#i wait with baited breath for their response

[nekofiredemon]

submitted a support ticket today

[sweeteastart]

If you're still doing the outfit challenge, can you do Hyrule or Wild in B4?

Your art is stunning btw!

Still doing it ! As long as it's pined and I receive asks, I'll keep going I think :D

Also I'll give u one better op, both of them ! I felt inspired, and really, they rock it. I had fun squeezing in my little headcanons mostly Hyrule's eyes having a red glow because of the blood curse thing and Wild eye being white in the center on the scared side. Not completely blind but visually impaired/sensitive to light.

You guys are gonna make me blush with all the compliments-- thanks you

Thank for the ask ♪♪♪♪

[burnyourtrains]

Part of me wants to get funky shoelaces just for fun. The other part of me knows that if someone tells me they like my shoelaces I will not be able to stop myself from saying that I stole them from the president

[mostly-imagines]

Careless Accidents

jason todd x fem!reader

aka you get hurt and jason’s pissed

warnings: reader’s wrist is accidentally sprained from being grabbed to hard

You could hear scuttling from somewhere else in the garden, an estate more than sizable enough than the game afoot.

You were under the distinct impression though that the bats and birds are playing with you similar to how they would a child. Slower, weaker, and less experienced than the big kids. You weren't complaining though. Because, frankly, it was stressful. They tend to operate more like they’re in a warzone than a game, you felt like you were about to be sniped out at any second.

Rightfully so, apparently, seeing how silently Stephanie had crept up on you.

“Hey,” Stephanie hissed, ignoring the way you jumped. “We’re doing alright for ourselves,” she said smugly. 

“Yeah,” you’d nodded, like you agreed with her more than you probably did. 

“Okay listen, I think the flag—” what flag? “—is by the fountain so, I think because there’s three of us and two of them, we should bait-and-switch.”

“We’re on teams?” you asked, no longer completely sure you know what you’re playing. 

“We are now!” she smiled, starting to run. “I’ll bait!”

She stopped briefly in her tracks and turned back to you hissing, “Don’t trust Cass,” before scurrying away.

Rather than sit around and wait there for…something?...to happen, you jumped up darting in the opposite direction with little to no indication whether this is a good move.

What you didn’t see is Cass rapidly approaching from your rear. 

What you also didn’t see was Dick crouched down in a row of shrubbery, which gave him the perfect opportunity to snatch your arm up and yank you down with him. You’d mewled a bit as your wrist made contact harshly with the grass, immediately buckling under you.

Cass was keen to your pain immediately, slowing her sprint to a stroll as she observed you.

“Are you okay?” she signs.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” 

The response was instinctual and you didn’t actually have time to register whether or not you were okay by the time you gave it. 

You pushed up on your elbows, trying to figure out whether Dick is even on your team, but the way the others approached had you halting consideration. They’re savvy to the situation at a speed in which you can only attribute to their vigilantism, looking at you with concern. 

“You good?” Tim asked, approaching languidly.

“That looked like it hurt,” Cass commented, crouching down next to you to see your wrist better.

Dick shook his head, “No, she’s okay.” He turned to you, prodding, “You’re okay.”

“Yeah, I’m, um…” you winced, looking at your wrist. “It hurts a little.”

Cass examined it closely, tilting it gently to the side. “It might be sprained.”

Dick paled. 

“No.”

Tim pointed a thumb back towards the manor, “We can get it wrapped upstairs.”

“No.”

You were only then able to clock the barely contained grin on Stephanie’s face, begging to break.  

“Ooooh. He’s gonna kill you.”

Cass had then kindly offered to take you inside and wrap it up for you, which you accepted, unexpecting of the plus-one of Dick trailing behind you like a guilty puppy all the while.

“You know I didn’t mean to grab you that hard right? I—” 

Cass laughs quietly as she wraps the bandage around your wrist, amused by Dick’s now-third explanation/apology for the incident. 

“I know, Dick,” you say, trying to appease him. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells you genuinely, but you can tell there’s more there that he isn’t verbalizing.

You nod, “I know, Dick. It’s okay. It was just an accident.”

Cass pins the wrapping in place securely and with a smile, signs to you that she’s all done. 

You rotate your arm a bit, testing your movement under the wrap. As Cass leaves with the first aid kit, Dick remains sat at your side, leg thumping up and down.

He takes a deep breath, “What if…what if you avoid him until it heals?”

“Dick.”

He takes your uninjured hand in his with urgency in his eyes, 

He looks down at your jointed hands before loosening his already mild grip significantly.

“Are you going to tell him?” he asks, looking like he’s bracing for bad news.

You shake your head sympathetically, “No. I can’t guarantee you that he won’t find out, but I won’t tell him.”

Dick takes a deep breath, looking at the ground with intense focus. “Okay. Okay.” He stands, “I need to go.”

You watch in amused bewilderment as he staggers out the door, looking around frantically. 

Within the next few minutes, he creates and enacts his plan A. He walks into the living room, sitting down next to a very disinterested Tim, eyes forward and serious.

“I’ll give you two grand right now if you tell him it was you.”

Tim barks out, “Absolutely not.” He looks at his brother, still laughing. “No fucking way.”

Dick breaks the serious facade immediately, looking at him. “Five.”

A deadpan from Tim. 

“You don’t have five thousand dollars.”

Dick throws his head back, back thudding against the couch. “Dude, please! He’ll kill me!”

Tim scoffs, “He’d kill me!”

Dick huffs, “No, it’s different for me! Do you have any idea how many times he told me not to do that?” 

“Well then it sounds like you fucked up,” Tim sneers.

“Oh my God.”

He takes off again, combing through different rooms in the house with hope of finding a quick but effective hiding place for, say, the next twenty years?

He bursts through the study, unwittingly interrupting Bruce and Alfred having a discussion over tea.

The latter sits up with a tense brow, “Master Dick?”

The former turns around in his seat, “What’s the matter?”

Dick struggles for a second before confessing, “I accidentally sprained someone's wrist.” 

Bruce scans his face slowly, nodding. “Alright…you’ll have to take responsibility for their patrol duties—”

Dick cuts him off with a sharp breath, “Said person doesn’t have any patrol duties to be affected...”

Bruce processes for a moment before shaking his head.

“I can’t help you.”

Dick’s panic takes over again, prompting him to continue his scurry through the room, towards the other door.

Alfred interrupts his process with a very logical argument, “You don’t think running away will make this worse, Master Dick?”

“I—I don’t know!” Dick whines, stopping in his tracks. “I don’t know what to do!”

Bruce purses his lips, gesturing, “Dick, when you make a mistake…you have to submit to the consequences, you know that.”

Dick gapes, “This is not a normal consequence!”

Meanwhile, you’ve busied yourself with fiddling with the knick knacks and mementos lining the shelves of Jason’s childhood bedroom. 

You’re admiring a picture of him and Alfred from when he was young as the door creaks open behind you. 

“Sweetheart?” Your boyfriend calls out, head barely poked in through the crack.

“Hey, Jay,” you smile, setting the picture frame back on the shelf.

He enters fully, covered in motor oil and grease, and smiles his sweet, easy smile when he sees you. 

Moving onto the next trinket on the shelf, you pick up a stuffed animal placed intentionally at the front. Your gaze finds the mirror, watching his reflection as he pulls the stained shirt off his back. 

You smile to yourself, noticing the way his back muscles flex as he adjusts. “How’s the bike?”

“Better than it was this morning,” he sighs. “Where’ve you been?”

He turns around to look at you, taking easy steps towards you. 

You return the toy elephant to its place, moving to face him. “Uh, we were outside, playing…at least three separate games at once.”

The second you’re in proximity, your hands join like it’s second nature. 

He nods, all too familiar with the family’s unique methods of gamefair.

“Did th—” He looks down at your intertwined hands, brow furrowing as soon as he spots the bandage wrapped around your wrist. “What happened?”

You glance down, shrugging. “Overexerted myself playing tag.”

He looks at you skeptically, but says nothing about it.

He turns your hand over gently, asking, “Is it sprained?”

You nod, relaxed. “Yeah. Cass said it’s mild.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“No,” you say, sweeping his hair back with your other hand. “Barely hurt then.”

He nods, but he doesn’t look satisfied with the conversation.

Regardless, he turns away again, shuffling through a drawer for a clean shirt. 

“You, uh, you wanna stay for dinner tonight?” he asks, pulling his arms through, his head following. 

“Yeah,” you say gaily. “Alfred said he’s making his ‘special spaghetti’, apparently it’s a household favorite?”

He wavers, halfway to between decisions. “Yeah…”

He huffs quietly, turning back to face you fully. “Can I see it?”

You nod, happy to ease his mind. 

You start to unwrap the bandaging, him doing half the work for you. The work is done silently until your wrist is exposed, revealing your bruised skin.

You both see it at the same time—the hand-shaped bruise wrapped around your wrist.

You’re both quiet for a second—him putting pieces together and you waiting for the shoe to drop.

He takes off suddenly, clearly having come to a likely very accurate conclusion about what had happened.

“Fucking idiot—”

You try for his hand but he’s out of reach before you can grab it.

“I’ll be right back,” he grumbles behind him.

“Jason—” you sigh, “At least help me wrap it back up first.”

He hesitates, halfway to the door, ultimately returning to you in defeat. He takes your forearm gently, scanning it over again before beginning to wrap it.

You watch his face closely, noting the clear vexation. “It was just an accident,” you tell him. 

He scoffs, “It better have been.”

You drop your shoulders and lull your head to the side. “Jason. I’m not made of glass, you can’t expect other people to act like it.”

“I don’t. I expect him to mind his own strength, and if he can’t do that, he needs to keep his fucking hands to himself.”

You sigh, “Just don’t do anything harsh. Please. I think he’s worried you’re gonna punch him.”

“He should be,” he says shortly. He finishes off the wrapping, pinning it in place firmly. 

You grab onto his forearm before he can pull away, “You’re not going to. Right?”

He doesn’t answer so you try to make his gaze meet yours, “Right?”

His eyes roll, “Yeah, fine.”

You smile, holding his face. “I love you.”

He huffs as though he’s inconvenienced, but confesses the obvious truth nonetheless. “I love you.”

He looks you in the eye, face serious. “You promise me it doesn’t hurt?”

“I promise,” you nod, brushing your fingers against his palm.

“Dick!”

The angry voice bellows through the tall halls of the manor, heavy footsteps thudding.

He stomps into the living room, Tim, Cass, and Stephanie watching the entryway with wide eyes. 

“Where is he?”

Unwitting shoulders shrug and heads shake. Truthfully, at that. Dick, smartly, did not tell anyone where he was hiding. 

Jason scans the trios faces, looking for any sign of apprehension.

He clocks the grin shamelessly plastered across his sister's face quickly. “Stephanie?”

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “But let me know when you find him, I wanna see—”

But Jason’s moving onto the next room before she can get the last words out.

He enters the dining room, looking right to left before finding his target, halfway to stuffing himself behind the fine china cabinet in the corner.

There’s a brief, tense moment in between where the pair realize what they’re seeing and when Dick sets off in a sprint towards the kitchen, Jason quick on his tail. 

“Really? Really?” Jason shouts. 

“It was an accident! It was a fucking—” 

He narrowly dodges a swipe from Jason, then ducking before a ladle could make contact with his head.

“Are you stupid? Are you the dumbest motherf—”

Dick rounds the kitchen island as fast as possible, Jason testing him on the other side.

Dick takes a breath, “Dude, it’s fine now, it’s not that big of a—”

Jason recoils, “‘It’s not a big deal’? Come here. Let me sprain your wrist, asshole!”

He circles the counter quicker than the elder boy can think to move away and lunges at him. 

Dick throws his hands up in front of him, “Wait, wait, wait! Truce! Truce! Truce?”

Jason drops his shoulders, leveling his older brother with a look. “You can’t call a truce if you’re the only one who did anything wrong.”

“I…” It doesn’t take him long to piece together that his defense makes no sense, so he resorts to his last option. 

“Please?” Dick asks, nothing short of imploring. 

Jason relents—slightly—upon hearing his brother's tone, but still finds it in him to shove him, though not nearly as hard as he’d been planning to. 

