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yanderenightmare · 3 months ago

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♡ TW: noncon, gangbang, pillory, elf-reader, orc assailants, war between orcs and elves, racism between orcs and elves, captive reader, poor confinement conditions, starvation, piss drinking, cumflation, mindbreak, Stockholm syndrome

♡ FEM reader

The orc camp smells of blood and sweat and other obscenities you and your snooty elven nose fear naming.

They’ve stripped you and your fellow troops of all weaponry and armor—ugly bastards even took your boots! Leaving you in only silken undergarments, standing barefoot in the cold, wet mud.

It’s to make it harder to run away if you were to escape, you suspect. You can’t decide if it’s a clever tactic or simply a cruel one. Either way, it’s the least of your worries... You haven't been fed or given water since yesterday when you were all captured—paired with having been made to march for half the day barefoot, all tied up by your wrists, one behind the other, toed along like animals with mean tugs that had more than one of you falling face first in the mud—who knows how many of you will be able to continue walking when they decide it’s time to start moving again—much less run away if and when the opportunity presents itself—leaving you hopeless if someone doesn’t do something soon.

And it turns out that someone is you.

“Hey!” you yell. Bruised hands gripping the splintered wooden bars of your crudely built prison, glaring at the two brutes standing watch.

They acknowledge your shout, but neither of them gives any reason for you to believe they understood you were talking to them. Looking at you, then at each other.

“Yes, you two, guards!” you make clear.

They continue to look at you, yet don’t make a move.

You sigh exasperatingly—yet with how tired you are, it’s more a full-chested groan unbecoming of a fine elven knight, but under the circumstances, you couldn’t much care.

“I know ungodly monstrosities such as yourselves don’t require much to sustain your foul existence, but elves need food—at the very least water!”

A fellow elf grabs your shoulder gently, saying something under his breath, perhaps in an effort to make you quiet, but you nudge it off and continue your rant in spite of it.

“If you plan to keep us alive—as I would think, given your decision to cage us—I would advise you to meet us with the bare necessities!”

Both guards look away toward another orc—one sitting on a thick log at the mouth of one of the nicer, warmer-looking tents they’d pitched—perhaps the biggest one—sharpening his blade with a rock.

He doesn’t look up from his handiwork but speaks, “The elf is hungry?”

You scowl at the question. “Yes, you oaf—the elf is, in fact, hungry.”

He lifts his blade and looks it over—one side, then the other—before sinking it deep down into the mud. Tossing the rock away, he stands and whistles sharply, prompting the two guards to wander off as if to get something. Meanwhile, what seems to be the commander starts walking towards the prison.

Regret starts to fester as he approaches, and you’re reminded once again why the inferior race best you in battle time and time again despite your obvious intellectual difference. Three cabbage heads taller than you, his weight must be about four or five, maybe even six, times yours—built like a grizzly bear—plus his armor, which easily adds another.

He unlocks the prison, and you step back on instinct.

“Come. You will be fed,” he says, opening the gate wide.

You look behind you—all the other elves have scurried back into the far end of the cage, leaving you alone in your endeavor, which only feels foolish now that you’re sure he’s going to use those blood-dirty hands of his to squish your head clean off your shoulders as soon as you step out.

Even still, maybe by the adrenaline of imminent death or the lightheadedness of starvation, you dare ask, though a little cautiously now, “What’s on the menu?”

The orc snorts—perhaps at your pickiness—finding your resolve to uphold your standards funny, given you weren't in much of a situation to make demands. You could scoff, too—of course, you can't expect an orc to understand anything about standards.

He smirks, answering, “Something to keep warm."

Or perhaps he was laughing for an entirely different matter...

The guards return carrying something. You spot them behind him, trudging loudly in the slop before halting—mounting something close to the firepit.

By the time you understand what it is, it’s already too late. Your hair’s grabbed—as well as your entire skull—taken in one meaty hand, pulled out of the safety of the cage, and shoved harshly down into the wet dirt.

He locks up the gate again as you lie there. And you take your chance to try and run, crawling forward—fighting through the clay, dragging you down. Scrambling for balance, you’ve barely even made it up on your feet once he grabs you again—this time leading you towards the other two standing in wait along the torture device they’ve set up just for you.

You’re lifted to stand atop a crate, making you the right height, then bent over—with your wrist led into each their position as well as your throat, shoved down as the lunette comes down and successfully locks you in place—perfectly trapped in the pillory with no means of escape.

You pull and struggle, toiling against the wooden plates—too late for any such silly thing as regret you can only whimper in short, panicked screams and cries—but it’s no use. The hand comes back and grabs your hair, yanking it tightly, making your neck crane as he forces you to look up despite the fixed position.

He smiles down at the look on your face—watching your tears make clear streaks through the mud, lips wobbly as you begin to beg, “Please—I’m sorry, I’ll—”

“Oh, don’t worry, little elf,” he cuts you off with a coo, grabbing your jaw in his other hand. “You’ll be fed, just like promised.”

Something behind you rips your silk cloth away, baring you. You stiffen all over, breath hitching as useless fists whiten in their restraints. You want to kick, to thrash—but poor balance only results in you choking yourself—and so you’re left to stand there, helpless—bowed and nude before three orcs you’ve angered with your reckless entitlement.

“Mh, pretty elf holes…” one of the guards behind murmurs, cupping your asscheeks and spreading them to take a look, filtering grubby fingers through the crack and lips, rubbing over both holes.

You shake, trying to thwart their efforts. But a gritty pad roughs over your clit and finds purchase below it.

“Stop, stop! Don’t!” you wail, but it pries you apart anyway—wriggling inside your cunt in a brutish shove, it sheathes itself deeply in curiosity to see how much you could fit, eagerly pumping it inside knuckle-deep before pulling back out—then repeating the motion—promptly finger-fucking the tight opening with a digit the size of an average elf’s manhood.

You sob, heaving for breath. Shaking your head in shame as you start to slicken—if just to make it a little more bearable, but the wet noise of it only serves to make you wish they’d killed you instead.

“Shh, elf. Don't cry.” The commander orc in front of you keeps his hold on your hair, talking down to you as he admires your despair. “We’ll give you what you beg for…” He strokes your cheek harshly with the other hand, smearing your tears before moving on to his armored belt.

You whimper as it drops, revealing what must be your newest and truest worst nightmare.

“A warm meal in all your hungry holes.”

The two guards take turns behind you. You can’t see them, but they’ve made themselves more than known—having stretched out both your openings to accommodate their overgrown size.

They seem to like it when you cum—keeping their fat fingers on your clit and always fondling your tits, rubbing your nipples as they fuck your womb deeply until you wet them with your fluids. Your knees gave in a little while ago—their groping now the only thing keeping you upright, and the steady pounding the only thing keeping you awake.

Meanwhile, the commander has his fun with your face. Making you cuddle his heavy ballsack, dousing your face in the rank. With a dagger threatening your pretty eye, he'd coaxed your tongue out to play sooner than you’re proud of—now pliantly hanging from your mouth, licking every foul-tasting patch of his toad-like skin—feeling worse than a beggar eating scraps.

But you ought to thank him. Earlier, he’d tried forcing his length down your throat—making your jaw all but unlock to make room. His cockhead is the size of your fist—in the end, you could only suck on it, only able to satisfy him and his harsh scalp-ripping grip on your hair by prodding his dickhole with your tongue. He started petting you when you did that, making you feel all the more defeated.

His mercy tastes worse than the rancid white you’d been made to swallow. You’d wanted to bite, but the dagger he’d earlier stabbed into the wooden plate for safe-keeping keeps you sweet as you lick and suck the prominent veins running up his fat size—face glazed in sweat and spit, both his and yours.

“Poor elf-bitch…” he jeers while twirling a lock of your fine hair around his crooked finger. “Fed twig all your pretty life—of course, you’re hungry.”

He chuckles, voice hoarse and muted—almost soft, were it not for its gritty timbre. Keeping his cock resting heavy against your face, covering your eye while rubbing the base against your pouty lips.

“A mouthy whore like you needs real cock. Only happy when you’re pounded like meat.” He hums, “In your natural state, pleasing those bigger and stronger than you as a good pet should.”

He laughs louder, rumbles with it enough to shake the ground, then breaks away from you.

“Leave her cunt to me,” he says, folding his arms upon his chest, leaving his heavy cock to swing between muscle-ripped thighs as he leers at the scene. “Prissy elf pussy’s mine to breed.”

One of the guards soon takes up the vacant spot in front of you, putting his leaky tip to your lips in a sloppy kiss before pressing through to fight your throat for space—putting you in an air-tight spitroast—with your ass already being forced to play host for the other intruder, getting your drenched and swollen pussy slapped by a pair of weighty balls on each of his breath-robbing thrusts into your guts.

“A'right, boys,” the commander announces, “Let's stuff her ‘til she’s big and round. 'See if she's still hungry then.”

They both groan and dig in as far as your body allows, bordering on its limits, making you stretch to take them deeper before planting their seed—coming in fast ropes at first, then thicker waves, and finally smaller spurts aided by the shunting of their hips as they rut against you—feeding it to you without rush, one dose after the other, until their balls were all good and empty.

Then they sigh, breathing heavily, waiting for their seed to be settled and swallowed in your bowels before slowly sliding their spent cocks out—letting the overdose spill from your holes as you take a weakened breath and quake in the aftershocks, left hanging in the stand with a body full of orc cum and something else, something that's made your mind feel all funny and flirty.

Then, stomach heavy and warm, hanging with more weight than your breasts—tender and oddly tingly all over—you croon, like a cow, when the commander lifts your hips and eases inside your cunt only a short moment after—starting to pound you softly but deep enough to make your head hang and tongue drip with drool, moaning like an animal in its heat, all silly, like a mating-call, waiting for your womb to be fed with the same warmth.

He cups your buttcheeks with both his thumbs hooked within your ass, and still, he feels you tremble and cum without your clitty being touched—milking him for his spend, begging him with your tongue out in sweet mews. "Bleath, bleath, mathder~"

And although he can't see it from his position, it still makes him smile. “That’s right, dumb little elf-pet. Beg, and you will be fed.”

You clench up and throttle when he finally blows, and the warmth swarms your gushy insides in heavenly goo—leaving you feeling cozy from the inside out—cross-eyed and panting in utter ecstasy.

He also waits—waits until his cum takes root and his cock unswells for a good minute or two before pulling out with a throaty sigh. Then he rounds the pillory, a heavy step at a time, until his lousy and still steaming cock is met face to face with your sweaty flush-cheeked expression.

“Still hungry, elf-girl?” he asks, jostling the sloppy member against your equally drowsy face. “Or was it thirsty?”

He picks your chin up with a hand, holding it steady while watching your half-mast and glazed heart-eyes lazily blink up at him—grinning and humming at the sight.

“Tell me, elf-pet, which of it was it you were whining about?”

Drool spills from your mouth as you answer, speech slurred like a drunken degenerate, “Both~”

He clicks his tongue, “Spoiled.” But he doesn’t seem angry—no, rather pleased. “You’ve been well-fed for now—time to wash it down.”

He lifts his heavy slug and puts the numb tip to your lips, which eagerly parts wide for him to press inside softly, filling the drizzly cavern, cockhead resting neatly on the wet bed of your tongue.

You obediently await it with your eyes locked onto his—both moaning once it comes. Hot and salty-sweet, it pours onto your tongue and sloshes down your throat, spilling from your mouth and somehow splashing all over your face—making you shudder in warm bliss as you gulp it down as if it’s in another class from the aged wine back home.

“Drink, elf-slave. Drink and be grateful,” he instructs, and you obey, allowing the piss-stream to hit the back of your throat where you could glug it all down with minimal spill.

When it stopped, you sucked his tip and tongued the slit like before, cleaning it dry of the last drop, saying, “Thank you—thank you, master.”

