#i played it over and over and over and i am 100% certain it's the tardis

[sallymew4]

kids when they hear that their dad is back in town VS. kids when theyre hanging out with a conman that accidentally stole their wallet once

im not even joking btw

bonus heres me being crazy about them in dms ^^^

[skittidyne]

things i SINCERELY want from the p3p/p4g ports:

a resurgence in souyo fics

(any fandom acknowledgment of the true ot3 of souyorise)

ONLY funny takes of ppl realizing how gay p4g is, no discourse allowed

more heartrending ryoji art

hiimdaisy/ggdg comics coming back for ppl to realize their roots

people playing the games for the first time

people blaming me while playing for the first time

[andragoras-in-vanity]

okay see heres the think i dont think i actually like being choked (i mean like...i do, but not all the time) im pretty sure if it was during sex id rather just let someone hold my neck, just squeeze it a bit, just enough to remind me they could snap it if they wanted to

[fingertipsmp3]

Playing a game called ‘how long can I put off talking about my various mental problems with a medical professional’. It’s going badly. I recommend no one play this game, 0/5 stars

[adlamu]

hearing the tardis' materialisation/dematerialisation (vworp vworp) noise at the tail end of the shotgun mix of prey (recoil):

[taintandviolent]

Taco Tuesday ; Gambit x reader!

summary: You live across the hall from Wade Wilson, and one Tuesday, he invites you over for tacos. 🌮 And that’s where you meet him. The Gambit. Post-Void, everyone got out alive and everything is fine. [PART TWO HERE]

word count & w a r n i n g s: 5.4K | smut with very little plot, alcohol mention, slightly drunk (but very consenting) reader, French and typing out accents/dialects, pet names (cher, mon ami, mon coeur, etc.), dirty talk (cos he is a dirty talker, don't argue with me on this), fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, no use of y/n.

a/n: this is based 100% on Deadpool and Wolverine Gambit / Channing's version of Gambit!! sorry for the lack of plot here, he deserves better than this filth, but I am down ASTRONOMICALLY and I needed to get it out. I spent so much time trying to get his accent right, I hope it comes off the way I wanted it to... anyway! i'm not certain if anyone will read this, but if you do - thank you a million times over! as always, requests are open! - banner by @/strangergraphics, and Remy gif by @scintie!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

He’s handsome. Like really handsome. 

Your stomach does a flip as he smiles at you, reaching for the bottle of Jack between your legs — wait. Pause. Rewind. How’d we get here?

Living in the same apartment complex as Wade Wilson was a trip. Even more of a trip was living across the hall from him. The things you heard coming from that apartment... nobody would believe you. So, you never told anyone. 

He’s kind. Albeit, zany but kind. Your interactions have been cordial and nauseatingly neighbourly. But on one regular ol' Tuesday afternoon, Wade invited you inside. He said something about having a party later that night, making tacos and being neighborly. He assured you that it wasn't a sex party... which to be honest, you weren't worried about until he'd mentioned it. Against your better judgement though, you'd agreed, and said you'd bring some liquor.

So, that evening, you opened your door, one bottle of Jack tucked under your arm, and another in your left hand. You shut the door to your apartment and walked straight across to your neighbour’s door. Your fist had rapped against the wood only twice before the door swung open, revealing Wade, and a very… strange and very bald looking dog in his arms. 

"Oh, what the fuck?" You asked, looking down at the creature. "I didn't know you had a dog…?"

Wade’s voice rose an octave or two, in a cutesy tone. "She's a new addition, yes she is!" 

"I brought... well, this. Sorry, it was all I had in my cabinets and to be perfectly honest, I wasn't about to go out and spend money on this. I like… barely know you."

"HA! Brutal honesty. We love to hear it." 

Wade took hold of your shoulder and yanked you inside, harsh enough that you made a small sound as he did. He shut the door with his foot, and towed you towards the table, where everyone was gathered. And that was when you first saw him. He wore all black, save for a tan trench coat with a high collar. He lounged casually on one of the dining chairs, playing with a deck of cards. They fluttered from hand to hand effortlessly, and for a moment, you were stuck, mesmerized by the dexterous way he handled them. You weren't sure what was pulling you towards him harder, your heart or your cunt, but you felt an undeniable draw to the man.

Wade's arm wound itself around your shoulders, guiding you around the room to meet each of his friends. At that point, living next to him, mutants were a forced transition. You were used to the concept of them, so meeting a giant silver man, for example, wasn't unexpected. Vanessa was the most normal - you were pretty sure she was human.

Finally, he got to the one you really wanted to meet. The one that your eyes had been darting back and forth to the entire time, the one that when he briefly met your gaze, your heart thudded in your chest. 

"And this... handsome slice of man, is the Gambit. Good luck understanding him, he's a real mouthful."

I’ll bet he is, you thought. 

He pocketed the cards in a quick motion and stood up from his chair. With a syrup-smooth chuckle, the man laughed and said: "You can call me Remy." He did in fact have a thick Cajun accent and spoke quickly – almost too quickly. You blinked once, focusing hard on his words.

"Remy," you repeated finally, before saying your own name and extending your hand. He took it gently and as he shook it, your palm tingled with what felt like electricity.

"Enchanté." (Enchanted)

Your cheeks burned, and you knew they were flushing. You couldn’t control it. "De même..." (Likewise.)

His brows lifted, surprised. "You speak French, mon ami?" (my friend) 

"Heh, uhh... comme un enfant." (Like a child) You chuckled low, averting your eyes for a millisecond. "I took a few years of it in high school and again in college. I’m by no means an expert."

Wade's eyes were wide, flicking back and forth between the two of you. There was obvious chemistry there, and a knowing smirk drew itself across his lips. Abruptly, he yanked one of the bottles of Jack Daniels from beneath your arm, before leaning against the nearby wall.

"Oh, fuck me. You understand Gumbo here? That’s cute. No idea what either of you are saying though, someone forgot to turn the subtitles on. I'll leave you two to get acquainted." Whatever that meant. You scoffed, but turned your attention back to Gambit, looking at him.

“Sit a while, cher.” 

You happily took the chair that he pulled out, not caring that it was facing away from the others, and plopped down onto it, situating the other bottle of Jack between your legs. You gripped the neck of the bottle tightly, and looked at him with a timid, but a come hither sort of smile. After a moment, you twisted the cap off, and flicked it off somewhere to your right. Wade would find it later, or he wouldn’t. You didn’t really care. 

You two talked for hours, most of which consisted of him telling you about the Void, and how hard it had been, while you pretended to comprehend it. Between words, you passed the bottle back and forth, taking mouthfuls, and inadvertently swapping spit as you did. The thought occurred to you about halfway through the conversation, and your stomach tightened. You shook your head lightly and clenched your thighs together, trying to stave off the arousal that was bubbling in your core. 

There we go. That’s better.

He’s handsome. Like really handsome. 

Your stomach does a flip as he smiles at you, reaching for the bottle, which was still situated between your legs. His fingertips just graze the side of your thigh and his eyes flit to yours. He holds his smile, waiting for you to either protest or move the moment forward, and all you can do is gawk, because your cunt starts throbbing. 

As the evening wears on, though cautious, it’s obvious that Remy feels the same pull that you do. He remains cool on the outside, but internally, he was battling the magnetic tugging he felt from you. He couldn't shake it. He’d compliment you, you’d compliment him. At one point, in between sips, you casually drop that you think his accent is hot and he whispers something underneath his breath, something you don’t understand. Before either of you realized it, you had started to lean closer to each other, your faces inches apart, and you felt the warm rush of his breath over your cheeks.

It was as if you both realized it simultaneously. You rear back, an embarrassed expression plastered on your face. Remy clears his throat. His attraction to you was stifling; something that he rarely felt. He was powerless in his want for you, the draw you had was irresistible.

"Maybe we should... uh..." You murmur, looking deep into his eyes. In a room full of people that were starting to fade away the closer you two got to each other, you were thankful you were still sober enough to suggest a different setting. Any longer and you surely would’ve just straddled him and gone to town. 

Remy moves first. 

"We gon' take a walk." He announces to the others, getting to his feet. 

The conversation stops abruptly, silence hanging heavy. You straighten up, trying your best to avert your gaze, but you still see everyone’s reaction. Someone clears their throat and your heart sinks, feeling like you might die on the spot. The one that had been introduced as Logan, gruff looking dude, raises a single brow at you. In true Wade-character, he ugly cackles, shattering the moment. Your shoulders sink, embarrassed, as you head towards the door, doing the proverbial walk of shame. 

Remy meets you at the door and pulls it open, holding it for you. You duck underneath his arm, looking sheepish and as you exit into the hallway, you think you heard Wade mutter something about a fanfiction but Remy yanks the door shut before you can react. 

“You want to… get some air? Or um… I have… well, no I had liquor, but I brought it to Wade’s.” 

He smiles, and looks down at the floor, before lifting his eyes back to you. “We can do whatever you want, chère. You ain’t gon’ catch me complainin’ eitha’ way.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, considering the options. Your heart was hammering in your chest at the prospect of just being near him without the others around. You two had been close to kissing in Wade’s living room, and now, you had the opportunity to continue that… or take a walk. The latter seemed less appealing. 

“Y’know what, why don’t we… just…” You take a few steps backwards, jerking your head towards your front door. Concerningly, you had forgotten to lock your door. However, it allows you to open it quickly, and walk backwards into the apartment. Gambit follows you in, his attention never leaving you. 

"You sure 'bout dis, mon ami? I can walk away righ' now." His words land heavy, a promise behind them. He was a gentleman at heart, you could tell. Fortunately for him, you were very sure, and wanted every inch of him.

Mon ami - something that in the few hours you'd spent with him, he'd called you often. Among other things. Mon ami meant my friend, but you knew you two weren't just friends. You saw how he acted with others, and the comments he made. Sure, he had a quick wit and a mouth on him, but the flirting... god, the flirting.

He stands in the doorway, his shoulders filling the frame. Silently, you nod and take another step back, giving him some room to enter. He takes one wide step towards you, leaving the door open behind him. He reaches for your hip, and you immediately take to playing with his large hands. Delicately, you pay attention to each long digit, trailing your middle finger along the knuckles, and up and down the length of them. You dip into the spaces between, your fingers barely ghosting over the webbing. 

Was that a shiver? Your eyes flit to his, searching them for a hint.

"You sure do know how to make a man feel good." 

Your heart flutters at his words. With his accent, even the simplest of things sounded charming. At least to you. You felt that he could ask if you wanted coffee or how the weather was and you'd be twirling your hair around your finger like a desperate schoolgirl. Embarrassing. 

