.

"What is it?" You ask immediately as worry enters the mix. How adorable that your reflex was concern for him.

"Our soul bond is strengthening. I can feel your emotions."

You blink, stimulated by the notion first, then disappointed. "I can't feel anything coming from you."

"Give it time," he reassures.

"How much time?"

A little smile quirks his lips from your charming impatience.

"A few hours. Perhaps more."

Curiosity dances in your eyes as well as your mind; you study him closely, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip. "What's it like?"

"It is quite diverting."

In fact, it is the sort of thing that has potential to consume his every thought. He will have to be cautious of how much time he is dialled into the bond. As long as he makes the rules now then he will be okay. No over-use. No over-reliance.

A brush of fingers across the back of his hand, the inside of his wrist. "Tell me what you're feeling, Morpheus," you whisper.

He pulls himself from the compelling information flowing from you and takes a reading of his own internal state.

It's tempting to lay it all on the table. To tell you of the powerful emotional reactions happening. But he won't. The emotions must be compressed into something more regulated. He chooses the words carefully:

"I am wholly contented."

Joy and relief swirl from you and you kiss him. The softness of your lips help soothe the fierce feelings and when you part, Morpheus is fully reigned in.

He notes that your eyes are drifting now, glassy with oncoming sleep.

He rubs a thumb across your cheekbone.

"It is okay if you want to fall asleep," he murmurs. "My only request is that you permit me to hold you, so I may monitor how things progress."

There is much acclimation to be made. The scalding heat that had been rampant under his own skin has only just dropped to a simmer, let alone all the things to come. He must not leave your side until your body has adjusted to the energy within you.

"I wouldn't say no to sleep," you say with a lethargic smile.

He eases you into a nearer proximity. An arm slung across your middle. Legs tangling together. You nuzzle against the skin of his neck, inhaling deeply as if his scent could knock you right out.

"Good night, soulmate."

He kisses the top of your head, replying with the same.

You place a palm over his soul. "Thank you, Morpheus. For answering all my questions and being so patient with me."

"It is the least I can do, Y/N."

Morpheus keeps still as you sink into subconsciousness. Not a hard feat for him; he mastered that art long ago. Crossing the threshold into sleep is smooth for you, exhaustion efficiently picking the lock.

As soon as you are fully under he peers at you, cheeks already rosy from the warmth of the sheets and his body, lips parted. You appear serene on the surface - he decides to lean into that link one last time for tonight.

Yes. There it is. Evidence that you feel safe and happy. He has done his job well. Now to maintain this level of performance. For your sake as well as his own.

Your presence is the first rain after a drought. A lighthouse on a treacherous stormy night. You are an antidote to a poison that he hadn't realised he was choking on. You are healing him, just as he knew you would.

And there are measures that must be taken to keep it that way.

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

Tag list: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt @littleblackcatinwonderland @1950schick @lollipopsandlandmines

"Controlling my feelings for too long. Forcing our darkest souls to unfold. Pushing us into self destruction. They make me, make me dream your dreams."

[nicknelosn]

SHATTERED/EXPLODING TEXT tutorial

hiyaa! @krystaljungs asked me for a tutorial on how i made the shattering/exploding animation of the text in this gifset and so i figured i would make it and post it here, like i did with the tutorial for "falling" text.

i must warn you, this one is really tedious and requires a lot of time and patience. honestly maybe there is an easier way to do this but i didn't find any tutorials for when i needed it so i just went off my ps knowledge and did it myself.

note: you will need photoshop with a timeline!

STEP ONE: create your base gif! be mindful of number of frames in your gif. the number of frames doesn’t really matter here, but if your gif is bigger than 10mb and you have to go back to adjust it all again after you have to delete some layers....you might lose the will to live 😂

STEP TWO: make your text the way you want it to look. this effect is basically the last step of your gif making process. (i will be using the typography from my set as an example as i already have that psd saved)

this is what my typography looks like now.