Elves never cease to surprise him. Always so prissy—high and mighty creatures—and yet they fall the farthest from grace when pushed.

He had many different ideas on how to make an example of you to the others—cease any ideas they might have of uproar and rebellion. Leave you here for the ogres and trolls to come and have their sloppy seconds. Tie you up by your ankles and drag you behind the horses through all the muck. Let the rest of his troops have at you until you met with your unfortunate end.

But no. He thinks not.

“Let’s move—” he announces to the camp. “Time to take our bounty home.”

After all, for all your whining, you did have a point earlier—you elves are only good to them alive and well. Best get you to the nearest market and sell you.

The guards unfix you from the pillory and start hauling your collapsed form back to the cage.

“No, not her,” he corrects them, thinking of your pretty eyes and soft tongue and that pretty elf cunt that milked him dry like none other. “She rides with me.”

On bearback, he ties your hands around his neck and lets you sleep with your head on his chest, riding backward with your legs draped over his—still naked with your cum-belly leaking out over his saddle—making a mess he’ll have you lick clean later.

“Tell me if you get hungry again, little elf,” he sneers, though a little fondly. “I’ll feed you again.”

And you, despite groggy, with eyes closed, mumble back dumbly, “Thank you, master.”

♡ PART TWO

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Enji, AFO ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Kenjaku ♡ HxH – Uvogin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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retiredteabag · 2 months ago

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Wishful Thinking

arranged marriage with Nanami… a continuation

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - next part

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

You would have never imagined, but as it turns out, you’ve only known your spouse 48 hours and you’ve already begun to love married life.

In this time, lots has occurred, for one, you had to explain to your husband repeatedly that you really, truly, genuinely, had absolutely no opinion on where to spend the honeymoon.

He didn’t take too fondly to that…

"Please-" You had insisted, "Wherever you'd like! Whatever you choose, I'll be very happy with."

He had sighed, running a hand down his face, "I would much prefer to hear where you enjoy traveling."

You had confessed that you never really had the chance to leave the estate or school. Only on rare occasions were you presented the opportunity to venture outside, even when working as a sorcerer. You hadn’t even been on a school trips.

"Mountains or beaches?" He asked, the two of you were seated on the shared couch, his morning coffee in hand.

"I don't mind. I would love to see either."

He seemed to blink for a second too long, breathing in, he offered, "Do you have an interest in cities? Or do you prefer the countryside?"

You just smiled, "I promise you, I don't have an opinion either way, whatever you like."

"Alright... Do you care to fly, or would you like a cruise?"

The idea stressed you out a bit. Shrugging, before you answer, he grumbles your name, "What do you enjoy? Shopping? Hiking? Sightseeing?" He doesn't give you time to respond, "Eating? What cuisine do you like, by the way? That might help you decide."

You hold up a wobbly hand, "Woah...um can I be honest?"

Your husband sits up straight. Just a day before, you would have never even considered speaking so casually, but, just as you anticipated, he reasures you quickly, "Please do."

"Well... the things is, I would really just prefer you to choose..."

Nothing would feel worse than if said anything he didn’t like. You can tell your husband is a cooperative guy, he would likely just go with whatever you offered. The problem is that you want him to be happy. And frankly, you're not really sure what you like. Making a decision would be too much right now. You hardly know the things you enjoy yourself.

That same day, Nanami had requested you view him as a friend, any mention of your "wifely duties" and he would grimace. Eventually, through your easy back and forth, you were able to persuade him into telling you what part he played in this union the two of you shared.

"I... well, I'll speak freely as you have done... I took very little pleasure in Jujutsu society for some time." He huffed.

You had known this much, but as he continued, your dread mounted even more.

"The higher ups were not so fond of this idea-"

"But-" You interrupted, "Oh, I'm sorry, but, you're not from a clan, how could they have any sway in your decision?"

He just grinned, "You must not know, in your position, but the higher-ups have lots of sway in any sorcerers life, despite my...birth status."

"I had no idea..."

This, at least, was news to you. "They believed that an arranged marriage would keep you in the world of sorcery?"

He looked at you strangely then, "Yes, they were sure of that much. That is, marriage to a fellow sorcerer, and," He paused momentarily and cleared his throat, tugging at his collar, "The prospect of a child." He finished.

Oh.

There was an awkward silence between you two. Neither making eye contact.

Too uncomfortable…

Mmm, we have a nice coffee table...

Should you say something...?

You grin slowly, "We’re more similar than I thought."

He looks up at you and suddenly you are cold in the heat of his gaze. He hums low in his throat, "I'm very glad you think so."

After much prattling, and assurance on your end that you REALLY did not want to pick the location of your honeymoon, Nanami made a slight offering of an opinion. That being an “adventure train”.

"Oh! That sounds lovely!" You immediately respond. Just grateful he finally said something he could look forward to.

You had no idea what an “adventure train” entailed.

He squinted accusatorily, "Oh, please, I know you're just saying that."

"No, I'm not" you pout, "I love trains...on summer and winter breaks I would ride the train from Tokyo home..."

Chuckling he smirks, "Yes, well, this would be a little different from those trains” he calls your name, “honestly, I would like to hear about you." He settles comfortably into the sofa.

Suddenly confused by this, you start, “Oh... what would you like to know?"

"About you." Hes so matter of fact, "I want to know about the real you. Not....this person you are right now."

You straighten your spine, "What-" you scoff, "What are you talking about?"

He just laughs, it's deep and his chest shutters a bit, "I'm talking about how you just live by what other people want. You haven't told me a single thing that you enjoy since we've been together, which I must admit hasn't been very long-"

"Exactly!” You point at him. Almost stick your tongue out, then think better of it.

"Which hasn't been very long-" he restates, "But really, just last night you couldn't even tell me the kind of food you wanted-"

"Because I really didn't mind! I would have loved anything!"

"Precisely. I want to know-" He leans in close and you almost gasp at the suddenness of it, "What you like." He twists a hair out of your face and grins, "If I asked, I doubt you could answer me your favorite color."

"Well...I-"

He tilts his head and suddenly you feel accused. "You like them all, don't you?"

"There's nothing wrong with that." You smirk.

"No." He finally gives you room, leaning back and examining you now. “No, not at all. But I doubt you have anything you could name me that you would like right now, like for me to do, or say, like to be given, like to-" "I'd like-" You start, "For you to stop with all this nonsense."

"Very good...that's a start, I'm sure you would like that- you little people pleaser."

"I don't think there is anything...wrong with trying to make people happy." You stare firmly. You mean it.

It's strange, just a moment ago, you felt uncomfortable making eye contact, but now, your gazes rival one another.

"Just so long as you're not... making yourself into whatever you think someone wants to see. Just so long as you are being yourself." He hums.

Okay, this wasn't fun anymore.

You lose the fight, looking at your hands instead of those striking eyes. If you were being honest with yourself, you don't even know those things that he spoke of. What you like, what you think, who you really are. Is it so wrong to just try to be... what everyone else wants?

"I'm not lying though..." You look up once more, "I really would rather you just pick what we eat and where we go..."

"I believe you." He's not smiling now, "Really, I do. But what I would like is to learn of what you want."

There's a small flare inside of you that burns iron hot with his pushing this point, you extinguish it, finally saying, "I don't know what I want. I think I just…want what you want." You roll your eyes, shrugging our more. You know he must find you ridiculous.

Nanami purses his lips, the hand that was previously on your hair, is now on your chin. He looks so serious, yet somehow, kind.

"I'll teach you."

Your heart thumps.

It won't work, you think.

What you don't know, is that Nanami Kento is the most persistent and dedicated man to walk the earth and he, unlike you, does not so easily give up.

The next morning, while you riffle through the luggage you have packed for your multi-destinational luxury excursion, you recall that moment on the couch when he brushed his hand across your jaw.

He had been so soft. How could a sorcerer, one of his caliber even, have such a gentle hand?

You shudder.

Shaking your head, you zip up your suitcase, run a hand across your goose-bumped arm, and try to focus your energy on things other than your husbands hands, or his laugh, or his voice-

You shut your door to your room a little too harshly.

A form in the kitchen startles at the noise and quickly shuffles to the hallway,

The energy you had so determinedly focused on less appealing thoughts fades to nothing as Nanami makes his way toward you, a mug in hand.

His hair looks tousled in an annoyingly handsome way, he’s dressed casually, but it looks undeniably attractive, his shirt is loose everywhere and when he moves, it outlines his waist.

His waist? God. Get yourself together.

"Are you alright?" Nanami calls your name. His brows are taught and he’s bend towards you slightly.

"What? Yes, yes I'm quite well. I-I've just finished packing, see?" You pull your over-large suitcase in front of you.

"Oh..." He smiles, "Well done. Well, would you?

Huh? “…Would I what?"

"...Like honey…” he lifts the cup he hold in a large hand, “in your tea?"

My tea?

Oh god, you hope he hadn't already asked you that. (He definitely had.)

"Oh! Uhh is there already some in there?" You point to the steaming cup in his hand.

He grins, and it looks unbelievably feline in nature. "No, first you tell me if you like honey in your tea."

You scoff. He was still on about this. "I drink it both ways.” You raise your nose up at him.

He comes in close, suddenly appearing much taller than you remember, "Yes. I know you do. But how do you like it."

You reach for the mug but he doesn't let go, allowing you to grip his hand. "This is just perfect." You grunt, trying to pull the mug from his grasp. It doesn’t budge.

"So you don't mind that I sweetened it?" He looks at you, blond locks flopping into his face.

You grin, "Perfect." Your shoulders roll back, recalling how much you adored when a maid would add sugar to the tea pots back home. "I adore honey."

"Oh, good." He only then tugs his hand from yours, waltzing into the kitchen.

You follow behind in a very “lost pet” sort of fashion. It's only when he pulls a jar of honey from the cabinet and begins to spoon some of the golden nectar out that you realize he has played you.

You gasp. "Auh! You lied!"

He just grins. But you continue, "I like it both ways, really.” You cover your face, “really, a-and you don't have to make this for me, you know, I can do it myself."

He finishes stirring it and holds the mug out, handle facing you. He's leaned on the kitchen counters. He must feel very accomplished now, with that smug look covering his face.

"Don't worry, I'm well aware. Can't I do even this for you?" He gives you a funny smile. "I figured you liked sweets. You seemed to enjoy dessert the other night."

"You are a strangely observant creature Mr. Nanami Kento." You huff, taking the tea outstretched to you and sip.

It's delicious.

He hums, grinning, but you don’t see, "Is that right?"

You look up again and realize he's been watching you drink.

"Yes, you are."

He just chuckles, leaning further back on the counters.

"I was asking about the tea, honey."

He just laughs, leaving the kitchen. You take a deep breath, eyes closed and try to compose yourself. Somewhat peeved because, yes, the tea really was just right.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

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muffinlance · 1 year ago

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Edit: Yes, the original Sokka sexism arc is great and important. But we don't live in a world where the live action show runners decided to include it in the same form. So:

Unpopular opinion time: Sokka unlearning sexism isn't actually a large part of his character arc--it literally only takes the opening episodes. And removing it COULD be a sign that the live action is taking seriously the complaints I've seen from native fans about the original show runners deciding to make the Water Tribes that sort of sexist to begin with. Sokka's actual character arc is about gaining confidence and leadership skills, and they have the opportunity to focus on that MORE if they change the Kyoshi episode to focus on Suki as a fellow teenager forced into a leadership/protective role in her community and rocking it rather than using her as an object lesson on sexism for a male character to learn from. Whether they will ACTUALLY do that is on them, but it took me less than ten minutes to think up, so I sure hope someone in the writers' room actually cares about using the live action to expand on new angles of the characters. Big ask, I know.

Now the real question is: did they also remove Uncle Iroh's unwanted physical advances on a literally paralyzed Jun, and all of Zuko's snipes about girls? Because THOSE are the actually "iffy" sexism parts in AtLA, not Sokka's five minute arc.