You’re about to respond and defend yourself by saying that all you had done was play with his hands, which was hardly considered foreplay, but his fingers come up underneath your chin, gently closing your mouth with a dull click of your teeth. He tilts it upwards to an angle where he could easily kiss you. And kiss you, he does. 

It was the kind of kiss that makes your knees buckle, sends a violent shudder from the nape of your neck down to the base of your spine. It’s the kind of kiss that needs to come with a warning; Danger: Will Result In Sex. As his lips move against yours, you feel the urgency of his need, of his want, and hum into his lips. Remy takes that as a green light and deepens the kiss, moving his body so that it’s pressing flush against yours. The action leaves you immediately breathless and in response, you break the kiss, tucking your chin to your chest. Your hand finds his torso, pressing hard against the muscles underneath the shirt.  

"Ah, don't you be actin' shy now. You been teasin' me for hours."

“I have not!”

“You think I didn’t notice all ‘dem touches an’ looks you were givin’ me? I may ‘ave been born at night, but I wasn’t born last night.” 

He had you there. You couldn’t deny that, at all. Even if you’d wanted to. Which, part of you did. Part of you was very nervous, standing before this very handsome man, with the taste of his mouth still lingering on your lips but another part of you, the louder one, was delighted that he’d noticed. Furthermore, that he’d enjoyed them enough to come to your room.

You lift your hand behind him, pushing the door shut with a harsh shove. With a twist of your fingers, you activate the locking mechanism, sliding the deadbolt into place. Gambit chuckles, grinning down at you. Your heart leaps into your throat, but you press on bravely, lacing your arms around his neck. They trail down the front of his body, feeling the muscles as they twitch with each ragged breath. 

He quirks a brow as if to ask, 'Oh, really?' You simply smirk back at him. The contact is electric, and you find yourself resisting the urge to grind against him immediately. Instead, you focus on his hands again, bringing one of them up to your lips. You press a delicate kiss on the pads, before slipping one into your mouth and sucking gently. Remy makes a deep, husky sound in his throat, and brings his other hand to your hip, where he pulls you roughly against him.

For a man that uses his hands often, the sensations are high. The way your mouth envelops his finger, your tongue writhing around the digit had his jaw clenching, muscles fluttering on the side of his face. When you draw his finger into the confines of your throat, deep-throating it, his eyes roll back in pleasure. He pulls his hand back, shaking it off as if the inside of your mouth was hot to the touch.

"Woo, you nasty, huh? Nevah’ woulda' guessed... you been actin' like a good little girl 'uhround me." 

After that, it all happened very quickly. Gambit takes a step and connects his lips with yours again, pushing them into you in an act of desperation. Without breaking the kiss, he shrugs out of his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby surface. You push against him until his back hits the door with a heavy thud, definitely loud enough for any innocent bystanders to hear. Your fingers undo the button of your jeans, breaking the kiss for only a second to slide them down your legs. 

Once you return to his waiting mouth, the kiss deepens and the coil in your stomach winds tighter, claiming your body in a deep, fiery arousal. His big arms wrap around you, enveloping you in a heated embrace. Just for a moment, it’s tender — but shortly after, his hands drop to your ass, fingers slipping underneath the band of fabric to take greedy fistfuls of each cheek. 

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the roundness of them to use as leverage. Letting out a little hum, you sweep your hips across his groin, pressing tightly against him. His eyes drift shut, head bumping against the door as he leaned it back, a low growl coming from his throat. Keeping at it, you grind your hips against him, feeling the outline of his length as it hardens.

“You be drivin’ Remy crazy, grindin’ on me like ‘dat.”

“That’s the intention….” You stand on your tiptoes to pepper kisses on his lips, your warm breath fanning over his face, smelling faintly of Jack Daniels. Remy trails his hand carefully up your rib cage until he gets to the side of your breast, where he quickly slips around to the front, his large hand cupping the fullness of it outside of your shirt. Your reaction is visceral; your breath hisses through your teeth at the sensitivity. 

Remy laughs again and with his free hand, pulls your hips back to his. Swiftly, he spins you around, pinning you between his body and the hard surface of the door. He presses himself tightly against you, shifting slightly so that his thigh was between your legs. The sensation of something that close to your core is dangerous and brings a weak, mewling whimper from your mouth.

“We gon’ have ourselves some fun.” His voice is low, tinged with a new sort of lustful tone that you hadn't heard before. Your mind is spinning, growing dizzy with lust. The alcohol had certainly helped your nerves, you were never usually this brazen. Your core burns with desire at his words, silently begging for everything he was about to give you. His lips hover just over yours; you can feel his breath on your skin and the heat that radiates off his body as it presses into yours.

"Oh my god," you whisper into his mouth. "Fuck..."

His teeth nip at your bottom lip before he captures your mouth in a heated, passionate kiss again. His tongue explores the inside, swirling along your own wet muscle. With every passing second, your heart beats faster and his hands grip your hips tighter, thumbs massaging the flesh above your jeans.

“Wrap ‘dem legs around me, mon coeur.” (My heart) Remy’s voice is husky with want; amongst his playful, lilted tone, a possessiveness lingered, and the thought sends a chill down your spine. He nods once, encouraging you into his waiting arms. You jump up, and he catches you effortlessly, gripping your thighs tight and hoisting you up into his grasp. Feeling secure, you wrap both legs around his waist and encircle his neck with your arms. Your gaze meets his and you can see the wanton need mirrored in his own eyes, darkened with desire.

Remy's smirk is dripping with confidence. Your body's response to him was causing his ego to swell within his chest, and his cock to swell within his pants. He leans in close, his lips against your ear, nipping at the lobe softly before pulling back slightly. In one fluid movement, his hips buck up against your center, teasing you over the layers of clothing. You let out a moan, throwing your head back against the door.

He thrusts up into you again, chuckling low against your ear. The hard line of his cock grinds against you, making you stutter out expletives as it presses against you with a needy demand. 

"You like 'dat, cher? Talk t' me..."

You nod, swallowing and wetting your throat. "Y-yeah, fuck... I do... need you – it – so bad."

“Whaddya’ need?”

“N-need you… so bad.” 

“You can do betta’. Tell Remy what you need...” 

He presses you harder against the door, your back sliding against the wood as he kisses a trail down from your mouth to your shoulder, sucking and biting with all the right intensities. As his hips grind against yours, you feel the damp fabric slide across your cunt, alerting you to just how wet he’d made you. Fuck. 

“Need… need you to fuck me. Hard. Need to feel you everywhere.”  

A few hours ago, you’d agreed to Taco Tuesday at Wade’s. Now, you were getting dry humped by a really hot Cajun guy and moaning into the curve between his neck and his shoulder. You were positive that if someone opened their door, they’d hear you. Somewhere in your brain, the thought should have been moderately embarrassing, but you were far too invested in Remy to care. 

Without warning, Gambit lifts you away from the door and carries you to the nearby couch. He never breaks the kiss, still feverishly claiming your mouth as he moves. Your back hits the cushions and before you can process it, his body weight is on top of you. He slots himself in between your legs, and his hard-on bumps into your stomach as his hips rut against you, finding some relief in the friction. But not enough. 

Remy’s hand finds the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to allow his fingers underneath the fabric. You bite down on the pillow of your bottom lip and push your hips up into his. Thick, strong digits sweep across your skin, leaving a burning trail of fire in their wake. Every touch brings your temperature up, and it isn’t long before your entire body is consumed in flames. You sigh contentedly, arching up into his touch. 

Abruptly, Remy straightens up, crosses his arms over his torso and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his tan skin and bulky muscles. His stocky stature makes your tummy clench with anticipation. He was fit, as you assumed, but that didn’t stop your jaw from falling open at the sight. 

“Wow,” you finally choke.

Remy grins. “You like what you see?” 

You nod furiously, hands snapping to his toned abdomen. He’s warm and his skin is soft, begging to be touched. The muscles flex underneath your fingers as you trace a long stripe from his belly button to his collarbone. Your hands claw at his shoulder, attempting to pull him back down on you, but he resists. 

He spoke with a playfulness, almost a sort of pleading. His thumbs flicks at the hem of your shirt. “Ah, c’mon, ‘dat ain’t fair. Enlève-tout toi, huh?” (Take it all off.)

You thought you understood, but if you didn’t, it didn’t matter. Remy was quick to translate his words, busy undressing you, pulling your worn t-shirt over your head, and reaching around your back to unclasp your bra. Most men would’ve fumbled with the clasp, but not him. His adept fingers make quick work of it, allowing your breasts to fall free. He throws your bra somewhere behind him. 

“Hooo, cher…!” His eyes light up at the visual and you feel heat blooming on your cheeks again, half expecting him to make a lewd comment. Instead, his hands cup your tits, kneading the soft plumpness like dough, thumbs grazing the nipples. He exhales through his mouth, jerking his head to the side. 

Finally, he kisses you again. It’s wet and sloppy and his mouth is consuming you, tasting you hungrily. His hips are still moving, sweeping into yours with a calculated precision. You try to spread your legs but the back of the couch thwarts your attempt. He notices this, watching as you struggle with the space. 

“You got a bed?” He asked in between smearing kisses along your neck and collarbone. 

“Yeah-yeah…. Down the hall.” 

“Remy be needin’ more room for what he wanna’ do t’you.”

His weight is suddenly gone from you, an unwelcome sensation, even though you know he’s about to carry you wedding-style down the hallway. He bends down, one arm sliding underneath your neck, the other in the crook behind your knees. For the second time that night, he lifts you into his arms.

You rest your cheek against his warm pectoral muscle, rocking back and forth, as he walks you both down the dark hallway. The only light in the room comes from the window, the city outside alive and humming. Carefully, Remy sets you down on the bed, unmade from this morning, your dark gray sheets cool to the touch. 

In nothing but your underwear, which at this point, are damp to the touch, you’re left feeling very exposed. But you can’t muster up any shame, not when he’s looking at you with such hunger, such want. Your tummy feels tight, and the feeling gets worse when Remy’s hands drop to his waist, unzipping and unbuttoning his pants. They fall loose at the waist, and he shucks them down the rest of the way, leaving him in nothing but a pair of deep purple boxers. Your eyes swing heavy to the outline that’s now presented to you. 

Oh my god. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise; Remy was a big guy, and that proved true downstairs, too. You can barely pull your eyes away from it, but you begrudgingly rip them away, to look up into his gaze. 

“Please,” you beg. “You’re too far away…” Your cunt is aching and nothing but him, his hands, his dick, will sate her. 

