#locked in and cleaned and colorized this one
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meirimerens · 19 hours ago
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You probably have already made a post about this (in which case I apologize for bothering you) however I really love how you render and color! Do you have any tips?
Hiiii so I probably indeed already answered something like that but it’s probably time for an #update + realized i can put pictures and it would probably help actually. Slay okay.
THE BASICS: have brushes you like. I have my faves, they’re in my #brushes tag (click below), you might also see them on the screen of my paintings in wip lol. Typically i thicken them up for rendering AND, now this is integral to my liking of rendering these days + the look: COLOR JITTERING. In procreate that’s tap brush -> color dynamics and i adjust the stamp & stroke jitter in the « hue » category. I have my fave brushes quadruplicated as thicker No Hue, 3% color jitter, 5%, 13% depending on the desired look. What this does is give intrinsic interest, variation and depth to your colors, and that way you can have more fun when colorpicking. This will come back again later.
STEP 1: a lineart you like. Doesn’t have to be clean tbh some of my fave linearts from current works were quite messy. ALWAYS colored.
STEP 2: on a layer underneath the lineart, put down flat colors. See what % of color jittering brings you the most #joy. I will do flat colors or i will sometimes already define some areas of light and shadows.
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^ you can see the subtle color jitter in the « white » of the shirt and the green of that first image. Second is to show the already defined areas; if i know i want a different hue on here. something else for some pizzazz: tint a color with an adjacent one. not really visible in these screenshots but in matador, at some point, i added an orange tint to burakh's sleeve, the one closest to the red cape.
STEP 3: the shadows. On the same layer as above (you can duplicate it before this so you can always come back to it later if you need to redo), put down your shadows; the trick: COLORPICK FROM A PIXEL WHERE THE COLOR OF YOUR LINEART AND THE COLOR OF YOUR FLATS INTERSECT. You might have to recolor your lineart (use the « alpha lock » feature of your layer or something of the sorts) until you’re satisfied; i typically redden it in the face and hands.
STEP 4: put down the highlight. I typically do highlights the complimentary color as the shadow: if shadow bluer, the highlight is redder (-> pinker), etc.
STEP 5: now this is the scary part. Before proceeding if you’re #scared, group your lineart and colors, duplicate the group and merge one of them so you can always come back to them unmerged. MERGE YOUR LAYERS. You heard me. Merge lineart and color. From then on…
STEP 6: render. Render, render… PATIENCE… est mère de sûreté bien sûr. Here’s my secret: I NEVER BLEND. I ALWAYS COLORPICK. COLORPICK where two colors meet and you’ll have the perfect transition color.
tip: always have an all-black layer set to color mode above all layers that you can toggle on and off to check your values.
This is more of a fun thing i like to do even if i haven’t done it often: use some hints of a geometric brush to add interest when using an « organic » brush (or vice-versa, I’d guess, but i rarely render with geometric brushes). Exemples again:
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And well Das Preddy Much It… Your Turn Now….. and because i realize a short demonstration is better than a long speech, have a speepvideo of the two pieces I’ve used as exemples one after the other (matador first to 44 seconds in, moschophoros second). the very beginnings are cut because we’re focusing on the above steps.
Your turn……. To play.
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snowblitzs · 4 months ago
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I am unsure if you’re still taking drawing requests, but if you are then mimic!Cesar being held gently like a burger
I'm always up to it!! If I want to stop, I'll announce that I'm putting a close to requests ;3
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Please be gentle, I'm putting my trust into you
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cinnamnt · 4 months ago
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AITA for moving my family to the country and making my 10 year old son do weed chores
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jimzittos · 2 months ago
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  act like an angel ..
      dress like CRAZY ᬊཻུ۪۪𖣠͢🥯
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feelgoodinct · 2 months ago
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nsfw, mdni.
simon becomes an absolute dog when he sees you in his shirt.
cw: possessive simon, sex on carpet (ouch), unprotected p in v, creampie, size kink (?).
simon is a good roommate. he’s organized, clean, pays rent on time, and minds his own space. the only thing is—roommate is hot. stupidly hot. you know he doesn’t have a girlfriend and he’s never once brought back a girl let alone mentioned one. you figured your little crush on him would pass like all the other (it does not). you start dropping hints that you find him attractive. like wearing your tightest tops, brushing your ass against him while reaching for a cup, even leaving one of your lacy thongs to mix in with his laundry. he never bites the bait. you start to think that maybe he just doesn’t find you attractive or even worse he finds you creepy. so you tuck your schoolgirl crush away into the cavity of your chest.
you close the washer with your hip, cradling your laundry basket back to your room. you hear the familiar turn of your front door lock letting you know simon is home from his morning gym session.
you pad into the living room to ask simon if he needed any clothes washed. simons back is turned from you when he begins to slip off his trainers, dropping his gym at the foot of the door.
“need any clothes washed? i’m starting a load up right now.” you ask eyeing the movement of back muscle underneath his compression shirt.
he finally turns to you and starts to respond “nah don’t think-“ before he snaps his mouth shut when he sees what you’re wearing. “that mine?” his voice gruff, it’s his army issued shirt that is long enough to cover your shorts. a deep green color that frays at the hem and has his last name in bold at the back of it. you notice he’s staring at the worn fabric waiting for an answer.
you look down, “oh yeah. sorry was doing laundry found this in hamper. my clothes are in the wash. hope that’s okay?” you sound apologetic like you just did something unforgivable. jesus christ what were you thinking wearing his shirt without asking. you shift trying to ease your embarrassment.
he’s on you in three short strides. making a noise between a growl and snarl. you don’t know how or when you both ended up on the living room floor. frankly, it’s the last thing on your fucking mind now that you’re on your knees cheek pressing into the shag carpet. you can feel the heat of his stare between your legs. you get a glimpse of your shorts and panties strewn across the floor leaving you in his shirt. you wait with bated breath for him to touch you. you wiggle your hips in a silent plead to get him to do something, anything…everything.
he gives the flesh of your ass a heavy smack that has you clenching around nothing. “be good now.” is all you hear before the sting leaves an angry red mark that you know is gonna leave you wincing for the next week. simon smooths a hand over the back of your (his) shirt making a noise in the back of his throat.
you hear shuffling behind you before you feel the head of him catch on to your opening making your mouth gape like a fish out of water. he groans at the contact, kneading the fat of your hips, before he presses in painfully slow with a hiss. you whimper into the carpet, fists balling, feeling hot all over. your cunt pulses trying to make room for him inside your womb.
“i know. i know, pretty girl. almost there.” simon bites back a hiss when you clench at his words. you think you might die like this. laid out on ugly apartment carpet trying to take simon’s cock. you could cry with relief when you feel simon’s balls meet your clit letting you know he’s all the way in. simon lets out a guttural sound bordering on animalistic at the sight of you speared open on his cock, last name across your back, absolutely crying for it.
he fists the bottom of the shirt to keep you still and eases his hips back just to sink back in slowly. the pressure in your navel hurts so good it’s starting to make you dizzy. simon sets a pace that has you trying to cant your hips back to meet his thrusts. he lays a heavy palm in the middle of your back, just under the boldened ‘RILEY’, keeping you pinned giving you no choice but to take what he gives you.
“prettiest fuckin girl i ever seen. gonna give this cunt the proper treatment she deserves, yeah?” he bends his left leg, somehow sliding in deeper. there’s no doubt that you can feel him in your lungs. “s’deep simon.” you slur, reaching a hand back to weakly press against his stomach. he chuckles at the act taking both wrists into one of his hands pressing them at the small of your back, forcing you into a deeper arch. you sob at the change in angle. your nipples being rubbed raw by the friction of his thrusts.
“needed this real bad, huh? don’t worry baby. i’ll make sure you don’t go without it again. wearing those tiny tops think i didn’t notice.” his voice rough and deep behind you. “uh huh.” you reply without a second thought, you don’t even care that you’ve been drooling into the carpet or that you’ve been caught. simon gives a deep chuckle at how pliant you’ve become just from some good dick.
he knows your close by the increasing volume of your sounds. he never lets up his pace determined to give you his all. “where?” he asks in a quick breathe. you take a few seconds to register his words. “huh?” you manage to squeak out. “where do you want me, pretty thing?” he says in an almost pained voice. the gears turn in your head before you speak up “inside. want it inside. m’clean. pill.” resorting to short clipped words. you beg, as if you have to, simon thinks.
your orgasm comes hard and fast leaving you sobbing out garbled version of please and simon. simon is not far behind burying himself as deep as your bodies will allow and comes inside with a pinched “oh fuck.” he pulls out with a pop and watches his spend leak down your slit leaving a small puddle on the floor that he knows he’ll have to scrub out later.
simon pats your backside affectionately. “don’t think we’ll be doing any laundry today” he says with a grin that makes you giggle. “yeah, don’t think so.”
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h00f · 10 months ago
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T4TM (Theseus4TheMinotaur)
lost wax cast bronze, patina & paste wax
2023
(process photos & info under cut <3)
my minotaur boy!! pls click on the photos for higher res! my thesis is focusing on trans men and creatures (how original ik) and this was last semester's final. i spent a lot of time looking at sculptures of the theseus/minotaur story, and yknow? a LOT of them are erotic! i'm pretty sure i saw some of them on tumblr a decade ago, and that's led to this now!
as you'll notice, the minotaur has a big t-dick! i wanted to give him breasts and an enlarged clitoris to present a very masculine trans figure. the boy on the bottom is also trans because i say so . the piece is about looking up to older, bigger, hairier trans men and seeing something awe-inspiring and beautiful. the minotaur was locked up by a cruel father for being different, and i think modern adaptations tend towards a sympathetic asterion (his name in one version)
making this piece was. so much effort. it took me about 3 months to get it all together - from clay model (plasticine) to 3D print to silicone mold to wax cast, and finally bronze pour into the shell mold. and then a TON of filing, sanding, dremel-ing, and various other metalworking techniques that probably took years off my life.
i started with sketches and made theeeeeee ugliest model ever:
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then used a 3D scanner to get it digital, then spent a goooood month or two making him pretty in blender! then i spent an agonizing few weeks trying to get it print-ready, and fiiiiiinally did
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^^^ an early resin printed draft of the model - you can see in the final that i added lots to theseus after some feedback, but sadly the nosering broke off every time i cast it so i just. let that be <3
then came the moldmaking, and then the wax dipping!! the yellow stuff is shell mold (ground up ceramic bits and algae soup, sticks to the wax, then silica sand in varying sizes on top) which gets the wax melted out, and bronze poured in!