STEP THREE: now, you will create a new file (with background) and transfer the text you want to "shatter" in it.

here is when things get tedious.......

tip: zoom in the document, it will be easier for you.

select polygonal lasso tool aka this

STEP FOUR: before you start, you need to rasterize type layer. then you will have to "shatter" every letter into smaller pieces. using polygonal lasso tool, select a smaller part of your first letter.

then you will click on that part with the right click of the mouse and selct layer via cut.

now you need to make sure that your new layer is selected and using the move tool move that part of the letter somewhere away.

you will have to do this for every part of the letter and every letter. also move every new layer on top of other layers because they will line up better later like that. then create a new folder with every layer of said layers and rename it after the letter you're shattering. see below. (idk why my screenrecord didn't catch me making layers via cut but you should do that after the use of polygonal lasso tool, as stated above)

note: feel free to şelect parts of other letters as you get one letter, for an even better effect.

this is what i have after "shattering" every letter. the lineup doesn't have to be perfect as you will arrange these parts in your main document. (click on images for full view)

STEP FIVE: go back to your main document and make sure the visibility of your text is turned on.

what you will do now is open the shattered text in the new window and transfer letter by letter (letter folders) to your main document. BUT after you transfer every folder, you need to rasterize EVERY layer and convert it to a smart object. i made an action for this part to make it easier. download here.

(okay i really don't know why my screenrecord doesn't show "pop-up" windows but i was moving the C folder from the document where i shattered the text and then used my action on every layer)

after you transfer the folder to your main document and rasterize and convert to smart object, select the folder and use Free Transform to move it so it aligns with the letter from your complete typography. then you will select each layer and align it with the typography. see below. (click on the gif, i made it bigger so you can see better)

i did this one hastily so the recording wouldn't be too long but i'm hoping you can see what i'm doing.

now, do this for every letter.

after that is done, make the original typography layer invisible, and you should have something like this

STEP SIX: another really tedious part BUT it's time to animate the text.

make your timeline space bigger so it's easier for you to work with it. then select the first layer and click on the arrow next to it (in timeline) so Transform is revealed to you.

now, you don't want the animation to start from the very beginning of the gif, but a bit later so the text is readable before it shatters.

for example, i did mine like this, but that is your personal preference.

note: make sure that all animations start at the same time.

tip: do this for all layers in one folder before you transform them, as it will go faster.

STEP SEVEN: bring the playhead (blue arrow with the red line) to the end of your gif and select one layer in timeline.

now it's time to transform it. use Free Transform (windows shortcut ctrl+T) and drag the part a bit away and rotate it. press enter.

okay ignore the way my text moved upwards, i used the text i used in my edit and i did that animation in the upper part of the gif and i was too lazy to redo the whole animation lmaoo but i hope you can see what i'm doing with the letter C.

do this for every letter. play around with placing and rotation. then save your gif. when you're done, you should have something like this.

again, i was too lazy to redo the whole thing on this new gif so i'm using the one from my gifset i linked in the beginning.

i hope this was understandable and helpful. if you have ANY questions, don't hesitate to shoot me an ask or dm me! i'm always here to help <33

[ravenfenty]

Late Night | All Mine PART 1

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝑫𝑩𝑭! 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒙 𝒔𝒉𝒚!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 

𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒚 20'𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 30'𝒔

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒅𝒂𝒅𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒂 𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒃. 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕. 𝑶𝒏 𝒂 𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒑 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒊, 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒖𝒆.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 18+ 𝖠𝖦𝖤 𝖦𝖠𝖯, 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆

A/N: SMUT IN PART TWO. Pretty tame part 1. Originally meant to be an Ari fic, but I felt this matched Stevie better. Inspired by the 1923 series. Gifs and images are not mine.

<<______________________>>

"Good job everyone, I think it's time we call it a night. we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow". Steve looks at the other photographers on the team.

People filter out one by one bidding each other goodnight. Soon it's just the two of you. You work fast to pack away the equipment that was assigned to you for the trip. 

You put in the last of extra SD cards into its special compartment. Silence fills the air, the cool breeze of Serengeti brushes against your skin. A perfect calm and end to the hot day. You loved the chill of the evening at least that allowed you to have a good night's rest. 

Tomorrow was busy and required an unusually early start to the day, the group was leaving Morocco for Tanzania  with a little stop over in Zanzibar.