He leans forward, flattening both hands on the mattress and walks them back until his face is in front of yours. He sweeps you into another kiss and your heart races. His hands are perfectly positioned on either side of your hips, you feel them graze the flesh. His finger hooks around the elastic of your panties, twisting it around his pointer finger and gradually, he tugs them down over the curve of your hip.

You nod lazily against his mouth, as you feel the warmth of his hand near your core. Your legs drop apart, knees touching the mattress as you allow him access. One hand sweeps across your inner thighs, stroking them, while the other palms your soft mound. His other hand comes to pause at your knee, and pushes his weight into it softly, forcing you to stay spread-eagle for him. No way you could’ve done this on the sofa. 

There’s no hesitation in the way he fingers you; sweeping up through your slick folds, smearing your arousal around until she’s coated in it, splaying your pretty, wet cunt apart with his fingers, looking upon it hungrily. He knows what he’s doing, and how to do it right. You briefly wonder if that’s another mutant power he has… though being an expert at fingering someone seems outlandish. But he’s just so good at it. His middle finger barely touches you, circling the bundle of nerves delicately. Your back arches up towards him, a desperate groan vibrating your vocal chords. Delighted by your reaction, his finger flicks upwards at your swollen, sensitive clit, making your body literally quiver. 

“Uhugh – god…. Shit, oh my god.” 

He continues like this for several minutes, until your cunt is blazing hot and clenching with every moan you give. 

By the time he presses one finger inside, you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm and your voice fills the room with needy, desperate sounds. You let out a shrill whine, and he slips in another finger, feeling the stretch of muscle as he does. His heart is pounding in his chest, overcome with lust. The way you sound, the way your body is moving and writhing on the bed, he can’t wait to sink himself into you. 

Amidst a laugh, he says: “People gon’ think we up in here watchin’ porn.”

Did he just insinuate that you sounded like a pornstar? You lifted your head, wearily, to look at him. Your chest heaves with each breath as you try to formulate a snarky remark to no avail. He looked so good – well, always – but he looked particularly good on top of you, his bright eyes lust blown and hungry. 

“We’re… we’re… porn… it’s…  oh god.” 

He shushes you. “You just lay back and keep moanin’.” 

Defeated, you huff and your head hits the sheets again, but not before you catch a glimpse of the way the muscles in his forearm ripple as it pumps back and forth into your cunt. You can’t help but moan at the sight, feeling a shockwave rupture your core. Your hips meet his fingers, rutting and writhing against the mattress in a needy rhythm.

Your first orgasm claims your body before you can stop it. You’re clenching around his fingers as they move, crooking upwards into your sensitive spots. Your slick coats his fingers and when Gambit pulls his hand back, thick, clear strands string from between them. He smiles down at you. 

Remy raises himself to his knees. “Turn ‘round…” 

You flip over and back yourself towards him, thinking that he’s going to go at it doggy-style, but to your surprise, he pulls you upright, pressing your back against his chest. His dick is hot between your legs, and when he reaches down to line it up, you let your head loll back against his shoulder. Gambit’s mouth finds the side of your neck, streaking it with wet, suckling kisses. He was taking his time with you, savouring you and you hum happily through closed lips, reaching behind you to thread your fingers through his hair.

“Fuck, you feel so good…” Instinctively, your hips undulate and his cock slips between your folds. Remy’s hips buck once, letting out a groan that comes from somewhere deep. 

“You ready, cher?” He asks, sweeping your hair away from your neck. You nod furiously. You’ve been ready – you were ready the moment you laid eyes on him.

Remy reaches down to sweep his fingers along your entrance briefly, before gripping himself and guiding the head of his cock into the slit. You keen at the feeling of his velvet-soft head pressing into your entrance, warm pre-cum leaking from the slit. He murmurs words of encouragement into your ear as you feel his hips press against your ass, urging his thick, veiny shaft inside your cunt. He does it gently, allowing you time to adjust to the girth, but the sting still makes you cry out. “Fffuck!”

He begins to thrust his hips shallowly, your cunt stretching around his cock. The feeling is all-consuming, and your body feels heavy in his grasp. One hand is gripping your waist tightly, the other, fingers splayed out on your stomach just above your cunt. There’s a pressure building in your cunt, and each thrust magnifies it. The sting of his cock fades to an ache, then to a dull throbbing that makes you want more and you lean forward slightly and press your ass into the curves of his hips, meeting his thrusts. 

“Mm, ‘dat’s it, cher…” His voice is hot on your skin. 

His thrusts get deeper, but there’s a lingering tension in his body that makes you feel like he’s not getting what he wants. You’re right; all at once, Remy pulls his cock from you and switches positions. 

You’re suddenly on your back, looking up at him as he looms over you, all muscle. His cockhead nudges your entrance again, but doesn’t penetrate. 

“Say my name, cher… I needa’ hear it leave ‘dat pretty mouth.” 

“Which one? Gambit? Or Remy?” You ask, breathlessly.

The way his eyes rolled back at the second option told you everything you needed to know. A smirk twisted your lips cruelly and you lifted your body slightly, just enough for your mouth to reach his ear. You moan his name over and over again, knowing full well the effect it’s having on the mutant man.

“Remy, Remy, Remy….” Your tone is high-pitched and whiny, but he seems to enjoy the lewdness of it all. He bucks his hips hard into you, and the fullness reaches an all-time high as he bottoms out, his pelvis hitting yours with a slap.

“Huhhh—!” You gasp, breathing ragged. “Fuck!”

“Gonna’ make you cum so hard you ain’t gon’ walk right for days.” His voice is low and filthy and leaves a stain on your mind. Your cunt clenches around him possessively, pulling him somehow deeper inside of you. 

As your head bangs into your headboard, the tip of his cock bumps your cervix over and over again, and your jaw goes slack, literally fucked silent. Remy hears the thudding of your skull and puts a hand between it and the wood, but he doesn’t stop his relentless, deep thrusting. 

The pleasure reaches a peak and your nails dig into his back, leaving crescent moon shaped indentations on his golden skin. Remy’s groaning loud into your ear as he cums, muttering in an almost incoherent melange of French and English. His accent is somehow heavier, and you can barely make out the words as he’s saying them into your skin. It doesn’t matter though, because you feel how full you are, and Remy’s hot, white completion is leaking out the sides and staining your sheets. 

He stays like that for a moment, hovering on top of you. His cock softens inside, completely spent and eventually, he slips it out, rolling over onto your bed.

“Ah, joi de vivre, huh.” (the joy of life), he says drowsily.

You laugh, and nestle underneath his arm, in the space he’s left for you. 

If you had your way, you’d do it all over again. 

Though he doesn’t say it, so would he. 

[theonottsbxtch]

PRIVATE | LN4

an: requested by @bhuijnbhuijn-blog this was so fun to make! it feels to good to make a smau after a few days of straight writing

fc: random girls on pintrest and isabel larosa

yourusername

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thank you london and thank you to my beloved

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userone: seeing her live changed my brain chemistry

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yourbestfreind: mi amorrrrrr

yourusername: chiquita 😽

userfour: beloved??? has our man hater girl got herself a boyfriend

ekat19: hermosa

yourusername: ethan, basta.

userfive: is her beloved carl gallagher?????!??!?!?!?

appartment in monaco

You were perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, barefoot, legs dangling as you watched Lando move around the open kitchen. The soft click of cabinet doors and the muted thud of a cereal box landing on the counter are the only sounds, apart from the faint music playing from your speaker. It was your calm playlist, just background noise, a playlist you curated 100% but one Lando pretended he created to wind you up. He didn’t mind—he hummed along sometimes, absentmindedly, just like now. The late afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting a warm, golden hue over everything, making the moment feel even more private, more intimate.

Lando was shirtless wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips. It was a version of him few people ever get to see. No fireproof suit, no helmet. No world watching his every move. Here, in this quiet corner of your shared world, he was just... him. And you loved him like this, more than anything.

As he fumbled with the coffee machine, you leant back on your hands, your fingers curling against the cool granite of the counter. The smell of coffee mingled with the lazy warmth of the afternoon. You were both settled into this comfortable rhythm of being together, the kind of domesticity that felt almost foreign when you thought of your lives outside these walls—your career, his racing, the flashing lights and the fans.

But here, it was different.

You’d been thinking about it for a while now. The thought had been on the tip of your tongue for weeks, and today felt like the right time to broach it. Or maybe it was just that the stillness of this moment made you feel brave. You took a breath, voice soft as you broke the quiet.

“I’ve been thinking…” Your words drift into the space between you, casual but with a certain weight that you know will catch his attention. Lando looked over at you, coffee cup in hand, waiting for you to continue. You smiled, trying to keep it light. “Maybe it’s time we go public… on Instagram.”

He froze for a beat, his eyes locking on yours as if he was trying to read your face, gauge how serious you were. Slowly, he set the cup down on the counter, his brow furrowing in that familiar way that meant he was already thinking too much.

“Public?” he repeated, like he was testing the word, feeling it out. His voice was calm, but you could sense the undertone of concern, the hesitation that came with anything that involves exposing more of your lives to the world outside. “You sure about that?”

You nodded, even though you knew he was not just asking for the sake of it. There was more behind his question than the words. It was not just a simple post to him—it was a line you were crossing, a step into a world he was all too familiar with, and not in a good way.

“I am,” you said softly. “We’ve been so careful, keeping things private, but… I don’t want to hide us anymore. I don’t want to pretend we’re not a part of each other’s lives.” You watched him as you spoke, searching his face for any sign of agreement, but he was still quiet, arms folded across his chest, his gaze drifting somewhere just past you.

Lando shifted his weight, leaning against the counter, his fingers drumming lightly against the granite, a telltale sign that his mind was working through what you’d just said. After a moment, he sighed, running a hand through his curls, the kind of movement that let you know he was trying to choose his words carefully.

“I get it,” he said finally, his voice softer now, but there was still a trace of reluctance. “But… it’s different for you. Your fans, they’re supportive. You’re already used to the attention. My world… it’s not like that. It can get ugly fast. And once we put it out there, it’s out there. We can’t take it back.”

You slid off the counter and moved toward him, your bare feet silent on the floor. Standing in front of him, you reached for his hands, threading your fingers through his. “I know, love. I know how hard it can be for you. But I’m not asking for some big, dramatic reveal. Just something simple. A photo. Something that feels like us, something quiet.”

He looked down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. You could see the conflict in his eyes—the protective instinct he’d always had when it came to the life you’d built together versus the part of him that wanted to trust in your strength, in the fact that you could handle it.

“I don’t want them coming after you,” he said quietly, almost more to himself than to you. “I don’t want you to deal with the kind of hate I get.”