#avatar the last airbender #atla #Sokka #Zuko #Iroh #So help me if Iroh still gropes Jun #Our girl is looking FANTASTIC and she deserves better

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iamred-iamyellow · 5 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Perfect All American

♥ masterlist | request rules | based on this request

♥ pairing: oscar piastri x fem!american!driver!reader

♥ synopsis: you and oscar decided to make your relationship a secret in hopes to not stir up any “conflict of interest” rumors. however, he just couldn’t help being a proud boyfriend when you won your first race for williams as a rookie.

♥ smau + written - fc: girls on pinterest - none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing !!!

♥ a/n: once again, i’m so sorry this took so long for me to write but i really hope it was worth the wait anon <3

-October 2023-

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, susie_wolff and 879,593 more

williamsracing We're incredibly pleased to announce that @/yourusername has signed a three year contract deal with us starting this following F1 season. She will line up alongside @/logansargeant and will be the first woman to drive a Grand Prix since Lella Lombardi in 1976. We are absolutely honored to have you. Welcome to the Williams family 💙

view comments

yourusername its a perfect all american grid

user6 I understood that reference

user5 🦅🦅🦅

user1 USA USA RAHHH 🇺🇸🗽🏈

user8 WOOO

user2 following in susie's footsteps :')

prema_racing we’re so proud of you

yourusername <3

oscarpiastri I’ll see you in melbourne 😉

user12 it’s the wink for me

user4 im gonna miss prema era y/n

user5 @/user4 ok but the trio is back together !!! y/n, oscar, and logan

user6 @/user5 you’re forgetting about fred

user9 fred vesti always the bridesmaid never the bride

user10 need me some williams gear asap

user14 💙💙💙

logansargeant excited to finally have a fellow american on team torque

yourusername me 🤝 logan

alex_albon 😐

georgerussell63 and here I was thinking you were happy to join me at mercedes

user13 I’m a child of the britcedes-sargebon divorce

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Williams' Rising Star: Y/n L/n-

Williams has announced that American F2 Champion, Y/n L/n will be making her Formula 1 debut next year alongside Logan Sargeant. She has been making waves in the world of motorsports for over a decade now, and it seems that all of her hard work has finally payed off. She's already been placed in the history books for her impeccable talent on track and her inspiring work off it. Not only has she broken plenty of records in feeder series', but she also contributed to the creation of F1 Academy.

From Long Beach a to Monte Carlo

Early in her karting career Y/n was scouted for the Mercedes Junior Drivers Team and she's seemed to have a close relationship with Toto and Susie Wolff ever since. She uprooted her life from California to London as a young teen, taking a huge risk in hopes to accomplish her dreams.

What does this mean for F1?

With rising representation in all areas of f1, we can hope to see young women getting more opportunities to make their mark on the sport. Let's face it, the future of F1 is female.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by oscarpiastri, williamsracing, liablock, and 583,502 more

yourusername POINTS?!?!

tagged; @/bah_int_circuit

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williamsracing starting off this year strong!

frederikvestiofficial WOOOO !!!

yourusername WOOOO 🎉

arthur_leclerc way to go y/n

yourusername ty artie my favorite leclerc 😍

charles_leclerc hey ??

user1 @/yourusername what about oscar piastri-leclerc

yourusername I CHANGE MY ANSWER

oscarpiastri I'm so happy for you

yourusername <3

user2 ...

user3 👀

logansargeant lets gooo 💪

yourusername 🦅🦅

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by mclarenracingf1, landonorris, yourusername, and 983,012 more

oscarpiastri maiden win

comments are limited

yourusername never beating the polite cat allegations with that smile

oscarpiastri :]

yourusername I'm so proud of you btw 🫶

oscarpiastri 🫶

landonorris congrats

oscarpiastri thanks mate

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Dutch Grand Prix-

"Plan A, Y/n. Plan A," your race engineer said to you on the radio.

"What about plan C? I think it will work," you responded.

"Uhm, as of right now we don't want to risk your position, so plan A, Y/n, plan A." they spoke softly.

"I can hold the tires, I swear. We're already at the back of the pack, we have nothing to lose."

"I think that's the first time I've heard a driver try to argue their way out of the main strategy," Crofty laughed on the broadcast.

"Box, Y/n. Box."

You sighed, thinking you've reached your defeat. You pulled into your pit box and noticed the green ring on the tires.

They're putting you on inters.

They're following your strategy.

You clicked the radio button back on, "Thank you," you screamed to your team.

You were briefed with everything a few days ago, but you couldn't help but come up with your own plan after getting the weather report for the weekend.

The rain was about a minute away now and you begged the team to put you on intermediate tires right at this time. You knew it would be difficult to drive on a barley damp track like this, but if it worked you could be looking at a podium.

You only had to drive a single lap before it started pouring and your plan payed off. Almost the entire grid struggled with their dry tires in the new track conditions, giving you time to create a lead as they had to slow down and pit.

Every lap you completed as race leader made you more anxious than the last. You held your breath as you reached the last corner of the last lap, vaguely able to see the chequered flag. Tears filled your eyes as you crossed the finish line in P1, the Williams garage being shown on the big screen sprinting out to congratulate you.

Before you had the chance to jump into the arms of your team, Oscar was running up to you. He picked you up and pressed his soft lips to yours right in front of the cameras. You smiled into the kiss, happy tears still streaming down your cheeks.

He pulled you into a tight hug, "I'm so proud of you. I love you so much," he mumbled into your hair.

"I love you too, Osc." you laughed through your crying.

He pulled away, cupping your face in his hands, and kissing your forehead. You smiled as he wiped your cheeks with his thumbs.

"So... instead of us interacting with each other online to keep our relationship private, you decide to make out with me in public?"

Oscar laughed and hugged you again, "Just enjoy the moment.”

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by kimiraikkonen, sebastianvettel, williamsracing, and 6,394,625 more

F1 Y/n L/n makes history as the first woman to win an F1 Grand Prix and the first win for Williams since 2012. Well done 👏

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yourusername fact is walter white james vowles couldn't have done it without me 🗣️

georgerussell63 so true 🔥

logansargeant LETS FUCKING GOOOO

yourusername RAHHHH

susie_wolff I'm so proud of you 💗

yourusername <3

user7 the way susie was recording her on the podium like a proud mom :')

user8 ROOKIE WIN

user4 🐐🐐

lewishamilton @/yourusername incredible drive today. congrats on the win, it was well deserved

yourusername tysm lew 🫶

jensonbutton thats literally my daughter

youruseranme DAD 🫂

user3 I thought she was supposed to be Toto's daughter...

user6 @/user3 toto, lewis, nico, jenson──they're all related one way or another

user2 family tree is a wreath

mercedesamgf1 all hail queen y/n

user9 y/n to Mercedes 2025 !!!

liked by yourusername, landonorris, logansargeant, and 1,203,284 more

oscarpiastri y/n l/n. my best friend, the love of my life, and a formula 1 grand prix race winner. this is such an incredible achievement and I am so happy for you. I know you are out there inspiring so many young women and I couldn't be prouder. you are the most incredible girlfriend, driver, and person I have ever met. congratulations on the win, you deserve it. I love you ❤️

tagged; @/yourusername

comments are limited

yourusername osccc 🥹 you've been my #1 fanboy since our karting days and I can't thank you enough for all the support you've given me <3 I love you so much

♡ by oscarpiastri

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

end notes: tysm for reading <3 don’t ask me about the real life mechanics behind the tires bc im obviously not qualified for that 💀 i based that scene off of the strategy i use when i play gran turismo and i see the clouds get grey (it’s never failed me)

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jellicatty · 3 months ago

Text

♯1 ┆ ❝ SUMMER BUMMER ❞ 𝜗𝜚 ᵎᵎ

With your teases and flirty remarks, the two men find themselves guessing the color of your panties— another game they played besides golfing.

╰┈➤ contains : nanami x beverage cart attendant! female reader x higuruma. nana and higu golfing. masturbation. grinding. mutual pinning. innuendos. nana and higu are perverts here. jealous! higuruma. reader is a tease. reader wear skirts.

╰┈➤ note : EEEE FINALLY I POSTED THIS it only took me like a months... anywayy, sex scenes aren't really my forte plus this is like the first time i wrote one sooo don't expect too much (?).

╰┈➤ next : groupie love (coming soon) ...

Defendants would put all the blame on him, the court's verdict is seemingly destined to oppose his favor. Or, that's what Higuruma thought. Another failed case, another living being failed by the country's unjust system, another alleged victim thrown into jail.

Higuruma though, knew that these circumstances would happen. His dream have lasted for centuries, formed by his compassion to deliver the accused to light. But little by little, his principles have formed cracks.

Although his workaholic nature is unfaltering, worsened by the multitude of paperworks, Higuruma does crave for rest. But, his work-life balance contradicts his need for relaxation. Until, the opportunity had arrived and he's now trudging to a bar.

To passerby, it was your typical, vintage bar that old and worn-out folks like him would visit. However, Higuruma saw it as a sanctuary for his deep troubles. From drinking with his colleagues or just simply letting his usually work-occupied mind slip away, his favorite bar had seen it all.

"One— No, three of these, please." His ever polite tone still there even as the hours of long work shouldered him down.

The atmosphere rivaled the comfort of his home, and it's probably why Higuruma had an liking for it.

"You're being carried away by your thoughts, Mr. Higuruma." The bartender was quick to notice his blank expression, placing his ordered drinks in an attempt to distract his mind from work.

But, the bartender knew Higuruma too well. Despite connecting only through brief conversations, and a short time together, the bartender had a sense of what Higuruma's state of mind is at the end of the day.

"If you want to take off your mind away from work, then I suggest doing something else for a change." Well, this hasn't been the first time the advice was given to the attorney. He's had his fair share of therapeutic tips from concerned people. None were able to fully convince him though.

"I don't... I'm too busy."

"You wallow in self-pity, yet do nothing to save yourself from it. I've met other people like you, people who find comfort in what makes them distraught." Instead of his duties, the bartender was now focused on Higuruma. "It doesn't end good for them. I'm sure you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know. It's not that easy to let go of something that you've dedicated your whole life too."

"I'm sure nothing will be lost if you do let go for a fraction of a second."

"You're not going to give this up, huh?" Higuruma sighed, "Well, I'd like to keep a valuable customer." They both chuckled at the Bartender's wishes. After some thought and a drink or two, Higuruma was set on the decision to make some small changes in his life for once.

The problem is, what would be the change?

Gym was out of the question since he frequently did so. Hiking's too taxing and he can't leave his duties for a long time. Sports were a possibility, as long as it didn't physically exert him that much. Golfing, maybe? He thought.

"One of the gents at the bar earlier has been to the newly opened golfing course here."

Ah, golfing it is.

"I think that young fellow over there needs a getaway from their life, too." His focus turned to the younger, blond man sitting three stools away. A few bottles have been emptied, yet it was evident that he could go for a few more. Nothing outstanding from the man aside from his leopard-pattern tie. Just your typical, fatigue worker.

"Looks like you're also preoccupied with your mind, Sir Nanami. I take it as a bad day?"

"No need to say more."

Although Higuruma knew it was not the best to disturb the tired man, he thought that perhaps talking to him would make their mundane nights better. Maybe, to comfort him with the words he wished to hear.

"Sorry for intruding your conversation, but are you new here?"

"Nope. Been here for some time now. Just been a bit busy with some... grueling reports again." He winced at the mention of his work.

"Reports?"

"I'm a salaryman." Higuruma now turned his full attention on Nanami, filling his curiosity. He hands out a calling card, "Here, just in case." And for a brief second, Higuruma almost laughs at his own 'joke' that he always did with his new acquaintances. Fortunately for him, Nanami's humor was not yet stripped away by his boring profession and softly smiled at his friendly remark.