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then it's all metalworking, cutting stuff off, and working with hot metal. they don't tell you about all the bronze dust and how annoying it gets wearing a respirator AND goggles. but it is for me health, me boy. here's him all cleaned up before the patina:
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and then i spray him down with various chemicals to make it "patina" (aka rust) in pretty colors. wait a few days, then apply paste wax to seal it and give it that shine!
then we get what you see above!!! the blue was actually unintentional, and i'm still not super sure why it looks that way.. but it's pretty so idc <3
thanks for reading!! if you ever have any bronze/casting questions, don't hesitate to message me! <3
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darkbluekies · 2 months ago
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In the dungeon
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yandere!king oc x fem!reader
Summary: after disrespecting him, you've found yourself in his dungeon. Edmund comes to visit you because he has heard that you haven't eaten in three days
Warnings: self starvation, punishment, toxic relationship,
Word count: 1.1k
He doesn't like it, but what choice does he have? If people found out that he doesn't punish his own wife, what would they think of him? That he's not a well respected leader because he can't even punish his own wife? No, he can't have that. He has to do it. But by doing it, he also feels pain, so it's a punishment for both of you. That's how he explained it.
You had disrespected him, belittled him and his masculinity. And now you're here. Easier said than done. Saying the words to him was easier than doing the time for them.
Your head hangs low as footsteps echo down the spiral stone stairs. You don't look up to see who it is, don't care who it is. Another guard to switch swift.
“Oh, my love …”
You look up. Edmund is standing on the other side of the metallic bars, wearing his clean, colorful clothes made out of the finest satin. He places a plate with a silver cloche on the bench beside him. You pull yourself up from the floor slowly, back sore from resting against the stone wall for eternity and stomach empty. Edmund's ice blue eyes follow your every step. It's not often that they contain any type of emotion, but seeing you like this brings out a deep worry that seems to make his eyes glow.
You drag yourself over to the door, which is nothing more than metallic bars. You hold onto one of the cold metal rods. Edmund places his hand over yours.
“The guards have told me that you haven't eaten in three days”, he says softly, as if you could break if he raised his voice even a decibel louder. “You can't do that, Y/N. You can't worry me like this.”
As if he would have eaten that stale bread and drink that moldy water, you think.
“Can I come up now?” you whisper. “I want to get out of here”, you cry weakly. “Edmund, please …”
Edmund shakes his head carefully.
“No, not yet”, he answers with a heavy sigh. “It's going to be okay, darling”, he reassures you softly, kissing the hand he's holding. “Soon, you'll be back with me, okay? Believe me, I want nothing more than to let you back upstairs and have you in my arms, but they would think I was incompetent in my role.”
He wipes one of your tears apologetically.
“Do you care more about your power than you do me?” you whisper.
He looks taken aback, unable to know what to answer.
“Don't be like that”, he says. “You know I love you more than anything else.”
But not enough, apparently, you think and sniffle.
He looks behind you, around the cell.
“I brought some food from the kitchen”, he says. “I want to see you eat it before I leave.”
He gestures for the guard to unlock the door as he bends down to pick up the plate. You back away from the door, finding your safe spot on the floor by the opposite wall. Edmund walks over, checking the floor before hesitantly sitting down.
“Do you have to sit on the dirty floor?” he mumbles dislikingly.
“I like it”, you reply.
“Alright, alright.”
Despite grimacing and dusting of his satin clothes, he makes himself comfortable on the hard, dirty floor and opens the cloche. The smell of boiled potatoes and marinated meat meets your nose, and the sight is even more exquisite. He takes out a silver fork from his pocket, stabs one of the potatoes and holds it to your lips. You open your mouth, letting him feed you. It tastes better than you remember it to. It has only been a week since you got locked down in the dungeon, but without anything to do, without necessities and comfort, the hours creep by. For all you could care, a month could have gone by. The only form of company you've had have been the rats crawling around on the floor, just big enough to squeeze through the metal bars. They bite.
“Tasty?” Edmund asks.
You nod. Anything that the kitchen prepares is delicious — or at least a thousand times better than the rock hard bread and dusty water.
“Good”, the young king says, pleased, feeding you another fork full of meat. “It makes me feel better to see you eat.”
Eating the food he has brought for you reminds you of how badly you want to vet out of here … and how much your comfort relies on Edmund.
Edmund wipes away a sauce smudge on the corner of your lips and sticks it between his lips to lick it off. You doubt he would do that to anyone else. Ever. He has certain liberties with you which he has with no one else. He can hug you, touch you, smile at you, joke with you. You give him life in a way no one can.
“You should see how restless my hours without you are”, he sighs and rolls his eyes. “I'm a walking bomb without you. I almost feel bad for my secretary.”
“Then let me back up …”, you whisper, a last attempt to try to plead with him. “Please.”
“I can't. Not yet. I've already given you special treatment and advantages no one else has gotten. If I let you back upstairs before an appropriate time my authority will be questioned.”
“I'm sorry, Edmund.”
Your voice is barely audible. His hand stops dead in its track on its way to your mouth. A drop of sauce falls down on the floor. You can see that it hit him right in his heart, shattering it.
“Oh, I know”, he reassures you and feeds you the piece of meat. “I know, darling. I believe you.”
You chew slowly, swallow slowly. The food seems to get stuck in your throat.
“Good girl”, Edmund praises. “You can hold out a little while longer, can't you? Just a few more days?”
You nod in defeat. What other choice do you have now that your pleading didn't work?
Edmund stands up. You follow him panicked, quickly reaching out and grabbing his hand.
“No!” you shriek. “Dont leave me. I don't want to be alone!”
“It's getting late”, Edmund answers. “I thought that I would let you get some rest.”
“No … not alone … please. Please stay. Just a little while longer.”
He thinks for a second. “Okay.”
You breathe out in relief. He sits down with his back against the wall, letting you fall asleep against him, wrapped in his warm, strong arms. Leaving him alone with his thoughts — his conflicting, torturing thoughts.
When you wake up the following morning by the sun shining through the little window pane you're alone, lying on the floor, covered by a colorful cape made out of the finest satin.
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kooggukk · 1 month ago
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after hours | jjk
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summary. one night, after a long rehearsal, jungkook lingers in the makeup room.
pairing: idol!jungkook x makeupartist!reader
contains: smut, unprotected sex (cum on stomach)
note: hey guys, i don have much experience writing smut, but we could say i tried my best lol nways enjoy :)
word count: 2.2k
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the room was quiet, the loudness of the city could be barely be audible, muffled by the large window as you packed away your brushes for the night. it was past midnight, the clock close to hitting 1 am. the rest of the staffs have left long ago, leaving you alone. you enjoyed the calmness and loneliness after a long day. almost like it gave you a moment to breathe, to come down from the constant rush of keeping up with bts’s eternal busy schedule.
just when you packed everything away and was ready to leave, the door slightly creaked open. you looked up quickly, your heartbeat slowed down when you noticed jungkook poking his head in.
“you still here?” he asked, his voice was low and rough, his throat must have gone dry from all the practice.
he leaned against the doorframe, his hair sweaty, the sleeves of his black hoodie were pushed up enough to reveal the tattoos on his skin. definitely that’s the hottest part on his body.
“gotta clean up after your mess,” you teased with a smile, his eyes glanced to the desk. makeup smudged over it, dirty tissues, q-tips, some brushes that you didn’t use much anymore were scattered all over it.
he chuckled and stepped inside the room finally, he closed the door behind himself. you heard the click of the lock that made your stomach flip. the room felt more smaller by now, more.. intimate you could say.
“you sure that’s all?” his tone was light, almost playful, but when he turned around to look at you, there was something in his eyes — a glint, hinted at the unspoken tension that had been lingering between the two of you for weeks now.
you raised an eyebrow, “what else would i be here for?”
a faint smirk got on his lips and he started walking towards you, painfully slowly.
you gulped, his eyes dropped down to your neck for a second, then back to your face. when he got to you, he didn’t mutter a single word and just plopped down on the makeup chair.
you frowned, obviously you weren’t going to do his makeup at this hour. your eyes followed his hand, smudging the makeup from the table onto his finger, which he smeared on the black sweatpants he wore, on his crotch.
“think you missed a spot?” he looked up at you with desire in his eyes, his tone playful. you took a deep breath, “what?” you muttered with big eyes that stared right back at him, glancing between his eyes and the spot on his pants.
fuck, you could see the shape of it, the makeup matched his skin color, the curiosity of how it looked like made you go feral, all you wanted to do right now is fuck him till you were the one crying, till the shape of his cock was carved into your insides.
the room felt heavy, the air thick with something you couldn't quite place. you walked over to him, his eyes following your every step. you tried to ignore the way your heart sped up under his stare.
you grabbed a wet tissue from the desk, he stood up behind you, his chest pressed against your back. “tell me you feel this too,”
your breath caught in your throat as his words hung in the air between you, thick and heavy. you tried to laugh it off, but your heart betrayed you, thudding loudly in your chest as if it wanted to answer for you. his gaze didn’t waver, dark eyes searching your face through the mirror, waiting for a reaction.
you cleared your throat as you focused on the tissue again, wiping the table but the trembling in your hands exposed you.
“feel what?” your voice was quieter than you intended to, you didn’t dare to look up, knowing you’d be faced with his serious, desire full eyes.
“this, ___.” he sighed and he sneaked his hands on your hips, holding you tightly. your eyes closed, the contact was electric, sending a shiver down your spine.
his skin felt like burning even through the layers of clothes. “there’s this-“ he stopped for a second, frustration started to build up in him.
“this thing, that i don’t know where to put.” you froze, his hands moving up your sides, he stopped at under your breasts. “every time we’re in the same room, i can’t help but to fantasize about you.”
“tell me,” he whispered, his hands went back down, this time on your stomach, his movements stopped at the top of your jeans.
