#simple fashion made easy

[fresherfriut]

[sloaneispunk]

“the carousel”

soft!frontman (hwang in-ho) x you

when frontman planned the ‘mingle’ game, he knew it was set out to kill and eliminate. what he didn’t expect was how much he was willing to compromise when he had someone to lose.

⋆♱✮♱⋆ ──── 〇 △ □ ──── ⋆♱✮♱⋆

part one

as the games continued, the tension between the players continued to increase. between the ‘x’s and ‘o’s laid a thick, heavy atmosphere. nobody knew who to trust, there had been far too many betrayals for a lifetime.

however, you yourself had one person that you trusted…

young-il.

young-il had approached you after the first game, saying how since you and him were alone you should stick together.

you had your share of skepticism but something drew you in each time you tried to pull away. young-il was just so charming, so charismatic and gentle with you. you had seen how angry he could be when standing up for the rights of each person individually but with you he was just so soft spoken.

when you went to sleep, he would stay by you. either on the edge of your bed keeping watch or laying down beside your headrest staying ever so close to you.

of course you protected him too, maybe not as brave as he was when doing so but you always made sure he was safe and healthy. you would give him extra food and even though he protested, you’d make him eat it anyway.

he loved that you were equally protective and loving towards him as he was to you. he felt a sense of pride whenever you would stand up for him. it made the young boy in him happy and he knew it.

⋆♱✮♱⋆ ──── 〇 △ □ ──── ⋆♱✮♱⋆

part two

“players please walk in an orderly fashion towards your third game.”

you were walking beside young-il as he had his hand on your back making sure that you were always with him even though you were walking with the rest of the group.

“what game do you think we’ll play now?” you asked, looking up at him.

young-il let out a small chuckle, he loved how it didn’t even sound like you knew how dire the situation you were in was.

“i’m not sure, y/n. what are you hoping it’ll be?” he replied.

“maybe hopscotch, or jump rope.”

“maybe.”

however, when you stepped into the game room, there was a giant carousel in the middle. around it were many doors painted with different colors.

“oh, what is this? a giant carousel, how strange!” jung-bae made a remark, stepping onto the giant platform.

young-il stretched out his hand for you, briefly helping you up beside him once again, you thanked him with a smile.

“the game is ‘mingle’. a song will play as the carousel spins, once the song ends and the movement comes to a stop, a number will be called out. you must then make a team of the number and head into any room of your choice.”

“that sounds easy.” dae-ho said.

“no. it can’t be that simple, it never is.”

⋆♱✮♱⋆ ──── 〇 △ □ ──── ⋆♱✮♱⋆

part three

round one

‘round, round, round, round! let’s dance in circles!clap your hands and sing! la-la-la-la let’s have fun dancing!’

the child-like music blasted loudly as the lights started to dim. with a jerk of the platform, it started to spin.

young-il instinctively grabbed your arm, keeping you with him at all cost.

“no matter what happens, do not let go of me. you understand?” he instructed sternly as he turned to face you.

but before you could reply, the platform came to a sudden halt, causing you to stumble and grab onto young-il’s arm.

‘ten.’

then, the music abruptly stopped, a loud jarring alarm now taking its place on the speakers as the lights flashed and flickered.

“we have 6! we need 4 more!” gi-hun shouted as panic started to set in within everyone.

“we’re 4!” player 120 yelled, running towards you with 3 players behind.

“let’s go! yellow door!” young-il shouted, leading the way, his hand still grabbing onto yours.

he flung the door open and carefully led you in, making sure you were okay before going back out, holding the door for the others to enter.

as the timer hit one, he drew the door shut behind him. the lock on it clicking as he looked out.

you joined him as you stood and watched the scene unfold in front of you. it was chaos everywhere. those who were unable to find a team in time were scrambling and screaming, some even on their knees begging for the guards who were now pointing guns at them to spare them.

round two

the door clicked, unlocking itself moments later. you stepped out, met with the sight of blood and dead bodies of players around. young-il came up behind you, holding you close again. “look straight, don’t look down okay?” he whispered, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

‘ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a’

you took in a deep breath as the platform started moving once more. this time everyone looked much more scared, you could see some shaking in fear while others were clearly enjoying themselves, linking arms and dancing in circles like a bunch of lunatics.