“I told you a hundred fucking times not to grab her so hard—” 

Dick nods heavily, waving a hand. “I know, I know—”

“Clearly you fucking don’t!” Jason shouts. He huffs, running a hand over his face. “You sprained her wrist. You’ve been doing this vigilante shit for fifteen years, how do you still not fucking know how to control your own strength?”

Dick grimaces, “I do! I do, I just screwed up, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t—” Jason narrowly holds back a scowl, “Did you apologize to her?”

 “Yeah, of course I did!”

For a split second, Jason looks ready to keep arguing before purposefully dropping the anger from his body. 

The resulting relief almost drowns Dick.

It only lasts a moment though, before Jason looks at him again, sneering, “Idiot,” before pushing him once more. 

“Jason.”

Your voice has Jason dropping all turbulence in an instant. He and Dick both whip their heads towards the door, equally unexpecting of the interruption. 

You tilt your head at your boyfriend with a knowing but disappointed stare.

He looks back at you like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, lips parted.

“I didn’t hit him.”

⭐️ your options are: (1) reblog fics or (2) be a little bitch ⭐️

[specsthesecond]

Being a waitress/bottle girl at a club that caters to monsters.

While serving a table of orcs their drinks you hear whistling from behind you and turn towards the table of werewolves calling you over,

"C'mere Doll, why don't you spend some time with us? It'd be better than looking at those ugly green faces."

The rest of the table barks out laughter and all you do is look back at the table of orcs to gauge their reactions, just incase you have to call the bouncer to stop another brawl.

"Aw yeah cus your slobbering snout's much more attractive ain't it?"

One orc yells and the others hurl their chosen insults across the table as well. The werewolves grumble and snarl insults back and you just stand in the middle of this, trying to think of an escape.

"Maybe she ain't at your table for a reason!"

One of the orcs claims boldly and all the other orcs voice their agreement while the wolves clearly disagree.

"Why don't we let the lady decide" A wolf with greying fur suggests with a smirk and both tables seem to agree on this being just a wonderful idea.

"Well love? Who's better then? Us or the mutts?"

"Aye! The real question is who can treat her better, isn't that right Doll?"

The attention of the two tables are now on you, waiting for your answer with baited breaths and half hard cocks probably.

"....I prefer minotaurs."

This deadpan response takes a few seconds to sink in before a chorus of disagreements and further arguing commences but you're already making your way towards the bar, you're sure they don't mind watching your tiny skirt bounce as you walk away.

That answer wasn't random, it's actually been the only thing you could think of all day. Your Minotaur coworkers cock reaching deep into your stomach while he pounds you into next week. You think that might be why so many customers have been extra forward with you today, they could probably smell the need on you.

You finally make it back to the bar, getting ready to end your shift and finally get some relief-

"You causing trouble?"

You whip around to see just the monster you were so desperate to see. He stands at the edge of the bar in his bouncer uniform, his sleeves hug his biceps very nicely and you nearly purr imagining what that arm would feel like around your throat. He gazes down at you with a knowing look.

"Me? Oh, I would never."

You look up at him and play with the collar of your shirt, successfully drawing his eyes to the generous amount of cleavage your uniform provides.

He huffs in amusement.

"They don't seem to think so."

He tilts his head and massive horns towards the two tables you just left where the occupants are all peering over one another to see the interaction between you and the bovine beast in front of you.

You scoff, take his arm and turn him around so that he's only focusing on you.

"I'm off. You're off in 15...maybe you could come by my place again....or something?"

You nervously bite your lip and he doesn't know why you're getting nervous.

You weren't nervous when you sent him that video of your stuffed cunt clenching around the Minotaur themed dildo you've had since before you were seeing eachother. You definitely weren't nervous when you sent him another video 6 hours ago of you stuffing said dildo into your perfect pussy in the employee bathrooms before slipping your tiny panties on over it, keeping the silicone deep in your cunt.

He pulls out his keys and leans down closer to you,

"Be ready when I get to the car."

You nearly squeal in excitement as you grab the keys and reach up to kiss his cheek. As you skip out the door to his car he looks back at the two tables just to revel a little in the disappointed grumbles and huffs emitting from the groups as they go back to their drinks.

𓄀

[yanderenightmare]

Geto Suguru & Gojo Satoru

TW: NSFW, dubcon, suggestiveness, pressuring, blindfolding

fem reader

Your boyfriend Suguru is really nonchalant when asking if you’d like to fuck his best friend, Satoru.

Obviously, you look up at him with an appalled grimace – a look of serious shock and animated disgust – before you snort out, “What kinda joke is that?”

He keeps on just as casually as before – stroking his fingers up and down your bare arm where you lie halfway against his chest, tucked close in the nook of his body. “I wouldn’t mind.” He says – blank eyes kept staring at his laptop as though he was actually paying attention to the sitcom the two of you were no longer watching.

Your grimace drops to a frown, sitting up and raising a brow at him. “You wouldn't mind if I cheated on you with your best friend?”

You ask it rhetorically, but he doesn’t take it as such. Arguing against it, “It’s not cheating if I allow it.”

It makes you go quiet, pouting now. Looking at him while trying to decipher his game. “Do you...” You approach carefully – not sure where this is all headed. “Do you want us to?”

“Why d'you ask?”

Your grimace returns at the dumb response – now looking a little pissy.

“Why me? Why’d you ask?” This is so typical of him. Suguru just loves baiting you into admitting things you don’t want to. But this time, he's got it wrong because you have no interest in Gojo. If you did, you wouldn’t be lying in bed with his friend, now would you?

“Satoru wants to fuck you.” Suguru cuts off your inner ramble, and your grimace softens again – now just looking at him in confusion.

“What makes you say that?” You ask, and he continues pretending to watch the plot thicken on screen.

Still just as casual, saying, “‘Cause he told me.”

You gape at him, and then you scoff – folding your arms against your chest with an additional huff. “The nerve on that guy, honestly.”

“So you don’t want to fuck him?” Suguru’s eyes finally slide off to glance at you, waiting for your reaction.

You return his gaze, and then you smile. "Oh, Suguru~" You hum in a sultry murmur.

Lifting the laptop, you set it aside softly on the bedside table, freeing up room on his lap for you to crawl on top.

He accepts the advance smoothly, placing his hands on your hips as you lean in to kiss him with that same smile – moaning into your mouth with a rugged shudder when your hand dives beneath the band of his sweats. 

“All I want...” You whisper while taking him in your palm, giving him a light squeeze and a gentle tug before feeling it grow fat and warm under your touch. “Is to make you happy.”

A couple of days later, you come by only for Gojo to be there as well.

You're confused at first, but Suguru acts as though it was all something the three of you had planned – and so does his white-heard friend, who’s standing by his side with a wide grin on his face – halfway hidden behind the same unnerving blindfold as always.

And you don’t know how you all wind up there...

But the three of you are in the bedroom not long after.

Suguru is sitting in an armchair just next to the bed you’re kneeling on – while Gojo kneels parallel to you.

“Uhm... I don't know about this...” You say reluctantly, folding your arms in front of your body while looking to Suguru – anything to avoid eye contact with the half-naked guy sitting before you. 

You had all stripped down to just underwear under your boyfriend’s command – but contrary to you, they'd been neither shocked, embarrassed, or uncomfortable with it.

Suguru gives you a gentle smile. “You said you wanted to make me happy.” His eyes are calm and suave, like always. “This would make me very happy.”

You look at him for a while, trying to find comfort for the anxious furl between your brows – then you glance at the other boy, but your eyes don’t even reach his before you immediately look away again – back to Suguru.

You swallow the dryness in your throat.

“I’m sorry, but... I don't understand this...” You whisper under your breath as though you wanted the conversation to be private – between just the two of you, despite the third member whose knees brushed yours. “Help me understand.”

“It’s simple.” Said third member interrupted, calling your gaze to his piercing blue one. “You’re his girlfriend, and I’m his best friend – we’re his two favorite people in the world. He just wants to see us get along…” He leans closer until his breath wafts across your face. “Can you do that?”

You dismiss his advance with a turn of your head, looking back at your boyfriend again. “Are you sure about this?”

He just gives you a secure smile in return. “I’m sure.”

And with the last reassurance, Gojo’s hands slide up your thighs, making you gasp. “You heard him.” He finalizes. And you, caught by surprise from the sudden contact, whip your head back to look at him with wide eyes only for his lips to meet yours.

You make a sound, then an additional louder one as he pushes his tongue inside along yours – quickly followed by him shuffling closer. With his hands grabbing your hips, he pulls you around his torso, making you fall back until you hit the bed flat.

You don’t know how you’re supposed to enjoy this – letting your boyfriend's best friend kiss and touch your body while he just sits still and watches the two of you in silence.

You try looking at him to see if he’s still as unshaken, but Gojo’s quick – much more aggressive than Suguru usually is. 

The wetness of Gojo's tongue playing with yours makes your head so hot – chest pounding so fast you fear it might just bleed out in your chest. But he has no mercy, wasting no time – hooking your legs up around his hips before slipping his hand between them.

You felt something snap in your mind when he fingered the hem of your panties, or maybe it was your heart skipping a beat – either way – you broke the kiss off with a shove to his chest. Panting out, “No, stop-” 

You prop yourself up and shuffle out from under his progressive touches. Breaths hitched as you wiped your mouth dry from his spit.

“I’m sorry, Suguru – I can’t do this...”

Feeling flushed, you were riddled with goosebumps from head to toe – still denying those searing bright blues you felt stare you through. Tucking your legs close to your chest, you wrapped your arms around them – waiting for any sort of consolation, any words to tell you it was okay, that it was a silly idea to begin with, that you absolutely don’t have to do anything you're not comfortable doing.

But nothing of the sort ever comes...

Instead, after a silence, your boyfriend’s hand reaches out to brush something along your leg.

You peek up – watery eyes blinking once, then twice to focus, until seeing the thing held in his hand.

“How ‘bout you wear this and pretend he’s me?” He proposes smoothly, still with a gentle smile shaping his face.

It’s Gojo’s blindfold.

“Would that make you feel better?”

You hesitate, sinking your teeth into your lip.

It takes a moment, but eventually, you give an ever so timid, “Okay...”

And again, you don’t know how the three of you get there… but not long after, you’re seated on Gojo’s lap with his fat cock nestled deep inside you, being bounced on him like a toy doll.

“Suguru~” You moan – but he's not the one who's gruffing out hot and heavy breaths against your neck while sucking fresh lovebites on top of the ones left there by your actual boyfriend a couple of days before.

“You’re real’ loyal – cryin’ out his name with my dick inside yah-” Gojo groans, squeezing your tits in both hands, tweaking your nipples until you whine out again, same name on your lips. “Aw, c’mon – won’t you cry like that fo’me too~”

Your legs are propped up on Suguru’s broad back. You can’t see him through the blindfold, but you recognize that tongue – laving at your clit with kitten licks and suckling kisses while Gojo pumps his full length inside you on every thrust.

“C’mon, you’ gon’ make me beg for it?” Gojo catches your mouth, making you share each other’s breath while sloppily feeding you his tongue. “C’mon, say my name~ it’s not that different – should roll just as easily off your tongue~”

He picks up the pace along with his pleas, punching your insides to mush – making you twist where you lie sweaty against his chest.

Hot air hits your slit with words from a tongue licking all the right nerves. “Go on, baby~ moan for him like you moan fo’me~”

It makes you shudder, feeling so hot and so awfully good – your feel a guilt telling you to deny it, but it’s simply unbearable. “Oh-fuck – Satoru~”

“Yes-yes-yes~” He chants at your ear, licking the shell of it while he slips off your blindfold to let you watch Suguru lick your clit like a puppy – his own cock kept lonely between his legs, leaking out onto the sheets – edged and red from the toll of it.

The sight makes you feel some type of way.

“Oh fuck – don't squeeze so tight, I’m gonna cum-” Gojo whines, holding you tighter while sinking in deep.

“Ew, no – pull out, pull out-” You protest, shaking your head while trying to wiggle out of the tight hug he's got you trapped in. 