“tell me you feel it too,” he pressed his body closer again, his crotch poked at your ass, his face in the crook of your neck. his eyes focused on you through the mirror. “please,” he begged and you felt your heart pounding in your chest.
yes! you’d felt it too, — every time he sat down to get his makeup done by you, whenever he opened his eyes to look up at you, every brush of your fingers against his skin, every lingering glances shared across the room.
but for fuck’s sake, you’re his makeup artist! nothing more. you thought maybe he’s just being friendly, protective. had no idea his pretty mind was filled with dirty thoughts about you, but the good way.
he was curious how you looked when you were receiving pleasure, especially from him. he dreamt about you beneath him, wishing he could take you right then and there, in the middle of the room with everyone else around.
he wouldn’t have minded, wanted to show everyone it’s him who you’re fucking, it’s him who makes you moan, who makes you scream and cry out his name, not nobody else.
with a shaky breath you finally looked up, your eyes met his in the mirror. “i do,” your hand hovered on his, resting on your stomach. his lips curved into a small, knowing smile. with a swift move he turned you around, body still closer to each other than ever.
his arms slid from your waist, up your arm until he reached the side of your neck. his touch was soft, careful, but the heat from his skin made your body ache with anticipation.
he leaned in, nose touching yours. you were going insane, dizzy from just the thought of what’s about to happen between the two of you. your hands found their way to his hair, tugging lightly.
you don’t know who moved first, — but you both attacked each other’s lips hungrily, your teeth crashed together. a moan left his mouth at the feeling of your lips on his, the vibration made you press your thighs together.
all the pent-up desire, all the unspoken words between you, came rushing to the surface. his hand tightened on your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, desperate.
he pulled away, a string of saliva between your lips. both of your breathing heavy, chests moving fast.
“you have no idea how many times i’ve imagined this,” he whispered with a smile. one of his hand slid from your neck down to your waist, gripping you firmly as he backed up and sat down on the chair behind him, guiding you down onto his lap.
your forehead was resting against his, “we shouldn’t..” you whispered, his hand moved up to caress your skin and your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch.
his thumb brushed against your lip, “maybe,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours. “but it feels too good.”
he captured your lips again, every move of his mouth sent waves of electricity through you. his hands roamed your body, — your sides, your hips, your back and then finally, his hands slid down to your ass, gripping your cheeks with his huge hands.
you sighed in the kiss, he pulled you even more closer, your heat brushed against his crotch. you melted into him, you’ve completely lost control over your body.
he pulled away and a hiss left his mouth when you moved your hips as you slowly grinded on him.
his eyes locked with yours, his bottom lip between his teeth while yours was slightly open. his hands gripped your hips, he helped you move, a little bit faster.
“shit,” he breathed out, his head thrown back in pleasure. your eyes dropped to his neck, veins popped, sweat dripping. you leaned down to plant soft kisses on his skin, a low groan left his lips as he felt yours, nibbling and sucking on his skin.
your hips slowed down, your body grew tired. he lifted his head back only to be met with the scene of you pulling your shirt off over your head.
his eyes fell to your breasts, which were still hidden from his eyes with your black bra. he buried his face in your chest, kissing on the top of your breasts while his hand carefully unclasped your bra.
it slid down your shoulders, all the way to where your body met his. he threw the unneeded clothing away, his palms massaging your breasts.
“so pretty,” he whispered and you looked down. “i think they’re small,” he chuckled at your confession.
he shook his head with a smile, “no, they’re just perfect.” he gave you no time to respond as his lips captured your perky left nipple. he gently slapped the other, massaging it after.
your breath hitched, he sucked and bit on your nipple, pulling away with a smack of his lips. he gave the same attention to your other one, your hips once again grinded against his already hard bulge in his pants.
he pulled away from your chest, his eyes looking up at you with hunger. his fingers gripped your jeans, “let’s take this off, yeah?”
you got up from his lap, he watched you strip the remaining clothes that hid the rest of your body. he took off his clothes himself too, his hand reached out for you to grab.
he pulled you towards him again, helping you sit down on his lap once more.
“are you sure?” he asked as you sat there, skin to skin. you eagerly nodded, you wanted this more than anything, just like him.
“yes,” you moved, your core brushed against his cock. “please,” you purred, he bit back a moan at the feeling of your bare pussy.
he decided to not waste any time with fingering you first, he knew you needed to get stretched and it’s gonna burn like hell. he put his stupid desire in the first place, but he realized that too late.
with a hand holding his dick and the other guiding your waist, you slowly sank down on him. your body stiffened, you let your head fall down to his chest, your forehead resting against him.
he knitted his eyebrows together, your walls clenching around him made it so hard for him to fully fill you up.
he caressed your back, “you need to relax,” he whispered and planted a kiss on top of your head. his hand sneaked to your core, his finger rubbed your clit in a circular motion.
he helped you relax your muscles, immediately slipping inside of you easily. a quiet moan left your mouth, you stayed like that for a while. he wanted you to be okay, he cares about you.
“all good?” he asked, your face still in his chest. you nodded, he moved beneath you, he wanted to fuck you like crazy but he put you first, though it was getting hard for him to control his body.
you suddenly rolled your hips, leaving him with an open mouth. “fuck, ___,” he husked, his grip on your waist was firm.
you looked up at him, you rode his dick with all your energy. the room was filled with your low moans and your skin meeting, both of your bodies sweaty and hot.
you got tired, your pace turned slower and your breathing got heavy. unlike him, he’s a singer, so his stamina is far more better than yours.
he slightly lifted you up at your waist, he took over the control now. he pounded into you from beneath, your body arched and you turned into a moaning mess.
you were never that loud in bed, your moans has always been quiet and soft. jungkook got to see a side of you that he never wanted to forget.
he never wants to forget how your brows knitted together, how your mouth fell agape and eyes shut from the pleasure that he was giving you.
he felt you clench around him, his head was thrown back again. he let out a low grunt as he fastened his pace, hitting every right spot. your body tensed, your walls tight around him which made him hiss.
he felt you release around his cock as he fucked you through it, “almost there,” he heavily breathed out, trying to reach his own orgasm too.
he pulled out and pumped himself as he released his cum on your stomach, his eyes were tightly shut, letting every drop of him on your skin.
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glitterycvm · 3 months ago
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he hates you.
well actually- he doesn't. he loves you. he loves every single bit of you. whether it'd be the sweet laughter coming from your glossy lips. or the heart warming smile that makes his heart melt and his body feel all fuzzy and ecstatic.
but he also hates you. so fucking much. because what right did you have batting those pretty eyelashes at him? the faux innocence gleaming in your eyes. oh how he wishes he could rip that same innocent look right from your pretty little eyes, to turn you into his dirty little whore.
or how you accidentally dropped your phone on the floor at the restaurant. and bent all the way over to pick it up. although to you, that moment lasted for a mere couple of moments, to him though. the sight of your new red pretty panties being revealed to him would play in his mind over and over again.
he couldn't stand you. he hated your guts. not because of your personality. no- he found it endearing on how perfect you were both on the inside and outside. it wasn't how much you talked either, he loved hearing your angelic voice ramble on and on about the most silliest things. but he can't promise he was listening though. he was too busy imaging your voice doing much more than talking.
it was none of the above. it was actually the way you made him feel. now he doesn't mean the times when you'd be the only one to listen to him, the only one who put effort into listening and comforting him about his issues. neither was it the electricity that would shoot through his veins whenever you would give him a simple hug.
he hated how hard you made his cock. simply because he knows he shouldn't.
it pissed him off knowing that no matter what he did, that every night he'd be up late, laying in his messy bed. blinds shut, and door closed and locked. everything was dark in his room and the sound of the fan running filled the empty silence.
except there was no silence. how could there be? because alongside the sound of the fan spinning, there would be the sound of his fist angrily pumping his cock.
his eyes would be shut tightly too, leaning against his headboard as the thoughts of your new red lacy underwear were revealed to him a couple hours ago. was it wrong of him to know they were new? he didn't care right now though.
he didn't care about how morally wrong this all was. he knew he shouldn't be thinking about you in such lewd ways, but then again. it wasn't his fault? no. you knew what you were doing today.
at least that is what he's telling himself right now, as his hand rapidly slides up and down his shaft. the wet sounds now add to noises in his room, his shallow and breathy groans were barely audible too.
he wished it was your sweet slick walls though. he wishes you'd let him plunge into your cunt, to let him have his way with you. but instead it's his rough hands that tease his reddened tip.
gosh you were so so so stupid.
because now you have him thrusting up into his fist. the trembling orgasm approaching him quickly. now his room is loud. a hand over his mouth to muffle the pathetic whiney moans that leave his lips. although the muffling barely had an effect.
thighs trembling uncontrollably and his eyes are shut so tight nothing even feels real anymore. and soon enough it hits him. a loud unholy moan is all there is to be heard as the pacing of his fists come to a stop. his whole body twitches from the sudden rip of pleasure flooding all his senses.
tears even trickle on his waterline and his breathing becomes heavy and unstable. not to mention all the long sticky cream colored ropes then escape from his angry base. they land onto his upper thighs and abdomen. he sits there for a couple moments as he comes down from his high.
now he really wishes you were here.
so you could come clean the mess that you made.
SHIGARAKI, kirishima, IZUKU, gojo, tamaki, denki, chuuya, zenitsu, megumi, choso, REINER, armin, EREN, jean + ur favs
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annwrites · 3 months ago
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⸻ a call to arms. part one.
· pairing: jacaerys velaryon x dragonseed!reader · type: part of a series · summary: desperate to provide aid to your starving family due to the blockade, you venture, along with a great many other lowborns, to dragonstone, in hopes of gaining something—anything—which you might bring back to them; something to fill your little sister's belly. things turn out quite the opposite as planned, as what you now believe to be a mad queen, locks all of you in her dragonpit, and you're forced to run, hide, & fend for your lives against two hungry dragons. in the end, only two individuals are left standing: hugh hammer, who has now claimed for himself vermithor...and you—chosen by silverwing. just when you believe things can't possibly get any worse, you then meet prince jacaerys. · word count: 1,674
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He grinds his teeth together, filled with utter contempt—disgust—that whatever you are—bastards, lowborns, flea-ridden rats—are now, above all else, dragonriders.
And he is meant to share common spaces with you now? Such as the Great Hall? Meant to pass you in the halls and tolerate the sight of you?
To ride alongside you?
To treat you with...what? Kindness? Generosity for having 'come to his mother's aid'? He will most certainly not be treating, nor addressing you as an equal. Either of you.
To be a dragonrider...it is a sacred bond. And now he is meant to believe that even the lowest scum Flea Bottom has to offer has the same right as he to sail the skies, unleashing fire and blood upon the enemy?
Never.
He will never.
The rest of them got what they deserved for thinking they had any right to claim that which is meant only for those like him.
Queens and kings, princes and princesses, lords and ladies alike.
He is better than both of you.
Even if he is similar in ways he does not want to admit...
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Boots echo against stone floors, dark curls falling over dark eyes, a brooding temperament within.
Jacaerys emerges into the Great Hall, Hugh promptly rising from his seat, bowing his head. "My Prince."
Jacaerys studies him for but a moment, briefly judging the plain-colored clothes he dons, before turning his sights across the room to you, who is seated between two stained-glass windows, arms wrapped around your bent knees, while you cast your attentions outward, instead of on him.
Your Prince.