Lifting one hand to his face, cupping his cheek gently, your thumb grazed over his skin. “I’ve been in the public eye for years now. I’ve had my share of negativity, too. But we’ve got each other, right? We can handle it. I can handle it.” You paused, letting your words sink in. “And I’m tired of hiding something that makes me so happy.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment, as if he was trying to imagine what it would be like—the backlash, the media storm. But when he opened them again, there was something softer there, a quiet surrender. He still looked hesitant, but there was an acceptance in his expression now, like maybe, just maybe, he was willing to trust you on this.

“A photo,” he repeated, his voice almost resigned but not unkind. “Something simple.”

You nodded, your smile growing. “Just one.”

He chuckled softly, pulling you into his arms, his chin resting on the top of your head. “You really want this, huh?” His voice was a little lighter now, though you could still feel the weight of the decision lingering between you.

“I do,” you murmured into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him—clean and warm, like home. “We don’t have to make a big deal out of it. Just something that feels like us. Something honest.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands resting on your waist. “Alright,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “But if it all blows up in our faces, you’re the one dealing with the PR disaster.”

You laughed, the sound soft and full of relief. “Deal. I’ll take full responsibility.” You leant up and kissed him, your lips brushing his with a gentleness that said more than words ever could. “Promise.”

landonorris

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enjoyed the final show of the break, time for austin

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maxfewtrell: sick hoodie where's it from

landonorris: secret 🤫

userone: he is so HOT

usertwo: my man my man my man

quadrant: that helmet 👌

userthree: why is this man at so many concerts gah damn

userfour: i don't want to sound crazy but...

userfive: LET'S GO LANDO

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yeah, my boyfriend's pretty cool but he's not as cool as me

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userone: NO WAY

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userthree: i- speechless

userfour: HER BOYFRIEND IS LANDO NORRIS

yourbestfriend: cutest couple ever

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appartment in monaco

It had been a few weeks since you had gone public, and the house felt the same. The kitchen still smelt like coffee in the afternoons, and Lando’s laughter still echoed through the rooms. But outside, in the world that wasn’t contained by these walls, things had shifted.

The first few days after you had posted that picture—a simple, candid shot of you two tangled on the couch, laughing at something neither of you can remember now—felt like a blur. Your Instagram blew up instantly, flooded with comments, some gushing, some not so kind. The had media picked it up, headlines spun their usual stories, and of course, his world—Formula 1, with its intense, relentless scrutiny—had its own opinions. Most of it was harmless, but some of it... wasn’t.

Lando was standing in front of the window, staring out at nothing in particular. You could tell from the way his shoulders were tense, from the way his hand kept moving to rub the back of his neck, that something had been weighing on him. He’d been quieter these last few days, not in the way that shut you out, but in the way that let you know he was overthinking, worrying about things he didn’t need to.

You were sprawled on the couch, phone in hand, pretending to scroll through Instagram, but your attention was on him. You watched as he checked his phone again, probably seeing another headline or some new wave of comments. His jaw tightened, and that was when you knew it’s time to say something.

“Lan,” you called out softly, trying to break the tension in the room. “Come over here.”

He hesitated for a second, like he was debating whether to pull you into his worry or let it be, but then he walked over, his feet dragging slightly on the wooden floor. He sank down beside you on the couch, letting out a long, tired breath. His arm came around your shoulders instinctively, pulling you closer, but his mind was clearly somewhere else.

“Talk to me,” you said gently, tilting your head to look up at him.

He didn’t meet your eyes at first, he just stared at the floor. “I’ve been seeing some of the comments,” Lando admitted, his voice low, as if he was trying to keep it casual but couldn’t quite manage it. “There’s a lot of hate. A lot of people saying… awful things. About you, about us.” He paused, running his hand through his hair. “I didn’t want this for you.”

You felt his arm tighten around you, like he was trying to protect you from something that was already out there, something he couldn’t control. It broke your heart a little, the way he carried that weight, like he was responsible for every cruel word thrown your way.

You shifted in his arms, turning to face him, one hand reaching up to touch his cheek. “I know,” you said softly. “But, darling, it’s not getting to me. Not even a little.” You smiled, trying to get him to see the truth in your eyes. “I’ve been in this business long enough to know that people are going to say whatever they want. But they don’t matter. You do.”

He finally looked up at you, his brow furrowed, still sceptical. “But some of it’s brutal,” he insisted, his voice tight. “They’re dragging you through the mud just because we went public. I didn’t want you to deal with this part of my life, the ugly part.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head, and the sound seemed to catch him off guard. “Honestly? I’ve dealt with worse. You should’ve seen the comments I got after that one music video,” you teased lightly, hoping to ease his worry. “But this? This is nothing.”

He didn’t look convinced, but you could see him trying to process what you were saying, like he wanted to believe you but couldn’t quite let go of his own guilt. So, you decided to prove it to him in a way you knew would get through that thick head of his.

With a sly smile, you grabbed your phone and opened Twitter, your fingers moved quickly over the screen as you pulled up your account. He watched you, confused, until you glanced up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked, suspicion lacing his tone.

You bit your lip, pretending to think about it, then you tilted the phone toward him so he could see the tweet you’d just typed out. In bold letters, it read:

"how i sleep knowing i get to sleep with this hunk of a man at night and you don’t "

Below the text was the picture you’d been sitting on for a while—one of him sleeping in the paddock last season.

His eyes widened as he read it, then flicked to the photo. “You’re not serious,” he said, though there’s a laugh hidden in his voice now.

“Oh, I am very serious,” you said, grinning at him as you hovered over the “Tweet” button. “If people want to hate, let them. But I’m going to remind them who I get to come home to every night.”

He stared at you for a second, then shook his head, a small, incredulous smile finally tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re unbelievable.”

You shrugged, your finger tapping the button before he could say another word. “It’s out there now,” you said, holding up the phone in triumph. “Let them come for me.”

He leant back against the couch, running his hands over his face, but you could see the way his shoulders had finally relaxed, the tension ebbing away. He laughed, a real, genuine laugh, and it warmed you from the inside out. “You’re actually insane,” he said, pulling you into his chest, kissing the top of your head. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

You looked up at him, beaming. “Sweetheart, they can say whatever they want. It doesn’t change anything. I’ve got you, and that’s all that matters.”

For the first time in days, the worry in his eyes faded completely. He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly, his breath warm against your hair. “I love you,” he murmured, the words soft but full of meaning.

“I love you more.”

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haters gunna hate, anyway check out my new song x

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i have the coolest girlfriend ever 🤭

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comment if you want to be tagged in future works x

[hiddenreamers]

I was in your music video - f1 drivers x singer!reader

SUMMARY: They say that if a poet loves you, they will write you into immortality. But if you date a musician, they might write you into the Billboard 100. Which is exactly what happens to your driver boyfriend.

Featuring: Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz Jr, Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, George Russell

Note: Yes, two songs are sung by male artists. Yes, I'm going to ignore that fact and you should, too.

Lewis Hamilton

He's been in the room maybe five times. The space always felt strangely sacred to him - this is where you write, compose and practice songs with your band; this is where the magic, so to speak, happens. Walls are absolutely covered with tour posters, polaroids and printed-out articles. There's a large mirror that seems to be a message board considering all the sticky notes and words written with a marker. The only somewhat de-cluttered space is surrounding the setup. It's an unspoken testament to being a musician in a band.

There's a certain tension inside the driver. You've never asked him to listen to a song before it's finished. Sure, he has listened through your albums before they were officially released but it was always just that - a recording, not a live version. So what's different this time? Why is it vital he hears this song early?

Walking through the room, Lewis has to carefully watch where he's going. He doesn't want to accidentally break something by stepping on a cable or kicking a box with unknown contents. Inside a garage, he knows what not to touch but a recording studio and instruments are pretty much an unknown world to him.

Lewis is standing around a tad awkwardly, hands in pockets, when the bassist pushes a big black box closer to the driver.

"Have a seat." The musician points to the chest.

Lewis frowns. "On the box?" he asks, unsure. "Is that okay?"

"It's the Lucky Chest, Hamilton," the bassist announces. The other band members snicker at the title. "You have to sit on it."

"What's lucky about it?" Lewis inquires. More than the seating choice, he's interested in the reason for laughter.

"The first time we played at a big festival," the guitarist begins, her story slightly interrupted by her tuning the guitar, "we were sitting on it and listening to Green Day's stage, wondering 'how the fuck are we supposed to play after them?'."

"We were doing like a punk-rock tribute thing," adds the drummer. He's adjusting his seat and judging by the constant up-and-down movement, he can't make up his mind. The process is finally over when he reaches to tap the high-hat and nods to himself, content.

"After we finished our set," you take over retelling the story, "Billy Joe Armstrong came up to us and said we did great."

"So now it's the Lucky Chest," concludes the bassist.

Perhaps it's another testament to being a musician in a band when multiple people together tell one story without cutting details or creating chaos. A true harmony, though a joke a little on the nose.

"Well, I'm honoured," Lewis says. An airy giggle escapes him as he's still thinking about how easily teamwork comes to you and your band.

"You should be." The guitarist points her finger at him in a joking but accusatory way. Then she looks over her shoulder. "Whenever you're ready, drummer boy."

Music fills the room and Lewis is instantly captivated by you. He noticed it the first time he saw you on stage, how something inside you changes the moment you hear the instruments playing. Intensity, fire - passion in its most primal form. But this time around, the look in your eyes is different. You're no longer looking at the audience but him specifically; instead of singing a song, you seem to be telling him something.

So he listens.

I'm a desert, you're an ocean It's your motion that I need Without you I am broken, left to thirst out in the heat

And how strange he suddenly feels: all of the sentiments he already knows but now that you've put them into words for the whole world to hear, he can't help but find some revelation in them. For a moment, there's only the two of you and your confession of desire. Every word resonates with him and Lewis feels like he could say all of those things about you, too.

The song is far from over but he has already decided - he will listen to it before every race.

Lando Norris

Nothing seemed different about that day.

Lando is streaming while you're still at the studio. In an hour or so, you will come back, he will end the stream and the two of you will sit down to eat something. You will talk about your day, he will say something silly and both of you will laugh. Just like you always did.

To his credit, Lando couldn't have known about the song because you never told him. Some part of you thought it would be a bit dramatic to announce that you've written a song about him but can't play it yet because it's not finished. It would spoil the fun, wouldn't it? Therefore, you decided to tell Lando only after he listened to the final product. Perhaps you also wanted to seem a lot more nonchalant about the whole thing, planning on giving him just an off-hand comment of "oh, by the way, this one's about you". Life, however, rarely turns out the way we plan and that's exactly what happened that night.