The itinerary also included a trip to Nungwi Island. But that was just for tomorrow. Other than that, the job was laid back, thanks to Steve.

“Good job today, you catch on fast”. 

“Thanks Mr Rogers”. You turn to him and smile. A smile in which he returns with one dimple making an appearance. Steve’s smile always made your heart race.

On the rare occasion, it made an appearance. It brings back a memory of when you first met Steve at one of the gala nights hosted at the golf club. 

It was a nice chill night as you stood by the small pond, taking a little break for yourself and watching the setting sun, you’d snapped a quick picture on your phone. A habit you’d formed, anytime you saw something you liked you took a picture. Posting it to your photography account. 

This drew Steve's attention, who was returning from his car after forgetting his wallet. He spotted you alone, taking in the figure hugging red dress with gold accessories to match. Your hair had been slicked back for an elegant look. His eyes followed the length of your braided ponytail cascading down your back.The tip reached just above the round of your ass. He quickly averted his eyes up and made his way to you. 

“Beautiful sunset isn’t it?”. 

The deep timbre of his voice had startled you. If the pace of your heart wasn’t already fast it was now beating at superspeed. Your eyes met the blue eyes of a handsome stranger, decked out in a fitting black tuxedo. 

“Sorry didn’t mean to scare you darlin”.

Steve had moved to stand beside you, a grin gracing his face. His hair had been shorter and more clean cut, unlike his more rugged look now. You loved the long hair he was sporting now. It was often tempting. You had this deep desire to run your hands through it. 

Shy, you simply nodded, turning your eyes back to the view before you. Sensing your shyness, he didn’t probe for conversation. Instead, he took in the view with you. Feeling safe you’d spoken up.

“The sunsets in Tanzania, I heard, are the most spectacular, this is probably the closest thing I’ll get to it”. Oh how you wished to go to Tanzania, but you didn’t have anyone to go with, your friends mostly preferred Italy, France or cruise ships. It’s not that you didn’t appreciate it, it's just you wanted more adventure outside the normal.

“They are spectacular, there are no words I can use to perfectly describe it, that’s why I’m heading there again later this year, you should come”.

That invitation alone brings you to this very moment. If someone had told you that you’d be travelling the world this year, you would have laughed in their face. So far this year you've spent time living in your suitcase. Visiting the beautiful countries of Vanuatu, Morocco and lastly Tanzania. 

“No problem, call me Steve darlin, no need for honorifics ”. His voice brings you back to the present. You search through your head to string together a sentence of tangible words to continue the conversation. You hated that every time you were around Steve, words failed to come out. 

“So—”. Before you could speak, one of the guys on the team popped his head inside the tent. Steve rolls his eyes, annoyance, heavily visible on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest and eye brows furrowed on his face, Bryan enters, not even paying attention to Steve. 

“Sorry to bother you. Hey, so some of us are having a late night swim and ice cream before we retire to bed, would you like to join us”. You look at Steve then, Bryan. Steve simply shrugs his shoulders. 

“Uhh—”. 

“It’ll be fun”. It did sound like a nice way to end the evening, but you were tired. It was quite a busy day, and the following will be equally as busy. 

“I think I’ll have an early night today”.

“Are you sure? Come celebrate  it is our last day in Morocco”.

“No really I’m okay”. You wondered why he couldn’t just take your no as an answer. This was one of the reasons you had trouble saying no. 

“Pretty please”.  

“She said no”. Bryan finally turns his attention from you to Steve. He stands stalking up to Bryan, towering a foot above him. He cowers back, moving slightly out of the tent embarrassed. 

“Apologise to her, I don’t take kindly to boundaries being pushed”.

“My apologies, for pushing your boundaries….”.

“And for making her uncomfortable”. Steve adds

“And for making you uncomfortable”. You simply nod and Bryan retreats, after pushing him out of the tent. 

“Mr Rogers, you didn’t have to do that”.

“It's Steve darlin”.

He continues, caressing your cheek “and yes I had to do that”. 

“Yeah, he does have a way of pushing boundaries”.