“No – I'll clean it out-” Comes an additional plea from beneath you. Suguru kisses the belly bulge made by Gojo’s fat cock, then licks a strip from the weight of his balls up to where he has your hole stretched around his girth, mouthing at it in moans while his nose rubs your clit. “Please, princess, let him cum inside~”

Both you and Gojo swallow thickly, panting in unison.

“How can you say no to that?” He asks against your ear.

Your thighs shake while you whine, “Ugh~ fine – but someone’s buying a pill.”

Suguru only hums, laying his tongue flat against your clit again, knowing exactly what to do to time your orgasm with the flood of cum that soon splurged your insides with creamy white.

Gojo grunts with the release, and you quake, milking it out of him until he winces from the overstimulation – sloshing out while heaving for air.

You sigh, but before you can come all the way down, Suguru’s filling the vacancy with himself – making you suck it up again as he bullies his way inside in a series of quick-timed pumps before he's filling you up with his own thick mess.

He takes your face and kisses you despite you both being too breathless to sustain it for long, left to huff short puffs of air on one another’s wet lips.

He rests his forehead on yours until your pussy’s squeezed him free of the last drop, then swallows thickly.

There's a grating chuckle. “Don’t know if a pill’s gonna help...”

[lovlidollie]

hii can i request for crybaby!reader? >_< From what i can understand, Rafe is mean to her but he knows when to stop (does he?), so i imagine the first time she does something that pisses him off, like wearing a very short dress to some party or posting a very revealing selfie, obviously she doesn't do it with bad intentions, nor to make him angry, but that doesn't stop him from going completely crazy about it and filling her with messages and she doesn't understand why he's so angry :( then he can see in person that she doesnt really get it but he still acts mean for a while cause he loves seeing her all confused and teary :3

u r absolutely correct, rafe is so so so mean to her sometimes but he knows when he’s gone too far n when he should stop (theoretically) i love this sm i hope u enjoy lovely !

crybaby!reader who’s finally got the courage to put on the cute lil dress that she bought impulsively a couple weeks ago. it’s white and lacy and it makes her feel pretty! she even did her makeup and spritzed on extra perfume! she was sad that her rafey wouldn’t be able to come coz he was too busy doing business with barry, but she was sure that he’d like the dress too c:

she’s so excited to get out of the house n party with her friends that she doesn’t realise the dress is a teensy tiny bit too short. topper was hosting the party n when she shows up his eyes widen and his mouth drops, because he knew for a fact rafe would never let his girl wear something so short without him there. she greets him with a hug, n she’s so sweet that she thanks him for having her over.

a couple drinks in and crybaby!reader’s having the time of her life. she’s swaying about with her friends, giggling n having fun, smiling so wide when one of them pulls out their phone to snap a pic. she’s such a lightweight that she’s already tipsy n a little dizzy. the harsh light of her screen hurts her eyes but she manages to repost her friends story to hers! it’s such a cute pic she thinks, just as a ping comes through.

rafey ♡

the fuck do you think you’re wearing?

instantly her mood drops n a frown replaces her smile. did he — did he not like her dress? did he think it was ugly? already, she feels that dreadful lump rise up in her throat n she has to excuse herself to the bathroom.

crybaby

um

just a new dress i got

she waits with baited breath for his response, heart stuttering at the three bouncing bubbles. she’s biting her lips, leg bouncing anxiously against the tile.

rafey ♡

you seriously thought it was a good idea

you must be dumber than i thought

she promptly bursts into tears. she hates making him mad, it makes her feel like she’s disappointed him n that he doesn’t like her anymore.

crybaby

didnt

think it was that big of a deal :( jus thiught it was cute

on the other side of the screen rafe’s brows are furrowed, scowl deepening at each of her words. he’s been with her long enough to know that the typos are because her eyes are too blurry to type properly.

rafey ♡

‘cute’?

think your ass hanging out is ‘cute’?

think dressing up like a slut is ‘cute’ huh

the second i’m not around you go and do this

she’s ruined her makeup by this point, mascara running down her cheeks and lip wobbling so hard she can’t stop it even if she wanted to.

crybaby

m really sorry

i didnt mean to make u mad

promise rafey i didnt know it was short

jus really wantd to look ncie n pretty for u

rafey ♡

do you have any idea

how many guys probably stared at your ass tonight

it’s like you like to piss me off on purpose the fuck

fucking shit

there’s a three minute pause where rafe doesn’t respond or say anything at all and it has her losing her mind. she spams him with messages, apologising over and over again, telling him that she didnt mean to, that she’d do whatever he wanted if it meant he wasn’t mad. finally he responds;

rafey ♡

stay the fuck where you are.

coming to get your ass.

the full stops make her think that he’s really really mad at her. she sits there, hands shaking so hard she drops her phone. some douche yells behind the bathroom door, complaining that he has to take a piss n she has no choice but to open it and wobble off. self-consciously, she keeps pulling the hem of her dress down, teetering on her little kitten heels as she unsteadily moves down the stairs. she sees topper, concern filling his features once he notices her wet face. he sets his drink down, striding over immediately to lead her to a quiet corner of the house. top doesn’t say much, grimaces when he gets a text on his phone a few minutes later and gets up to leave. crybaby!reader’s too out of it to care. she just — doesn’t understand. doesn’t understand why rafe’s so mad at her :(

she rubs her eyes, smearing eyeshadow n glitter everywhere, and looks up just in time to see top walk back with rafe in tow. his lips are pressed into a straight line, jaw clenched, and eyes stormy. she stands up, stumbling into his arms. she wants nothing more but to be held n kissed n told that it was okay.

“top.” he says straightforwardly, giving him the signal to leave. rafe looks down at his girl, heart clenching at how ruined she looks. he knows he was being mean, he knows he shouldn’t have said half of what he said. he sucks on his teeth and holds her by the shoulders, eyeing her up and down. he can’t deny that she looks good. the dress flattered her, emphasised her pretty legs, n he feels a thrill of arousal go through him as he thinks of ripping the pathetic excuse of a dress off her.

“‘m really — hic — real sorry daddy, pl-please don’ be mad. please.” crybaby’s eyes are so red n puffy it almost makes rafe change his mind. almost.

“shit’s shorter than it was in the picture. the fuck were you — what the fuck were you even thinking huh? lemme guess, y’weren’t, right? i gotta do all the thinking f’you. can’t even leave y’by yourself for five minutes before you’re strippin’.” he’s got that mean, mocking tone that makes her wanna shrivel up n die. despite wanting to see how much longer he could draw this out, n as much as loves seeing her all teary n confused, guilt chips away at him. rafe opens his arms and flicks his head, and she crashes into him with a sob. past all her sniffles and wails she manages a, “‘m real— really sorry for disa— disappointin’ you.” she can barely get the words out before a fresh wave of tears overcome her.

rafe sighs deeply, letting her cry into his chest. “jus’ tryna protect you, what part of that don’t you get, kid.” he rubs her head gently, coaxing her into a calmer state. “not all guys are good guys. it’s fine if y’want to wear short shit, jus’ not when ‘m not there.” she nods furiously, agreeing with him instantly n it makes rafe feel high.

“none of this cryin’ shit now, hm? y’didn’t disappoint me, kiddo. ‘m sorry — uh — sorry f’bein’ so mean t’you. dad’s gotta be mean sometimes, y’know? it’s the only way he can be sure it’ll get through t’ya. gonna go home now — y’gonna come home w’daddy ’n you can show him your pretty dress there, ‘kay?” rafe pulls off his jacket and wraps it around her waist, covering the back of her thighs n her peeking ass. she cowers into his side, gripping his shoulder tightly, afraid that he’d leave her there.

he tugs her closer, leans down and presses a kiss at the crown of her head. “attagirl, there we go.”

[loonylupinblack3]

A Bad Race

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: You comfort Max after a bad race

Warnings: grinding, dry humping, suggestive content

A/N: this was supposed to be just a fluffy fic i swear idk what happened

It was a bad race. Max’s car hadn’t been performing to its usual capacity, and it was giving the other cars a chance to win. You watched anxiously from the Red Bull garage, eyes glued to the screen as you compared times. At this rate Lando was going to overtake him in a few laps, which would be good for the Mclaren driver, gaining another well deserved win, but it wouldn’t be good for your boyfriend who had been eager to get more wins. 

As the race continued you could feel Max’s bad mood as the Mclaren car outperformed the Red Bull, pushing Max to second place. Usually still a good position, but for Max who held such high and imposing expectations of himself, you knew it would hit him hard. You waited with baited breath for the race to finish, some part of you hoping Max would gain p1 back. Unfortunately he only managed to cling onto second, Oscar Piastri less than a second behind him as the race ended.

You stayed in the garage, watching Max on the podium from the screens inside, knowing he’d come to the garage to find you afterwards and would rather have you there waiting when he was ready than going through the hassle of going in and out of the crowd and having him be finished before you were.

And just like you’d assumed, as soon as he got off the podium Max was making his way to the Red Bull garage, his steps determined. As soon as he entered his gaze zeroed in on you and he walked forwards until he had his head pressed into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist pulling you to him.

You sighed and leaned into his touch, hands moving up to stroke his hair gently, over and over again in a routine you knew he liked.

“Hey,” you whispered softly. “How are you feeling?”

Max let out a muffled grunt in response, keeping his face firmly hidden in your neck, breathing in your comforting scent. You pressed a kiss to his neck, continuing brushing your fingers through his hair as he liked it, calming him down.

It was a few minutes later before he eventually pulled his face away from your neck, the cameras flashing as he did so. They always enjoyed getting pictures of you two as a couple, and Max was too obsessed with touching and being with you to try and hide your relationship from the public, so you’d gotten used to the constant cameras.

He pressed his forehead against yours, taking a deep breath. Your hand moved to cup his cheek, brushing your thumb against his skin. He leant into your touch, eyes opening to look at you, his gaze tracing your face.

“You wanna leave?” you asked him quietly.

He nodded immediately. “Just want to be with you. Hate these fucking cameras.”

You pulled back, interlacing Max’s hands with yours. “Let’s go then. We can spend the rest of the day in the hotel, relaxing.”

Max nodded gratefully, relieved you seemed to know exactly what he wanted. You ignored the cameras and the press as you left the circuit, arriving at the hotel in record time. It was quick work arriving to your room, Max sitting down on the edge of the bed with a sigh.

You moved forward until you were standing between his legs, Max’s arms wrapping around your waist and tugging you closer. He pressed his face into your stomach, breathing deeply, mumbling your name over and over. You brushed his hair again, smiling slightly at him. Whenever he was in a bad mood he was angry with others, yet quiet and small with you, craving comfort. You gladly gave it to him.

He pulled back and tugged you down so you were straddling his waist, your arms resting lazily over his shoulders. He leant forward, capturing your lips in a kiss you gladly returned. It was soft, innocent, yet you could feel the bulge forming in Max’s pants and you couldn’t help but rock slightly against it.

Max groaned into your mouth, hands tightening around your waist, pushing you down harder on his lap. You repeated the motion, grinding lightly against his cock, your kisses sloppy as you both started panting. He pulled you closer, jerking his hips up sharply against you. You let out a startled moan, starting to pull away but he kept an iron grip on you, keeping you firmly in place, hands on your hips and rocking you back and forth.

The friction made your head go fuzzy, light gasps escaping from your lips. Max’s lips left yours to find your neck, giving it open mouthed kisses, sucking and biting wherever he could. He moved you along his cock, taking full control as he increased your pace. His jeans against yours made delicious pleasure, though you couldn’t help but wish there were no layers in between you.

“Feel so good,” Max mumbled against your lips.

You sighed in response, eyes closed as you grinded against his cock, straining in his pants. You knew Max didn’t want to go further though, knew he hated fucking you when he was in a bad mood, so you didn’t push for more.

Max was grateful, bucking his hips up into you with more fevor. You whined, feeling your stomach tighten, and the sound made Max’s cock twitch. You were both close, and even though coming from dry humping like a couple of teenagers hadn’t been on your to-do list, you didn’t mind as long as you were both enjoying yourselves. 

When Max started pulling you down on his lap while he jerked his hips up, sending jolts down your body, you let out a moan, getting closer to the edge. Max was groaning in your ear, whispering your name over and over, your stomach tightening with every breathless whisper.