If it was just one or two people calling Lando "honeybee" on the stream, he probably wouldn't even notice. But even he will pay attention when the comments are going on hundreds if not thousands.

He can't help but grow flustered at the pet name born out of his visceral fear of insects.

"Who told you that?!" he yells in a comically angry tone, a poor attempt at hiding embarrassment.

The comments come flooding again, explaining the situation only in variations of your name and the title Espresso. And like a detective following a crime, Lando immediately searches the internet.

"I feel lied to," he speaks up. "She didn't tell me she has a new song coming out. Why am I the last one to know? When I literally live with her? This is so unfair, I'm obviously the biggest fan, I should know first!"

Lando plays the music video. From the first line of "he's thinking about me every night", his bashfulness only gets worse. What starts as an excited smile, grows into a flustered, giggly mess. Although his pride is on the line, he can't deny any of the claims you make in the song. Yes, he couldn't sleep one night thinking about you and texted you about that. Yes, he does call you often even though he hates making phone calls. And yes, Lando Norris is, in fact, wrapped around your finger. What a horse is everyone can see and similarly, everyone can see and define who Lando is when it comes to his girlfriend:

"Simp?" he reads one of the comments. "Look, maybe I am but at the end of the day I'm dating her and you're not so who's the real loser here?"

Lando can only laugh his heart out when the chat gets flooded with identical comments: You.

"Okay, I admit. I'm down bad for my girlfriend and I'm proud of that."

Tomorrow's headlines are bound to be interesting...

Oscar Piastri

Although Oscar has seen you in musicals countless times, this situation feels a lot weirder and more uncomfortable. When he comes to watch your show, he's in the audience and you're on the stage. Now you're sitting side by side on the couch in your shared apartment, about to see your first movie. You're both the audience and the creator, which leaves you unsure how to act.

Unfortunately, your discomfort only grows. Oscar seems to be enjoying the movie but joy is not granted to you on this day. With each minute, you know your big part is coming. Oh God, what is he going to think?

Then, you suddenly pause the film. Oscar looks at you confused.

"There's something you need to know before you watch this scene and listen to the song," you say before he can ask you about your strange actions.

Oscar's frown only deepens. "You're making it sound really serious."

"Because it is. The thing is... " you hang your voice, unsure how to put words together. How do you tell someone this without making things awkward? "This is more embarrassing than I thought it would be but the song you're about to hear, I wrote it thinking about you."

He's trying to smile but the shadow of embarrassment on his face doesn't go unnoticed. You can only hope it's good kind of nervous.

The movie is resumed. As your discomfort is barely tolerable, you're looking away from the TV, fidgeting ever-so-slightly. Once or twice, you glance at Oscar, trying to see his reaction. The problem is, he's sitting unbelievably still. True, Oscar Piastri tends to be on the calmer side but right now it feels off. As if lost deep in thought, he appears to be diligently contemplating the scene in the movie; picking apart the words that came to your mind while thinking about him.

When the song comes to an end, you pause the film once more. A tense silence falls between you and Oscar, both longing to say something and yet neither willing to.

"So?" you begin hesitantly. "What do you think?"

Oscar shifts awkwardly. "Erm... I don't really know what to say."

A nervous giggle escapes your lips. "It's really sappy, I know." You try to downplay the situation, fearing that his reaction is born out of something negative. Does he think you're clingy? Obsessive? Too dramatic to handle?

"It's not that," he quickly denies. "Well, okay, it is kind of sappy but it's good sappy?" Oscar's tone raises slightly, revealing that he's unsure whether it's the right choice of words.

"Good sappy?" you repeat.

It feels as though woe has weaved a nest inside your viscera. "Good sappy" sounds like a lovely, diplomatic euphemism used not to hurt someone's feelings.

"Yeah, it's just..." Oscar doesn't finish his sentence. He runs his hand through his hair, then rubs the back of his neck nervously. Finally, he looks at you but not in a way you're familiar with. There's something ethereal in his gaze, a glint of inexplicable emotion that would escape a less observant eye. "It's really beautiful," he says. "The fact that you feel this way about me?" You could swear there are tears in his eyes as he lets out a flustered giggle. "I can die happy now."

Carlos Sainz

As old tradition entails, the Thursdays before a race weekend are meant for golfing. And who is Carlos Sainz to not give in to the custom?

He's sitting in his car, impatiently ploughing through the traffic of the city centre. Why are people out and about at this time, anyway? Shouldn't they be at work? Wanting to get his mind off of the fact that he's going to be quite late to the game, Carlos turns on the radio. The man is mindlessly skipping through the stations until something catches his attention - the announcer introduces you as today's guest.

"Hello again, pretty girl," Carlos says to himself. A small smile enters his face.

"First of all, I'd like to thank you," the radio host begins. "Unfinished Business is just the album I've been waiting for this year. And not only me! Have you seen Billboard 100 lately?"

Your flustered giggle is just as adorable as always. "Yesterday evening, I think?"

The broadcaster sighs dramatically. "Then you have ancient news. I have the site pulled up now and check it every few minutes. Let me tell you, Unfinished Business has climbed twenty spots since morning."

"Oh, shoot."

"Indeed." The announcer laughs and Carlos does with him. It's such a familiar theme for the driver - you being more humble than you really should be, surprised by the success you entirely deserve.

"Now, to address the elephant in the room or rather on the music charts. Over and Over Again is like a love letter all of us have written but never sent. Tell me all about it!"

"I guess 'love letter' is a pretty good description," you explain. Curious, Carlos turns up the volume. "For some time, I was trying to put my thoughts together and tell someone how I felt but never could quite do it. I can write good songs but in real life, I'm pretty terrible at speaking my mind and talking about feelings. I just don't want people to misunderstand, you know?"

"What are you saying, hermosa?" Carlos asks aloud, although there's no one to answer him.

"At least you can write a song about it! We regular folk are stuck with memes and playlists."

"Thank God, I can!" You laugh and, as embarrassing as it may sound, Carlos feels a sudden warmth spreading through his chest. "I was struggling with saying what I wanted to say to him, so at some point, I just decided I could put those words and feelings into a song. He likes to listen to the radio when he's driving so he might even be listening right now."

Although nothing bad or negative is going on, Carlos feels himself growing tense, nervous. There's no doubt the "he" you keep mentioning is him but what exactly is it you've been trying to tell him? Is there something he's missing?

"Did you tell him you've written a song about him?" the radio host asks.

"It might have slipped my mind," you answer coyly.

The announcer only laughs. "Oh dear, what a way to find out! Without further ado, let's hear your love letter to the mysterious man. I really hope he's listening to us right now. Don't you dare change the station, you lucky guy."

To his own surprise, Carlos recognizes the melody - you've been humming it for weeks now. But as you begin singing, the words leave him in disbelief. Do you really... mean all of that?

Carlos is lost in the song, feeling as though the lyrics aren't just lyrics but your genuine confession; a true love letter, as you have said yourself. He's brought back to reality only when the car behind him honks and Carlos is a hair's breadth away from picking a fight with the other driver. Nothing requires more haste or attention than his girlfriend exclaiming to the whole world that he will always be the one for her and that she will love him over and over again.

Charles Leclerc

You don't hear Charles coming in - you're too lost in your own thing to remember there's an entire world outside of the song and the piano in front of you. On the other hand, Charles doesn't announce his arrival as he doesn't want to disturb you. To be perfectly honest, he's a little too curious to interrupt you. It happens very rarely that you practise outside of the studio and so Charles doesn't really get to hear your more casual singing, not an embellished performance for the audience.

As quietly as he can, he makes his way towards you. Charles casually leans against the doorframe, your back turned to him as you continue playing the piano. He barely bites back the smile that creeps onto his face whenever you effortlessly sing the high notes - they are difficult for professionals and yet you execute them so cleanly, they appear almost too easy.

The lyrics haunt him but in a truly delicious way. A particular note of sincerity in your voice makes the words stick to him like rain does to a reckless passerby. Sure, they will slip away, although not before drenching him; their vital piece will forever lie with him.

When the song comes to an end, Charles (without thinking twice) gives you a hefty applause. The surprise makes you almost fall off the chair.

"Shit, you scared me!" you yell at him. It takes a couple deep breaths and your boyfriend's apologies, to collect yourself. "How much did you hear?"

He shrugs, suddenly realizing that he wasn't supposed to hear even one note of the song. "Pretty much all of it."

Your expression must not be joyful as Charles resumes his apologies and poor attempts at excuses. Suddenly, you cut him off. "How'd you like it?"

For a moment, he only hums and mindlessly knocks at the doorframe, looking for the right words.

"I loved it," he confesses. A strange tension in his voice proves he's telling the truth. "It's a beautiful song."

"Good," you answer absentmindedly. Quietly, you nod to yourself before looking back at Charles, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "It would really suck if you hated a song about yourself, you know?"

His eyes grow wide and Charles seems to forget about blinking for a good minute. Judging by the changes in his expression, you can tell the exact thought process he's experiencing: realizing you've written a song about him, joy caused by that, remembering the lyrics and finally taking them personally.

The more observant fans might notice a new addition to his helmet: "Claire de Lune" written in elegant lettering.

George Russell

Common sense might tell you that a race car driver must have no fear. And that would be correct, although quite imprecise. They must have no fear on track, yes, but daily life is quite different from racing, isn't it? Or maybe George is discovering a range of emotions he has not known before.

Your relationship is fresh but that isn't to say it's not serious. The weight of the connection the two of you share is a major part of the reason why George has been dead set on taking things slow. The other part is him knowing what media circus will play out once the news breaks. It's hard to blame him for wanting to keep at least some aspect of his life private, especially one that means so much to him.

As understanding as you are, George's apprehensiveness is tiring. You perfectly understand his reasoning and to some degree share the sentiment but at the same time, you are just somebody in love - you itch to scream it to the whole world. Or, at the very least, share a picture of the two of you. Both of you haven't been middle-schoolers for quite some time now, so why act like ones?

George, like the supportive boyfriend he is, loves to see you in your element. He watches the music videos, yet, but he much prefers the dance practice videos, where you're visibly enjoying each second of the choreography. Therefore, when you upload a new dance video for your song, he's probably the first person to play it.

It's a catchy tune that makes even the most boring people want to dance a little. With his head moving to the rhythm, George doesn't focus much on the lyrics until something in the second verse catches his attention:

So used to hiding We built our kingdom around The right timing

The lines, understandably, hit a little too close to home to be a pure coincidence. Now suspicious, George replays the video - this time, he's actually listening to the words instead of focusing on your dancing. Any hesitation that he's the true recipient of the song is gone with the first line of "Say you want me". The desperation in your voice is simply too candid to be just an act for the sake of the performance.