It's a simple change like this is what Nanami wanted. Nothing extraordinary, nothing too small to notice too. The two men shared their experiences, silently bonding over the heavy troubles they carried from day to night. And if they were being honest, this was one of those moments where they surely won't forget. It's like moments like this was there only escape from the tiring duties they must do.

Alas, the deepest night has caught up to them. The lulling blue tones that played throughout their visit no longer graced their ears. The only noise present was their chatter and the kind bartender's huffing and puffing of cigarette.

"You know, despite your gruff look, you're an approachable guy. A fun one too if you squinted."

"Oh, gruff? You should check a mirror, Higuruma."

The two men chuckled at their jokes, slowly packing up their own belongings before cleaning their surroundings. After they finished, they walked together outside.

The blistering cold of the night quickly breezed past the two men. A shiver and a small breath of fresh air later, they nodded at each other and departed from the bar with heavy steps.

The night was still young, and Higuruma's desperate for a change. Fortunately, Nanami Kento had arrived. Albeit small, Nanami still had made a difference to Higuruma's perpetual enervating days.

He doesn't want their interactions to remain just at the bar, though. Perhaps, he should suggest on golfing together to help the blond too.

The summertime heat was merciless. As one could anticipate for this time of year. In the intense heat, Higuruma and Nanami were helpless. Their experienced selves took turns swinging their golf clubs, finding entertainment in their calculated swings and triumphant shots. Empty cups scattered on their table, their belongings left unattended.

Golf seemed like a good start—and maybe their greatest choice by far. It was not only a nice diversion, but it also provided them with the ideal reason to spend time with their favorite entertainment—you, the beverage cart girl.

Weeks have passed, and life has been more tolerable. The first golf meets with Nanami were riddled with a comfortable silence, as if the two men had known each other for a while. The only bond they had was formed on their sleepless nights and persistent work, yet conversations flowed effortlessly. With their unfading politeness and formal talking that stayed even during their golf meets. They both assumed that the other was righteous, and a man of good qualities. Damn were they wrong.

Refined. Upright. Gentlemanly. Those words that used to describe the two men were long discarded. Since your arrival, the two men had been nothing but good, their true colors spilling from the shells of who they used to be. Higuruma could still vividly recall the moment where their true selves slipped. Their gazes were fixed only on you that day, overfilled with joy once you asked for their orders in that sweet voice you had. And right after you left them with their hard rock problems to themselves, they turned to each other as if their eyes alone could communicate. A word did not need to be shared. They knew that you were going to be a problem.

"What do you think's the color of her panties this time, Nanami?" Higuruma positioned his hips in a more appropriate manner, then swung his club.

"That cheeky woman loves pink," Nanami replied.

Aside from golf, they engaged in another game — guessing the color of your panties. As suggested by Higuruma when he caught a glimpse of it a few days ago, this was now the two men's favorite pastime. To them, it seemed only fair since you'd purposely bend over to shamelessly give them a view of your lace-trimmed panties that matched your outfits.

"I highly doubt it will be pink again—"

Out of nowhere, the faint noise of tires screeching slowly approached the two men. Puzzled, they looked at each other first, before turning around. Their eyes confusedly searched for the noise, before their gazes landed on the approaching golf cart— or rather, you.

It was as if you were the oasis in the Sahara desert, quenching the men's thirst with your exposed skin and alluring smile. With your pastel yellow pleats that went inches above your knee, your tight-fit Lululemon jacket that hugged your delectable figure, and your glamoured face, you joyfully steered the cart towards them.

Your beautiful smile greeted them, "Sir Kento! Sir Hiromi! I've brought you your drinks again!"

Higuruma's typically vacant eyes had their spark back to them, the usual boring look it wore instantly disappearing. Meanwhile, the hard lines of Nanami’s face eased, his stoic demeanor softening in your presence.

You hopped off your seat and prepared their ordered drinks, blind to their improper gazes that seek your undergarment.

Luck was merciful, and the world was on their side today when a breeze had swept your skirt upwards in a cartoonish fashion.

"Oh!" Your cheeks flushed scarlet at the embarrassing incident, yet your hands take their time to pull down your skirt.

Their eyes are quicker than your hands, ill-intent gazes finding your undergarment in a flash. Light pink and polka dotted, adorned with a small bow at the front. The kind of panties that he envisioned every night. Nanami snickered, proving himself to be right once again.

"Pay up," Higuruma grumbled, cursing the man under his breath. Their actions no longer define the men they used to be. Their gentlemanliness and polished attitudes dissipate into the air at the sight of you.

"Thanks, angel. You know how to make our day better, huh?" Nanami returned your smile and took the drinks from your hand.

Higuruma is not oblivious enough to overlook Nanami's full interest in you. He's sure that a deprived man like him would ogle at your frame. He applauded the blond's self-control because, God, mini skirts were the death of him.

"That would beeee... 12 dollars!"

"12 only?" Higuruma pulled out his wallet and handed more than the said amount, "Here, keep the change, sweetie." However, your hands clumsily dropped the money.

Your breasts from the tight-fit jacket were threatening to spill out as you bent down to grab the fallen change. Although involuntarily, the two men were able to shortly glance at it and oh, my— what a sight. Two mounds pressed tightly together, sweat sensually gliding on your skin, the natural red flush adding more allure.

Their throats ran dry, needing a refreshment as they were taken aback by the promiscuous view of your tits. There's no way that wasn't intentional, they thought.

Although you often pulled those stunts, your shyness still lingered— a thing that they grew fondness for. You excused your blunder, timidly covering your face as you walked back to your cart.

"Aw, you going so soon?" You knew Higuruma would call for you. After all, he enjoyed your presence and often was the one chatting with you. From his smirk though, you should have known he had something in store for today.

"Come, let Mr. Kento here teach you some golf lessons." Higuruma's true goal of making you break in broad daylight is hidden under his hoax suggestion. Nanami, with his sharp senses, saw Higuruma's real intention, irritated at being his guinea pig for entertainment.

Despite his annoyance, he gratifies the other man's idea. Now, he has an inexcusable reason to close the proximity between you.

You asked the man in your honeyed voice "Would it be okay, Sir Kento?", so sweet it's almost sickly. His ears are focused on your saccharine voice, contradicting his jumbled thoughts that insisted he was sick of hearing it, fearing how much power your words have over him. His mind wonders; Would you have that same, sugary and sweet voice? Would your moans echo like candy, alluring and irresistible?

Nanami's attention was quickly drawn to you, looking up at him, his bulging biceps pressed against your tits. Your big, doll-like eyes are desperate to be taught. Nanami wonders again if you'd have the same look when he'll be ruining you.

"Pleaaseee! My shift will be finished soon!" Your pout was his last straw, a victim to your begging once again. Sighing, Nanami agreed to your requests.

"Yay! Thank you, Sir Kento!"

"Calm down, sweets. Mr. Kento here is going to malfunction if you keep on clinging to him like that." Higuruma snickered at Nanami's flustered face. "Oh, I apologize, Sir Kento!" You sheepishly backed away and regretted your actions.

The truth is, it wasn't just the two men that had their perverse fantasies. You too suffered their charm. Whether it be downing the alcohol they ordered, or simply breathing, it always had been a distraction for you. Their Ralph Lauren polos hugged their bodies in a nice fit, outlining their flexed muscles that shone deliciously under their sweat and the sun's rays. Thick, defined thighs, straining their pants. Even when playing normally, their wealth and professionalism exuded, something that you found very appealing.

"Bend with your hips, Y/n. Not your waist." Would it be wrong to say that you found his strict demeanor attractive? Would it also be wrong to think of the many things Nanami would order you to do in bed?

"Aaand— Did I do it right?!" Nanami's advice went through and exited your ear. Your swings misaligned and your ball never reached the goal.

"Gosh, you're a lost cause, angel. This is how it's done." Without warning, Nanami walked to your back. His proximity was sinful as his crotch settled at your ass, the sudden closeness eliciting a small, shocked gasp from you.

"Like..." He's also affected by the warmth and comfort your ass gave, hot breath fanning over your neck. He extended his arm and put them over yours, guiding your own so you can swing in a correct manner. "This."

But, aiming for the goal was the least of your worries. Not when Nanami's cock is noticeably hardening against your ass.

"There, you did it!"

A mix of disbelief and amusement flickered on Higuruma's face. Regret washed over him as Nanami took his suggestion to another level, scolding himself for underestimating the blond's courage and will to tease you right in front of him. With no escape, he's now forced to watch the consequences of his actions unfold. Yet, despite the pure jealousy clouding his mind, he does admit that the scene was enticing.

His thoughts are improper and vulgar, your flushed expression fueling him more. His train of thought is unavoidable though. Whenever Nanami teased you in broad daylight, publicly, and in front of him, his thoughts will surely be anything but pure.

"S-Sir Hiromi—!" Your voice cried, not for help but for his attention. A whore like you loved the attention. You loved Higuruma's disgusted scowl as he watched the two of you get handsy. You loved Higuruma's body, which reacted opposed to his shown expressions— his bulge visible while his face grimaced.

But, his thoughts got the best of him, and you only wanted to share your achievement.

"Did you s-see my shot? It was perfect!" You finally let out a breath when Nanami pulled away, not without a small, teasing comment whispered at you.

Let him watch.

Oh, you will.

Another time, though, because Higuruma's jealousy was painfully cutting through the air. His patience was wearily thin, and it's all because you cannot stop grinding on Nanami's bulge.

Determined to outdo the blond's ministrations, and also ease his jealousy, Higuruma chimes in., "You mind for a dinner together? Could tell that you need a break just from your eyes alone, sweets."

The sudden attention left you light-headed, shocked with their unspoken rivalry. You had power and influence over them, and you know just how to use it. But for now, your mind could only focus on the fact that you were going to dinner with your client. You’ve overstepped so many rules and most probably going to be in trouble, but a night with a man like Higuruma Hiromi was something you won’t deny.

Nanami sees your excitement. Feeling the sprouted competition happening between him and his friend, he quickly interjects, "I still don't have your number either. What is it, angel?"

Higuruma's betting on all of his suits (which are all expensive, by the way) that Nanami's going to fuck his fist to your pictures tonight. And he wasn't wrong. Because, as soon as Nanami arrived home, his first thought was to check your socials (surprisingly, not his paperwork). He was initially confused since you had an innocent facade online. Shared religious quotes, pictures with family, not a single photo where your boobs are out for everyone to see. He's even doubting if he followed the correct account. The only confirmation he had that it was yours was the new story you had posted.

It was you, right after your shift, posing in front of the mirror with a smile. Your caption about thanking the Lord for another day made him laugh. He's confident that you're praising Nanami for his ministrations earlier instead.

Nanami also wholeheartedly believes you're thanking him too for pressing his hard cock on your ass. He's flattered, and fucking horny, still bothered by the stunt he pulled earlier.

His erection is painful, and Nanami realizes how he could take care of it. Although feeling a bit perverse at the act he's about to do, he shoves his second thoughts away, eager to cum at a picture of you.

His lengthy dick is in his hand, gliding against his tip, then sliding up and down. His pre cum coated the top, oozing continuously as he stared at your picture on screen.

"Fuuuck..." He groaned, eyes closed, panting at the pleasure he was feeling. He indulges in his fantasies, letting his imagination run wild. He thinks of you inside his bedroom, wearing nothing but your light pink underwear, with polka dots all over and decorated with laces and ribbons. The same panties that he caught a glimpse of that he's so weak for. He's curious about what you'd be like, but he knew your salacious nature, and figured that you'll be the same slut you are.

God, if only you were here.

If you were here, it wouldn't be him toying with himself. It would be you, bouncing up and down, drool dripping from your mouth, as his cock fucks your pussy silly. You'd have that dumb look on your face, mind clouded in a lust-frenzy haze as you desperately begged for more.