Your superior.
He clenches his jaw at the sight of your long, silver hair that moonlight casts in an ethereal glow, making it appear as if it is sparkling. Cascading down your back like molten silver in soft waves.
"You there—girl—do you know how incredibly rude it is for you not to stand and curtsy when in the presence of royalty?"
You jolt—torn from tormented memories of but a couple days past; of people running, screaming for mercy. Dying choking on their own blood as dragonfire burns them alive.
None of you had anticipated—had imagined—that the very queen you were coming to, under the guise of offering your aid to in the war, would lock you in a room to be eaten by terrifying beasts.
Aegon deserves the throne in comparison to such a monster.
You have made a great mistake, mayhaps. Then again, becoming a dragonrider has already filled your belly, provided you with clean sheets to sleep upon, a guard outside your door, hot baths.
But it is not you who needs these things. You want them for your family.
There is no turning back now, however. You knew as much with certainty when that silver dragon laid her head at your feet before leaning forward, brushing her warm snout against your abdomen while you struggled to contain your bladder and bowels. While you sobbed hysterically, begging for mercy from a being that you do not so much as share a common language with.
You know not a word of High Valyrian, though you will now be expected to learn, you suppose.
Among many other things. Such as how to ride the animal...
Your stomach twists nervously at the thought.
You turn away from the window, slide off the ledge, then grab your skirts in either of your hands before tucking a foot behind your other ankle, bowing. "My Prince."
He scoffs, coming closer. "That was the worst curtsy I've ever seen."
You fold your hands in front of you, keeping your eyes downcast. "Forgive me, My Prince, it is...the first time I've attempted one."
He rolls his eyes, settling his arms behind his back before glancing over his shoulder to Hugh, jerking his head toward the hall he's just come from, and he quickly makes himself scarce.
He looks back to you.
"And what is your name?" He demands.
"Y/N," you state quietly.
A muscle in his jaw feathers. "You are to look at me while we're speaking. Do you understand?"
You nod, trailing your eyes upwards—over a red-and-black velvet tunic, the three-headed symbol of his house embroidered upon the breast—until they're looking into hues of chocolate-brown.
He clenches his hands into tight fists behind his back.
You've every trademark of a pure Targaryen: silver hair, lilac eyes—with flecks of violet—skin so fair it's near-translucent, delicate features.
He fucking loathes you for every asset which you possess and he does not.
He would never—will never—state it aloud, but you look far more Targaryen than he ever will.
He wishes one of the dragons had taken you down its gullet as well. That way, he would not be forced to suffer the nigh-daily sight of you now.
He looks you over, circling you like a dragon does its prey—desperate to find something he may use to mock you with; some imperfection—before standing tall before you again.
"You think wearing rags before your Queen's court appropriate?"
Your expression quickly settles into a scowl.
Good, he thinks. Give him an excuse to introduce you to the Queen's justice. He is silently begging you for as much within his malice-filled gaze.
Your small hands clench into fists at your slender sides. "My mother made this dress for me."
His jaw ticks. "From now on, you will wear more suitable clothing when outside your private chambers—which means conservative in nature; not whatever men found desirable upon the Street of Silk. You are a representative of our house now. A dragonrider. A soldier to our cause. You will look the part."
Tears sting your eyes as yours bore into his own hatefully.
"I am not a whore," you reply contemptuously.
There is a beat of silence, his brows furrowing slightly. Surely you are lying. You have the look—more than.
And then you continue.
"And with what coin, My Prince?" You sneer.
He takes a step closer, causing you to shuffle backward, catching yourself against the window-ledge, the stone digging into your palms as you grip it to steady yourself.
He leans in close—your faces mere inches apart. "I beg your pardon?"
You do not shrink away from him.
Gods, you already hate him with all that you are.
"I came here for coin. Desperate for—"
"So greed is what sent you? Not to aid us in winning back my mother's throne? Her rightful seat. You come to steal away a dragon, and then what?"
"My family is starving!" You finally shout, at the end of your rope from the last few sleepless nights that've been filled with nightmares instead of rest; your temper having reached its limit. "My mother and little sister both! How would you feel if it were you? If your loved-ones were suffering, while all you could do is sit back and watch them waste away before you? So, yes, I came. I claimed a dragon—even if my intentions had only been merely to host audience with a clement queen who would provide aid to her suffering subjects. Not burn them alive for coming to help her!"
He grits his teeth. "You will watch your tongue, you insolent little wench. My mother sent boat-fulls of food to King's Landing. She has provided—"
You begin to laugh, with a lack of humor behind it all, cutting him off. "Oh, yes, how very kind of her to give aid to the very subjects she is responsible for the suffering of in the first place. The blockade is all your all's fault! People were fighting like dogs in the streets—assaulting—killing each other for a small sack of grain! I risked mine own life for a peck of potatoes! That's it! Even then, I was forced to wrestle a full-grown man off myself to get it. I was fortunate to escape with my life—with any food to speak of for my struggles!"
You step forward, forcing his royal highness to take a step back, and he swallows thickly.
"You've never known hunger a day in your life, have you? Never known what is it to wear 'rags' while you don your silk and velvet, while you sleep on thousand-thread count sheets, while you flout your jewels, and your fancy titles, and your gilded castles while the rest of us bow and scrape before your feet for a mere morsel of respect! You are meant to take care of us!"
Once you've finished, your heart pounds in your ears, your shoulders rapidly rise and fall, and it's then that you notice Prince Jacaerys' hand is tightly gripping the pommel of his sword—his knuckles having now gone white from the force.
Your eyes flit back to his, tears filling your own. "And I am meant to one day call you king, given we are 'successful' in our endeavors to win your mother back her glorified chair," you say, spitting the final word at him.
The two of you stand tall before the other, refusing to be the first one to break—your chins held high, even if your stomach is now twisting painfully into knots while your bowels turn to water.
If he puts you to death for your unimaginable disobedience—your disrespect...who will help your family then?
Your little sister... Your little girl.
She became as much when your mother went away in herself after your father's passing. It did not matter that you were still a mere child yourself when it happened. She became your responsibility to look after and tend to from that day forward.
And now...you feel as if you have failed her.
"Go to your room," he orders lowly, his body shaking from anger, brief pauses between each word.
You curtsy one last time.
"My Prince," you mumble, brushing past him, wanting to break something.
He stalks off in the opposite direction, feeling much the same: wanting to burn something—or, rather, someone—alive.
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pupkashi · 4 months ago
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satoru loves you & he’s tired of being your friend
a/n: loosely inspired by taehyungs song fri(end)s i hope u guys like pls lmk what yall think plsplsplspls
word count - 1,764
masterlist
the only light illuminating your living room was from your tv as it played your favorite comfort movie, one you’d seen countless times before. the familiarity of it had you dozing off on your couch, in and out of sleep as you lost the battle with your heavy eyelids.
there’s a soft knock on your door that has you jumping out of your skin, heart racing loudly in your ears. you pause the movie, wondering if maybe you’d hallucinated it and it truly was time for you to go to bed.
knock, knock, knock
your palms are sweaty, checking your phone before standing up. there’d been no missed texts or calls from anyone you knew, who the fuck knocks on a door at 3:24 in the morning?
you grab the baseball bat by the door, peeking through the peephole and being met with tousled white locks. a color of hair you’d be able to spot a mile away, one you’d grown to care for.
“what are you doing at my door at four in the fucking morning?” you whisper-yelled, setting the bat down and opening the door wider to let the man in. he gives you a small smile, one hand pushing his hair back and out of his face and the other holding his side.
“sorry sweet cheeks, didn’t wanna go home just yet” he mumbles, stepping in and standing by the doorway, waiting for your instruction.
“d’you get hurt? are you bleeding?” the annoyance in your voice is gone, and it makes satoru relax. he gives you a small nod, shrugging his shoulders and trying to play it off.
“nothing that won’t be healed by mornin’” you roll your eyes at him, muttering a small ‘come on’ and walking to the bathroom down the hall. “i miss you y’know” satoru says softly, watching as you searched for the first aid kit under the sink, grabbing the box and making him sit on the toilet lid.
“did you really?” you scoff, not meeting his gaze as you grab a soft rag, running it under warm water. satoru furrows his brows, confused as to why you think he wouldn’t have missed you.
“‘course i did,” he replies, opening his mouth to continue but closing it quickly when you turn to face him.
“can i take your blindfold off” you ask, your hands fiddling with the damp rag before setting it down when he nods ‘yes.’ you find the small knot hiding in his hair, gently undoing it.
the black blindfold loosen instantly, and you’re quick to gently take it off his head, setting it on the counter. his hair flops onto his forehead, falling almost perfectly to frame his face. despite the countless times you’d seen his eyes, your breath still hitched in your throat when you looked into them.
you try not to stare too long, brushing his hair out of his face and cleaning the dried blood on his face. satoru doesn’t take his eyes off you, eyes tracing your every feature. his gaze is one you always faltered under, growing nervous when he’d stare at you for too long.
“what” you ask, a small nervous smile forming on your face. satoru shakes his head, a small upside down smile on his face as you wipe the cut on his cheeks with an alcohol wipe.
“you’re just real pretty” he says, watching as you bite your bottom lip, surely trying to stop the smile fighting its way into your face.
“is you side hurt too?” you motion to where his hand is covering, trying to brush past the compliment he’d given you.
“healed it up a good amount while you were cleaning me up” he shrugs, lifting his shirt and showing you the brand new scar, “I’m not completely helpless.”
“no you’re the strongest” you tease, throwing away the used items and washing your hands. “did you wanna shower? you look like you could use it” satoru pouts at your words.
“don’t have to be so mean about it” you laugh softly, drying your hands before you’re standing in front of him again. you let your hands brush through his hair, exposing his forehead before you press a kiss to the skin.
“sorry angel, you’re the one who woke me up” satoru lets his eyes close softly, heart sinking a bit when you pull away from him.
“I’ve got some clothes you’ve left over so I’ll leave ‘em on the counter” you smile, closing the door behind you and sighing softly.
how’d you get to this point? how’re you stuck between friends and something more?
friends don’t feel the way you do about satoru. friends don’t place feathery kisses on their friends scars. friends don’t act the way you two act.
satoru steps out of the shower, smiling when he realizes his clothes smell like you. his heart leaps when he exits the restroom, finding you still awake and waiting for him on the couch.
“waiting for someone?” his voice makes you jump a bit, shaking you head and watching as he sits next to you. “did you have plans for tomorrow?” he questions, watching as you send a text.