With the song loudly playing on a loop, George is scrolling through his phone's gallery in search of the best pictures of the two of you. He can't help but mouth the lyrics along with your singing, only to randomly giggle as the thought once again settles - it's about him.

Your phone can't stop vibrating. The notifications are coming nonstop. What on Earth happened? Upon opening Instagram, the mystery is solved. The internet seemed to be set on fire when George posted a series of pictures of the two of you with a caption that earned a giddy chuckle from you: "Setting us in motion".

Max Verstappen

Max and you both understand how much support can change. Sometimes just knowing that this other person is out there, watching and cheering, can change everything. As such, the two of you try to attend each other's events as much as you can. Unfortunately, the universe isn't always kind and you end up on the opposite ends of the world. The only support you can offer then is watching the live-streamed event - just like Max is doing right now.

He's sitting in his driver's room in Singapore, while you're at an award show in the USA. Quite the distance. There's something unbearably humbling about having to watch your performance like most of the world, when Max is, without a doubt, not most of the world.

In the back of his mind, Max is still thinking about the conversation he had with you earlier. Although he never misses your performances, you made it a point to tell him to watch this one. In your own words, he's supposed to look out for something fun, like a detail that will make this show different from the others. So as though he is a hawk, or more of a vulture, Max is hyperanalizing everything that's happening on the screen. He's not about to miss your little surprise.

The song begins and as much as he wants to enjoy watching you in your element, Max is a missile on a mission. Nothing specific seems to catch his eye but that t-shirt you're wearing...

Max knows it all too well. Theoretically, it's his t-shirt but considering you wear it more often than he does, it's practically yours. Now it's styled to fit the concept and image of your bandmates but the colour, the logo, the number, are all unmistakeable. Considering how much you're touching the article of clothing, compared to other dancers, he's convinced he's found what he was meant to look for.

Before he can wonder why you've chosen to wear his t-shirt for your performance, it's you who gives him the answer through the lyrics:

I feel like for the first time I am not faking Fingers on my buttons and now you're playing Master of anticipation, don't you keep it all to yourself

Max Verstappen doesn't get flustered but if he did, he'd be beyond flustered right now. The realization hits him like a derailed train - the song that everyone has been obsessed with through the summer and that has pretty obvious sexual lyrics is actually about him.

And if he did get flustered, the emotion would be rather short-lived, giving way to pride. After all, the core meaning of the song is that he's a generous lover, right? Clearly, he's been taking good care of his girlfriend.

Now, each sung line of "Just the touch of your love" makes Max all the more frustrated that the two of you are so far apart. He's earned his title of "Master of anticipation" and he intends to keep it.

[actual-changeling]

Crowley did not want the holy water as a suicide pill in 1862, but I believe he not not wanted it as one

He gets pulled down to hell in 1827 and it's not just a slap on the wrist for something minor, he did a very good deed—that didn't just cost them one soul, it has ripple effects! It cost them dozens if not more, depending on what Elspeth did with her life.

Additionally, we do not know how long he stayed in hell. "Quite some time" is not a very exact measurement, and I know there are theories that it wasn't long at all, but that's pure speculation.

Canonically, the next time we see him is in 1862, so assuming he took some time to adjust to the new period, he could have come back as late as 1861. It is entirely possible—and in my opinion very likely—that he spent over thirty years being tortured in hell.

By "torture" I do mean actual torture, btw, the same kind hell threatens him with. In the scriptbook, there's a deleted monologue Dagon has while Crowley is getting rejected (again).

They save the wonderful line "Because no matter what agonies the damned are suffering, Crowley, you will have it worse. We SEE how hell tortures the damned, Furfur literally plays it to us like a corporate powerpoint, so whatever they did to him after '27 was bad.

Crowley looks tired, exhausted, almost sick. He is paranoid, in mental and/or physical pain, he looks like he has lost weight, and we barely see him move at all.

Now compare to the Crowley we saw in Edinburgh. Carefree, happy, taking Aziraphale on dates and going on fun little adventures, getting drunk on laudanum, smiling, jumping around—this is the most relaxed we have seen him since around 1601.

After this, we never see him like that again. That bouncy, curly-haired demon is gone, and hell is responsible; they broke him. I know that look on his face in '62, I saw it every day in the mirror for twenty years, which were (also honestly quite literally) torturous.

Crowley asked for the holy water as insurance, he had probably already come up with several contingency plans involving.

What would happen if they still got him though? What if he erased a demon or two and then hell dragged him back down? I am 100% certain that Dagon would have made good on the promise they give him later. If it had come down to killing himself with holy water or being tortured for all eternity, he would have chosen death without hesitation.

Better dead than in hell.

[ssahotchnerr]

Can I request a fic based on these thought ❤️Aaron would 100% be the kind of dad that would spend all night building a barbie house or dolls house and would also very willingly sit and play barbie’s with his daughters.

well worth it

YOU'RE SO RIGHT THAT'S TOO CUTE cw; girl dad!aaron, bau!fem!reader, fluff <3

growing impatient and nearly beginning to doze off without him, you exited your bedroom in search of aaron. you've waited all day to be cozied up with him, and you simply couldn't wait any longer.

you've been comfortably waiting for over an hour; having gone through your full night routine, getting into bed, reading a few chapters of your current read. aaron even came in to change into his pajamas at one point, but trailed out again.

"hey you," you peeked your head into the living room, finding aaron laying stomach-down on the plush carpet. "you coming to bed? it's getting late."

"in a minute." aaron mumbled gently in response, his voice vaguely muffled into whatever it was he had in front of him. "as soon as i finish up here."

you ventured further into the room in curiosity, the closer proximity allowing you to see your daughter's new dollhouse set before him.

your nose crinkled lightly in amusement, a small smile forming on your face. and as if aaron could sense it - he peered up at you, a matching smile on his own lips as he saw your tickled expression, his brown eyes aglow.

"i promised i would have it ready in the morning." aaron admitted with a soft chuckle as he sat up, you scrambling down on the carpet to join him. "it's done, there's just so many damn stickers that have to be in certain spots." he grabbed the instruction pamphlet, studying it for a moment. "wallpaper for every room, that was a pain. things like a bath rug for the bathroom. even some go on the furniture - they're tiny, tiny stickers..."

as he trailed on and on, listing all the details, you fell quiet the more you followed along to his words, your eyes analyzing his face in slight astonishment.

"what?" aaron laughed breathlessly again, his eyebrows furrowing quizzically as he tossed the pamphlet aside, the paper creating a fluttering sound as it fell. he grasped onto the sticker sheet once more, his lips drawing into a frustrated line as he struggled to peel one off - his large hands all to blame.

"it still surprises me out of nowhere sometimes, despite how much time has passed." you shook your head slightly in content, swiping the sheet from his hands. you easily removed the sticker, handing it to him. "you're listing off the necessities for a dollhouse. for our daughter. there was a time where the most i heard you talk was while giving a profile, and just, here we are now. i dunno, does that make sense?"

"completely." aaron agreed as his smile retook form on his face, placing the sticker where it belonged. "happens to me every day. how lucky i am to have you. never thought i'd be dad to another, yet alone a girl dad at that."

"it suits you." you grinned, leaning over to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "want some help? anything to get you to bed sooner."

aaron looked at the instructions again, a soft hum leaving his mouth as he thought. "again, it's pretty much finished foundation wise. but if you wanna start setting the furniture inside, be my guest darling."

side by side, the two of you worked together, rather giddily at that. quiet quips, playful comments how your own home could use these and whatnot (aaron groaned at your suggestion of wallpaper). warm but soft laughter, to prevent waking up jack and your little girl. you continued to help aaron peel the stickers as needed, and he, the notorious stickler, double checked you were putting items in the correct places 'according to the instructions'. you both knew once your daughter had her hands on her dollhouse, would nothing remain where it belonged, but that didn't stop him from teasing you; "did you put it in the-" "aaron, yes!"

finally, once in bed with aaron at your backside this time, one of his arms draped securely around your waist, you fell asleep with the heartwarming thought that your daughter's very first request in the morning - after her initial excitement - would be for aaron to play dolls with her. and of course, would he comply (just for a bit, and as long as she finished breakfast first). five minutes would surely turn into ten, fifteen, twenty depending on how early she awoke.

such brought up the potential risk of aaron being late to work, but if it allowed just a few more smiles to come from baby girl, it was well worth it.

[dsybouquet]

random ellie hcs because i miss her dearly ༊*·˚

no warnings really, just hcs lol

ׂׂ

ׂׂૢ she’s a car girl and would definitely drive an old dodge charger if she got her hands onto one. she’d do all the tuning herself and dreams of an huge collection of cars, be it JDMs or oldtimers.

ׂׂૢ also when you first got to know her she was quite closed up. that quickly changed once she got more comfortable also with being touched. ellie has a hard time allowing physical affection, but once she jumped over that barrier, that girl is holding onto you for dear life.

ׂׂૢ high-functioning stoner. yes, stoner! ellie is my favourite, but i’m convinced she can do anything high. drive a car? easy. go to work? easy. fuck your brains out? EASY. perhaps she has an little dependency problem going on, but she doesn’t see it as such.

ׂׂૢ she doesnt seem like it, but i am certain she is the sweetest sweetheart. awkward for sure, but she’s trying her best to always make sure you’re safe and happy. anything for her girl <3

ׂׂૢ in addition to that, ellie DEMANDS you to let her know when you’re home safe. not because she’s controlling but because she genuinely cares! if you don’t text she’ll text you something like “babe, are you okay??”

ׂׂૢ she 100% is a card game enjoyer. just see her playing poker with her friends, cigarette or joint between her lips, the straightest poker face of them all… passing away

ׂׂૢ ellie loves 70s / 80s rock. convinced. black sabbath is her favourite.

ׂׂૢ loves cuddling on the couch but needs space in bed. i dont really know how to explain this one tbh. very rarely she’ll cuddle while falling asleep, mostly when you or she is feeling bad. if it’s just for napping though then she needs all the cuddles you can give !

thats it. i miss ellie :(

[walnuthillcc]

Enhanced Horse Tail Slider

It's been a long time coming... the very first CC horse slider! This is a replacement for EA's tail slider.

This is an all-in-one slider which includes 4 sliders total.

Tail Height (up and down, left view)

Tail Distance (left and right, left view)

Tail Thickness (left and right, back view)

Tail Length (up and down, back view)

I've done very little testing outside of CAS with this, so please feel free to let me know of any issues you run into! Everything seems to work quite nicely with CAS poses, which is a good sign. The only little issue I've noticed with them is when the tail distance is extended, it can stick out a bit unnaturally. This might be fixable on my end in the future.