"Mhm! Sir Kento!" He knows you'd call out to him, your voice ever-so-sweet, whining and weeping at the fervent feeling of him filling you up.

"Gonna cum inside you." is what he'd say if you were here. And you being you, you're fain of his request, straddling his hips as if it was made to be there. You wouldn't pull away. Instead, you'd remain on his dick as splurges of cum shoot out of it.

"T-thank you, Sir" You'd thank him for drowning your sex with his cum. Nanami would only get hard again at your sweetness that managed to stay in the bedroom, and he'd flip you over and pound himself into you.

His empty promises to himself would be fulfilled one day. But for now, his hand will do.

"S-shit" His voice is shaky, body trembling at his intense high. His palm is dirtied by his cum that he hoped was inside of you instead.

Tonight, it will be his hand. Next week, it will be your mouth. He's certain of that— No, he swears it will be your small mouth wrapped on his cock. Perhaps, with Higuruma fucking you silly too.

tags : @packsvlog @honeynanamin @rrssrios @misscigarettes @shokosbunny @shamelessdonutkryptonite @i1uvc4ke @dongh9e @freakadelik @tomurafrlover23 @sad-darksoul @glader13 @that-redheadd @beantokki @a-hidden-gem @joonsanswers @erenspersonalsexdoll @s-1-xx @shxniq @ilovetengen @zianaz-slvtz @jwnzlvr @wifenanami @20kglex @oromaangel @jejejjekskwl @s4m4nth4wrld @jaeminsmilk @alpha-mommy69 @lobsteeer @blackphoenix0718 @wrldldo @nappingmoon @cindyneko-strider @yumiecheesecrackers @rattats-world

#comment to be tagged for pt 2!#nanami x reader #higuruma x reader #jjk smut #nanami smut #higuruma smut #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #higuruma hiromi #hiromi higuruma x reader #hiromi smut #jjk x reader smut #| 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐁𝐘 𝐉𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐘 (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

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stoopidpigeonxx · 1 month ago

Text

To the anon that suggested Curly Manhandling..

here bookie <3

NSFW MINORS GO AWAY

Curly’s quite the big fellow. He knows it, too. He’s always flexing his arms in front of you to show off his gym gain and taking every opportunity to show off his impressive build. You don’t mind it. It’s a bit of a turn-on, knowing all that is all yours. But the best part is when he uses that muscle he worked so hard on to fuck you dumb. He knew you liked to be manhandled and took that to heart, scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder whenever you suggested taking things to the bedroom. He adored the squeals and giggles from you when he did. Filled his heart with a sense of pride… or maybe he just adored his sweet girl. His favorite method was pushing your legs up to your head while he pounded into you, seeing the very slight bulge of his cock outlined in your stomach when he thrusts. You’re soaked and gripping him like a vice and he could die happily right now, buried 9 inches inside you. He’d hunch over to quicken his pace, hands pinning your wrists up by your head. He’d love looking at your fucked-out face, the slight drool pooling at the corner of your lips, your slightly crossed eyes, mouth parted in an O shape. You looked so pretty like this. He wanted to take a picture and frame it, hang it above his bed so he could see it every day. Your face was amazing, but it came in second only to your moans. Your beautiful, sweet little noises. Whines of his name, pleas, whimpers, all of it spurred him on. Hearing his name from your mouth was music to his ears. “Yeah, baby? Wan’ me to go faster? Harder? You got it, lemme take care of you.. Sweet thing.” “Fuck, you’re takin’ me good… g’na make me come quick..” And you took it like a champ. When he did pump you full of his kids, you took every drop. He’d let you fall back and observe his come leaking out your poor cunt. But he’s not finished, ladies and gents. Oh no. He doesn’t normally do this out of fear of hurting you, but when he’s particularly stressed and you’re just offering yourself.. Full Nelson time!! Yup, he’s got your back pressed flush against his chest, ass against his pelvis, cock thrusting in and out of you. He has an arm locked around you to hold you in place, and his other’s holding up one of your thighs for a better angle. You find this position the hottest because he finally gets to be rough with you.he begs to differ, but as long as it makes you happy, and it really does. “Fu-uck, baby, keep movin’ like that, i gotcha.. Mhmmm. Feels so good..” He’s babbling praise into your ear while he destroys you, the gentleman that he is, and making sure to kiss you everywhere he can. Soft little ‘sorry’s on your skin. He feels bad for being so rough with you, but he can't help it when it feels so good. Even he’s moaning like a girl now just from the euphoric bliss of being inside your sweet little cunt. And he’ll keep going, until he’s filled you up with at least 5 loads of his come. He wants to pump you full of his babies in hopes he’ll start a family with you. But, more likely, he’s just obsessed with seeing you leak his seed out of your abused hole. Either way, you’re full of him, a reminder of what he does to you. You’ll certainly find it difficult to walk tomorrow, but it’s worth it. He’ll take care of you, since it’s his fault you’re in that state, poor thing. And he’ll do it all over again when you want him to! <3

#pigeonfic⯎#curly mouthwashing #mouthwashing #curly x reader #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing smut #captain curly smut #I BUSSED writing this

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baronessvonglitter · 22 days ago

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Holiday Heat

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 2.3K

Summary: Sharing a hotel room with a grumpy (and handsome) stranger while a storm makes travel inaccessible. What could possibly go wrong?

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Only one bed/forced proximity trope (with a dash of sunshine x grumpy because we love a cantankerous Joel). Age gap (reader is in her 20s, Joel's in his 50s). Strangers to lovers. Oral (f receiving). Sleeping together to stay warm. Unprotected p in v. Fingering. Reader has very little description apart from having hair long enough to get in her eyes. No use of y/n. Please lmk if I've forgotten anything!

Author's note: It was my pleasure to step in to gift this fic to @frannyzooey for the @pedrostories Secret Santa exchange! I hope you had a great holiday and have a wonderful new year, hon! ❤️Also, huge shoutout to @pedrorascal who so generously created the ✨gorgeous✨ banner for this story!

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

Wind and snow roar outside as the taxi pulls up to the last motel for the next hundred miles. The driver doesn't dare to drive any further in the snowstorm, and offers to bring you to a place where you and your fellow passenger, a gruff, unsmiling man named Joel, to stay warm and have a roof over your head.

"This place is a shithole," he grumbles as you're pulled to a stop.

"It's quaint," you say, refusing to let his sour attitude ruin what's left of your holidays.

You're both heading home for the holidays: you're returning from your senior year at college and he reluctantly admitted he's returning home as well from an extended trip north to visit his brother.

Despite the fact that you're both Austin citizens just trying to get back to your loved ones, Joel remains a total grinch. You've had to endure this man the entire drive from DFW airport. He sat in the aisle across from you on the flight down from Nashville, sighing and making exasperated grunts every time a baby cried or a young person took a selfie. His legs jittered with impatience. You took pity on him and offered him a CBD gummy, hoping to ease whatever stress he was under but he brushed you off with an annoyed groan.

When you found out there were no connecting flights to Austin, you and Joel were the last in line for a car rental. And of course, the last one was rented out to a couple in line ahead of you.

You saw this as an opportunity to help your fellow man, especially as it was the holidays. But all Joel did was shrug when you offered to split a taxi to whichever hotel was closest.

"It's not the Hilton, but it'll do for tonight," you tell him, persisting in your sunny outlook, hoping it will catch on.

The bored-looking eighty-year-old man in the motel office tells you that due to high demand and the inclement weather, there's only one room left, with a single bed.

"We'll take it," you bounce on the chance, much to Joel's chagrin, offering your credit card. Your surly traveling companion offers to split the room, but not without complaint.

"No way in hell am I sleeping on the floor," he says as soon as he steps into the room. There's a stale stench of cigarettes that the cinnamon air freshener on the small round table can't mask.

"Of course you're not. We'll just.. divide the bed. I'm good at staying on my side."

"You'd better be. I don't need you grabbin' onto me in the middle of the night 'cause you're havin' a nightmare or somethin'."

"You wish." It's the only thing you tell him that has some sting behind it.

"Just don't steal all the blankets, sweetheart. Gonna need 'em with this deep freeze comin' through."

"I'm gonna shower first if that's all right with you. I need to warm up." You grab your pajamas from your bag.

"Don't use up all the hot water," he calls out before you close the bathroom door.

"If there's no hot water to spare we could shower together." You glance behind your shoulder, eager to see his reaction.

The look on Joel's face is priceless as he nearly chokes on his next breath. "What? Are you out of your mind? There's no way I'm showerin' with you!"

You grin. "Gotcha."

You step out, hair still damp, towel wrapped around you, shyly going back into the room. "I forgot my panties," you say softly, going to your bag.

Joel tries not to stare too much, but it's a challenge.

"Turn around," you tell him so you can have privacy.

"Go change in the bathroom."

"I had a hot shower, it's still humid. I can't get dressed in there. Just close your eyes."

He grunts but accedes to your request, leaning back against the headboard as he puts his hands over his eyes. His heart is pumping madly, listening to the rustle of clothes as you get changed. He tries to distract himself with other thoughts instead of wondering what the shape of your body looks like.

Relief is a brief respite before he sees what you're wearing to sleep. He thought you'd wear something comfortable and decent, like those fuzzy plaid pajamas girls your age like to wear during the holidays, but instead you're in an oversized t-shirt, the hem down to the middle of your thighs, revealing your bare legs. He puts a pillow on his lap to hide his growing erection.

You get onto your side of the bed. "The shower's free if you want it."

Joel swallows hard before he forces himself to think about something other than you in the bed with him. "Yeah, uh, thanks," he says gruffly, his voice strained. He quickly gets up, trying to hide his aroused state, and gathers his pajamas before he goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. For good measure he locks it.

"Get it together, Miller," he tells himself, splashing some cold water on his face. He can't deny the effect you have on him, but he also knows it's impossible to act on it. He barely knows you. You could have a boyfriend or a husband for all he knows, though there's no ring on your finger.

He showers, hoping to stay in as long as he can to avoid you. But it's a shitty motel after all, and soon he runs out of hot water and has to rinse the shampoo from his hair under the icy cold spray.

Dried off and clothed he steps back into the room and finds you on the bed, rubbing lotion onto your arms and legs. The sight nearly takes his breath away. He tries to look away but his eyes are drawn to your glistening skin.

"Good shower?" you ask, catching a whiff of his body wash, something fresh and woodsy. From lowered lashes you check out how he looks in his sweatpants.

"Yeah," he replies. "Outta hot water though. Since you used it all up."

You roll your eyes and go back to applying your lotion.

"Smells nice," he says, sitting close to you.

"Thanks. It's coconut."

The sweet scent hangs in the air as he watches you spread the white lotion across your skin, giving rise to lewd thoughts about what other thick white substances would go well on you. The coconut aroma, the sight of you touching yourself, the forced proximity and having to share a bed.. it's all sensory overload.

"I like coconut," his voice is thick with restraint.

Your hands stop and you hand him the bottle, your eyes meeting his in a silent understanding. "Will you help me?"

He takes the lotion from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours a moment. "Where do you want me to start?"

"My legs," you tell him, spreading them slightly as you lean back.

Heat pools in Joel's groin and he bites his lip to stifle a groan. He squeezes out some lotion onto his palm and kneads it into your shin and calf, his touch gentle but firm, lightly massaging. He spreads it up to your knee, brushing against the tickly spot right beneath and smirking when you try to stifle a sound.

"Feels nice," you eke out.

"Your skin is so smooth," he murmurs, eyes drinking in the sight of you looking both relaxed and wanting. His hands move over your thighs as they part and he realizes you're not wearing panties after all. His brain goes haywire for a moment, unsure if he should call attention to your undressed state or not.

The scent of your arousal reaches him, and he dares a glance between your thighs. His dick pulses when he sees the telltale sheen at the apex of your inner thighs. His eyes meet yours and there's a charge, a current that passes between you.