“told them something came up,” you shrug, “figured you need me more.”
the words tugged on satoru’s heartstrings. there was a never night you hadn’t been there when he needed you. you’d been there for him since the day you’d met him, there to comfort him and ease his racing mind. you were there to calm him from panic attacks and frustrations, help him through grief and stress. everything.
you were a great friend.
he hated that word. you weren’t his friend, you were something more. he knew how he felt about you, he had an inkling feeling you felt the same. so what’s stopping him?
satoru shakes the question out of his head, focusing instead on the tv. the end credits are rolling but you’re not looking away, eyes unfocused and your mind elsewhere.
“should we go to sleep?” satoru whispers, a feathery touch to snap you back to reality. you nod with a small smile, the two of you making the familiar walk to your bedroom, satoru turning off any lights and closing the bedroom door behind him before slipping in next to you.
you’d always liked having your head on his chest, you were able to hear his heartbeat this way. the rhythmic pitter-patter never failed to make you smile or help you relax. it also gave away anytime he was nervous.
“your hearts beating real fast” you state, not looking up, instead continuing to draw circles in the palm of his hand. “what are you thinking about?”
there’s too many thoughts in satoru’s head, so many that he can’t begin to process a single one of them. so instead he blurts out what had been on his mind all night.
“i love you.”
you never thought people were telling the truth about time stopping when something like this happened. you’d always figured they romanticized their life a little too much.
but you felt time stop.
your fingers faltered and you felt your breathing hitch in your throat. your stomach erupted in butterflies, face hot and your eyes wide as the three words landed on your ears.
there was a million thoughts in your head, memories flooding in. spring nights around a fire pit, hot summer days at the beach, cool autumn afternoons carving pumpkins and cold winter mornings drinking hot chocolate. and in every one of them you bit back three words while staring at the white haired man.
“you don’t have to say it back” satoru begins, his heart beating even faster than before, “i just- I’ve been think-” you sit up quickly and cut him off, shaking your head and finally looking him in the eyes.
“I love you too,” you smile, letting yourself enjoy the the moment of euphoria the two of you felt upon hearing the other say the three words you’d dreamt of.
there’s only a second of silence before satoru’s blue eyes are looking at your lips, flickering up to meet your eyes momentarily. all it takes is you leaning in ever so slightly.
his hands are cupping your cheeks, crashing his lips against yours, a sense of urgency as his lips move against yours. he tastes like his vanilla lip balm and toothpaste, smiling as the words replay in your head.
“what’s funny?” he mumbles against your lips, laughing softly, not bothering to pull away from your lips. satoru’s cerulean eyes are fluttering open, completely focused on you.
you pull away a couple inches, staring into his eyes, you can see the emotions swimming in his eyes, love and excitement written over his face as he takes in your beauty.
“just happy” you reply, “never thought you’d put the end in friends” satoru pouts comically at your words, shoving his face in your lap and groaning softly.
“‘m sorry” he grumbles, “new to all the relationship stuff” there’s genuine frustration and remorse in his voice, it makes you smile as your run your fingers through his hair, tugging softy.
“‘s okay” you say, “thought technically I’m not yours since you haven’t asked me” he knows you’re poking fun at him, not rushing him into anything.
“don’t worry,” he says, sitting up and adjusting himself to lay down next to you, smiling when you lay your head on his chest, “gonna make you mine as soon as i can.”
the words make your heart flutter again, a sheepish smile on your face as your cheeks and ears burn.
“alright smooth talker let’s get some sleep.”
funny enough satoru feels the weight on his shoulders grow lighter with your body weight pressed against him. he feels a sense of serenity running his fingers up and down your exposed skin.
you can see goosebumps rise where your fingertips touch, smiling softly and holding back a giggle as your fingers ghost over his abs, causing him to shiver.
it’s different from before, more intimate.
satoru wonders why he was so afraid of baring his heart to you in the first place. he can’t find an excuse as he watches the golden ray of sunshine hit your face softly, causing you to stir. he’s still as he watches you immediately nuzzle your face into his side, falling back into a deep sleep in his arms.
it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep too, a smile on his face when he feels your grip tighten.
lovers, he thinks, it has a nice ring to it.
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taglist (send an ask to be added): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi @kentocalls @sadmonke
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servicpop · 5 months ago
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NSFW ; BLACK , WHITE & GRAY criminal bottom m!reader x detective oc
warnings; age gap , degradation , hate sex , exhibitionism/infront of people (mentioned slightly) , hand cuffs , dubcon/noncon(?) , no after care
notes __ this idea has been sitting in my inbox for awhile but I've finally gotten around to it !
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JUNE 19 1999 / 11:48PM
Red and blue lights colored the night skies; not even a slither of the moonlight slipped past the cover of the clouds. The bright yellow caution tape strapped around the fences of the home squealed when Callahan Marshall pulled them up to duck underneath them.
Officers on the scene scrambled to question him but were quickly shot down with the flash of his badge. They slowly retreated, allowing for the man to walk into the crime scene.
The rain had been unforgiving tonight, covering all traces of footprints that might have been left by the culprit in an attempt to escape. A scowl plastered Callahan's face as the stench of alcohol and smoke insulted his nose. The floorboards creaked underneath each step he took, whining with the burden of his weight.
"Careful, Marshall, we aren't too sure if the culprit even left. There's been no signs of escape." Callahan's eyes slowly met the ones that belonged to one of his co-workers — another detective. The other man visibly shuddered when Callahan's pitch-black eyes met his, deep circles tainted the bags of his eyes. A gruff noise was all he got in response before Callahan made his way through the home.
It wasn't a house belonging to someone particularly made up of money so why would anyone make such a mess out of it?
The rooms were left clean, untouched almost. Only a few drawers or cabinets were opened and a few appliances were out of place but no alarming indicator a robbery had happened. Callahan traced a finger along the countertops of the kitchen, looking at the dust that had been sweeped up. This house had been left like this for awhile, even before the culprit set foot in there.
A sudden clattering caught Callahan's attention and he turned his body to the other detective and police officers searching the house, "Did you knock something over?" "No sir, what did you hear?"
Callahan slowly approached the laundry room, twisting the doorknob with caution. He pushed the knob forward and the door swung open. It was hard to make out with the lack of light but Callahan saw a figure dart out the window. "Here!" He called out, alerting the officers before he walked up to the window, watching as the figure scrambled away. He wasn't worried though, the whole place had been surrounded by police patrolling the area.
You couldn't get far even if you tried.
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JUNE 22 / 2:24PM
You got caught. It was about time you did.
You had spent the past few years doing various, sketchy jobs in the desperation for money. You lost your job not even three months into it and it had become harder and harder to find suitable jobs to spend the rest of your life slaving away at. You had no choice, it was either that or living off the streets with the local sewer rats as your only form of entertainment and friendship.
Now, you were stuck in an enclosed, dusty white room, sat cuffed to a metal table right in the middle of it with an annoyingly bright light dangling from the ceiling. It was the interrogation room. And the man you sat infront of you was none other than the 'greatest detective of our time' Callahan Marshall.
He was an older guy, probably pushing his 40s by now. You could tell from the way his brows were locked into a furrowing position and the stubble that graced his chin seemed lazily maintained. He also had quite the bit of hair on his arms, his sleeves loosely rolled above his elbows. You couldn't really tell what color his eyes were from how low he held his head and the light above you casted a deep shadow over his eyes, but through the darkness you concluded that they were a yellow-ish orange. Interesting.
"June 19." You flinched. It was expected that he had a deep voice but actually hearing it was different. His voice was coarse, gravelly like wheels crunching against a rocky trail and you could practically hear the amount of cigarettes he's smoked throughout his years of stress. "You were caught about and hour or two after police had arrived," Callahan sounded bored, mumbling his words.
Growing up, Callahan had always hated criminals. From watching bad guys on TV to coming home and seeing his parents dead on the floor and his house a mess from a robbery, Callahan devoted the past years to serving justice. His world was devoid of color, a black and white film on an old, vintage television.
"Did you steal from Mr Broadwood's home?" He pressed, leaning his forearms along the table. They were meaty, not extremely muscular but definitely built from casual hours at the gym. Could you even lie at this point? He was so sure with his words that even the fact that people were watching you from the two-way mirror comforted you from this man.
"No." And the cheap lie rolled off your tongue like it was sweet candy. He raised his eyebrows, unamused. Yeah he was definitely onto you. "So... these photos aren't you?" A confused look flashed across his face as he slid the printed images of your face in full view; it was painfully obvious that it was you. But your head seemed to shake side to side saying 'that's not me' like it was instinct. Callahan leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face as his head tilted back in annoyance. You could hear the prickly sound of his stubble scraping against the palm of his hand.
"I'll force it out of you if you don't fess up," His hand slammed down onto the metal table, causing it to rattle from the contact. "Fine, is force the only thing you cops know how to do?" It was only natural you acted this way. For all your life you've relied on cops to protect you and your loved ones, but each time you needed them the most, they turned a blind eye to you.
But, oil doesn't mix with water. Your two starkingly different perspectives caused conflict. With balled fists, Callahan stood up, the chair scraping against the floors with how abruptly he stood up. Before you knew it, a hand made its way to your hair. Callahan's thick fingers tangled in the strands and pulled your head back, eliciting a small yelp from you. He leaned in closer, looming over you with hate seeping from his pores.
"Tell me this isn't you," He growled, picking up the photos and shoving it in your face. In all honesty, you were focused on how damn close he was. His breath was fanning against the shell of your ear and if you concentrated enough, you could hear the short breaths he took. Callahan straightened his posture but never loosened his grip on your hair. He pulled your head back even further and peered down at you. "Dirty criminal," he muttered under his breath.
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You swore it was just the adrenaline making you hard. There was no way you'd fall for a detective like him. So why did he have your face squished onto the table and your boxers pulled down just under the curve of your ass.
"This is what you wanted isn't it?" Callahan had one hand holding your head down and another on your waist, digging into your flesh. He found out that the more he dug into your waist, the more you'd whine and squirm against him. You couldn't deny his words though, something in you was so intrigued by Callahan. He got straight to the point, and he didn't try and fool you with kindness. But maybe you wished he'd be a little more gentle with you.
Your eyes shot wide open when you felt his tip circle your rim. You didn't even have to see it to know the size of it. Could it even fit? "Wait—" Your words were cut off as he thrust forward with no warning, letting his cock sink into your hole. The burning sensation of the stretch made tears bubble at your eyes, threatening to spill. A groan slipped from his lips as he buried himself to the hilt, "God you're too tight."