“I’ll have him gone, he won’t join us on the trip”.

All you could was simply nod. 

“Thanks Steve and goodnight, I really need to head to bed”. 

“Sweet dreams love”. He plants a kiss on your forehead. 

[pinkberrytea]

Kinky NSFW Alphabet: Mavka & Astarion

Eeee ty ty for the tag @nyx-knox! 🙌❣️✨ This made me realize I rarely ever talk about Mav and Astarion as a couple, I should do that more often 😭

Kinky NSFW Alphabet

Keeping it under the cut since this is a spicy one, so tagging folks first ✨ @zekeen, @bananasfosterparent, @honeybee-bard, @kalmiaphlox, @inkymoonbunny, @judasiskariot and @preciouslittle-bhaalbabe!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Mav is cuddly. She will immediately snuggle up to his chest and wrap her tail around his leg, almost as if seeking reassurance that she’s been good, that he won’t leave her. Astarion typically isn’t, but with her, it’s different—while he finds it strange, having someone else crave affection from him so badly (beyond just sex, no less), indulging her makes him feel almost powerful, like he is needed, wanted, so he will press his lips to her forehead and run his fingers through her hair until she falls asleep, and in the morning, clean her up if they’ve made too bad of a mess.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I’m an Astarion is an ass man truther, so he definitely has a thing for hers. Also her tail—he thinks it’s adorable how she will unconsciously perk it up whenever he's around, like a good little pup. As for Mav, she loves his hair, how soft and fluffy it is, but it’s his lips and fangs that always get her weak in the knees, especially when he flashes her that wicked smile of his.

C = Cum (Where does your muse prefer to cum/have someone cum?)

Inside, for both. Astarion loves marking her as his, stuffing her full and letting her fluttering walls milk him to the last drop. Mav, too, yearns to be filled with him and his seed, as only then can she truly feel whole, safe, so he will usually only pull out come morning.

D = Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory: a dirty secret of theirs)

Astarion will sometimes steal Mav’s clothing items—often her underwear, but anything with her blood on it will do—so he can jerk off to them later. She’s aware of this, and doesn’t mind at all, though he’s still under the impression she doesn’t know.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Both are very similar in that they do have experience, only this is their first time with a partner they love and who loves them back. For Mav specifically, she had never been with another fully consensually before Astarion. Laying with someone who is desperate to pleasure them back is a new and scary thing for both, and it can be in equal measure healing and even more damaging, at times. But they're working through it, together.

F = Favorite position (This goes without saying)

Missionary, for both. Feeling him pin her down under his body weight and shield her from the world around them is comforting for Mav. She craves the intimacy of it, and Astarion is more than happy to be entrusted with that control, to look into her eyes as they kiss and take in her image as she comes for him, cheeks flushed and his name on her lips.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

They aren't exactly goofy, but Astarion does tease Mav a lot. He loves watching her writhe and squirm, whine, moan, make all the cute noises, so edging and overstimulation are very typical for them.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Neither have body hair, Astarion in virtue of being an elf, and in Mav’s case, likely due to her origins—or maybe she's just like that.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Mav tends to get emotional, and it's not uncommon for her to cry during sex. Astarion teases her about a lot of things, but not about this, since any sexual act is usually just as emotionally charged for him. Drying her tears is, in a way, like drying his own. How intense it gets varies a lot though, but even during a lighthearted quickie they both become enraptured in their own little world, where there's just the two of them, and nothing can hurt neither him nor her ever again.

J = Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

During the events of the game, starting in Act 2 while they're still abstaining, Astarion makes a habit of jerking off every night while feeding on Mav. Sometimes she's awake for it, sometimes she isn't, but either way she doesn't mind. Mav rarely ever touches herself if he's not present, since Astarion is very adamant about wanting to participate, and he gets pouty whenever she comes without him being there to witness, which he's able to tell by her scent.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Oh, Astarion 100% has a choking kink—he takes great pleasure in squeezing Mav's neck and watching her gag, even better if she is tied up or blindfolded. Similarly, she loves surrendering control over her body to him. Needless to say, both also have a bloodplay kink, so him biting her is almost a given whenever they do anything sexual.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Neither have much of a preference, but Mav does enjoy curling up anywhere with his scent, especially if she knows he won't be there when she wakes up—so basically, their own bed, or during the events of the game, his tent.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going?)