"You have no idea how much I want you right now," he rasps, his voice thick with desire.

It's too much, too fast, but the part of you that doesn't care wins out, falling for his low, silky remark.

"Joel.. put your mouth on me," you whisper, legs parting further, an open invitation.

His eyes darken to nearly black, all semblance of restraint breaks as he leans forward, his lips hovering just above your skin, his breath warm on your inner thighs. "As you wish, sugar," he rumbles, placing a soft kiss on your soft flesh. His kisses move higher and higher up, and he gently moves your legs over his shoulders as his kisses get more persistent.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as his hands find their way under your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your belly and the mounds of your breasts, your nipples hard in anticipation. Willfully trapped beneath him, you're at his mercy when he finally buries his face in your cunt, gripping your thighs to hold you in place.

His tongue runs over your soft, saturated folds, tasting you and listening to the sounds of your moans and gasps. He laps at your softly, then adding more pressure, dipping his tongue inside and swiping at your clit, teasing you just enough to get you screaming for more. A strange sense of tenderness surfaces among the lust of the moment as he brings you to life. There's no denying there's something inherently sweet and affectionate about the lascivious act.

Joel can't get enough of your taste, your smell, the way you feel against his mouth as you desperately grind against him. He's lost in the moment, his every sense consumed by you. Hearing you panting his name he hums against you, the vibrations adding to your pleasure, and he gladly licks up the nectar you gush out.

"Oh! Joel! Keep doing that!" you gasp, tugging at his greying locks. His mouth is hot against your pussy, tongue stiff and pointed, soft and wet. The pleasure seems neverending. Just when you think you know the pattern, he switches it up, licking harder or softer, tracing shapes with the tip of his tongue. "Please.. don't stop.. I'm gonna.."

Pleasure blossoms from within, too big to keep in, and you come apart beneath him.

There's a feeling of ownership, something dominant and masculine and protective in Joel as he works you through another one, his hips rutting against the bed in need of his own release. At last he moves over you, bodies pressed close as he kisses you for the first time. It's sweet and soft, the taste of you still on his tongue, tangy and sweet.

"Thank you," you sigh, your foreheads touching, breath mingling.

"No need to thank me, sweetheart," he says quietly, brushing loose strands of hair from your forehead.

You're still feeling the lingering traces of pleasure, but even you can feel the cold seeping into the room. "Get under the covers with me," you tell him, and giggle at the speed with which he pulled both of you under the western-themed duvet.

Clothes fly off, thrown over the sides of the bed, landing in haphazard piles. Joel slots himself between your legs again. Desire grows bright in him, making him feel like he's burning from the inside out, starving for the taste and feel of you.

Your body is a perfect fit for him, the glorious slide of his flesh into yours causing you both to cry out. He's completely sheathed within you, surrounded by your perfect, tight, wet heat. Thrusting slow at first, he watches your expressions, planting little kisses on your cheeks and eyelids, drinking up your moans as his tongue slips between your lips.

"More," you whisper as his lips graze your neck, gently biting your ear lobe, and you're rewarded with a more forceful pace as he spreads you open, angling your hips up to get in deeper, finding that sacred spot within that makes you see God. He plants one hand on the headboard above you for leverage as his other hand kneads your breast, tweaking your nipple as your own hands grip his sides, digging your nails in as you blissfully curse with each push of his hips.

"That's the spot, ain't it?" he grunts above you. "Right.. here."

Stars collide behind your eyes as he gently glides over your G-spot. His lips curve into a smile when you clench around him, but he slips out before he can come, replacing himself with three fingers. "Come on them, sweetheart. Come on my fingers then you can have my cock again."

You're lost in bliss as he glides his fingers in, curving to get that spongy spot, eager to make you scream. You bring your own fingers to your clit, gently pinching and rubbing until you feel your climax begin in your extremities, gathering pressure within until it's released, your orgasm shattering you with Joel's name on your lips.

He gives you a moment to come back before he lays down, letting you straddle him. Though he was just inside you, it's still a stretch to fit around him, and you slide down slowly before you're comfortable enough to start riding.

"There you go, darlin'," he murmurs, large hands on your hips. "Do what you need to do to come on my cock, baby."

In a delicious haze of pleasure you ride him, switching up the pace, going slow and deep before slamming down on him, making him groan as he tries to hold back. Your slick is pooling on his groin, coating his balls. Holding your hips steady he rams up into you, eager for you to come all over him again.

You're positively feral at this point, shaking and crying out as you come harder than any other time before, and Joel follows soon after, spilling inside of you, his dick twitching.

Hours later you're curled up together under the thick blankets, sharing and savoring what warmth you've generated.

"Thank god for this storm," Joel murmurs, holding your back close to his chest as he spoons you.

"That's the first positive outlook you've had all day," you smirk, snuggling against him.

dividers by @cafekitsune 👑

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gay-dorito-dust · 10 months ago

Note

Can I request headcanons for Sunday, Boothill, Welt, Gallagher, Blade, and Dan Heng react to his shy gn crush giving him a love letter before leaving quickly?

Sunday:

Is calm upon receiving the note and still just as calm after reading it.

He knew this day was coming, you weren’t necessarily subtle about it either but he didn’t want to bring it up to you, knowing that if he did you’d loose all the confidence you’ve mustered up in order to give him the note.

He could read you like an open book and yet your sweet, genuine words touched his heart regardless. You held his heart in your hand and you weren’t even aware, he’ll be sure to rectify that soon enough.

While he wishes you could’ve told him in person, however he’ll gladly suffice for a note instead, seeing as it was the closest he’ll get in regard to an official confession.

With his place in your heart ensured, Sunday could finally use this as an opportunity to spoil you to your hearts content. Anything and everything you could ever possibly want or wish for was going to be yours if he had anything to do with it.

Your wish was his command and he’ll gladly rid himself of any competitors for your heart, all the while shielding your eyes from his underhanded tactics in doing so.

Welt:

You make this old man feel as though he were young and lively when you gave him the note and running off before he could say anything.

He felt as though he was in a romcom that he saw once…not that he was complaining.

Your note was so sweet and thoughtful that the more he continued to read, the more he began to find even more reasons to love you, for who you were was the most precious and perfect person in his life.

He didn’t want to confess first incase that he misread your past interactions for something else, but the note you’ve given him proved that his initial thoughts were correct, and that in reality he was just insecure and felt silly of the idea that someone his age was still experiencing things such as a crush.

But it was so much more than that and Welt knew it.

The only question left was, when was it going to be his time to confess?

Dan heng:

Thank god he took the note back to his room while he did because had he read it beforehand, otherwise his fellow trailblazers would’ve seen his face go the reddest it’s ever been in history.

He reads and re-reads your note to make sure that he wasn’t tricking himself but no, it was a real physical note from you confessing your crush on him.

Dan Heng felt as though he needed to sit down and think this through before he did something impulsive and stupid.

His little dragon noodle brain was telling him that he should seek out the most beautiful of all treasures, whether that be literature, clothing, jewels, and give them to you in droves in hopes of impressing you into being his mate.

Dan Heng dismisses it quickly as it came as it’ll probably overwhelm you and that was the exact opposite of what he wanted, and with that it was back to the drawing board to brainstorm.

Gallagher:

The moment he reads your note, he’s already got ideas on how your first date should go.

He’s not pissing about, not when you’ve given him the opportunity to treat you like he thought you should be treated; like you were the most priceless thing in existence because to him you very much were.

So why should he hesitate and potentially miss his chance to be with the person of his dreams?

He knew your favourite drink like the back of his hand from the countless times he’s made in perfecting it to your liking, so that wasn’t going to be as much of a problem as asking you out on a date was.

But he’ll figure something out, even if he’d have to improvise on the day. It would’ve been worth it if it meant having you by his side by the end of it.

Blade:

He’s not use to this sort of thing as love notes were a foreign concept to him.

He understood the intention and meaning behind it but he wasn’t the one to receive such notes.

So when you dropped off the note with him and ran the faster he’s ever seen you with a flustered look upon your face, Blade instantly knew then and there what the note was solely from your expression.

He wasn’t stupid so why he feeling a fluttering within his chest upon making this revelation?

It wasn’t painful nor caused his body any ache nor strife, if anything the more the warm, euphoric feeling spread throughout his body, the more his daily pains become an after thought in light of a possibility that you might actually like him back.

He always thought that the stories and blood -both his own and others- that stained his hands would run you off within a moments notice. Instead you choose to grasp his hands gently, wipe away the blood unfazed and still be able to look into his eyes after all that and smile.

You were his and Blade would be damned if he allowed anyone to encroach on you, regardless of their intentions. You weren’t to be taken from him for he’s already been through a lot and you weren’t going to be another name amongst the lost.

Boothill:

‘What’s this? Finally come to confess to me have you?’ He’d tease but would be genuinely surprised when he opens the note and finds that it actually is a confession note.

His crush? Liking him back? Bullshit!

He may act confident and self assured but he was in heavily in denial to begin with, but the more he re-read the note, he could tell that you were being serious. Which was a drastic change from your typically shy and anxious demeanour.

He even had to pinch the skin of his face to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming this up and that you were genuinely in love with him.

Sad he knows, but would you really be willing to date a man who wouldn’t be able to feel you expect from his face? Yeah he didn’t think so.

And yet you’ve proven him wrong by writing him a love letter confessing how you didn’t care about that, and how you loved him regardless if he could feel you or not. He was still someone you cared for deeply at the end of the day, never less someone you happened to find attractive. You weren’t shallow and Boothill knows this.

Not only that but he was genuinely scared that his best wasn’t going to be enough for you, sweet, kind, caring you…However Boothill recognises that hesitating and fearing the what ifs weren’t going to help him in wining your heart true and proper.

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tnsophiaonly · 9 months ago

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Uh just a thought:

cw: yandere, cussing, bad grammar, scara being scara, Childe is Childe, fatui, blood is mentioned at least 1 time

Imagine a Y/N\Reader who does everything for their family, so like your brother/sister/mother/father anyone you love!! got super sick and the cure for it is expensive as hell! (8,765,432,765 mora)

So you work for the fatui to get better expenses, you were skilled enough to immediately be recognized by your superiors—ahem, harbingers— and the first one to recognize you was Childe. Childe is just so down bad for you, he loves fighting with you, anything that gets your attention, if he could, he'd always have you by his side when he does missions.

And there's this thing, your fellow friend (who's been to the fatui far longer than you) in the fatui had a gambling habit and would make bets. One time they talked about giving away millions of mora to whoever gets to be The Balladeer's secretary and survive for 3 months.

You, eager for the mora, you immediately did too well, acted like you were obsessed with him to amuse him, did so many things to the point of getting Scaramouche's attention, he finally made you his assistant.

Of course Childe is pissed as fuck. How dare this dwarf get you before him??!!

At first Scara was just humoring your fake obsessive behavior just for entertainment, telling himself he'd throw you away soon and laugh at your fake reactions.

3 months passed and Scaramouche started humoring another fatui agent in an attempt to get you to break and snap and make you jealous, you used that opportunity to slowly part ways from him. He took a whole week to notice how you were basically disappearing from his life. You didn't leave the work though, you did the remaining paperwork and missions before disappearing.

Scaramouche who slowly notices the difference in his life when you left, you left a great impact in his life. This new fatui agent he humors doesn't do as well as you do, they keep fucking up to the point that Scara doesn't find it funny anymore. Yeah, he admits, your perfectionist personality helped a lot in his work, you were boring yeah, but at least you got the work done! After yelling and punishing the fatui agent for fucking up again, Scara grits his teeth and walks out to cool himself down.

But that's where he saw you sparring with Childe. Childe is out here feeling gleeful that you were finally back to him, while you just went back to him because you are an agent under him.

The sparring ended with Childe winning, you almost won, but Childe was stronger as expected, he walked up to you and almost gave you a kiss before you pushed him away, shocked. Childe frowns, he keeps you caged in his arms, he doesn't care about the dirt, blood, snow, and sweat that mixes when he has you in his arms, what matters is you.