Callahan moved his hand from your head to firmly grip at your waist, leaning forward so his body weight would pin you down. His hips grinded against you, digging his cock deeper inside your warm body. "Spit it out, did you do it or not?" He grunted, beads of sweat trickled down his temples as he pounded into you repeatedly, watching your flesh ripple with each thrust. "You're leaking everywhere," He chided, snaking his hand to reach for your neglected dick, holding the tip in his palm.
Your wrists strained against the cuffs binding you to the table, the metal cutting into your flesh as you struggled. "I didn't— do it!" You managed to gasp between moans, your hair spilling out onto the table. "Oh really? You didn't do it huh?" He scoffed and his hand tightened around your weeping tip, stroking you off in time with his relentless thrusts.
"People are watching you through that mirror and through the cameras, your pathetic face is on view for everyone to see," Callahan leaned down to whisper in your ear, grabbing a fistful of hair to yank your head up, allowing your teary face to be on full display for the cameras. Fuck, that turned you on more then you would've wanted it to.
His head slung against your shoulder, an oddly affection gesture for how hard he was fucking you. "I know you're not innocent, but your fuckin' doe eyes pisses me off," Callahan's voice had gotten even rougher, and the anger was clear in his tone. He was just using you for stress relief.
Your thighs trembled and your body started to give out, the stimulation was too much for you. His cock kept abusing your prostate, grinding and rubbing against it so much that black stars seemed to cloud your vision. Your fingertips clawed at the metal table, trying to ground yourself as shameless moans came out of your throat. "You're so loud," He scowled, leaning back so he could admire your back in its full glory.
It got him off with the way you sucked him back in even if you seemed so stubborn to liking him. Watching his fat cock disappear into your hole was enough to make him groan. "You wanna cum? Admit it." It was like his dick was a truth serum, you found yourself blabbering, tears rolling down your pink cheeks as you spewed out the truth, "Fine, I did it, I did it, please— just—" A smirk plastered Callahan's face as he whistled, "Go ahead."
In a split second you found yourself spurting out white all over his hand, your back arched and your body convulsed in his grip. Callahan meant to pull out but you were sucking him in so much that he couldn't. He cursed as his orgasm crashed down on him like a wave, filling you up with his sperm before he could pull out. "Shit," he huffed, pulling up his pants before he stared at his cum dripping from your hole. It was still clenching around nothing, and Callahan couldn't help but feel a pang of responsibility for you, but he shook off those thoughts. His one duty was to protect the civilians, not empathise with criminals.
"I'm done here," He grumbled, picking up his things and leaving you slumped on the floor, still bound by the handcuffs on the metal table. He turned his head over his shoulder to glance at you one more time, feeling a strange uncomfortable sensation in his heart before he scoffed and walked out the doors.
He's never lost control like that with any other criminal.
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BONUS ; IN THE OTHER SIDE OF THE INTERROGATION ROOM
"Kid looks like he's about to die," Alastair, a co-worker of Callahan, was assigned to supervise the interrogation, "Marshall sure is brutal," He sighed, standing up once he heard that Callahan was finished.
"At least his tactics work though, props to him," Alastair turned around to face the intern who was meant to learn from this experience. The poor boy had his hands covering his eyes.
"It's fine now, you stay here, I'll clean the guy up."
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a/n ; i changed my layout !! Its alot easier now ^^; my previous one had so many symbols I had to copy and paste ,, anyways ! I finally wrote about him ♡♡ the original request(?) was a bit different so this is ooc of him but I will expand more on his story if you guys like him ! Also I introduced Alastair ,, maybe I can write a threesome with them sometime !! I've never done it before so who knows
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emmyrosee · 6 months ago
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NO WAY I HAVE A THOUGHT HOLD ONN
I just saw this TikTok of this girl that has a bf w a lot of tattoos and she gets this colourful eyeshadow pallet from her makeup bag to COLOUR IN THE TATTOO if u get what I mean like the tattoo could be like a butterfly or a dragon AND SHE COLOURS IT IN WITH HER COLOURFUL EYESHADOW PALETTE and omg I IMMEDIATELY thought of SUKUNA it’s be such a cute interaction 🥹🥹
-Anon🥢
GOD THIS IS SO CUTE-
——
Sukuna naps. More than he should.
He can fall asleep anywhere and everywhere, for long stretches of time that you should be concerned with, had he not been doing it since the beginning of your relationship.
Your first date was not worth paying for a movie, candy and popcorn, when he merely slept the whole time. You could’ve done it for free at home.
Regardless, here you were, repeating history as he snores loudly next to you, his arms crossed as he sleeps soundly, lips parted to let out small little huffs. You sigh and grab your phone to scroll, no longer interested in the movie without having someone to talk to about it.
The first thing to pop up, has you smirking, with a girl shading in her boyfriends tattoos with eyeshadow. Granted, sukuna doesn’t have shapes of tattoos, but he has plenty of tan skin to cover.
You squeal and run to grab your palette and a brush, suddenly more excited than you realized to color in your boyfriend.
You start with a gentle touch on the circle of his shoulder, dipping into a peach that looks enough like his skin tone if he were to wake up.
When he doesn’t, that’s you’re cue to keep going. It doesn’t take long before he’s absolutely covered in pigment.
The small bit of skin between the tattoos on his chest are quick to be colored in, your brush gently dusting over his skin to apply the color. His face twitches but ultimately, he stays asleep. You deem him out of it enough to straddle his lap, allowing you more access to his tattoos and tanned skin, nearly laughing as he stays asleep, arms laid limp at his sides.
Bright pink blends into bright purple in the gaps of his tattoos, and in the gap of skin below the ink, mint green turns to light blue. You smile and clean your brush with another swirl on a paper towel, dipping into a lilac color and swirling it on the slender bit of skin on his bicep above the skin not needled with ink.
Your brush trails a tad too close to under his arm, and he scrunches his face and shakes you off. You pause, holding your breath, but you’re out of luck as he screws his eyes tight and grunts in exhaustion.
“Whyre you tickling me?” He grumbles, stretching awake and smacking his lips together. “I’ll kill you. We’ve been over this.”
“I’m not,” you hum, pressing a kiss to his cheek and brushing a lock of hair off of his forehead. “How was your nap?”
“S’good.” He rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms, and when he blinks his eyes open to look at you, his brows furrow at the colorful eyeshadow palette on your lap, “you doing some makeup shit?”
You sink your teeth into your lip, “uhm… kind of?”
“The fuck you mean kind of? It’s a yes or no-“ red eyes fall to his arm, face flat as he eyes the colors splashed over his body, some blended in together, others just solid colors filled onto his skin. You laugh nervously as he continues to look down at his torso. “So, you want me to beat the shit out of you?”
“No,” you giggle. “I wanted to make you prettier.”
“I’m already pretty enough, don’t use my body like a damn coloring book, you freak.” He stretches his arms out, brows furrowing as he sees the full extent of your coloring, “fucking- how mUCH EYESHADOW DID YOU USE?”
“Not a lot!” You defend. “It’s a pigmented palette.”
He glares at you, “and you’ve got the nerve to ask me to buy your fuckin’ makeup when this is the shit you pull!”
“You’re the one who fell asleep in the middle of the movie!” You whine, shoving his chest gently. “I needed to entertain myself somehow!”
He catches your shoving hand into his big one, and you gulp nervously, “I’m old. I sleep a lot. This ain’t news.”
The fact he hasn’t yelled at you tells you everything you need to know, and you grab your brush again to continue. “Hey! I’m scolding you, dickhead!”
“Im listening,” you assure, popping the brush into the yellow and moving to the other tattooed circle on his shoulder. “Youre old, I know, you like sleeping, I know-“
“That was not an invitation for you to keep coloring!” He hissed.
You look back up at him though your lashes, pouting subtly, “aw, jeez- fuck you, you know that?” He snarls, and when you blink at him, he rolls his eyes and sits up to be nose-to-nose with you. “Stay out of my armpits. Do not color my face. And so help me, if you take any pictures-“ when your pout deepens, his lip curled into a snarl, “fuck you. ONE. picture.”
“You’re the best!” You mewl, peppering his face with tiny kisses. “The best boyfriend anyone could ask for-“
“Shut up and keep coloring before I change my fucking mind.”
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mostly-imagines · 5 months ago
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Things About My Jason
aka things that might weasel their way into details of stories one day, might not
your boy is clocking in at 6’4 + 3/4 inches and about 245 lbs (he’s the only batkid to be taller than bruce). 
he cusses a lot it, usually doesn’t correlate w anger or intensity its just how he expresses himself. he’ll cuss at you sometimes but not at you and he tries his best to never do it out of anger.
he’s never said it out loud but he would drop all the vigilante shit for you in a heartbeat if you wanted him to (i think he’s also the only batfam member who would do that).
you have an agreement in place to never make any big decisions in the middle of the night/post patrol—this came into place after a few too many bad nights had him coming home shaking and panicked about your safety and convinced he needed to leave you alone for good. 
he kind of zones out sometimes, its bordering on dissociation.
you have a black cat, salem, that’s been around since before you and jason had even met. his yellow eyes pierce you in a way that feels like he’s glaring straight into your soul and judging what he sees. he was suspicious of jason for a while but over time has come to love and protect jason almost as much as you.
he has a lot of nervous habits that have built up over years of stress and trauma. he’ll often double or even triple check locks and cameras. his hand tends to go to where his gun holster would be, regardless of whether or not its there. he’s very conscious of your breathing, especially when you’re asleep, and when he’s stressed or upset he’ll try to align his breathing with yours. he worries that you might get annoyed with how often he checks up on you, be it asking directly, texting you, or just looking you over to make sure you’re doing okay, that you’re happy. he’s also made a habit of standing directly behind you when you’re wearing anything short, especially skirts or dresses. You’re not entirely sure if it’s intentional or not.
day to day, he runs on very little sleep naturally so he’s awake early goes to bed late. he used to not focus much on making meals that actually taste good and have thought put into them until he started dating you. he started catering his grocery trips specifically with you in mind and the things you might like. he actually prefers going on grocery trips and little mundane errands with you bc he had no idea that these tiny aspects of life could bring him so much joy and peace. he also buys you new towels and updates your first aid kit constantly, though the latter is more out of his necessity than yours. depending on his mood, he’ll usually either take scalding hot or freezing showers. 
he’s 100% down to let you decorate the apartment however you want, even if you move into his place. his only ask is that he’s left with space to put his books (of which ne needs plenty). if he had to choose, he probably likes a warm atmosphere best, in terms of like lighting and colors. he’s really just not a fan of anything that feels cold or impersonal like the manor can sometimes seem. other than that he doesn’t really have opinions on it, whatever makes you happy he’ll like. but he’ll still happily go shopping with you to find stuff. but really that’ll just look like you saying “ooh look at this” and him saying “great, lets get it” at every single thing you pick up. 