For Astarion, there is no greater turn-on than seeing Mav act all shy and bashful, ears and cheeks glowing a bright red and sweet little whines falling from her lips. He will immediately pounce and ravage her whenever he works her up to that point—which he can very easily do by either teasing or praising her, or maybe a mix of both. Also, again, drinking from her will inevitably cause him to pop a boner.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

They aren’t necessarily averse to it, but neither are very keen on her topping. Sometimes if feeling a little more adventurous they may decide to switch things up a bit, and Astarion does enjoy seeing Mav struggle to take the lead (especially if she’s riding him, with the added bonus that he gets to watch her tits bounce and her body get all sweaty and flushed), but even then, nothing that involves him getting restrained (much less humiliated) in any way. Also, bringing other people into their intimacy is something they're similarly not very enthusiastic about, Astarion in particular since he’s very possessive of her.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

They both have a preference for giving—Astarion because he thinks it’s adorable how she will squirm and moan with each flick of his tongue, and also because he loves tasting her, whereas Mav finds nothing more pleasurable than making him feel good. Skill-level wise, Astarion’s is higher due to him having hundreds of years of experience, although Mav’s clumsiness is both endearing and arousing for him, especially since she’s always so eager.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Astarion tends to like it rough, Mav prefers a more sensual pace, so they try to meet each other halfway, starting slow and intentional and then becoming more animalistic towards the end. Although this of course varies according to context—a quickie will usually be rough all the way, and more emotional sex, gentler and softer.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

They have quickies fairly often just because Astarion has such a high sex drive and there’s only so many hours in a day, but both prefer taking their time with it if possible, so they may enjoy exploring each other’s body to the fullest.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Both are fairly adventurous, especially Astarion. While Mav won’t typically make suggestions, she is always willing to try whenever he proposes something new. He is having fun exploring his newfound sexual freedom, focusing on his own pleasure instead of his partner’s, and she has no qualms whatsoever about not always being his priority in bed.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Astarion’s is much, much higher, but Mav does her best to keep up with him (especially since after a particularly rough session she knows that once they’re finished he will cradle her in his arms, stroke her hair and call her a good girl—no better motivation than that!). Mav also doesn’t last very long, at all, which he always teases her about.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Other than restraints and blindfolds, not really.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Astarion is a relentless tease, and Mav, his helpless victim. Squeezing her bum or stroking her cunt in public, whispering obscenities in her ears, pushing his hips against her own to let her feel his hardness, pointing out how wet she already is for him; all highly effective methods he will shamelessly use to make her putty in his hands.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Astarion isn’t very loud, especially once he stops performing during sex. That’s not to say he doesn’t moan, but it’s typically low grunts that will slip from his pretty lips with every thrust, only really audible when he has his mouth close to her ears. Mav, on the other hand, does make quite a bit of noise, which he will enthusiastically coax out of her by suddenly pinching a nipple or playing with her clit while she’s still recovering from an orgasm.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Pulling Mav to him by the tail is endlessly amusing to Astarion because the base of it is highly sensitive and vascularized, so nine times out of ten, she will let out the cutest yelp and become wet for him on the spot. He does this way too often, and it always works like a charm.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

We're all aware our boy is well endowed and has pecs for days, so honestly, good for Mav—although she herself was created specifically to be sexually enticing, if her round bum and perky tits are anything to go by, so good for Astarion, too!

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Astarion's is again much higher than Mav's—he is the one who tends to initiate most sexual interactions, but she is always receptive to him, especially since he knows exactly what gets her going (usually a balanced mix of praise and teasing, as mentioned above).

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Mav will fall asleep almost instantly once they’re done—she’s not typically a fast sleeper, insomnia being usually preferable to the nightmares that plague her every night, but when in his arms, cock drunk and safe, she will allow herself the rest. Astarion also struggles to trance for similar reasons, but unlike her, he doesn’t need to, so instead he’ll just watch her, memorize every detail of her face, from the cute little freckles on her nose to the way her long lashes cast a shadow over her cheeks.