“Fuck Y/n, please,” Max whimpered, chasing that sweet relief.

You moved your hands to his hair and tugged, knowing that set him off. And so it did, Max coming undone with a deep groan, hands on your hips to grind your clothed cunt on his cock through his orgasm.

His voice of pleasure led to your own orgasm, and Max rode you through it, rocking your hips on his lap, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. When you were done you sagged onto him, feeling satisfied. 

You pulled back, noticing the wet patch on Max’s jeans. You smirked at him. “You should probably get that cleaned up. Have a shower.”

Max brought you into a kiss, his mood officially lifted. “Will you join me?”

“Of course.”

[for-a-longlongtime]

Guilty Pleasure (4/7) - dbf!Joel Miller x reader

Somehow you end up in the car with Joel for five hours. With all that heat outside, you just can't be held responsible for what happens next.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, mdni Series warnings (tba): Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 42), masturbation (f), use of sex toys, oral sex, PiV, anal, hair pulling, dirty talk, getting caught, playful use of 'daddy', outrageous flirting, groping, reference to m/m, Joel's arms should always come with a warning. No outbreak!AU. Word count: 3.6K A/N: I thought "Hmmm, maybe I should add this one thing" - and not surprisingly, it got very much out of hand. @magpiepills this one is extra dirty for you!

< part 3 | series masterlist | main masterlist

“Wait!” You sprint over to the truck as you hear Joel rev the engine and turn out of the driveway - surely he wouldn’t just drive off over being two minutes late? “Damnit Joel, hold on!”

He stops, giving you an amused look as you’ve almost dropped your purse and tripped over your own two feet. “Told you. 10 a.m. sharp,” he said matter of factly, giving you just enough time to open the passenger door and hop on the bench seat before he takes off again, not even giving you the chance to close the door properly.

“JOEL! The door!”

He sighs, once more stopping the car, and he leans over to turn on the radio and fiddle with the dial - giving you just enough time to close the door and put on your seat belt.

“Such a dick,” you mutter under your breath, and you can tell he hears it but just decides to not respond directly through it. “Are you the time police?”, you ask, now clearly audible as you lean back over the console to toss your purse on the backseat. “Jeez, didn’t know you’d get your panties in a bunch over being just a minute late.”

“Two minutes.” He changes the radio station a few more times until he finds a song he likes, humming along with it as he takes a right turn, headed to the main road. “ ‘s nothing but proper manners to be on time if someone gives you a ride.”

You roll your eyes as you settle in, straightening out your sundress. “Okay, Daddy,” you sigh, glancing to see if maybe that gets a response out of him, but he just keeps his eyes on the road. “Your shirt is inside out, by the way.”

“Agai-...?” He seems exasperated as he looks down at his shirt, which then hardens into a frown as he recognizes you are just messing around with him. “Shut it,” he mutters, but you can’t help but grin in satisfaction. 1 - 1, back to being even now.

“What is that awful music? Nirvana?”, you ask him, determined to not let him have the silence he asks for - and if he’s anything like your dad, you know that he’ll get extra annoyed at you trashing Kurt Cobain.

He gives you a look in disbelief that makes you think that you made the right choice there to poke at him. “Are you kidding me? No, that’s not — this is Local H,” he gives a nod at the radio. “Bound For The Floor.”

“Sounds dirty. Are they also from the eighties?” Just to make matters worse and see how far you can go, you prop your legs up on the dash - only for Joel’s large hand to reach over and sweep them right back off again as he gives you a murderous look.

“1996, you little shit. One more move like that and you can walk all the way to the DMV.”

“How am I supposed to know that? I wasn’t even born back then,” you say with a pout, your skin feeling pleasantly like it’s on fire where he touched you. “You’re being mean.”

“No shit.” He shakes his head, refusing to look back at you, but you’re pretty sure he has an excellent view of your bare legs with the way you’re currently sitting. “You’re being a brat.”

“Mmm. You into that, Joel?

There it is; one of those long suffering sighs you’ve heard repeatedly from him before. He refuses to answer your question though, also not taking any of the other bait you try to throw at him during the ride. When you finally get there, he pulls up at the front of the DMV office.

“I’ll be back in thirty to pick you up. Don’t be late again, okay?” His eyes soften slightly for just a moment before he adds, “Please. Got a lot to do today.”

“What if it takes longer? Maybe you should just give me your number so I can text you if I run late,” you suggest innocently, and you see just the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. Fuck, if only he’d give you his number, you could send him some of the spicy pictures you took last night… 

“Thirty minutes,” he repeats without missing a beat. “I’ll wait for five, else you can get an Uber back home.”

“Fine. Thanks, Joel.” You lean back over the console, trying to grab your purse - which not surprisingly is right out of your reach, just as planned. “Sorry, I need to just… give me a second.” You fully turn around in your seat, leaning all the way over to the back as you can reach your purse now, knowing damn well that this position gives him a clear view of your hot pink lacy panties under your dress. As if you needed further confirmation, the way you hear him practically choke is a dead giveaway that he indeed got an eyeful of you. 

You look over your shoulder at him, seeing that he’s intently staring straight ahead as his hands are gripping the steering wheel tight. It’s impossible to not laugh at the strained expression on his face, and you decide to take advantage of being so close to him. “Dirty old man, don’t think I didn’t notice,” you tease, planting a quick kiss on his cheek as you then hop out of the truck, not waiting to hear a response. “See you in thirty!”

When he picks you up thirty minutes later, you’re ready to greet him with a snarky comment. All of that goes away the moment you get back into the truck and find your senses overwhelmed by the rich, sweet smell of coffee and caramel. Which is more than just a bit confusing, because all you’ve ever seen Joel drink is black coffee.

Joel, seeing your surprised face, nods at the cupholder as he takes a sip of his own coffee. “Hope I got your order right,” he offers, then pushes a slightly greasy Starbucks bag over to you. “Didn’t know what you’d want to eat though. If you want something else…”

You open the bag curiously, then gasp as you pull the flaky treat out of it. “Fuck, croissants are always great,” you blurt out, unable to stop a groan when you taste the ham and cheese filling. “This is so good. Thank you,” you manage after swallowing the first bite. When you lift your coffee cup to your lips, you realize he actually got your signature drink - an oat milk latte with extra caramel syrup. “How do you even know this is my drink?”

He shrugs as he takes a turn to the highway, following the signs towards the Home Depot location on the way back home. “It’s how you always make them at the house, right? Oat milk and that caramel stuff. Kitchen always smells like it,” he says as he tries to shrug it off, but you can tell he seems pleased that he got it right.

It’s not just the coffee that warms your chest as you drink it; you’re genuinely lost in your own thoughts for a while as you’re trying to process not just the kind gesture, but how much attention he must be paying to you in order to notice things like that. Your ex never did, nor did the boys before him. Even though they weren’t inconsiderate per se - it just wasn’t something that would register on their radar, it seems.

Boys. That probably was the problem to begin with. Why waste your time with boys when a gorgeous DILF like Joel was so much more attractive, thoughtful and capable?

Following Joel throughout Home Depot makes you realize that it isn’t just about him being capable - it went beyond that. He was a man on a mission, clearly knew what he wanted to get, and gathered everything with ease, including the heavy lumber. You would have happily lend him a hand, but he immediately shot that down, refusing to let you carry anything heavy 

“ ‘s not a problem, darling. I do this day in and out,” he assures you when he eventually loads everything in the back of his truck; the lumber, hardware, some new blades for saws, and other things of which you’re not even sure what they are.

“I can easily pick up things like that,” you protest mildly as you sip from your coffee, and when he bends over to pick up something from the ground, his shirt rides up his back, exposing his narrow waist. Fuck. How is this man so hot? And how does he not seem to be involved with anyone?

“Never said you can’t,” he agrees easily with you, grunting as he puts the final things in the trunk bed. “Just said you don’t have to. You need to stop anywhere on our way home?”

‘On our way home’ – the intimacy of those words suddenly makes you blush. You can’t help but wonder how exactly that would be, a home with him. You’ve never seen his place, as far as you know. Maybe you should ask him, just come up with a reason for him to take you there, affording you a kind of privacy you wouldn’t have at your parents house.

“No, I’m good,” you say truthfully, and he gives you a nod and a smile as he unlocks the cab of his truck. 

“Alright then. Let’s go.”

Somehow it’s already past 3 pm by the time you get home. Five hours alone with Joel. While it had turned out very different than expected, and you enjoyed it, you were also wound up beyond belief. 

Sitting so close to him in the truck, smelling him, getting to see his little frowns, smirks, pouts and sighs in a different setting than at the house. Not to mention how watching him stride through the store and deal with things had developed a competency kink for you on the spot. It felt like somehow he had dripped over every part of you, saturating you with his presence to the point that you felt both overstimulated and woefully unsatisfied.

“Thanks again for the ride. I had a good time, really.” You smiled as you bit your lip, watching the little lines around his eyes crinkle as he smiled too.

“Not a problem. Just don’t be late next time.” 

Your heart jumped as you tried not to respond to that - next time? So he wanted to spend more time with you later? Today sure turned out to have been a success. 

The house was quiet as you went upstairs, your clothing sticking to your skin, and all you can think about is getting clean and calming down a little as you head into the bathroom. You turn on the shower, letting the water heat up a little as you stare at your reflection in one of the mirrors above the sink. 

Being back in Austin, catching up on sleep, not needing to think much about things like meals or rushing somewhere for classes - it has been nice. A breath of fresh air even, not to mention how much more time you’re spending outdoors these days. You look nothing like the person who cried for several weeks while wrestling through your finals, when the knowledge of your ex cheating on you hung around like some kind of persistent ghost, unwilling to leave even now you finally had acknowledged what happened. You weren’t looking forward to needing to return to that place once the semester started, but at least you still had half of the summer here.

You hear Joel’s footsteps in the kitchen downstairs, and you pause as you wonder if he’s going to come upstairs. He too had been sweaty from the hot weather, especially with loading and unloading the truck, so it was likely that he was due for a shower too. So… maybe you should make the most of it. Especially since you two were the only people at the house.

It’s not like you’re trying to trick Joel, you tell yourself as you strip out of your clothes - your underwear soaking wet as expected from having been so close to him. Things happen. Sometimes people forget to close a door. And if that happens to be the case while you’re about to shower, and Joel just happens to walk by… well. How bad can that be, really?

You unlock the door and fully open it, glancing across the hallway at Joel’s room that’s almost right across the bathroom. Yeap, once he comes upstairs and heads to his room, you should be right in the line of sight.

Your heart is thumping loudly as you leave the bathroom door open and head over to the shower, you try to calm your nerves by assuring yourself it’s fine. Don’t overthink it, just take a shower like you usually do. You wash your hair, putting in conditioner for a few minutes while you use the bubbling strawberry body wash to clean yourself. But as you run your hands over arms, breasts and belly, your mind automatically wanders off to thoughts of Joel again. Not just the time you spent together today, but also so many other moments this past week.

Yesterday he came home late, well past ten pm, reeking of sweat, hard labor and wood shavings. He seemed like he had planned to make a beeline for the shower, but your mom had insisted he’d sit down first and have something to drink and eat a sandwich, before he’d go upstairs to wash and crash into his bed. 

“You men are just the same; if I don’t make you eat, you’ll both starve because you’re so busy,” she had scolded him. So he sat down on a barstool, looking slightly begrudged. That all disappeared the moment there was food in front of him though; he wolfed down everything on the plate like he hadn’t seen food in days. 

You had been reading a book, picking at a bowl of cherries as you tried to not pay too much attention to him. Yet something about him all dirty and worn out after a long day of work had accelerated your pulse. Perhaps most of all it was his scent, still, that got your attention. Not overwhelming, but still clearly present - typically ‘Joel after his work day’, and you had to press your nails into your thighs to not inhale it deeply. 