there are unloaded guns and ammo hidden around your apartment and also stocked generously in a closet or two. he cleans them regularly, you think he does it partially as a kind of stress reliever. before you he didn’t have too much regard for his own safety, so he would sleep with one under his pillow. 
he does everything he can to keep you safe and he’ll insist on adding extra locks to the doors and windows, ones the landlord wont have keys to. yeah he’s paranoid so he’ll keep the bed as far from the door as possible and is unrelenting in his insistence that you sleep on the wall side. if you’re too tired to move, that’s okay, he’ll gently move you over himself. honestly though, your apartment is just as secure, if not more, than any of his safe houses. as such, he absolutely can and will easily hack into the lobby security cameras to check up on things. if he has to go away for a while he’ll send one of his siblings to stop by to check on you and make sure you're okay. 
he prefers to wear layers, it makes him feel more secure and comfortable. he does like cutoff sleeves sometimes but only because you like them on him. aside from that, he’s usually not such a fan of showing much skin because of a) his scars and b) he feels exposed to attacks. he has so many long sleeved and warm clothes in his closet that he heavily encourages you to bundle up in some of them when its cold. 
he goes through phases of bad sleep and they can vary greatly in severity. there’s nights he just physically cannot sleep and this usually originates from intense anxiety. these are easier to ease him back from and some simple comforting will be enough to get him to at least try to sleep. most commonly its the nightmares that make it hard for him. it’ll usually be a one-off that he just can’t fall back asleep afterwards. the worst is when he goes through phases of frequent nightmares, like every night, multiple times a night. when that happens, he will do everything in his power to stay awake for as long as he can. you’ve yet to find any techniques that hands down prevent or even slow the nightmares, but you’ve been able to find some remedial measures that work pretty well.
kissing him helps get his mind off scary thoughts (but not joker related) but not just like single peck it’s got to be a whole session to really work. the one that works best is having a hand on one of your pulse points while you sleep, or directly over your heart. unfortunately this did lead to him to accidentally choking you after a particularly bad nightmare. he was absolutely horrified and removed his hands from you completely the second he gained recognition. he actually fully got out of bed and backed away from you. he wouldn’t even hear you out about him not sleeping on the couch and continued to not budge on it for over a week. 
him punishing himself like that made you feel extra bad because that had occurred during a round of the relentless nightmares and you were sure he was still waking up panicked constantly without you there to help soothe him. you actually know for a fact he was because every couple of hours the bedroom door would creak open slightly before shutting again like he was checking to make sure you were there and okay. you ended up having to literally lay on top of him on the couch and refuse to leave him for him to agree to sleep in bed with you again, although he was still not willing to fall asleep with his hands on you for a while. 
he always needs it to be quiet when he goes to sleep so he can stay on alert which usually leads to him waking up to the littlest sounds, which is technically the point. if there’s any kind of white noise he’ll force himself to stay awake. if he does get woken up he’ll go from 0 to 100 like that. he also needs the door to be shut, non negotiable, and really prefers the apartment to be colder > hotter. it also helps that you’ll cuddle into him for warmth.
all of these things are things he did before you met, but he’d also developed some new habits after you got together. he used to sleep in the middle of the bed but now he absolutely insists that you sleep on the wall side so he can act as a protective barrier between you and any incoming danger. unless its after a rough patrol, he tends to wait to sleep until after you’ve fallen asleep. he doesn’t really have a reason for this, it just makes him feel better.
his relationship with bruce is complicated, of course. in my canon, the extent of it is that bruce didn’t kill the joker, prevented jason from doing it, and has made many attempts to stop jason from killing at all. obviously it’s not the fact that batman won’t let anybody die that broke jason’s heart, it’s that his father couldn’t let go of his moral code for a second and avenge his murdered son. the resulting anger stems from so much sadness and grief over his own death and it caused him to isolate himself even further from bruce. on a conscious level, he wanted to be far away from him emotionally as possible to protect himself while still enacting his own kind of revenge towards bruce. and so yeah, he did try to kill batman a couple times, whatever.
on an unconscious level, he’d hoped that bruce would take the initiative to try to close the space between them and apologize, and while jason didn’t know it yet: that was all he really wanted from him. inwardly, he still cares what bruce thinks and wants his approval and affection but its so conflicting for him. it also doesn’t help that it took bruce such a long time to swallow his pride and even consider that he was wrong before he could apologize. a lot of negotiations had to take place before they could even begin to really reconcile. 
about a year later they’d come to a steady, solid agreement that mostly worked for both of them. jason was allowed to kill, but only within his territory in gotham and only under agreed upon circumstances. there’s also a separate rule that jason’s not allowed out on patrol when the joker is loose—it used to be a whole thing before you’d met and oftentimes several bats were assigned to keep him away. even with these guidelines in place, things were still rocky between them and jason had only just started to come back around the manor when he’d met you. honestly you and bruce meeting was a major step in this process and everyone could feel the shift.
his relationship with his brothers is different, but just as complicated. he kind of views dick as being perfect in spite of also acknowledging his flaws. in his head, its sort of like, in comparison to himself, dick had the perfect life with perfect versions of all the same pitfalls jason had to go through. he knows its not really fair to think of it this way, but it’s hard sometimes. all in all though, he does look up to dick a lot. 
with tim, he thinks he’s a crazy rich kid—which, fair—but also in a weird way holds a lot of respect for tim for not being afraid of him. realistically, the way jason showed back up and his relationship  with tim started is insane, so its even more insane that tim was like ‘yeah, chill’ and that probably jump started their bond as brothers more than anything. 
for as much shit as he gives him, he honestly feels really bad for damian and all the shit he was raised believing. he couldn’t quite explain why, but he does see a lot of himself in damian, even past the surface level anger. 
he’s not good at resolving fights, his mind tends to jump to the absolute worst and he assumes you’re done with him, you resent him, it’s all over. it was really bad at the beginning of your relationship when he hadn’t even begun to consider that you love him half as much as he loves you. now, you’ve been able to help him understand that you still love him, even when you fight, and fighting does not equal breaking up. however, he still has trouble taking initiative in making amends. not because he doesn’t want to but more so because he feels vulnerable in ways that terrify him, having to acknowledge and speak into existence that he’d done something wrong feels like setting himself up to be exposed with no defense. 
another part of him feels like he already hurt you and if he tries to remedy things with you, he could just make it worse. So for a while at least, you’ll have to be the one to start the conversation, though not necessarily meaning you have to apologize first. 
as we know, Jason’s not immune to bouts of fear and stress. there’s times when he panics and there’s times when he has full blown panic attacks. the panic attacks are rarer, but much more severe. he’s known to lash out (especially when he’s not at your apartment) and has definitely broken a nose or two of people who got too close/tried to touch him. you’re not sure if it’s an intentional action or not, but he tends to claw at his skin or hit himself in the head when he’s very upset. after going through a couple of these with him, you’ve compiled a thorough list of DOs and DONTs for these times. DONT hold his wrists, move suddenly, touch him without warning, or corner him. DO keep your touches light, words soft, rooms vacant of other people, and loud noises. slowly but surely they’re getting less severe and overcome quicker.
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andersonfilms · 22 days ago
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NSFW EIGHTEEN+
all i seem to think about lately is religious!abby who grew up in a church all her life, always been told she needs to be with a man, marry one, build a life with one — owen in particular is who she’s been told to have. the arranged marriage she was basically grown into. 
in her early twenties, yet has she had the opportunity to be with another. a promise to her father, with the cross-necklace laying on her chest, she’s dedicated to being celibate until marriage. a pact practically bound by the blood of virgin mary, she believes in the sacred bond she has through faith with her god and savior, jesus christ. funnily enough, it’s the words she utters as you corner her in the bathroom. well…not so much as cornered, not with those curious blue eyes begging for something, anything to unburden her from the life abby feels trapped in. even if she knows it goes against everything she’s been taught, she doesn’t stop you from snaking your hand up her sunshine sunday dress, bright blue as it bring out her eyes, never leaving your actions. at first, your fingers only running along her folds, teasing the era until she’s dripping for you. there isn’t a doubt in your mind she’s never felt anything like this. 
the gold cross pendant a pawn in her mouth as if the only purpose it’s ever served is to be a prop until the cadence revealed itself. the truth of religion can be found on the tips of your fingers, the delicate touches on abby’s clit. abby lets her mind wander into the altar, the communion she takes, you’ll be the sin she begs for forgiveness next. seeping into her body like the blood pumping through her veins, the lone reason for her existence was for you. no god could compare to this, the trembling of her thighs, the moans she whispered in hopes not even her savior from above could hear her. 
is god really the way, the truth, and the light if she sees heaven through your eyes? 
“this is what you wanted isn’t it? someone to save you from the chains you call religion? let me set you free.” without a second more wasted, your tongue laps at her pussy, enjoying the way she can barely hold herself up. letting you claim something now has had the privilege of venturing. she would be shunned, ostracized from society if anyone knew the truth. 
truthfully, it’s an easy task. the angelic blonde so deprived of another’s touch she slithers in the hands of a snake, tasting the forbidden fruit for the first time. it’s quick, overwhelming when she comes undone, spilling her sweet nectar into your lips, hips moving uncontrollably as she fucks your face. knuckles bearing the color of winter snow, clutching onto her dress that rests at her toned abdomen as you swallow every last drop. 
stepping away from her, you grab a washcloth, running it under warm water, abby unable to move. impending doom washes over her guilty, and now sinful, heart. this never should have happened, the voice in her head repeats, the path of self righteousness was supposed to be hers but now she finds herself acquainted with the sinner and the snake, straying from the life of a discipline and discipleship. 
“hold your pretty dress for me. can’t get it wet, can we?” abby lifts her dress, clutching it as the warm wash rag gently cleans her, she feels your fingers dip inside her slightly, thorough as you clean up her cum. 
“i should get back out there.” abby shyly whispers. “my dad will be looking for me…and owen.” 
“right.” you toss the used rag on the countertop, “just one more thing.” 
with a passion laced in your tongue, you steal her breath away, lips locking either her pinky, pouting ones. abby can only assume the salty but even sweeter taste is her. whimpering as you squeeze her small tits through the pale blue dress, abby can’t help but grind against your legs between her legs, aching for something more. this time, you deny her of what she so desperately needs. 
“come and find me when you’re ready for a real fuck, princess.”