[klausysworld]

Are request still open and if they are can you make a Klaus Mikaelson one shot the girl is Tyler Lockwood sister and she hates Klaus so she rejects him as her mate but at the end she accepts him so like fluff at the end

What are you doing to me?

Finding out your mated to the all powerful original hybrid who ruined your brothers like and forced him to become half vampire while also terrorising your childhood friends and what not isn’t exactly at the top of my bucket list.

Him being a willing participant when it came to the whole ‘soulmate’ arrangement was also not meant to be in the cards.

When I realised we were mates I was 99% sure he would immediately reject me as a mate. As strong as a soulmate makes you, it will also always be your greatest weakness. I would be able to kill him far easier than anyone else and I was certain he would want to kill me first.

So him leaving me expensive gifts was…unexpected to say the least.

Detailed drawings of wolves and the full moon in the sky with a poem hand written on the back had my heart fluttering in ways that I should not have enjoyed.

But he had destroyed my brothers and the people I consider my family’s lives.

And so, despite the utter agony I was inflicting on both him and myself, I rejected him as my mate.

It’s a rare thing for wolves to reject their one, the side affects are awful in a way to force your mind into reconsidering.

The crippling pain was emotionally tormenting and physically exhausting. After the initial rejection I was barely able to leave my bed, eat, drink, I barely spoke a word and each time I fell asleep I was haunted by a similar image of Klaus.

Damon had messaged me letting me know Klaus had been out of sight for nearly 3 weeks after.

The pain lingered, never truly gone but it had dimmed. Though a sharp pain would shoot through me when he was too close, when the bond knew I was purposely ignoring him, and i could always see him wince at the same time.

The few times I didn’t shove him away, well I felt much better. He brought peace to my wolfs inner battle between soulmate and family because in reality I knew that he was both. I was just too afraid to admit it fully.

Though I couldn’t help but occasionally step a tad bit closer to him, to feel the warm buzz that ran through my bloodstream.

He was a lot less subtle though.

Often, as soon as his wolf sensed mine approaching he was all over me. Hands would be rubbing up and down my arms, his lips on my neck in a desperate instinctual need to mark me. And what was worse was that my wolf was all the more compliant and for a few wonderful seconds I could indulge in the blissful sensations. My head back, hands firmly gripping his henley and moans leaving my lips, my wolf having the desire to present myself in a truly embarrassing fashion.

Though he would always push it a tad too far, a grope to my ass, his canines about to pierce my skin, and I would be pushing him away. My wolf panting as I nearly tripped over my own two feet to get away from him while ignoring the intense feeling of my heart being squeezed unpleasantly.

I always managed to just scrape past him.

Suffering alone in my room again at the recurring torture of rejecting a mate.

His continued flow of presents didn’t help either, only made me feel worse seeing effort put into paintings of me and my wolf. He hadn’t turned into a hybrid, not yet at least, he probably knew that would be my last straw and id maim him.

But I knew he had followed my wolf on the full moons, I always woke with brand new clothes beside me, lead on a cotton blanket with a pillow under head and the snapping of twigs in the distance as he walked away.

And even though I should have said absolutely not when he personally delivered an invitation to his family’s ball, with those stupid puppy dog eyes, I couldn’t bring myself to.

“Please love, just one dance and if you don’t like it…then I’ll leave you be and accept your decision” as soon as the words left his mouth, both our souls twisted in agony making my teeth grind.

“Fine, just one” I whispered and he nodded, pulling me into a quick hug to calm down both our pain. Which it did like water on a fire, entirely putting out the flames and leaving us calm and quiet.

And then the dress arrived at my door, with matching shoes and accessories and I realised I actually had to do this.

Walking into his house sent a chill down my spine, my body felt much warmer and my wolf was howling inside me.

A hand on my shoulder had me whimpering softly making an arm wrap around my waist and pull me aside to another room.

“Shh love, we don’t want the rest of the guests hearing such lovely sounds” klaus murmured into my ear and I pressed against him, a small moan leaving my lips.