Right now, just the thought of that - along with having smelled him so close to you in the truck - has you dripping wet, sensitive to the point that you almost jump when you slip a hand between your thighs. The shower isn’t exactly the most comfortable place to get yourself off, but the combination of your thoughts and the warm water proved to be impossible to resist. You pinch your nipple as you try to be not too loud, imagining Joel’s mouth on your breasts, biting you until you whimper for him. He would turn you around, make you face the wall while spreading your legs, and…

You hold your breath when you hear someone move in the hallway, then quickly close your eyes tight as you circle your clit with your fingers, ignoring the nervous feeling bubbling in your chest. “Joel,” a soft whine escapes from you after all, begging him to come into the bathroom, get in the shower with you and take whatever he wants from you. “Please…”

For a moment all you hear is the sound of the shower running, then unexpectedly the door slams shut - not by coincidence, but clearly done so deliberately. Your eyes fly open as you’re hopeful for a second that he’s standing there, stripping for you - but all you see is the closed bathroom door. There is, however, the sound of footsteps moving away from the door, going down the hallway. You curse as your building orgasm disappears almost immediately. Great. Blue balls as well as being rejected. 

You try desperately to coax yourself back to the edge, using your fingers, the strong stream of water from the shower, and even change positions a few times. Even when you press your front against the tile, fucking yourself with two fingers while you imagine Joel pounding into you from behind, you can’t quite get back to the same level of excitement - the moment ruined by the rejection of that door being slammed shut.

Eventually you just give up, finish your shower and wrap yourself up in a big towel to go back to your room. But just as you’re about to open your bedroom door, you hear a low groan that you immediately recognize as being Joel.

“Fuuuckkk. Oh, god, baby… please, yes, please…”

You gasp as you turn around, staring at Joel’s bedroom door that’s firmly closed. ‘Go over to him’, you urge yourself. But as much as you want to, and it arouses you beyond belief to think of him jerking off after having seen you in the shower, the risk of being turned down again is too offputting. His moans are something else though, and your nipples are immediately hard as your pussy starts leaking, greedy for the release you didn’t manage to get in the shower. 

So you slip into your room, turn on some music and shove a pillow between your legs to ride it, thinking about being on top of Joel. How he would stare up at you reverently, hands on your hips as you ride him, and he’d be unable to stop whimpering your name. The way he would gasp, beg for you to let him come - apologize for making you wait so long until he gave in. “I’m sorry, baby.”

You close your eyes as your hips work faster, and you slip your hand between your wet cunt and the cotton of the pillow, shuddering as you push two fingers inside of yourself. “That’s it, pretty girl. Oh, fuck, look at you…”, Joel coos, wrapping his arms around you as his hips buck up against you, again and again. “Squeezing me so goddamn tight. You want me to come inside of you?”

You nod breathlessly, the pleading words spilling from your lips, and he just laughs as he lets his hands slide down to your hips - you’re still riding him, but he’s clearly in control, guiding you just the way you need.

“Filthy girl,” he breathes in your ear, letting one hand slide from your hips to your ass. “You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?” Whimpering, you nod again in agreement, but that only gets you a smack against your ass, so firmly that it takes your breath away. “I asked you a question. Use your words for me,” he demands, fucking up even harder into you. “Tell me what you’d let me do to you.”

“Anything, Joel!” you cry out, burying your face into the pillow as you’re shaking with desire, feeling the tension build up so it could soon release. “Anything. Come inside me, please, give me… I want it, let me feel you…”

“You want me dripping out of you? Filling you up so much that you spill over?”

You cry out as you come hard, the words you imagine him saying to you echoing loudly in your mind, your body easing at the long awaited release, but still it’s not enough. Blindly you reach for the silk bag on your nightstand, pulling out the first thing you get your hands on - a bullet vibrator -, and you turn it on while you keep the fingers of your other hand still buried inside of you.

“So greedy. You're a dirty little thing.” Joel’s laugh fills up your head, taunting you, telling you exactly all the things you want to hear, all the things he would do to you, and soon your body convulses for a second time. By the third time, your hand has gone numb and you feel lightheaded, as if you’re going to pass out. The words echoing in your head are no longer the imagined whispers from Joel, just the moans you heard earlier in the hallway, coming directly from him. “Fuuuckkk. Oh, god, baby… please, yes, please…”

Trembling, you click off the vibrator and wipe yourself clean with a shirt that’s within reach while you desperately try to control your breathing. You’re just gonna take five minutes to recover - that’s all. Just close your eyes for a moment. And next time… next time you hear him moaning, you won't hesitate. You'll just go straight into his room.

Next time.

next: part 5 >

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[teastainedprose]

Breaking Point (Homelander x reader)

Homelander delights in teasing you until he needles you too much on the wrong day. 1.5k words | Jerk Homelander to guilty Homelander, hurt/comfort if you squint. Homelander x gn!reader, implied chronic pain reader, implied plus-sized reader, [A03]

You are so soft. Your flesh gives under his grasp when he yanks you by the arm, careless with how it makes you stumble. Homelander laughs mockingly at the small, annoyed twitch of your lip as he tugs you close. Too close.

"Hey. Where are those new poll results, sweetheart?" The words are a purr, warm breath a caress against your cheek as he looms too close to be proper. Everything done with calculated intent to pull a reaction from you.

You stare blankly up at him, expression schooled neutral. You're used to this game. You've watched other employees crack and fracture under the pressure Homelander exerts. You refuse. You're made of sterner stuff, a master of hiding how you're honestly feeling.

He knows he gets to you, but you rarely let it show on the outside. You can school your face, but there's no controlling how he makes your heart hammer in your chest. How being so close to him sets your nerves alight in a pleasant sensation. Homelander leers down at you, pleased at how your pulse skitters under his scrutiny. He releases you, stepping back as the persona of a proper gentleman settles into place. Homelander smiles as he waits for your reply, the well-practiced one that the cameras always catch.

You're quick to give Homelander an indulgent smile back. An exchange of fake expressions as the two of you play nice. You look so placid and calm before him, but Homelander knows better. He can hear your heart jumping in your chest.

"I can pull them up for you right now if you want?" You reply, the words even and calm as you look up expectantly. You're too tired to deal with any bullshit. Homelander's included. You're always too tired.

In his eyes you're so amiable, so sweet. So disgusting. Your response isn't what he wants.  It's controlled and that's no fun. He's not satisfied with your performance. Homelander sneers, whirling away with a flutter of his cape. "Never mind."

You stand there, grimacing in his wake as you rub the spot where he grabbed you. You briefly let your honest emotions flicker freely on your face while his back is turned.. No eyes on you at this moment as sheer frustration and pain settles in. You take a breath as your mask of calm is set back into place. You go on with your day.

Why are you so soft? Under his hands and how you interact with others. Why do you always hand out such easy smiles so freely? He hates that about you. You carry that weary calm like a cloak, but you'll shake it off with a vibrant smile and a laugh if the right person engages you in conversation. They distract you from your fatigue and you light right up.

Homelander has yet to earn one of those sunshine smiles. He gets the fake ones. The ones that make him feel like a child clamoring for attention that you only indulge with your patience. He hates it. It makes him feel small. A god should never feel this way around such a weak mortal as yourself.

As any god does, he lets it bruise his fragile ego. The mortal must be punished and punish you he does. Every day Homelander tries to get a rise out of you. He tries to crack that cheerful facade you've welded in place. It must be fake. No animal has such a cheerful disposition naturally. There's no reason for it because you're so often a lethargic thing. He can smell the weariness on you, the stress, and even pain. How the fuck are you still smiling?

-and why the fuck do you never smile at him? 

Homelander decides, in his usual mature fashion, that if you won't smile? He'll bait out your anger instead. He wants, needs a reaction from you beyond those fake smiles.

He continues to goad you day in and day out. He'll slide right up next to you, too close, and lean down to ask directly into your ear for a report or some statistics on what his numbers are doing. Any old excuse to engage with you. He gleefully invades your personal space and is extra handsy because Homelander knows you hate it while he's aware of the effect it has on your body. 

If he grabs your shoulder and squeezes just so, your breath hitches. If he places a palm against the small of your back, your pulse races away without fail. If Homelander berates your fashion choices or comments on how tired you look, you flash that hollow smile while your eyes speak loathing at him. He wants that fire, craves it.

The tired fatigue that you always carry briefly pulls back to hint at a simmering something. One day he'll get you boiling over. In anger, in lust. It doesn't matter which one as long as it happens with him there to witness it.

Homelander finds himself brimming with anticipation for that day until it finally happens.

Everyone has a breaking point, even you.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. It's too much, please just-

He's caught you trying to hide away in a conference room, the scent of adrenaline in the air as your heart races. A glance with his x-ray vision reveals you staring off with shaking fists clenched against your plush sides.

Finally!

Will you lash out?  Will you bite back? The thought sends a thrill through Homelander at seeing little Miss Sunshine finally rattled. There's a storm brewing on your face as your fingers tighten. It's an expression Homelander knows he's worn many a time. The sort of look that has interns scattering and Ashley stammering.

What a delight it'll be to see what you unleash. What can you possibly do, as small and soft as you are? Will it be like watching a kitten hiss and claw? Adorably pathetic.

He strides into the conference room with a smirk, the door clicking shut behind him. "There you are! You missed today's meeting, you know." He chides softly with a waggle of one finger as Homelander strides closer. You stare up at him, eyes blazing.

"Now what are we going to do about that?" Homelander goes on, voice as smooth as honey as he smirks down at you.

Something in your expression shifts. A crack in your mask appears.

Gotcha.

"Well?" He prompts, expectant. Giddiness trickles down his spine as Homelander grins wide, fangs on display. He can't wait to see how this rage of yours plays out.

Except you don't unleash anything on him. You don't even insult Homelander, which would give him reason to taunt you further or retaliate. It would give him a reason to finally lash out at you in earnest, but all you're doing is standing there.

Your expression crumples up like wet tissue. The tears are white hot and silently streaking down your face in an instant. The sound you make is beyond pathetic as you drop back into your seat, huddling into yourself. Homelander watches stock-still as you draw your legs up, arms coiling about your knees as you bury your face away from his gaze.

It's a truly pathetic sight, sobbing like the little mud person you are.

Homelander should feel triumphant. His grin twists to a grimace. He awkwardly shifts, gloves creaking as he balls his fingers into fists at his side.

Why isn't he pleased? He's watching you shatter and it doesn't wash him in the usual delight bringing misery to others does. Your sunshine is gone and it's raining on your parade, which is exactly what Homelander wanted.

Your crying should amuse Homelander. He's not amused. Instead, there's a sinking feeling within the pit of his stomach. A dead weight settles heavy inside as all his amusement flees at the sound of your whimpering sobs. It's a foreign sensation and Homelander doesn't like it one bit.

Homelander works his jaw as guilt chews away at his insides, stuck to the spot hovering over you. You continue to cry, quieter now with your back bowed and face hidden. He can smell the salt of your tears easily. 

Silently, he reaches back to pull up the length of his cape. This Homelander offers to you. He doesn't have a handkerchief like a proper gentleman, so this will have to do.

He knows he's broken something. Carelessly snapped it in two. Homelander has done it countless times before. The snap of a spine. Fizzle pop of a control deck. The crackle and sizzle of flesh. The wet sucking sound as organs spill on the floor. It's natural for a creature such as him. Things breaking is a fact of his life. He's never felt guilty about any of those times. Guilt is a rare emotion for Homelander but now it's clawing up his throat, threatening to choke him. 

Homelander blinks and refocuses his gaze as he feels a tug on his cape. He watches in a detached way as you dab at your face with the fabric, sniffling loudly. Homelander can't make himself apologize. He doesn't know how.

Instead, he asks in a surprisingly tentative voice. "Bad day?"

That takes you by surprise as your gaze snaps to him. You stare a beat up at Homelander and then you smile. It's a quavering sort, but it's an honest smile. The sunshine rushes back into your face as Homelander sucks a breath in. Were you always such a lovely little creature?

"Yeah," You say slowly. "Something like that."

[meo-on-prairie]

Deserve Better

Prompt: After a shitty breakup, involving a douchebag of an ex, who makes you realize he never loved you to begin with. You went to your best friends for comfort, but instead of telling you “you deserve better”, they show you the best you deserve. 