Should anyone else create a tail slider, this mod will NOT be compatible - you will have to decide between them.

Are you working on any other sliders? I have a whole list planned and in the works, however this was the easiest of them. Some of the other sliders I'm working on have had over 15 versions where I've just had to make constant tweaks. I'm open to suggestions below, but they're probably already on my to-do list.

Are you working on a height slider? I cannot for the life of me get this to work, likely because I (honestly) have no idea what I'm doing, but also potentially because MorphMaker isn't 100% yet for horses. This one may have to be left to the experts, however I am working on sliders that will affect height slightly.

Are you making head or body presets? The version of MorphMaker we currently have is experimental and therefore lots of things aren't working. I haven't been able to get the features I need for presets working yet, but I would like to make them in the future!

Enjoy!

Notes:

It can be difficult to grab the tail to use the sliders, especially when you're using certain tail styles. From my limited testing, you can usually grab it right at the base of the tail. You can slightly change the angle or swap to a different tail if need be.

When shortening the tail distance, it can distort the area it joins the horse's bum. I might be able to fix this in the future, but for now we'll just have to live with it.

When extending the tail length, the tail may clip into the ground if it's particularly long - have a play around with this, as sliders don't need to be used at their maximum!

Any other distortion is likely to do with the tail style you're using and not really the slider.

The GIFs help to demonstrate the angle you need to use these sliders, just like any EA ones.

Download - Patreon

[yourmidnightlover]

(You don’t have to do this) Xavier Thorpe x reader

The try not to kiss each other challenge on tiktok

ahh YES! i hope i brought your request to justice

i'm gonna take this as like a lovers to friends to lovers kinda thing bc there isnt enough of that going around with our beloved xavier

i also wanted to let y'all know that i am working through my requests! inspiration strikes at odd hours, and i'm trying to delegate all of my time respectively to all of the fics i'm working on. but i assure you i will work through everything!

tension

paring: xavier thorpe x reader (duh)

summary: after months of flirting, your friends take matters into their own hands and dared you to do a tiktok trend.

warnings: kissing, tons of tension (also duh),they're cuddly? i don't think there's really anything else but let me know if i've missed something!

it had been months and months of flirting between you and xavier thorpe. consistent, unending, raw flirting. this included the batting of eyelashes, shoving of arms, longing stares, buying of gifts... everything. the whole shebang.

and god, were enid, ajax and wednesday tired of it. wednesday constantly wanted to claw her own eyes out when she saw you. enid thought it was cute the first two months, but after that she was only confused as to why you would never make it official. and ajax would just tease the two of you. he voiced his concerns with xavier, occasionally with you, but mostly with xavier. he would mostly talk about how dumb he was to not just ask you out or make it official.

so, as enid was scrolling through tiktok, she stumbled upon a certain video of two friends... or mayabe they were more? either way, they were sitting in front of each other, and each one moved closer to the other. the premise was whoever breaks the tension and kisses the other loses, she guessed?

regardless, there was tension and there was a kiss and that is exactly what needs to happen with you and xavier in order to put everyone out of their misery.

so, she sent the tiktok to ajax and wednesday, the message reading:

weregirl: OMG! we've got to get them to do this! they'd totally admit everything!

middleoftheweek: this is repulsive to watch, but i hope it will be worth it as long as they get whatever they need to out of their system

snakes4hair: if this gives my boy the push he needs to make a move then i'll do basically whatever

and just like that... the game was afoot.

"dude," ajax was laughing at the lunch table. you had thrown your legs over xavier's lap, your head resting on his shoulder as he played with your hair. "there's this new thing i saw online the other day. enid sent it to me, and i doubt you and y/n would be able to do it," ajax chuckled as he looked towards enid.

"oh, definitely not," enid shook her head exaggeratedly. "they'd never be able to do it."

"do what?" xavier spoke up as he took a bite of your sandwich.

"yea, do what?" you perked up at the idea of a chellnege. "we could do it, right?"

"hell yea," xavier nodded as he pat your thigh. "we could 100% do it."

"i don't think you could," wednesday said curtly, sneering at both you and xavier's closeness. "at all."

"yes we could!" xavier removed his hands from your hair, throwing them up dramatically.

"alright," ajax spoke up. "i dare you to complete little challenge. you have to record it though, as proof, and post it."

"deal!" both you and xavier looked at each other, giving each other a high five that only resulted in your hands holding.

later that night, you and xavier had retreated to his shed as he painted before they sent you the video you had to recreate.

"seriously?" you scoffed. "they're just sitting there looking at each other with music playing," you looked at xavier as the video played.

"wait," he pointed at the screen. "they're like inching closer to each other. like one does and then the other."

"but why?" you got your answer less than thirty seconds later. "oh..." you glanced at xavier, who bit his lower lip before glancing at you with a smile.

"i never back down from a dare," xavier shrugged as he looked at you.

you nodded, "neither do i."

after setting up the camera with the video on the three-minute setting, about to start recording. you were sitting on the mattress that you had both smuggled in his shed, the one that used to be rowans before... well. yea. both sitting across from each other, your legs were overlapped with each other's. then, the music started playing.

at first you were both smiling, giggling, even. you inched closer to his face first, around 10 seconds after the music started. your faces seemed closer than they ever were before, and that's when the smiles faded and the tension built.

he reached around you and pulled you on top of his lap for his move. the longer this went on, the more it felt like a game of chess, only physical. you swore you could see every shade of green littering his irises. his cologne somehow radiated around you. you made the mistake of looking at his lips, curiosity getting the better of you. he was gently biting his lower lip. it was almost as if he wanted you to kiss it better.

then, you placed your hand on the lower side of his face, nearer to his neck. you could feel his pulse rate picking up. it was exciting to see what kind of power you had over him. you could now feel the way you affected him. now, you saw as his eyes went to your lips which only made you smirk that much more.

he used both of his hands to bring your face right in front of his. he was everywhere. to your side, you would see his hands. his hands took up nearly your entire face, and you loved the way they felt against your skin. part of you never wanted them to leave. you could nudge his nose with your own if you even slightly moved. you were getting close to losing this whole game. you wouldn't. you couldn't.

you tilted your head to the left, bringing your lips closer to his own but not touching. you were so close you could practically breathe in each other's air. you could feel his pulse pick up once more before you licked your lips, you felt his chuckle radiating around your head. but when you looked in his eyes you felt something totally different. it was heavier. it was more.

then, with a mumble, "screw it," he pulled your face into his own, kissing you with all the tension he had built up over not just the past two minutes, but from the past months of doing nothing.

your hand moved up to his hair, running through it like you had so many times. in this context, though, your hand running through his hair was so, so much different. it was much more intimate.

you let his tongue into your mouth happily, nearly breaking the kiss with how big of a grin you had on your face. one of his hands moved to your waist, wrapping around you like the warmest hug you've ever had. your other hand was holding the hand still on your face. you meant it when you said you never wanted them to leave.

truth be told, you never wanted him to leave. you never wanted to stop kissing him. you've wanted to for months on end, but you were too scared of being rejected. you thought he was joking about all of the flirting sometimes. the touches, everything. but this kiss felt more real than time.

"i think i won," xavier whispered as he went up for air. you shook your head.

"i think ajax won," you chuckled as you both began to laugh. "him or myself, of course," you rolled your eyes.

"we all won," he compromised.

"stupid tension, huh?"

[idyllic-ghost]

i am sooo down bad for woozi gosh I have this thought where whenever you miss woozi, you would usually text him the usual "i miss you" type of text but this time you thought of "spicing" it up a bit so you set up your phone at a certain angle where you can be seen sitting on his pillow riding, rubbing yourself against it while imagining him and whimpering moaning his name and how you miss him so so bad.

and of course, you sent it to your oh so loving boyfriend, wooz 👁️

this ask went from 0 to 100 so quick-

warnings: not proofed, smut, masturbation, pillownhumping, exhibitionism

MDNI

You didn't know how long it had been since you saw Jihoon last - you didn't even know if he came home every night. You thought that he made it home last night, as you faintly remember him pressing a kiss to your cheek before crawling into bed with you that night, but there was no one next to you in the morning. The Seventeen comeback was coming up, and your boyfriend's been away for longer hours than he usually was. His hardworking nature was one of the things you loved about him, but you also loved his attention and affection.

The only reason you knew that he was alive is because he texted and called you every day, every chance he got - and his members kept sending pictures of him sitting by his computer to you. You haven't been able to come by his studio for the past few weeks, partly because of work but also because you didn't want to disturb him.

It was all just too much. You needed your boyfriend, and from his texts you could tell that he needed you too. Never before had he been this openly desperate for you to come over to the studio just to sit with him for a while. Everyone was struggling - including both of your friend groups who had to listen to your many complaints.

So as the comeback came and passed, you expected it to finally stop. But, of course, it didn't. There was somehow more work to get done now than there was before. You had enough. The 'I miss you' texts could only do so much, so you decided to do something you'd never do otherwise. Time's were desperate...

You prop up your phone against the lamp on the bedside lamp, the camera perfectly angled to capture your entire body on the bed. Between your legs is one of Jihoon's pillows, sitting snuggly against your clothed core. You're wearing nothing but panties and one of his black t-shirts. As the timer counts down for the camera to start recording, you start moving your hips against the pillow.

A moan escaped your lips as you were pleasantly surprised by how sensitive you had gotten from just thinking about sending this to him. You hadn't gotten to touch him in so long - and you hadn't even thought about touching yourself, too busy with work or with playing the supportive girlfriend. You hadn't even realized how worked up you had gotten throughout it all.

The sound of the camera starting the recording made you let out another whine. Your body acted on its own, as your hips were grinding against your boyfriend's pillow. Your hands moved underneath your shirts, feeling up your warm skin under the soft material. The smell of him lingered on his clothes, engulfing you in the delusion that he was actually there.

"Fuck, baby..." you whimpered. "I miss you so much..."

Your hands found their way to the hem of the shirt and pulled it over your head. After throwing the piece of clothing to the side, you gripped onto Jihoon's pillow and rutted against it harder. A coil had started building up in your core, as you kept thinking about your boyfriend seeing the video. Never had you imagined that this could be such a turn on. Picturing Jihoon seeing the video was sending you spiraling; you thought of him having to lock the doors to his studio and pull out his fat cock to find some relief.

You babbled incoherently as you lost yourself to pleasure - moaning about missing him, needing him, wanting him close to you until the coil finally snapped. Your hips stuttered against the pillow as your body crashed against the bed. After what felt like hours, but probably lasted only seconds, you sat up and trembled towards the camera.

"Please come home, baby," you murmured before turning the camera off.