“This is too much for you isn’t it my love?” He whispered, his hand tilting my head making me look up at him.

The entire house smelt like him, I had seen parts of it in the dreams of him when he was suffering from my rejection. Which now intensified my guilt, my emotions were running haywire. I was in his home; I was in the wolf’s den.

Without thinking my hands tugged at his blazer, pushing it down his arms before my fingers began to pull his shirt open

“Woah love, it’s alright” he muttered, his hands grabbed mine and before I could blink we were outside. The cold air cooled down my boiling skin as I panted and he stroked my hair away from my face

“There we go, it’s okay” he cooed, the back of his hand pressing against my forehead.

“I hate this stupid bond” I whispered, covering my face.

“I know love…we can have our dance another time, I’ll take you home” he uttered, his tone was sad and my heart ached again.

“Stop it” I whispered “please stop it”

“Stop what love? What’s wrong?”

“Make it stop fucking hurting! I rejected you weeks, months ago! Why does it still hurt!? What are you doing to me?” I whispered, tears filling my eyes and spilling over. I looked up at him to see him in a similar state though no tears had fallen from his eyes yet.

His hand moved to cup my face and I couldn’t help but lean into it.

“It will only stop hurting us when you truly reject me. Somewhere, inside you, you still haven’t truly given up on the idea. You either have to reject the bond once and for all or accept me” he explained softly

“I would’ve been able to reject you if you left me alone. You kept sending all those things and being so kind, you did this to me” I whimpered

“I wouldn’t have done that if I couldn’t feel your soul still reaching for mine” he uttered “I would never intentionally harm you”

I let out a quiet sob as my soul pleaded for his.

I leaned forward so my head could press against his chest, my eyes closing at the content feeling that rose in me. I could feel myself giving into the bond, our souls slowly binding together. His hand held the back of my head, I could hear his heart speeding up as mine mimicked it.

His other hand moved around my waist, pulling me to him. “Good girl” he whispered “you’ll feel so much better now” he reassured “I promise I’ll make it better now sweetheart”

He kissed my head softly, his hand rubbing my back “let the bond form my love” he encouraged.

I focused on the connection trying to relight the candle.

I could feel the second it happened, my knees growing too weak to stand making him chuckle quietly and wrap both arms around me. He lifted me so my face could be right infront of his, prompting me to lean forward and press our lips together.

Our souls entwined as we did so, endless amounts of passion poured into one act.

The silent appreciation that this was real and it was only just the beginning.

[lynaferns]

So, someone asked for a tutorial of this animation so, why not?

I need to say first that I'm not a profesional animator, I'm a selftaught artist and I'm terrible at teaching/making tutorials so maybe this isn't the best example of how to animate.

Having said that, this was my process:

I first drew the important key frames, in other words, where I wanted point A and point B to be. No details, only body and head (I have no save of the original frames but basically no bells or ribons nor ruffles)

Then I needed a frame in betwen to conect them

I added a bounce effect duplicating the images, squeezing and stretching it a little (I have no save of this part but I have a video on my phone from january of last year, sorry it looks a little bad, I had to crop it)

I slowed it down so you can see the bounce

It's just like 3 frames each bounce

Now, to animate all the frames I started from A to inbetween 1,

then later to point B and closed the loop with inbetween 2.

To make this easier I drew a "rute" on the background

It looked something like this

and with the animation

It's a process of trial and error. While you are drawing the frame you don't actually know if it's the correct pose (unless you are some kind of god), so you have to draw the inbetweens, check how it looks in movement, spot where it lack/exceeds frames or where it needs more space between frames... untile it's finished and you get something like this.

As you can see only 8/46 frames aren't drawn. These 8 frames are little "stops" for the images so the character is still.

Some of these frames has the character still but something else is moving, like Moons hat.

Finally, I got to animate the details: sunrays, hat, bells, etc. Each of these objets has its own physics and this part enters more in how I belive the physics would behave like having in mind the mass of the objet and the inertia.

Example:

The hat has a lot of inertia because fast movement so: it moves faster and it takes time to stop.