Word count: 1786

Tags: FLUFF, a tablespoon of Angst, hurt and comfort, Gojo and Getou being sweetest boys, satosugu established, satorugu x reader not yet, mention of: manipulation and love bombing.

Rambling: This is an extremely self-indulgence fic, heavily inspired by my shitty ex lmao. I just wanna be sandwich between Gojo and Getou to comfort my angry heart :((. This is a mini series, I wanna able to make this series to be compose of a bunch of stand-alone fics that merge together. This is my first time writing after a long while so… 

//////

“He was a pathetic liar!” you shout as soon as Suguru opens the door. Tears are streaming down your faces and you can’t seem to make them stop. The sight of your face full of anger and sorrow quite nearly broke Suguru’s heart. Oh, how he wished he could erase your pain. Not make your pain go away, no, he wanted to erase it from your life completely.

Satoru walks toward the door after hearing the loud commotion, “what did he do this time?” he said knowing exactly who was responsible for your tears. With all honesty, Satoru is only asking for your sake, if he could have it his way, violence is always the answer.

Satoru and Suguru are used to this, it’s been 2 years of this clockwork. Ever Since you start dating your pathetic boyfriend, Anthon, it been a cycle of you venting to them about your relationship problem, them telling you to break up with the fucker, and you “work it out” with the douchebag, who can only tell lies and empty promises, the next day and all is good for about 1 month. It’s the same cycle of them clearly seeing that you are being manipulated, yet unable to do anything. But then again, what can they do? They’re only your friends, nothing more even if they want to be more, and as friends, the only thing they can do is be there for you.

Anthon was your first love, your glasses were not tinted, it was dyed rose-pink. You loved him with everything you got, always there to support him mentally, emotionally, and even sometimes financially. In return, he would love-bomb you with constant, nonstop, overly cheesy affectionate words. He also made a lot of promises to you: of marriage, of spoiling you, of being a better man for you, of being faithful to you; all of which are empty and meaningless in hindsight. They’re so meaningless in fact that it led you to break-up with him 2 weeks ago.

You were tired of his empty words, so you laid down your boundary, you told him you would never want to marry someone who refuses to find a job to support themselves. His answer? “Why can’t you be nicer about these things? Your words cut deep”. Anthon was a man of nothing, he had nothing but his words, and even then he couldn't even keep them. But you loved him, so you put it all aside, all his actions, all his shortcomings, his unwillingness to change for himself; you put it all aside and waited with baited breath, surely, surely…. Surely he’ll do as he said. He never did. 

“Come in first, the night is cold, I don’t want you to get sick” Suguru ushers you through the door and into their apartment. As Suguru guided you toward their living room, Satoru went into the kitchen to grab some tissues, water, and something for you to eat your feelings away. 

As soon as your body touched the soft velvet material of their couch, you crumbled into Suguru’s arms. He pulls you in closer to his body as yours shakes and heaves, you two sit like that for what feels like an eternity as you let the tears that carry your pain and sorrows fall from your eyes. Your hands balls up Suguru’s shirt as you cry in his embrace, you try to control your sob but it only makes your body shakes harder, almost hyperventilating.

“Shhhh, take your time, let it out. I’m here… we’re here… we’re not goin’ anywhere”

“He said he loves me! He said he wanted to marry me! And not even 2 weeks after our breakup, he’s getting his dick wet and telling another girl he loves her!” you choked out in anguish, still in denial that any of this is real.

“How did you find out about that?” Satoru asked, carrying a tray full of food; after hearing your sobs, he decided that a few snacks wasn’t going to cut it. 

“Because the fucker doesn’t even have the decency to keep it private, he been posting her all over his social media!” you swipe out your phone in frustration, pulling up Anthon’s account to show your two best friends the picture of your ex and the girl sitting on his lap, kissing. 

They both make a face when you show them the picture, “gross” they said in unison as Satoru places the tray on the table and sits down on your other side.

“I’m just so angry, I can’t believe I wasted 2 years loving someone who never was truthful to me! How can I be so stupid?” your tears are boiling hot, they feel like acid on your skin.

“Hey, hey, look at me, you’re not stupid for simply loving someone.” Satoru cups your face with his hands, nudging you to face him, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears. You close your eyes and feel the warmth of his hands. It’s comforting to be held so gently.

“That’s right, don’t shame yourself for being strong enough to love someone with all you got. That’s a strength, not a weakness.” Suguru agrees, pulling a couple of tissues from the box and handing it to you. 

You take the tissues from him to wipe away the tears and blow your nose, it was getting a little hard to breathe from crying, “Thank you… It just hurt realizing that even though I loved him, he never loved me; at least, I don’t think someone who loves me would go out of their way to hurt me like this. Him posting her and rubbing it in my face not even 2 weeks later makes me feel like… I just wasn't worth loving…”

“You’re right, someone that loves you wouldn’t hurt you like he did. But that doesn’t mean you’re unlovable. To us, you’re worth all the love this world has to offer…” Suguru whispers, placing his hand on your shoulder, and he means it. God, does he mean it. Satoru can see it in his partner’s eyes, the same feelings he has.

Satoru and Suguru have loved each other deeply since they were kids, but they always feel something is missing in their relationship. When you walt into their life when they were 15 through the door call “physic group project”, they thought something was wrong with them. They still very clearly love each other, their love is still burning, but their hearts forget how to beat when you smile at them.

How can they not fall for you? You’re kind, so kind you would push aside your shyness and discomfort to help those that need it. You’re intelligent, you quite literally carried them through that physics group project. And dear god, the way you just fit perfectly into their dynamic makes them realize very quickly that they desperately want you to be a part of their life. So desperately, they couldn’t bring themselves to tell you about their feelings in fear of scaring you away from them forever.

“Tell you what? Let’s watch some true crime documentary that you like so much since you’re secretly a sociopath, maybe they’ll give you the inspiration of what to do for revenge?” Satoru said with a smirk.

“If inspiration striked you, we’ll be your executioners.” Suguru added, smiling in relief seeing that you're feeling better after letting it all out. You let out a small giggle and nod. 

Satoru turns on the TV and searches for “Unsolved” while Suguru goes to grab the three of you a blanket. When Suguru comes back with the blanket, you get comfortable cuddling between the two of them on the couch. Between Satoru’s jokes about how if he was the detective case wouldn’t have gone cold, and Suguru’s soft chuckles of ‘sure babe’ at his boyfriend’s comment,you start to feel a lot better. 

You have always felt the most at home with them. It felt natural to be with them, Satoru’s humor brings laughter into your day, Suguru’s gentleness makes you feel safe. They ground you. You’re starting to wonder why you were even with the dirtbag when you have best friends who show you how you should be treated. But before you can think more on that, drowsiness takes over you.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep. With how hard you were crying and the emotional turmoil you experienced, it would be more surprising if you stayed awake. Satoru looks over to the sight of your sleeping face. He squeezed Suguru’s hand he been holding behind you on the headrest of the couch.

Suguru looks over at Satoru and notices where his gaze was directed at. “I don’t want to see her like that again. She deserves all the sunshines life has got to offer, not heartbreak” Satoru whispered softly. 

“Do… you think⸻” Suguru started

“Yeah.” 

It’s a silent agreement between them. They’re done with watching you on the sideline. They’re done with seeing you in pain. They don’t want to be afraid of losing you anymore if it means they have to leave your happiness in the hands of some other dudes that’s not them. In the hands of someone that doesn’t know how to cherish it like they do. 

Suguru gives Satoru’s hand 3 long squeezes, I love you. A soft and silent affection flows between them. You always joke that they’re each other's twin flames due to how they seem to be sharing the same soul; their ideology, way of thinking, even how they feel. They’re so similar despite different personalities it’s uncanny. But they think that if they’re each other’s twin flame, then you would be their soulmate. 

They let go of each other's hands so Satoru can carry you into their guest’s room. Well, they call it that but the color and decorations they have in it are all catered to your liking, plus no one beside you ever stays the night anyway. 

Suguru opens the door to the room for Satoru. They laid you down and tucked you in. 

Suguru went into the bathroom to get a damp face towel. He softly wipes away your streaks of tears so you can sleep comfortably without feeling the stickiness from your tears. 

They closed the door as quietly as possible so they don’t wake you, not before glancing at you one last time. 

Looking at each other, eyes full of love and determination, they silently vow to each other. They’re going to make you fall, sweep you right off your feet. They’ll treat you like you’re their most prized treasure. You’ll fall for them so hard, you’ll forget you’ve ever loved anyone but them.

[baeshijima]

— one more time

jing yuan has always considered himself to be a patient man, never failing to have a plan in mind and out of sight for unforeseeable circumstances. when it comes to matters involving you, however, he finds that he never has the time to think; not when he acts quicker than he can process.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 1k wc, fluff, kissing, very much pining jing yuan

A/N : holds this man gently as i stare at him doing his idles with big wide eyes and tears rolling down my cheeks (also yes this is me using the "idk how to kiss" "then i will teach u" trope as an excuse to write a kissing jing yuan fic bc i am delusional and proud🐥)

when jing yuan was reciting his usual pep-talk as he made his way to your decided meet-up spot (which included, but was not limited to: stay calm, cool, and composed— the triple-c, if you will — and don't make a fool of yourself, jing yuan), he figured the cosy picnic (date) arrangement would go smoothly and without a hitch. you would be there bathed in the artificial sunlight, fingers threading through blades of grass and then you would turn at the rhythm of his footsteps, that signature grin of yours on full display as he would attempt to calm his thunderous heart from spilling saccharine confessions accumulated over the last few centuries.

like always.

but very much unlike now, it seems.

in place of the predicted events he'd conjured up beforehand, the words “i don't know how to kiss” welcome him instead. (he just barely catches himself before the picnic basket in his grip goes tumbling across the grass.)

“...what?”

“right?” you huff, seated on the grass with your arms supporting your weight while bathed in the artificial sunlight of the luofu. “i've lived for this long, and yet i have never kissed anyone! wait, or maybe it's because no one wants to kiss me... am i that unkissable?”

“no!” is the immediate rebuttal which springs forth to the tip of his tongue, but he just barely catches himself. he's planned thousands, probably millions, of ways in which he could confess to you, but the timing has never been quite right. that, or the times where he was about to confess were interrupted; sometimes by some last minute calls, other times where he just misses the timing, but usually by yanqing unceremoniously barging in between you.

this time isn't any different either, because it is simply not quite right. there's something — something imperceptible yet obvious in the back of his mind, giving him the go-ahead on the perfect time to bleed nothing but the pure, unadulterated adoration you've inflicted upon him.

this time isn't any different either, but his mind goes blank, a clarity he has never felt before driving his senses.

“i'll teach you.”

it's a sudden offer, one he doesn't really know where he got the confidence to offer it from, and yet something about your stunned expression and his unusually calm heart seems... right.

“...you know how to kiss?”

“i know more than you do,” he counters. a triumphant grin tugs the corners of his lips when your mouth instantly clams shut at his words.

he waits for your response with baited breath. will you agree? will you refuse his, painfully obvious, advance? oh god what should he do if you say no? play it off as a joke? tease you for considering it? walk away in shame and cry about it—?

“alright then,” you say, and he blinks once, twice. “it's not like i have anything to lose.”

...is this a dream?

apparently not, as he now finds himself seated in front of you with the artificial sunlight doing little to help fend off the heat blooming along his skin. your eyes are closed with your body leaning towards him in baited anticipation, but his gaze hones in on the clench-unclench of your fists and your stiff posture.

unable to contain himself, he chuckles, “someone's a little tense.”

“ugh, cut me some slack! you're my first, so of course i'm nervous.”

your first. he's your first. yours. he's yours.

it's almost like a mantra the way he repeats your words (as well as varying renditions of them), one which does little to keep his waning self-restraint intact.

with a sharp inhale, he cradles your chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your head slightly to align better with his. if this were him any other day, he would have merely brushed this moment off as another one of his fantasies; an untouchable perception of what he wishes could be his.

this is not any other day, however, as jing yuan is hyper-aware of your light breaths fanning against his lips, the faint brush of his nose against yours, and your familiar scent which curls into him.

you, you, you. you are all he feels, all he can think of, even more so when he finally pushes forward into your awaiting silence and slots his lips against yours. it's a perfect fit, he thinks in what little room he allows for thought when preoccupied with your overflowing warmth and the taste of you on his tongue and the sheer euphoria which bubbles up when you hold onto him in response to his hands sliding up to cup your cheeks and holding you close.

he wonders if you can feel his centuries' worth of repressed affection from this exchange — if you can feel the desperation coursing through his veins as he leans into your touch. he already knows it's impossible though, for his love runs far too deep to be conveyed in just one singular moment.