After sending the video to Jihoon, he read it after a couple minutes. He was always quick to respond, but the typing bubble didn't appear until a few minutes later - the time it'd take him to watch the video. You bit the nail of your thumb as you watched him type for what felt like hours. Then, he finally sent the message:

I'll be home in five minutes.

[ollie-lolly]

18+ Obey me cast smut headcanons

18+ Don't take my warnings lightly love~

most of Obey me cast x gender neutral reader

Warnings: My opinion, dark kinks, swearing, talking about smut in detail, minors don't interact

Note: Consent is important kids! In all these situations consent is used. Later side characters are not displayed here, since I am not at that part in the story. Reblogs and constructive criticism is always appreciated!

Concept: How I believe sex would be like with the characters! A lot of these are shared opinions by the Obey Me community.

Word count: 858~

Lucifer

-Hard dom for sure

-Will sub for you under certain circumstances

-R.I.P the bed

-Uses you as a stress reliever (with consent)

-Loves tying you up

-Daddy kink

-Brat tamer

-Secretly likes it when you act out

-Is willing to share you with Diavolo

Mammon

-Switch but with a sub lean

-Loves lap dances

-Wil try to use money during sex

-Strip games, especially poker

-Would love a sugar daddy/mommy lifestyle 

-Would love being the sugar daddy but would also love you playing that role

-Praise kink 100%

-Will want cuddles for a long time afterwards

-You are his human. No one else's, so sharing is off the table

-Just really wants to make you happy

-Loves watching you play with yourself

-Also is a brat in the sheets, if ya catch my drift

-Loves the pain <3

Leviathan (This being very long is my way of saying happy birthday to my baby boy <3)

-I also believe he is a switch with a sub lean

-Tail fucking

-Two cocks

-Underwear thief

-Loves being degraded and praised so…go to town!

-Needs constant reassurance so please give him some.

-A great way of easing him into it, is sexting and phone sex

-All the hentai he has seen definitely fucked his expectations up

-He also got like a couple of dark kinks because of it

-Hentai addiction, but will imagine you as one of the characters

-Is really into cuckolding, but is too shy to say anything about it

-When figuring out a kink you have to help him out since he is too shy to talk about it

-Does not last long in the beginning, but you can help him build it up over time

-There is a good chance that he is a virgin. He does masturbate a lot though

-PERVERT 

-You have to start intimate moments because of his insecurities

-That being said, when he is jealous that is definitely not the case

-Will want to have sex in the infamous bathtub

-Whether it is actually going to happen is up too you 

-But if you are willing to do it in said bathtub he will put tons of soft blankets and mattresses in there

-Role play

-When he role plays as a character he likes he is way more confident 

Satan

-Hard dom just like his daddy

-Uses you as a way to relive his anger and frustration which is often

-Always with consent

-Pet play <3

-Cockwarming while reading -Fucks you while reading

-Reads smut in public places

-Also fucks in public places <3

-The library is a popular pick, so uhh have fun? 

Asmodeus

-The definition of a switch

-This man has tried it all

-Certified sex god

-A sex toy collection larger then Diavolo's castle 

-Voyourism and exhibitionist

-Would be the most likely to share you sexually

-Especially with Solomon

-VERY experimental

-Very high sexdrive so goodluck!

-Has his little checklist in his room of where you have and haven't fucked yet

-Moans his own name

Beelzebub

-The definition of a service top

-Food play

-Good at head

-He is super sweet and gentle with you 

-Is obviously willing to share you with Belphegor

-2 for 1 deal!

-Will suggest doing it in at the gym or sport locker rooms

-Does not like to do it often, but will do it more if you want to!

Belphegor

-Switch

-Hard dom and power bottom 

-60% of the time will let you do most of the work

-A wild card you never know what to expect

-Might play with the concept with consent

-Knive play

-What i am trying to say, is that he likes his sex dark if that makes sense

-Has fantasies of kidnapping you with Beel

-Will use his powers to make you dream about sex

-Gets turned on when he sees you sleeping

-Will fuck you when you are asleep if you give him your blessing

Diavolo

-Soft dom

-R.I.P the bed and the floor, and.. you get the jist

-This man fucks and he fucks HARD

-Breeding kink 

-Please read my sugar daddy fics of this man to get a better idea of how he is like

Barbatos

-Also a service dom

-Will stop in the middle of sex if Diavolo or visitors need him

-He is a busy man, so don't expect a lot

-Tail fucking

-This man is a mystery, so he will definitely keep you on your toes

Simeon

-Switch?? Maybe soft dom

-We don't have enough in game material to make confident statements

-The only way you would get there is by a very very very motivated corruption kink

-Congrats! You made him fall from grace

-Will still keep a lot of his angelic traits when he falls. He will be gentle

-Secretly has a lot of pent up anger so good luck with that

Solomon

-Switch 

-He is a wild card man (just like Belphegor)

-You can never quite expect what is going to happen next

-Definitely puts his powers to good use

-If you are okay with it, he will invite Asmo to join in

-May or may not be your side hoe when you are in the human realm for a little too long

(Plz i need someone to write about this and tag me)

Started on and finished on: 8th of april 2023

[demonsword586]

Hades pp headcanons! (Only the nobles)

I am...SO FREAKING SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG! I AM IN MY FINALS MONTH AND I HAD SO MUCH TO DO AND I'M STILL NOT FINISHED!!! I am still writting but it's going slow since I don't have much time. In any case,I will be free in 2 weeks so this series should pick up the pace. Anyway here is more penis.

Barbatos

- Judging just from that bulge.... It's big,his balls I mean. The dick I presume is rather normal.

- 17 cm, 14 cm when soft.

- With how much time this man spends naked,you think he would have a tiny bit of tan. All over his body,his dick too since this man forgets what clothes are for when he sees the sun. But nope! He uses sunscreen with 120+ protection. You probably can't even see anything when he's around. The sunshine illuminates right off of him,making him as sunny as his personality.

- His dick is a bit on the leaner side. It's nice and slim like a rose stem. Suprisingly,he's circumsized! His tip is also a very gentle shade of rosy pink.

-It is a very beautiful penis,fit for a man like him and he's proud of it too! Unfortunatelly when you have a king as envious as Leviathan,it may be the best to keep it hidden when he's around. Barbatos had to learn this the hard way...

- Anyway the only thing that makes his pp a bit...unperfect,is the giant ballsack under it. A very pretty pp with big,squishy balls. Very squishable,but please don't play with them for too long. He's a bit of a tease so whatever you do to him,he will do it twice as pleasureable to you.

- Also,has a few small cuts on his inner thighs and butt. He likes to sunbathe around roses he grows and he's not the type of gardener to cut the thorns off. So he has to suffer the consequinces. But he's not too bothered by the little sting of those flowers when they bloom so beautifully and can still be fierce.

-But if you're sunbathing with him,he will be very careful to not let the thorns get you. He places you on top of him and holds you against his bare body. After all,you are the most perfect of all the flowers in the garden and he can't risk his rose to get pricked by thorns.

Glasyal La Bolas

- He stinks.

- This man is literary putting his pp into corpses. That thing smells and not the nice Beel smell but a smell of expired meat.

-He showers after...um....doing his thing,but this specific stench is quite hard to get rid off. In shame,he had to ask Orias for the strongest shampoo he knows off and 100% alcohol disinfectant from Paradise Lost. His king knows everything that happens in Hell,because of a certain invisible spy. You can imagine what horrors await him if his king found him walking around with a dirty willy.

- It's very cold too. No one knows how he does it but his body is naturally cold. Almost as if he's a corpse himself....meaning his pp can be quite refreshing in hot summer days!👍

- Now if you two are planning to have sex,berate him to take a shower. Even if he already did,make him do another one. I don't know about you,but I don't trust this man or his cock.

- Speaking of cock,we should talk about it. He is....large. Very large. He could have a shlong fight with Mammon if that ever happened. He is a centimeter behind Mammon though....still that thing is a beast.

-Some who got a glimpse of it said it is the stuff of nightmares. Not because of the size but the shape.

- He's thick,long and has a very unique tip. His tip is a bit spikier than most but only enough that it's noticable and very much pleasureable when he makes love with you. It's like his tip it designed by God to reach just the right spot in your insides. Not only that but his shaft naturally leans up when he's hard. It's like a pillar of monstrosity....If only you didn't know what he used that amazing dick for.

- But as amazing as it is,you need a lot of preperation to take him. It takes awhile for you to actually start to feel good and...he's not a very patient man. A night with him is like flipping a coin. You can either end up in heaven or in a hospital. Marbas as another big-pp owner always scolds him when you need to be healed up.

-Glasyal is not a monster though. He feels bad when you suffer because of his lust,though he will never admmit it straight. He does apoligise to you but not only with his words. He will put that evil mouth of his to good use and please his dying darling.~

Foras

- Shiny~

- He's...average in lenght. Nothing special,just a nice 15 cm pp.

-The color however!! Mm,tasty-looking. The shaft is a pretty,milky color with a pinkish hue. And the tip is just like his horns. A beautiful crystalic rainbow. It's a bit firmer than the rest of his cock. It also shines like a crystal when light hits it.

-He once skinny dipped in the sun with Barbatos and accidentally became the focus of gossip in Hades for a few weeks.

-It was a very sunny day and as soon as his pants fell to the floor,his member feeling the fresh air...Barbatos and a few by-standing devils got blinded by his penis. The sunlight shined right on his cock or more precicelly at his tip and blinded the eyes of many innocent devils.

-From that day onward he was rumored to have stolen a chip of the sun and now decorates his cock with it.

-The rumors ended up reaching his beloved king's ears...Let's just say Foras got a thorough examination by his idol while also threatened to be castrated by the envious king. Still the best day of his life.

-But do not worry about his shiny pp when you two are being intimate. He now always makes sure his foreskin is covering the tip. He will only show it once you two are in private without any natural light being close to it.

-Has a mole on his pubic area. Just a bit higher than where his member stands and on the left side.

- His cum...is of low quality.

-Mostly because it's invisible. You won't know when he's finished unless you check on his face. His face is very honest when it comes to pleasure.

- But yes,his seed is invisible. You can taste it in your mouth but can't see it. (If you randomly slip on nothing,it's his fault.)

- No hair. This man is as smooth as a baby's ass. Only because he thinks it would be rude of him to stand in his majesty Leviathan's presence while knowing there is pubic hair growing inside his pants. What if his king one day orders him to strip and be of service?! Oh...and for you too.

Orias

-....I fear him and his penis.

- He has a body of a young adult so...you can see why I am not sure if this is right of me to do...

(I will do Orias if people want but I am scared this could get....controversial.)