The ribons and ruffles has less inertia because even though it is still fast is a slower movement so: it moves fast BUT stops fast.

Note to add: the faster and objet moves the less frames it needs to be drawn, sometimes it may need to draw the character/object deformed to look right. The slower it moves the more frames you'll have to draw and the more precision you'll need to make it look right.

Some cursed frames:

Some "still" frames:

Another note to add: this is animated at 24fps, this means every 1 second has 24 images. Most cartoons and movies are animated at 24-25 fps, this not only aplies to 2d animation but also 3d and stopmotion.

Fun fact: the human eye perceives between 30-60 fps, however animating at 30 fps or more can give an unnatural feeling to the animation.

At last, here is the animation clean up that I never finished

I added a couple of frames to make it a lil' more smooth.

Hope this crapy tutoria helped somehow.

Now I'm going to bed and hope when I see this in the morning it looks decent.

[otomiyaa]

nice.png

(literally how I named the image, couldn't think of something else)

Hi guys :') To my followers and tumblr friends, I'm really sorry if my sudden disappearance scared or upset you. It wasn't quite... planned. And today was a busy day and I needed some time to consider what I wanted to do.

Short version of the story:

My tumblr account got terminated for copyright infringement. A certain Mr. Green got me in unlucky trouble (ref 1, 2).

I won't get it back, or try to get it back. It's gone.

Needed a moment to consider 2 options: ask Mia to extend my dramatic farewell letter and stay gone, or make a new blog.

Not planning to post new writing here. I won't be using words like 'never' or 'forever' because I'm a known clown with things like this, but the intention is to no longer post fics. I will finish Tickletober on AO3 and then take a break from writing. So yes, I cancel the swiftscribbles event too, sorry!

When I opened my laptop, I could see my old blog in its final hour lmao (I found out about the loss on my phone). So that's what the snap is from on a fitting grave. It was fun while it lasted!

Long version of the story:

Losing my blog(s): My Tumblr account with main blog + sideblogs got terminated overnight, it was quite the surprise! I've either been reported or tracked by bots. The posts are a bunch of numbered URLs I can't open, but the message is clear: for including anime content, genshin impact or media from other sources (whether it's videos, screenshots, official art, gifs or even fanwork) you technically can get a strike. Upon googling the claimer I quickly found this first, and knew it was a lost cause. Although it feels shitty and unlucky, I am in no place to appeal. It's like when I used to make AMVs in the past, you never knew whether a song or even anime footage was going to give your YT account a copyright strike or even a ban, it was a gamble. I have lost YT accounts before, and now I lost the Tumblr one. With 7+ years of tickle trash content and a bunch of sideblogs. But oh well, moving on!

Starting a new blog: It was a serious consideration whether this was my ultimate chance to do what I've always said I wanted to do eventually - quit my blog. My first thought was to ask Mia to share my explanation and literal goodbye with you guys, and stick to my chaos of a Twitter account to indulge in fandom stuff. But then I thought of how happy Tumblr made me, even without the fic writing, but just.. reblogging things, getting random asks, shouting about life and of course, about tickles. I decided to make a new blog after all, but also decided the following:

The 7K+ milestone swiftscribbles event is cancelled, for which I apologize! The follower milestone, together with the motivation to write the fics, and even the asks with the requests I got, all died with my former blog.

I will see how long I can survive without posting a new fic or drabble. A loose headcanon or two might fly around sometime. And if necessary, a link to a new fic on AO3.

Tickletober? Hell yes I'll finish it, I would cringe in bed for 49 days at least if I would stop. I just won't post the fics here, but on AO3.

Reposting/reblogging my old works? Undecided at the moment but I'm tired and lazy. I don't feel too upset since most of my fics are still on AO3 at least and not completely gone.

Anyways, I'll see what happens and how long I can enjoy this nerfed version of blogging.

Surprisingly I'm not upset about losing my other blog, there were a lot of memories but it was also very cringe. I'm gonna be just as cringe here, but at least I feel cleansed.

For those who choose to follow me again, thank you, but please know that there won't be much original content coming from me, for now!:)