Scaramouche, gritting his teeth in anger and getting more frustrated and annoyed than ever—why is that obedient pet of his with Tartaglia?— he's mad.

You felt that cold and electric glares sent to you, you nudge your head and saw Scaramouche watching the both of you hug with a blank face, fffuck. You were not supposed to be seen by Scaramouche.

And Childe notices it too, he smirks and holds you closer, nuzzling his cheek on your hair.

Scaramouche was about to rush into both of you and demand an explanation, but why does he care? He isn't supposed to care about something like this! He always said he could replace you anytime, but he never said you could replace him.

I want to add more harbingers to this thought, imagine Columbina and Arlecchino 😻

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gholhuio · 2 months ago

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Discovering China: My Experience with the 144-Hour Visa-Free Transit Policy

As a traveler always on the lookout for new adventures, I recently embarked on a journey to China that exceeded all my expectations. With the country's 144-hour visa-free transit policy in place, I felt an irresistible urge to explore this vast and vibrant nation without the usual visa hassles. Little did I know that this trip would not only broaden my horizons but also allow me to experience the warmth and hospitality of the Chinese people firsthand.

Arriving in Beijing, I was immediately struck by the city's unique blend of ancient history and modern innovation. As I stood before the Great Wall, marveling at its grandeur, I couldn't help but feel a deep connection to the history that unfolded there. The process of entering the country was seamless; I simply presented my passport, boarding pass, and a carefully crafted itinerary showing my plans for the next six days. The immigration officers were friendly, and I felt a wave of excitement as I stepped into this new world.

With my 144-hour visa-free transit in hand, I decided to explore Beijing and then head to Shanghai. The public transportation system was incredibly efficient, making it easy to navigate from one landmark to another. I hopped on the subway and found myself amidst locals and fellow travelers, all sharing the same sense of wonder.

In Beijing, I was eager to try the renowned Peking Duck. I ventured to Quanjude, a famous restaurant, and indulged in the crispy skin and tender meat, savoring every bite. Wandering through Wangfujing, the bustling shopping street, I tasted local snacks that ranged from candied fruits to exotic street foods. Each encounter with the locals left me with a warm feeling, and their eagerness to help made me feel right at home.

After soaking up the historical sites and cultural experiences in Beijing, I boarded a high-speed train to Shanghai. The ride was smooth and fast—truly a testament to China's advanced infrastructure. As I arrived in Shanghai, the skyline took my breath away. Standing by the Bund, I marveled at the juxtaposition of old and new, where colonial architecture meets futuristic skyscrapers.

In Shanghai, I found myself enchanted by the Yu Garden, where I strolled through beautiful rockeries and tranquil ponds. It was the perfect escape from the city's hustle and bustle. Of course, I couldn’t leave without trying Xiaolongbao—soup dumplings that burst with flavor! Dining at Din Tai Fung was a highlight of my trip, and I can still taste the delightful experience.

Reflecting on my journey, I realized that the 144-hour visa-free transit policy is a fantastic opportunity for travelers to immerse themselves in the beauty of China without the lengthy visa application process. This experience has ignited a passion in me to return and explore more of what this incredible country has to offer.

If you’re contemplating a trip to China, I wholeheartedly encourage you to take advantage of this policy. With a little preparation—such as booking accommodations in advance and having your itinerary ready—you can create unforgettable memories. China awaits with open arms, ready to share its rich history, modern marvels, and the kindness of its people. Trust me; it’s an adventure you won’t want to miss!

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 4 months ago

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Trick or Treat | Bucky Barnes x Reader

This is my second Halloween fic this year because I have no self control!

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: anxiety

Sam’s Halloween bash launched into full swing, and seemed as though it would last till sunrise. Music pulsed through a set of massive speakers. Alcohol flowed. And throngs of people danced the night away.

Just as Sam instructed, everyone arrived decked out in costume. And as you scanned the crowd, you found Ghost Face doing shots with Barbie. Michael Myers grinding on Freddy Kreuger. Pennywise flirting with Beetlejuice. It was a picture perfect Halloween party- save for one thing.

Bucky hadn’t arrived yet.

All of the partygoers formed a large, pulsating mass as they danced and celebrated, but you remained off to the side. In an empty, isolated corner, you checked and rechecked your texts. You’d already shot Bucky a few messages asking when he’d show. Asking if he was alright. And he swore he was fine. He said he’d be there soon, but that was as specific as he’d get.

“I’m sure he’ll be here any minute!” Wanda yelled over the music. She swayed to the beat, swishing the skirt of her dress back and forth. Every few seconds, she stole a glance at the dance floor with want in her eyes. “Come on, let’s go dance!”

“I’m with Mary,” Nat downed the last of her drink and draped her arm over Wanda’s shoulders. “The Sanderson Sisters are the life of the party, we have a reputation to uphold!”

When the three of you decided to coordinate your costumes, Hocus Pocus had been the obvious choice. In the weeks leading up to Sam’s party, you helped one another piece together flawless renditions of each Sanderson Sister. Wanda decided on Mary, and Nat dressed up as Sarah, leaving you to adopt Winifred’s famous ensemble.

And you had to admit, the three of you looked amazing.

But you couldn’t run to the dance floor and party with abandon- not yet, anyway. Bucky said he’d be there. He swore to you that he’d make an appearance. And while a loud, overcrowded party wasn’t his favorite way to spend an evening, he knew he had to challenge himself. To expand his comfort zone.

He wanted so badly to be “normal”. To function like a “regular” person. But he struggled. He had flashbacks. Panic attacks. Long depression spirals. And his anxiety always had the reigns.

But he’d fought tooth and nail to vanquish his demons, and now that he was making progress and healing bit by bit, he wanted to join the ranks of "ordinary" society.

And Sam’s party was the perfect opportunity. It was a safe, controlled environment where Bucky could stretch his comfort zone. Sure, it was loud and packed with people, but that was the whole point. If he was going to be “normal”, he had to be okay with noise and crowds; Sam’s party had both. But there was nothing for him to worry about, nothing to fear. He would perfectly and totally safe here. At least half of the attendees were fellow special agents, and you and Sam promised to stick with him all night.

But the party started over an hour ago, and he still hadn’t shown. Worry creased your brow; it wasn’t like him to be late.

“I think I’m just gonna hang out here for now,” you leaned against the wall and brandished your phone at them, “So I can make sure I don’t miss a call or anything.”

“You do you, sister,” Nat brushed a kiss against your cheek, “Mary and I are gonna command the dance floor.”

The two of them ran off, arm in arm, in the direction of the crowd.

“Is he on his way?” Sam came around the corner, two drinks in hand. He extended one in your direction and sipped on the other. “I haven’t heard back.”

“I don’t know.” You took a long pull of your drink, “I asked if he was coming and he said yes, but he didn’t give me a specific ETA, or anything.”

Sam shrugged, “I think he might flake.”

That same sneaking suspicion had crossed your mind a few times over the last hour, but you refused to accept it. Surely, Bucky just needed a little extra time to prepare himself. To get in the right headspace.

“I’m gonna- would you take this for a sec?” You handed your drink back to Sam, who swore to keep a watchful eye on it while you stepped outside to call Bucky.

The phone rang and rang. And you feared it might go to voicemail. But at the last possible second, Bucky picked up.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Something was off. He sounded almost nervous, like he’d been caught red-handed.

“Hey, Buck.” You kept your tone light. “Are you gonna be here soon?”

A long silence permeated the line.

“Um, yes. Yeah, I’m on my way right now,” he assured you. “Shouldn’t be much longer. I’ll see you in a bit. Okay?”

“Great." You didn't buy it for a second. "See you soon.”

For an ex-assassin with decades of stealth training and countless kills on his hands, Bucky was a terrible liar. But only when it came to you. He just couldn’t deceive his best friend, couldn’t pull the wool over your eyes. He simply didn’t have it in him; his brain and body rejected even the concept of swindling you.

You knew for a fact that he was still at his apartment. Knew that his anxiety had won. You could practically see him sitting at home all alone, hating himself for flaking on yet another get-together. And while his closest friends danced the night away, he’d spend the entire evening berating himself. Chastising himself.

But you wouldn’t allow it. With a determined huff, you ditched the party, and set off in the direction of Bucky's apartment.

Bucky stared at the costume you’d carefully helped him assemble. It sat neatly folded on his kitchen table, all he had to do was put it on and head out the door. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. And it infuriated him.

He spent weeks mentally preparing himself for this. He meditated, journaled, and even sought out extra therapy sessions. But none of it worked. He was still a slave to his anxiety, bending to every whim of the monsters in his head.

The whole thing was so stupid- it was just a party. He knew, logically, that there was nothing to fear. But part of his brain, the part that hated him, told him it would be too much. That he’d immediately get overwhelmed by the noise and the people and the lights. That it was a panic attack waiting to happen.

He feared what onlookers might think, what they might say, if he broke down in the middle of the festivities. And he didn’t want to chance ruining Sam’s party.

And so, he’d lied to you. He wasn’t proud of it, but it was for the best. He just wanted you to have a good time. Wanted you to spend the night dancing with Nat and Wanda instead of worrying about him. It was better this way.

A sharp knock jolted him from his seat on the couch. He crossed to the front door and pulled it open, expecting to see a group of candy-obsessed kids in costumes. But he found something else, entirely.

“Trick or treat!” You held a bottle of whiskey and a bag of candy proudly in the air, “Happy Halloween, Buck.”

Bucky took on a deer in the headlights kind of look. He was shocked, completely frozen. And as the surprise melted away, he found himself awash in strange mix of anxiety and guilt. You’d caught him in his lie; you’d found him out. And with you standing on his doorstep, he had nowhere to run.

“Sweetheart, hey. Hi. Um, Happy- Yeah, Happy Halloween.” He tripped over himself again and again, his heart racing. “I was just about to call you and-”

“It’s okay, Buck. You’re not in trouble,” you shot him a wink. “I know parties aren’t really your thing.”

He gestured for you to come in and you happily accepted, sweeping past him in your elaborate costume. But he was so bewildered, so overwhelmed, that he left the door wide open.

“What are you doing here?” Quickly, he clarified, “Not that I don’t want you here. I just mean- why aren’t you at the party?”

“Cause I came to hang out with you!” You shrugged, “Plus, there’s no point in me going if you’re not there.”

Bucky appreciated your loyalty, your dedication to him. But he couldn’t let you sit on the sidelines with him.

“That’s sweet of you, and I’m more than happy to have you here, but I know you’ve been looking forward to the party and your costume and everything. And I don’t want to ruin your Halloween.” He leaned against his open door, “So, it won’t hurt my feelings if you-”

“My Halloween will only be ruined if we don’t hang out. So, come on,” once again, you held up the candy and alcohol, “trick or treat, Buck.”

With a stubborn smile, Bucky shut the door. He watched you struggle with the bag of candy and laughed as you used your teeth to tear through the plastic.

“You know, I think you’re doing the whole ‘trick or treat’ thing backwards,” he said as he fished a Twix out of the bag. “Cause you brought candy instead of taking some from me.”

“Or maybe I’m a Halloween pioneer, and I’m inventing new traditions,” you offered. “Now, let’s crack this open.”

Bucky gladly took the bottle of whiskey from you and led you to the kitchen. He crafted old fashioneds for the both of you and clinked his glass with yours. His night had taken a very sharp, very sudden upswing, and he was more than grateful.

“I saw some kiddos trick or treating down the hall, and at least four of them were dressed up like Sam,” you laughed. “Have they been here yet?”

You eyed the large bowl of candy sitting by the front door. It was still full, nearly overflowing with sugary treats. And you realized: it was completely untouched. No greedy little hands had dug through it yet. No mischievous kids had snatched a handful or two. It just sat there, waiting.