“did you get that?” there's an ache in his heart when you part for air, but it's quickly forgotten when you blindly chase after him.

“one more time,” you whisper against his lips, his heart surging up his throat at your half-dazed eyes and tightening grip on his clothes. “i think you need to show me one more time.”

his waning self-restraint snaps.

“look at me,” he whispers back, voice hoarse with pent-up desire. his hands tilt your head up, guiding your gaze to align with his once more. before you can let a word slip through it's smothered, his lips crashing onto yours in an instant as he finds himself more determined than ever to leave you breathless with his adoration and have you focus solely on him.

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: Eddie gets a not-so-sweet surprise when Hendrix takes some song lyrics a bit too literally.

TW: the briefest allusion to smut (referencing chapter 1), minor spousal conflict

WC: 1.5k

A/N: Based on an idea given to me by none other than @corroded-hellfire 💚 y'all wanted more of Hendrix, so here he is!

April 2003

The sedan rattles along the winding road to Forest Hills Trailer Park, pebbles crunching beneath the tires. Sunday nights meant dinner at Wayne’s, a tradition that you and Eddie both vowed to keep as long as possible.

A familiar intro trills over the car’s radio. Eddie’s eyes leave the road for a brief second to meet yours. 

Step inside  Walk this way You and me babe  Hey hey!

“Our song, Sweetheart.” Your husband grins, right hand slipping from the steering wheel to crank the volume louder. He sings along, just as animated as he was that first night at The Hideout. 

Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on Livin' like a lover with a radar phone Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp Demolition woman, can I be your man?

“Dad, what the heck?” Harris grumbles from the backseat. At eleven years old, he flips between adoration and annoyance with astounding speed. 

“Yeah, what the heck?” Hendrix echoes his brother, though his smile is a far cry from Harris’s exasperated eye roll. 

Eddie relents, twisting the knob just enough to be heard over Joe Elliott’s vocals. 

“This is the song I sang that had Mom falling in love with me.” There’s a teasing glimmer in his eyes, daring you to disagree with him. 

You eagerly take the bait. 

“Love is a strong word,” you counter. The night you and Eddie met was steeped in memories of longing and lust, of giving into your desires in what was supposed to be a fling. 

A fling that’s been happening for nearly seven years and counting. 

Eddie sits forward suddenly, snapping the volume knob so Def Leppard once again reverberates through the car. “Wait…this is the best part!” He yells back to his sons, taking an extended pause at a stop sign to headbang. 

Pour some sugar on me Ooh, in the name of love Pour some sugar on me C'mon, fire me up Pour your sugar on me I can't get enough

He leans in, smushing his lips against your cheek, as he sings along. 

I’m hot, sticky sweet From my head to my feet, yeah!

You playfully shove him away, giggles betraying the irritated exterior you’re trying to uphold. 

From the backseat, Hendrix pipes up. “What does that mean?”

Without missing a beat, Harris instigates further. “Yeah, Dad. What does this song mean?”

Damn pre-teens. If there’s no trouble to be found, they’ll make some. 

Eddie swears under his breath, cheeks flushing red as he tries to find a response suitable for his three-year-old. “Well, um, he’s just…” he falters, any and all explanations fleeing his head. He improvises song lyrics on the fly when he forgets the real ones on stage, but now his brain short-circuits? Convenient.

Luckily, you’re used to fielding questions from little kids; one of the benefits of teaching preschool. “He wants to be extra sweet so a girl loves him.”

“So he pours sugar on himself?” Hendrix’s nose wrinkles in adorable confusion.

“Yup.” Easier to confirm your son’s own ideas than to come up with an alternative. Leaning back against the headrest, you force out a giggle. “Pretty silly, huh?”

The subject is swiftly dropped as Eddie pulls the car in front of his uncle’s trailer, Wayne already standing at the door and announcing that the pizza was on the table and ready to be eaten. “Delivered hot to the door, just like they promised,” he said, repeating the Surfer Boy slogan. 

It isn’t until dinner has been eaten, the conversation naturally dwindling, that trouble begins to arise. 

“Har, I wanna look over your homework when we get back,” you say, crumpling up your sauce-stained napkin and placing it on your empty plate. Your eyes narrow when you clock the uneasy glance that your oldest son shares with his father. “You did finish your homework, right?”

Harris tries and fails to hide behind his messy mop of curls. “Not exactly,” he mutters. His uneaten crust is suddenly of incredible interest. “I was gonna do it today, but, um…”

“But what?” Your impatience is directed both at him and Eddie, the other alleged adult in the house, who was home with Harris while you took Hendrix to a playdate. 

“Well, okay, the plan was for him to do his homework,” Eddie begins, choosing his words carefully. Too carefully, like he’s trying to hide something. “But then Jeff called and told me about this tournament at the arcade; like, all of the old-school stuff we played as kids. I told Harris he could go if he promised to finish his work after, but then time got away from me—”

You grit your teeth, all-too aware of your audience present. The last thing you need is for your temper to unravel in front of Wayne and the boys. “So Harris’s homework isn’t done because…” You take a deep breath before continuing. “…because you wanted to go to the arcade?”

Wayne mumbles a barely audible “hoo, boy” as he clears the snack table. 

“I’m sorry, all right?” Eddie shakes his head. “I lost track of time, but he’s gonna get it done. It’s just, what, some math and science stuff?”

“And social studies,” Harris admits. 

Eddie’s face blanches. “Okay, so…just three things.”

Except it’s not that simple. Harris needs to take breaks to keep himself motivated and prevent frustration. He needs to reread and revise because he has trouble attending to all of the details at once. And now that he’s older, his know-it-all approach only makes homework time more challenging—for him and for you and Eddie. 

“Looks like he’ll be up until God-knows what time, then,” you shoot back. “And you can be the one up with him.”

“I said I’m s—what the hell?” Eddie leaps up, nearly falling over his feet in the process. A mountain of grainy white substance falls from his lap, into the futon’s crevices and onto the floor. 

Hendrix stands beside him, an upside-down—and now empty—bag of granulated sugar in his pudgy hands. His big eyes dart between you and Eddie, anticipating your reactions. 

“Hendrix,” Eddie says through a deep breath, channeling every ounce of remaining patience. Harris cackling doesn’t help, either. “Why did you do that?”

Your youngest son shakes the bag a few extra times for good measure. “Putting sugar on you so Mommy likes you. Like in the song.”

Shocked into stillness, Wayne speaks up. “What song made you dump all of my sugar on your dad?”

Hendrix beams as he belts out, “POUR SOME SUGAR ON MEEEEEE! STICKY SWEET!” He turns to you triumphantly. “Do you like Daddy now?”

You tuck your lips into your mouth to keep from bursting into laughter. Logically, you know that you can’t reinforce this behavior, even if it was done with good intentions. 

But it’s also really funny. 

“I like Daddy even when he’s not covered in sugar,” you say. “I love him a lot, and us having a little argument doesn’t change that.”

“But the song…” Hendrix furrows his brows. 

You breathe out a sigh. “Sometimes, people say things in songs that we don’t do in real life. Like when people beat each other up on TV or in movies. It’s fun to watch, but we aren’t actually going to do it.”

The boy pouts. “So do I gotta say sorry?”

“Yes,” you tell him, “to Daddy for pouring the sugar on him, and to Grampa Wayne for wasting his sugar.”

“Sorry, Daddy. Sorry, Grampa Wayne,” he says softly. “I didn’t know the song wasn’t for real.”

Wayne grins. “S’okay, kiddo. I’ll just drink my coffee black for a while.”

Eddie’s positioned over the kitchen sink as he brushes the rest of the granules off of his shirt. “I think we need a hard-and-fast rule that we don’t copy any of the things we hear in songs.”

“Agreed.” You start towards the tiny closet where Wayne keeps the vacuum, adjusting the hose so it can suck up the sugar embedded into the futon’s mattress. When that’s done, you grab the broom. “Now, Hen, you’re gonna hold the dustpan while I sweep the floor.”

“But—” he starts to argue, but a raise of your eyebrows silences him. “Okay…”

Eddie takes the broom from you, a tight smile on his face. “Guess I kinda deserved that, huh?” He murmured. 

“Didn’t wanna say it out loud, but…yeah.”

“I really am sorry.” He sweeps the sugar into Hendrix’s waiting pan. “It was a real dumb move on my part.”

You kiss his cheek. “I know you’re sorry. And I forgive you, you stupid, stupid man.”

“Good.” He grins wickedly. “I’d hate to have to pour more sugar on myself to win back your affections.”

You roll your eyes. “Just keep sweeping, and then we can talk about my affections.”

“Yes, dear.”

--

[merlucide]

Eyeliner with Shidou <3

Notes: IM ACTUALLY PROUD OF THIS?? I ACTUALLY DID SOMETHING GOOD???

Words: 723

warnings: cursing, suggestiveness, shidou

In the walls of Ryusei’s bathroom, you were perched on the edge of the counter, watching your boyfriend struggle with his eyeliner. He’s wiped it off about 3 times now, normally he can get it in one quick swipe. His usual confidence seemed to falter with each failed attempt, his frustration growing.

"Fuck!’ He yelled, his hands uncharacteristically shaky as he tried once more to get the perfect line. His gaze met yours in the mirror as you try not to burst out laughing. Who would’ve thought that Ryusei couldn’t do his own eyeliner? 

"need help?" you offered, your voice laced with amusement. Ryusei slitted his eyes and held up the liner to try again. You scoffed at his actions and watched he failed again. 

After two more attempts, Shidou finally gave up, waddled over and stepped between your legs.

A smirk playing on his lips, his usual boldness returning. "Can't resist getting your hands on me, huh babe?" he teased, locking eyes with you, a challenge in his gaze. You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head at his antics. "Keep dreaming you roach" you shot back, a smile adorning your lips.

As you leaned in closer, positioning the tip of the eyeliner at the corner of his eye. His smirk grew wider as you wrapped your legs around his waist, securing him in place. His hands travel down to your lower back. "Steady now." you whispered, your focus unwavering as you traced the eyeliner underneath his eye, perfectly recreating his daily look. 

Ryusei's response was a low chuckle, his fuchsia eyes staring into yours. "Y’know baby, I could get used to this.~" he said, his voice a soft rumble. "You dolling me up, I mean." You rolled your eyes, hoping he wouldn’t realize the effect his words have on you. You focused on his other eye, dragging the liner. "Don't get too comfortable, this is a one time thing." you replied, though the playful tone of your voice suggested otherwise. 

Once done, you pulled back to inspect your work, very satisfied at your perfect execution. Ryusei turned his gaze to the mirror, a grin spreading across his face as he saw the result.

"Damn, boo,! you've got skills!" he praised, giving you a quick deep kiss. As you capped the eyeliner, Ryusei leaned back to inspect your work in the mirror, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. 

"I look good enough to pull Sae, don't cha think?" he said, the playfulness in his voice designed to nudge at your patience. You rolled your eyes, smirking, unable to resist the bait he dangled. "Maybe,- Sae has a brother right? Rin? Oh, he doesn’t wear eyeliner cause y’know, he just has that natural charm." You quipped, a cat-like grin stretched across your lips.

Ryusei's playful demeanor faltered for a split second, a hint of competitiveness peeking through when you mentioned Rin.

But rather than the expected retort, his comeback caught you off guard.

"Rin, huh?" he mused, a sly grin replacing any feigned hurt. "Well, let him keep his charm. I've got something better." Before you could ask what that 'something better' was, Ryusei's arms wrapped around you, lifting you effortlessly. You squealed at the sudden movement, his strength and speed never ceasing to amaze.