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uluvjay · 7 months ago
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So sweet- O. Piastri & L. Norris
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Oscar Piastri x fem! Reader x Lando Norris x fem! Reader
In which you and Lando celebrate your boyfriend’s birthday your own way..
Warnings?; smut, poly! Relationship, p in v, penetrative sex, unprotected sex( a big no no), handjob (m receiving), switch Lando!, switch reader!, sub Oscar!, kissing, talks of spanking, suggestion of m x m, cursing, pet names, bratty lando, teasing, edging, good boy Oscar, slight food play?, sorry for any errors I missed!
This was supposed to be out weeks ago but writers block is a bitch and I didn’t want it going to waste!
You didn’t even notice what you were doing to your boys, to indulged in the sweetness of the cupcake Jon handed you you failed to notice the way both of your boyfriends eyes had locked on the way your tongue poked out to take a lick of the icing, or how their breaths hitched at the sound of your soft moan at how sweet the taste was.
“You boys should really go get one, these are delicious.” You spoke, eyes still trained on the cupcake in your hand.
You frowned noticing some of the papaya icing on your finger, not thinking twice before popping the digit into your mouth to clean it off.
A soft fuck coming from the British driver had you looking up, freezing the second you caught the looks in both drivers eyes.
Both sets of their eyes darker than their natural color, watching intently as you removed your finger from your mouth.
“What?..” you trailed looking between both men.
“Baby..c-can you eat it normally please?” Oscar spoke up first.
“I am eating it normally?” You defended
Lando groaned at your words, his large hands wasting no time as they pulled you closer by your hips, dipping his head so he could whisper in your ear.
“No, you’re being a fucking tease..sucking your fingers and moaning for everyone to see and hear.”
Your breath hitched at his words, a soft blush covering your cheeks as he pulled back looking down at you with a stern and frustrated expression.
Your eyes dropped down to their black jeans, bulges evident through the dark material everything finally clicked in your mind.
They were getting turned on by watching you eat a cupcake..
Neither of the men liked the smirk that tugged at your lips, their stomachs fluttering as your tongue poked back out this time licking the icing much more seductively.
“I don’t know what you mean, I’m just enjoying my cupcake.” You shrugged turning on your heels to head off towards Lando’s divers room, giggling as you heard both sets of their feet quickly following behind you.
You walked into the room and took a seat on the small couch, not bothering to shut the door as their two large bodies filed in right after you.
You looked up at them innocently, both men standing in front of you- Lando with his arms crossed impatiently and your sweet Aussie with his hands crossed in front of him.
“Can I help you boys with something?” You raised an eyebrow, tongue poking out for another taste of the icing.
“I-we..” Oscar stammered, always having trouble announcing what it was that he truly wanted when it came to sex, his nerves always taking over.
“Oh fuck this.” Lando grumbled, surging forward he snatched the cupcake from your hands, throwing it into the bin next to you before quickly moving to sit beside you and pull you onto his lap.
You didn’t have time to react to his rushed movements before he was pulling you into a heavy kiss, one of his large hands tangling in your hair while the other held your waist.
the mix of your natural taste plus added sweetness of the icing had him him moaning against you.
Feeling the couch shift and added weight you pulled away from the Brit, leaning over to pull Oscar into a kiss, his hands much more hesitant as they pulled you onto his lap.
“You taste so sweet.” He whined as you both pulled away for air.
“Not as sweet as you birthday boy.” You smirked, running a finger along his reddening cheek, basking in the way he leaned into you with a soft sigh.
“This is cute and all but can we fuck already? We only have an hour before practice.” Lando grumbled from beside you two.
Lando’s stomach twisted at the way your lips tugged up into a smirk at your lips, eyes switching between him and the brunette sat below you.
“Why don’t we let the birthday boy pick?” You spoke up, “What do you think Osc? Should I fuck you while Lando watches or does he deserve a little something too?”
Oscar whimpered at your words, eyes looking over at his now pouting boyfriend whose hard cock was pushing against the tight material of his jeans and he couldn’t help but feel his mouth water at the thought of Lando’s thick cock.
“W-want you to ride me while i touch lan..” he mumbled with a quick please following close behind.
You hummed happily at his words, moving back slightly to pull him from the restraints of his jeans and boxers, basking in his small moan as his cock sprung free.
“Always such a good boy for me Osc, so polite and patient.” You praised however your eyes were trained on the pouting Brit beside you, his arms crossed as he watched you slowly stroke Oscar’s length.
“Take your cock out lan, don’t leave our good boy waiting.” You instructed, both you and Oscar watching intently as he grumbled under his breath but still did as you said.
The sight of his thick and needy cock causing Oscar to whimper and immediately reach out for his boyfriend, stroking his cock at the same pace your hand moved on his.
You watched on as the pleasure took over Lando’s once bratty demeanor, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tipped back and his nails dug into the arm of the couch.
“Fuck.” He whimpered as Oscar flexed his wrist, his thumb running over Lando’s dripping tip.
You did the same to the Aussie causing small whines of his own to escape the back of his throat as his eyes moved back to you.
It was his and Lando’s turn to watch as you pushed your panties to the side under your dress and moved to hover over Oscar’s cock, air getting stuck in your throat as you sunk down on him.
Both men watched in awe as you took all of Oscar’s length, sharing a mutual moan of need at the way your body shook once you reached the base of his cock.
“So good.” You hissed as you got used to his size, it didn’t matter how many times you had either of them, you always needed time to adjust.
You soon began to rock your hips, hands resting on the back of the couch as you kept eye contact with the sweet boy below you, enjoying the way his face contorted into different signs of pleasure.
Lando watched from the side as your cunt greedily took Oscar, your tits slowly starting to spill over the top of your dress as your bounces began to pick up pace, causing the boy to whine with want.
Your smirk returned at the way Lando’s pretty eyes were locked in your breasts and you couldn’t help yourself when you pulled the top down allowing them to spill free.
Oscar wasted no time in dipping forward and taking one into his mouth, a cry leaving you as his lips wrapped around one of your buds, his teeth lightly nipping before he calmed the stinging with a roll of his tongue, his left hand still working your boyfriends cock.
“C-can I please have a taste? Please.” Lando finally spoke after a minute of watching Oscar devour your breasts, fresh marks now littering your skin.
“You think he deserves a taste Oscar?”
“Mhm, been good for me.” Oscar mumbled into your skin, his lips returning right after he finished his sentence.
You gave Lando a curt nod and soon he was on the other breast like a starved man, sloppy wet kisses all over your skin, his tongue tracing the shape of your nipple before he took the bud between his teeth lightly.
“Oh god” you moaned at the mixed sensation of Oscar’s cock hitting you so deep and having both of their mouths on you, your hands coming up to cup the back of their heads.
“M’ getting close boys, fuck!” You cried.
You pushed both of them back as the feeling in your lower stomach began to increase, grinding down on Oscar’s length as you desperately chased your release, body shaking as you tipped over the edge.
Oscar wasn’t far behind, the clenching of your cunt brining him to the edge as he cried out, filling you to the brim with his release.
You zoned out for a moment until a familiar whine sounded from beside you, looking over you found Lando with a swollen and throbbing cock.
With a teasing pout you wrapped your hand around his cock replacing Oscar’s much larger one that now rested on the Brits thigh.
“Oscar leave you hanging baby?” You smirked at the boy.
He nodded in reply, the pleasure becoming to strong for him to form anything more than a few mumbles and breathless moans.
You knew he was close when he started thrusting into your hand, his moans raising in volume as his hips began to stutter and soon your hand was covered in his warm release.
He dropped back against the couch, his chest heaving as he recovered from his powerful orgasm after two denied ones from Oscar.
You smiled at your boyfriend before bringing your hand to your mouth, making sure to clean it of Lando’s release before pulling Oscar into a breathless kiss.
It was silent for a while after you two pulled away, a comfortable silence filling the room as everyone regained their strength.
“That was fun.” Lando broke the silence, “But you two will most definitely be paying for that later.” He sat up eyes locking with yours, a dark look swirling in them before he moved onto Oscar.
The Brit went to open his mouth but a knock sounding on the door cut him off before he could.
“Thirty minutes till practice, get dressed please.” Jon announced waiting for a ‘okay’ from Lando before he retreated back to the garage.
The boy below you whimpered as you moved to get off of his softening cock, you whispered small apologies as you slid off moving to stand in front of him as you fixed yourself.
Oscar tucked himself away before standing on shaky legs of his own, his hands pulling you into his embrace as he held you close.
Lando didn’t bother putting himself away, instead stripping down completely and pulling on his fireproofs before his racing suit.
“You gotta go get ready osc.” You cooed in the boys ear, hand running up and down his back.
Oscar frowned at your words a small grumbled escaping him as he held you tighter.
“Just go get your things and get ready in here baby, we’ll be right here when you come back.” Lando spoke up.
With a bit more pushing Oscar finally separated from you, giving Lando a small kiss as he passed on his way to go get his things.
You made your way to sit on Lando’s massage table, the boy coming to stand between your spread legs as you wrapped them around his back.
“As hot as your little stunt was, your ass will be sorry for it later.” He smirked into your neck as he left wet kisses against the skin.
“Don’t tease me now baby.” You smirked earning you a giggle from Lando as he pulled back with a shake of his head.
“What am I gonna do with you huh?”
“Spank me.” You shrugged hands sliding around his neck.
“Who’s getting spanked?” Oscar questioned curiously as he walked back into the room, door shutting quickly behind him.
“Me” you smirked looking up at Lando with nothing but amusement in your eyes.
“Maybe it shouldn’t be a punishment anymore if you like it that much.” The Brit tutted with a shake of his head.
“What do you think osc? should I edge her instead, maybe make her watch me fuck you silly like she made me watch?” He continued looking over at your boyfriend.
“Wait! That’s no-“ you tried but Lando once again spoke up.
“You’re the birthday boy baby, you get to pick.”
Oscar looked at your reddened face, a pout similar to Lando’s earlier one now present as your thighs began to rub together.
“Can I think about it? Get back to you after practice?”
Your eyes almost bulged out of your head at his words, watching as they both zipped up their suits and made way for the door.
“Take as long as you need baby.” Lando smiled, leaning in to give the boy a kiss.
“Wait, boys, can we talk about this now..please?” You questioned as you shoved yourself between them in the hallway, body now squeezed between their frames.
“Sorry baby, duty calls but we’ll see you after Kay?” Lando smirked leaning down to press his lips against yours before moving forward to where Jon was.
“Love you pretty girl.” Oscar spoke, giving you a kiss as well before going to his side of the garage.
“What did I get myself into”
-
Happy very late birthday Oscar! Sorry my writers block was a pain in the ass
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