It was sweet of Bucky to be prepared, to buy treats for the kids in the area. He was trying so hard to connect with people. To be a member of society. He wanted so badly to be seen as a person. But the world only saw him for his past.

“Um, no, I haven’t had any trick or treaters,” Bucky said, “Well, except for you.”

You shot him a wink a took a drag of your drink.

“But I’ve heard them- they’ve been running up and down my hall all night. I just don’t think…” He clinked his metal fingers against his glass, “I don’t think any of the parents in my building want their kids knocking on my door.”

His shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly, and his head fell an inch or two. Saying it out loud was humiliating. He’d thought- he’d hoped- that the city would embrace him. That they’d celebrate his return. But the only welcome he’d received was dirty looks and people spitting at him on the subway.

Bucky’s words knocked the air from your chest. A combination of heartbreak and unbridled rage swirled inside of you; it was all so unfair. Bucky didn’t deserve to be treated like a pariah or a threat. He was least intimidating, most approachable person you’d ever met. Sure, he was a little shy. But he was so warm. So kind. He genuinely cared about people. He wanted to help his community and make people feel safe. But they refused to give him a chance.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you took his hand in yours, “More candy for us.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and pulled you in for a long, much needed hug. He would never be able to express how much he appreciated your undying support. Your unconditional friendship. He knew without a doubt that he could always count on you. And after living in an unpredictable, erratic state of limbo for so many years, he cherished your consistency.

Bucky dug through the candy you brought, searching for a Snickers. “I know it’s selfish, but I’m really glad you came over.” He abandoned his candy hunt and brought his gaze up to yours, “Seriously. Thanks for being here.”

“Anytime, Buck. You know that.” You tucked the bag of candy under your arm and snatched your glass from the counter, “Come on, let’s watch a scary movie.”

Bucky followed your lead, only straying from the path for a moment or two. And when he returned, he brandished his overflowing bowl of candy in your direction. “I mean, if the kids aren’t gonna eat it…”

He sank into the couch next to you and took a swig of his drink as he watched you dig through the massive bowl of candy. A bit of guilt gnawed at him; he’d been so surprised to see you at his door that he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate all the hard work you’d put into your costume. And as you picked through his candy stash, he drank in the details of your ensemble: the perfectly crafted make up, the ornate dress, the complicated hairstyle. It was impressive, to say the least.

“Your costume is fucking incredible, by the way. You did an amazing job.”

“Oh, thanks!” A proud smile stretched across your face, “If it wasn’t so ridiculously uncomfortable, I’d probably wear it every day. But this corset is…” You pinched and pulled at the tight garment, “Definitely not intended for daily wear.”

“Then let me get you something to more comfortable.” Bucky was up in the blink of an eye, and before you could protest, he was gone.

In the time it took you to locate and unwrap a Kit Kat, he’d arrived in the living room with a change of clothes for you. It was just a pair of sweatpants and a faded t-shirt with BROOKLYN emblazoned on the front, but after spending hours in an uncomfortable corset, you swore he was offering you a slice of heaven.

With greedy hands, you accepted the clothes, “You’re a life saver!”

You sped off down the hall, promising to be back in a flash.

Bucky scrolled through the scary movies Netflix had to offer, but didn’t pay much attention. He couldn’t believe his luck. He’d planned on spending the night all by himself. He figured he’d oscillate between sulking and self-flagellation until he finally fell asleep. But you’d saved him, as you so often did.

“Seriously, I can’t thank you enough for the clothes. Now, I can actually breathe.” You plopped down on the couch next to Bucky, “Okay, what do you wanna watch?”

Bucky scrolled through a few more movies, “I don’t know, I haven’t heard of most of these. I thought I’d defer to you.”

You motioned for him to continue scrolling and gave him a little synopsis each time one of your favorites popped up on the screen.

He listened closely and took your summaries into careful consideration. And after hemming and hawing over his options, he found himself torn. “This is tough, but I’m thinking we go with It Follows or Evil Dead.”

“Both excellent choices!” You clinked your glass against his, “Let’s do It Follows first, and then if we want to watch another, we can follow up with Evil Dead.”

“Deal.”

Bucky scrolled back a page or two and selected It Follows. The movie’s opening scene began, showcasing a quiet, suburban street. You tucked yourself closer into Bucky’s side and tore into a package of M&Ms, preparing to be scared.

But after only a minute or so, Bucky paused the movie.

He turned to you, “Hey, I’m sorry about the party.”

“Buck, we talked about this. I’d rather hang out with you than-”

“No, I mean, I’m sorry I bailed.” He pulled his gaze from your face and placed it on the ice melting in his drink. “My anxiety kind got the best of me. And I-” He locked eyes with you, “I swear I tried. I wanted to go. But I just… I couldn’t do it.” His sudden eye roll caught you off guard, “The whole thing is so ridiculous, it was just a party, but even thinking about going made my hands shake.”

“It’s not ridiculous. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re still trying to wade through all the shit Hydra saddled you with.” You gave his hand a squeeze, “Healing takes time. And it’s not a linear process. You’re gonna have ups and downs- that’s perfectly normal.”

All he could manage was a sigh.

“Like you said, it was just a party. Nothing major. So, who cares if you bailed? All that matters is that you made the right choice for you.”

“I guess.” He carded a hand through his hair, “I just want to be done with it all, you know? I want to be able to do things that normal people do.”

“I know. But, you have to give yourself some grace, okay?” You brushed a gentle hand over his cheek, “And you need to be patient. Cause there’s no skipping to the end with this stuff.”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

“So, cut yourself some slack, okay?” You nudged his shoulder with yours, “No one is more deserving of slack than you.”

“I don’t know about that-”

“If the roles were reversed,” you posited, “And I’d been through all of the trauma and abuse that you went through, would you be upset with me if I couldn’t do certain things because of my anxiety ?”

“No,” he gave a fervent shake of his head. “Never.”

“And would you want me to be kind to myself?”

Without pause, an “of course” fell from his lips.

“Okay, then you need to extend that same kindness and understanding to yourself.”

“But I just want to be able to do stuff with you,” he huffed. “I want to go to parties with you. And concerts. And-”

“Hey, all that will come with time, okay? There’s no rush.” Once again, you gave his hand a squeeze, “You’re my best friend, and I just wanna hang out with you. So, it doesn’t matter what we do. As long as you’re comfortable, I’m happy.”

Bucky eyed you for a second, “You mean that?”

You nodded, “I swear on my life.”

An awkward smile crossed his face, “Then I guess I should tell you that I’m not- I really don’t want to watch a scary movie.”

“Oh, shit. My bad, Buck. We can watch anything you want,” you said, “You pick.”

With a few taps of the remote, Bucky opened an entirely different streaming service and selected a safe movie free of actual scares.

“It’s still on theme with Halloween,” he promised, “But at least it’s not gonna give me more nightmares.”

“Yeah, whatever you want, I don’t-” The opening lines of Hocus Pocus filled the room, and you delivered a playful punch to Bucky’s arm.

He let out a loud laugh, “I had to, sweetheart. You’ve still got the make up on and everything.”

You pelted him with a few M&Ms before settling close to him. He draped an arm across your shoulders and pulled you tight, relishing in your warmth. He was so lucky to have you as his friend, so lucky to know you. He couldn’t believe you’d ditched the party you’d looked forward to for weeks- all for him. Couldn’t believe that you were spending your favorite holiday unceremoniously watching movies on his couch.

But he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. After everything he’d gone through, he was just grateful that he’d befriended someone with such a kind heart. And as he settled in to experience Hocus Pocus for the first time, he started plotting how he’d make things up to you next Halloween.

———————————————

@beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @lonewolf471 @purpleshallot @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @juvellian @samanthacookieone @frombkjar @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @anything-more-than-human

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yanderefarm · 3 months ago

Text

yandere vampire's pet

cw;; dehumanization?, blood, vampires, humans as pets, yandere, angst, suggestive

this is the last named and drawn oc i have ready. i still have two more concepts in my drafts but they're not finished yet.

this might not show his yandere tendencies as well as characters like ares or emil but he's more of a self destructive type. he's more likely to hurt himself for doing something wrong than he is likely to hurt someone for touching you.

also i had to include the vampire guilt and angst im only human (human with a guilt kink)

you're a vampire lord in a world run by vampires with a yandere human pet who you found in a run down human farm after he basically threw himself at you. who clung to your leg and insisted he tasted so sweet you wouldn't regret taking in. who you took pity on seeing his scarred neck and decided to take him with you home.

you fed him and brought him to full health in a year. on the anniversary he begged on his knees for you to make him your pet. you complied. you didn't expect the preservation procedure that would allow him to stay with you forever to mess up his brain. or maybe this was always his personality.

he begged you every day to feed on him. he would sneak into your bed chamber and cut his neck to wake you up. he would sit himself in your lap around noon and undo his shirt buttons to give you easy access. if you dared to refuse him he would cry and beg so pathetically.

you made him this way why didn't you want him? he would often cry until you feel guilty for destroying his humanity. you always gave into him. he always got clingier. he tried not to get in your way during work but one day you let him lay his head on your lap and sit in your office quietly all day. so you had to let him again the next day.

if he really pushed too far you would lock him in an old attic room. oh how he sobbed. you would open the door the next day to be met with his bloodshot eyes that held no light. he would kiss your shoes and cling to your legs while he spoke hoarse apologies. you always forgave him and carried him in your arms to eat breakfast.

on the occasions that you two went to a party held by your fellow vampire lords he would always try to show off. you'd buy him new clothes and a new ribbon to hide his old scars. he liked being the most beautiful arm candy for you. it wasn't unusual for high quality pets to get passed around at these parties. at the end of the night he would often find himself in a strange bed, dizzy from being bled and pathetically crying for you.

your dear pet had spent the whole night being ravaged while you were doing business. his naked and used body laying in the unfamiliar bed, barely conscious. you sighed as you sunk onto the bed, your added weight causing him to shift slightly but he made no noise. usually by now he would be sobbing and reaching wildly for you, those degenerates must have really worked him hard.

you reached out and played with a piece of his hair. "I'm sorry, you poor pathetic creature."

your cold lifeless hands gently brush against his warm cheek. his body finally shifts a little, instinctively pulling away from the cold. you can't help the sad smile that falls on your lips seeing that. you forget how cold you are with how he clings to you at every opportunity. you can smell his blood right now and the tug of your instincts tells you to feed. you forget that you're a monster with how he treats you with such adoration and reverence.

"your life would have been better if you never met me." you push his hair away from his neck, revealing the old scars with fresh wounds scattered among them. your fingers brush against his pulse and he gasps.

you watch his olive eyes blink open slowly, they look almost too heavy to open. you want to gently close them like one would a corpse but the wide smile that spreads across his face stops you. if your heart could still beat you're sure it would have skipped.

"good morning." you said softly.

he used all his remaining strength to wrap around your waist. "y/n..."

his voice is so hoarse and he sounds so exhausted but there's the undeniable happiness. you guide his head to your lap, cold fingers twirling around his hair again.

"was i good...?" his eyes blinked slow again.

"yes. you were so amazing again tonight." you felt the weight of guilt pressing against your chest.

"reward m'...~" you knew he was asking you to indulge in him as so many others had tonight so you just ignored him.

you gently gathered him up in your arms, the top sheet draping over his body. you grabbed his discarded ribbon off the bed before you began carrying him out. the ribbon was sat on his stomach and his weak hands fiddled with it idly. he seemed to be too deep in thought to let sleep overtake him again.

"master... 'm glad you made me...." he nuzzled his head against your chest.

"your father made you." you corrected as you approached your carriage.

"no... y'... made m' y'r pathetic creature." his eyes finally started to close. "so glad m' life is master's.."

#top male reader #dom male reader #male reader #yandere ideas #yandere x male reader #sub yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere drabble #yandere pet

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