 He carried you to the bed, your laughter echoing off the walls, a perfect melody to his ears. With a soft hard toss, you found yourself lying on his bed, the air knocked slightly out of you, only for Ryusei to immediately follow, collapsing on top of you, officially having the air knocked out of you.

His face hovered inches from yours, his breath mingling with your own.

"And what's that?" you finally managed to say. Ryusei's eyes peered down at your waiting ones. "You~" he whispered. You smiled, how cheesy could he possibly get? The playful yet sincere tone of his voice couldn’t help but tug at your heartstrings."You're my secret weapon! Rin can keep his charm. Cause I've got something sooooo much better." He finished, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

The room fell into a comfortable silence, filled only with your intertwined breaths and the soft sound of you running your fingers through his hair.

 It was okay if he messed up his eyeliner, if it meant you’d do it for him. 

WAS IT GOOD OR AM I PROUD OF DOGSHIT??

made April 5th 2024

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 16.5 - Confessions and Cars 2

I thought I'd post this as a "I'm sorry" chapter lol and I felt like you readers needed some closure.

While writing this, I also realized that I do not know how to write a kiss (due to my non-existent love life)...so if someone has suggestions - I'd gladly take them :D

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

If Arthur thought that visiting you last November before you signed a Red Bull contract would somehow end up with you in his arms, he wouldn’t change anything. Back then, you had been his best friend. And, well, you were still his best friend, but he was hoping that soon (like tonight) you’d be more. 

The end credits of Cars 2 played on the tv in the dark room. Most of the drivers (including but not limited to Lando, Oscar, Lewis, Daniel, Pierre, Charles, and Max) – maybe all of the drivers, who had come to visit you after your release from the hospital, had all left by now. A completed Lego Porsche 9-11 sat on the little counter by the basic coffee machine. 

Now, it was just you, whose eyes were slowly drooping, and Arthur, who hadn’t been able to take his arms off of you since you got to the hospital in the first place.

Arthur, who had held you hand as the doctor put an IV in, because he knew your fear of needles. 

Arthur, who had extra hair ties on his wrist, because he knew you hated to have your hair on your neck right after races, no matter what. 

Arthur, who had called ahead to the front desk to specifically ask for a copy of Cars 2 be delivered to the room.

Arthur, who ubered your exact McDonalds order because you mentioned the craving once while you were still under some strong pain medication. 

Arthur, who was your best friend, but you honestly wanted to be some more. 

Your brain had been running a million miles since your car flipped into the barriers. 

“Are you ready to go to bed yet?” 

But his voice, was able to stop all thoughts. 

You only let out a sigh in response. Arthur didn’t want to rush you, so he just picked the remote up and started your comfort movie over again. 

Yet, you didn’t want to watch the entire thing over again. 

“I was scared.” 

Arthur immediately paused the movie, but kept his eyes in front. 

“I watched the sky cross the opening. And then it just, hurt.” 

His arms tightened around you. Yet, it wasn’t painful. 

“I blacked out for a while. And then when I woke up, all I heard,” you turned to look at the boy in your arms, “was you, calling for me.” 

Tears started forming in both yours and Arthur’s eyes. You shuffled a bit closer to him, getting even closer. 

Arthur took a deep breath. 

Hours before, he was ready to confess it all once you had gotten your first place trophy. He had it all planned out. But then, his world stopped the moment your back tyre clipped the first kerb and then you rolled. 

“Y/n,” he started. This time, his eyes met yours. The TV forgotten in the background. In this moment, Arthur was glad that everyone else had left. 

You waited with baited breath, urging him silently to continue. 

“Well, I had this big plan, for after your race. And now, sitting here, I just know one thing and one thing only.” 

You cocked your head in confusion. Yet, your heart was wanting him to speak the once sentence you’ve wanted to hear for forever. 

“I love you. And when you didn’t respond,” he took your hands in his, “I wanted to die. And I know that might sound extreme, but at that moment, I knew I didn’t want a life without you in it. I also know that we’ve only known each other for a little more than a year but…” 

You decided to interrupt him. “You’ve been my best friend for the majority of that year.” 

He nodded with you, heart a bit dejected since you hadn’t confessed right after. 

“I’ve never had a best friend, before you. And, I also couldn’t imagine a life without you. And Thur…” 

He didn’t let you finish. 

His lips met yours in a fervent kiss. You had to take a second to reel in your thoughts, but you kissed back. Because in this moment, you didn’t want anything to change. A large exhale left your nose. 

You were hungry for a race win. 

Arthur was hungry for your love. 

His hands moved from holding yours to gripping your sides. And well, in true Arthur fashion, he gripped a bit too hard as a hiss left your lips. 

His wide eyes looked right at your with concern. “I am so sorry.” 

And before he could start to ramble in broken French, you pecked his lips. Well, that shut him up. 

“It’s ok,” you whispered, trying to convince him. “And I love you too. Maybe a bit too much.” 

Arthur sighed in relief and pressed his forehead against yours. “You do not know how happy that makes me to hear.” His words were a bit jumbled and his accent was heavy, but you got the gist. 

“What now?” 

Maybe it was your fears and doubts, but if this changed things, you’d rather not continue. Because you’d rather be best friends than lose him. 

Arthur shut his eyes, smiles, and cocked his head. “I was hoping you’d be my girlfriend.” He gave you another sweet kiss, one that you reciprocated with a smile. 

“Well then,” another kiss, “ask me.” A smirk replaced the smile. 

Arthur leaned back and took your hands back into his and sat up straight. “Y/n?” 

You let out a giggle. 

“Will you be my girlfriend?” 

You quickly pressed up against his face. Not in a kiss sense way. More like, you missed and just smashed your face against him. He tried to keep you upwards, but you pushed him down and fell on top of him. Another hiss left your lips, but a laugh covered it. You gently rested your head on his chest as your attention was back to the movie. 

“Yes. I will be your girlfriend Mr. Leclerc.”

Arthur just let you snuggle back into him as he played the movie for a second time. Just as Mater was about to be reunited with Lightning McQueen, a thought suddenly crossed your mind. 

“What are we going to tell Max?”   

April 9, 2024

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 through it all, nobody gets me like you do

liked by y/n.nation, f1_fanatic, olliebearman, and 59,294 others

b0x_b0x UM GOOD MORNING? NOT EVEN A HELLO?

maxiel_lover babe, wake up, y/n just did a soft launch

y/n_nation Arthur isn't in the likes...

y/nxarthur I fear this is the end of the friendship?? y/n-on_top why would it be the end... y/nxarthur who knows, Arthur always likes her stuff and comments. maybe he doesn't like the boyfriend

oscarpiastri rue, when was this?

mcLaren_fan even Oscar doesn't know? logansargeant get in line of who doesn't know

olliebearman mother?? pick up your phone please

maxverstappen1 what the kid said, pick the phone up

box_box_official and the plot thickens

change_ur_f-car y/n not picking up her phone and Arthur isn't in the likes, what is this silly season?????

Big Racer

It's Arthur Isn't it??

Little Racer

who snitched

Big Racer

Kid, he looks at you like you hung the sun It doesn't take much sleuthing to find out

Little Racer

Please don't tell It's so new And I don't want to risk it

Big Racer

My lips are sealed But I do have one question Do I need to give you the talk?

Little Racer

MAX!?

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @cassie0sstuff @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19

[slytherinshua]

INTERTWINED SOULS, CLASHING LIPS

genre. vampire au. fluff. brief reference to vampire seungwoo for @haecien and cien alone teehee. warnings. reader is briefly a bat sdkjsk lmao. blood and fangs and other vampire stuff. hanbin's tattoos are magical!! kissing and the tiniest bit of biting. like 1 second of nudity i'm not sure but it's nothing sexual guys promise. not proofread. pairing. vampire!hanbin x vampire!reader. wc. 997. request. no. a/n. i mean he was practically asking me to write this when he dropped his aotm...

read part 2 here read part 3 here

Hanbin’s collarbone was burning, which, despite the pain, was a good sign. His tattoos were reacting to a signal that only you could have put out. And he knew that you were coming home, back to him.

It had been a few years since you had been sent out on your mission by the elders. Hanbin had never worried about you making it back to him. You dying from a mission was a ridiculous notion, no matter how dangerous the task was. You always rose above your station and completed every commission you were given. But the years you had been apart from him, although barely even worth counting, had started to become noticeable to him.

Compared to the hundreds of years you had been united with him, a couple years gone on a mission was almost nothing. But with time had grown fondness, and Hanbin couldn’t help the way his heart yearned for you.

As the burning grew more intense and his tattoos glowed brightly, he knew it was only a matter of minutes before you were back in his arms. He waited with baited breath on the top of his tower, eyes sharply focused for any bat that emerged from the forest. Exactly 8 minutes later, he saw the silhouette of one.

He rubbed his palm against his sternum, subsiding the pain that had grown to its worst. The cost of uniting two vampire’s souls in hopes of greater power was an equal amount of pain. Hanbin held out his hands, and the bat landed carefully on them. It slumped forward a second after, completely exhausting its energy. Hanbin cupped it gently, and carried it inside. 

“I told you not to fly with the pain. Now you’re stuck.” He scolded the bat as he placed it on the soft bed. He closed his eyes in concentration, and with his right hand flattened over his moon tattoo, slowly summoned his power. The ink glowed, and so did the palm of his hand.

He moved his hand to the bat's head, ignoring the screech it let out as he let the magic flow through its body. A few seconds of writhing around later, the bat shapeshifted back into its vampire form.

“You couldn’t have been a little gentler with that? You nearly suffocated me.” You coughed, shooting a glare at the man dressed in black. He handed you a robe with a shake of his head, and you wrapped it around your bare body.

“Would you rather live as a bat for the next thousand years? You should be thankful.” He tsked, averting his gaze from your figure so as to try to not seem so obvious. You had called him out many times for his bad habit of staring.

“All you do is nag me. Someone needs to shut you up.” You stood up, grabbing Hanbin’s wrist before he could continue making moves to leave the room.

“As if you’d survive a day without a word from me.” He countered, red eyes shining a bit brighter at your touch. He hadn’t felt his magic surge so powerfully since the last time you had been back.

“I survived a few years. A few more days would be a piece of cake.” You replied, pulling his face down before he could think of another witty response. 

Maybe it was the familiarity of it all that made you feel as if nothing had changed. Hanbin’s lips tasted just like you remembered. Exactly the same as the many nights you had imagined it in hopes of soothing the ache in your heart. Coming back to Hanbin meant coming back to a missing part of your soul. The longer you were separated from each other, the weaker you both became. And, as the reverse, the closer you were, the stronger. That is why the elders were so pleased with your clearly undying infatuation with each other. 

Hanbin’s former reprove towards you completely melted away the moment his lips made contact with yours. The clash of soft lips and sharp fangs stole all his breath, clouding his brain with only one thought: relief. Restlessness always followed him when you were away. Your weak state when you landed in his hand filled him with worry, but feeling your kiss now gave him consolation. 

He pulled away breathlessly, and a satisfied smirk lifted on his lips, just wide enough to uncover one of his fangs. You looked at his face, admiring his gleaming eyes, bruised lips, pearly teeth, and smooth skin. Your gaze dropped slightly lower, eyeing the marking on his collarbone, of which you also displayed below the dip of your neck.

You pressed a small kiss to the sun, which granted Hanbin his strength and surged his magic. Next, your lips found the star, which allowed him to cast complex spells, both to aid in combat or alter the very fabric of time. Lastly, you grazed the moon emblem which stored his healing abilities. With it, he was easily able to nurse you back to health within seconds. Pulling him closer again, you travelled up to his neck and teasingly nipped at his skin.

“Did you not get your fill of biting people while on your mission? You’re insatiable.” He commented in amusement. The sensation pricked his skin with a whisper of pain that was soon soothed completely by your lips. Although he would gladly let you have free rein over him for as long as you wanted, one glance at the time urged him to pull you off of him gently.

“We should announce your return to Seungwoo and the others. They’ve been expecting you.” He urged you, and a flash of pride showed in his eyes. You were sure to be rewarded generously for your excellence during the past few years you were gone. Now more than ever, Hanbin felt fortunate that he was intertwined with you in every function of life. For, even your very souls laced together perfectly.

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