“four.”

your eyes shot to young-il. somehow even under the blinding flashes of lights, he looked just as handsome.

“you four go! me and y/n will find two more!” he shouted over the chaos.

“are you sure?!” gi-hun asked, skeptical to leave his friends.

“yes, go!”

with that, the six of you split ways. the four easily finding a room. gi-hun however was nervous. what if you couldn’t find a room in time? what if you couldn’t find more people?

“young-il, split up, i get one you get one!” you shouted, pulling back.

“no! y/n, don’t-”

but you didn’t listen. you knew that if you went together you wouldn’t be able to find two people in time.

“pink door! room twenty! i’ll meet you there!” you said and took off, running the opposite direction, leaving him no choice but to do as you asked.

you frantically looked everywhere for another person, it was hard to find someone that hasn’t already been dragged away by a team. then, you spotted a boy being kicked back by the two dancing lunatics.

you ran as fast as you could to him, grabbing him by the arm and leading him to room twenty. there young-il was already inside, holding open the door for you to enter.

as soon as your feet stepped inside, he shut the door tight behind you.

“my god, what were you thinking?! are you insane?!” he gently scolded, his head in his hands as he ruffled his hair.

“look, i’m okay!” you smiled, “and what did i tell you? it’s way faster that way.”

young-il let out a sigh of disbelief, rolling his eyes and he took his hands out of yours. just in time to save the two poor people in the same room, the door opened.

the boy you had saved mumbled a small ‘thank you’ before he took off, leaving you and young-il in the room alone.

“i’m sorry, i just wanted to help you.” you apologised.

“y/n, i was scared you weren’t going to come back.” he said, almost like a whisper. he walked over to you, pulling you into a hug.

“i’m sorry i-”

“don’t apologise, it’s okay. you’re a strong girl right? i knew you could do it.” he lightly chuckled, pulling away.

you offered him a smile in return, grabbing his hand again before leaving the room.

“there you guys are! we were worried sick!” a familiar voice said.

there, gi-hun and the team ran towards you, jung-bae engulfing young-il in a tight hug while dae-ho pulled you in for one too.

“hey, i’m a very likeable person. i do well in these games.” young-il joked, purposefully glancing at you, giving you a wink.

⋆♱✮♱⋆ ──── 〇 △ □ ──── ⋆♱✮♱⋆

part four

round three

‘ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, lets’s hold hands together, let’s have fun together’

‘three’

“how do you wanna do it?” you asked gi-hun who had a panic stricken look on his face.

“jung-bae, dae-ho and me! you, young-il and jun-hee!”

without question, young-il grabbed your arm again, dashing towards the nearest door before anyone could enter. he was so quick you almost couldn’t grab jun-hee’s hand in time.

after making sure everyone settled in safely unharmed, you immediately rushed to jun-hee’s side.

“was that too rough? did i hurt you? how’s your stomach?” you asked as she stood in the corner trying to catch her breath.

young-il watched without saying a word. he was immediately in a trance just by watching you, seeing you so gentle and kind towards people in need. it made him regret recruiting a kind soul like you into the game. he knew right then that it was either you or the game, especially once you found out exactly who he was.

round four

“how many more rounds do we have to play? i’m getting exhausted.” you said practically collapsing onto young-il as the platform stopped suddenly, not giving time for you to recover before the game started again.

“six.”

you were so exhausted you couldn’t even process everything that was happening, all you knew was that young-il was leading you by your hand straight into another room where you were met with familiar faces, the old lady’s team… but someone was missing.

1,2,3,4,5…

…player 095

“where is she?!” you asked, suddenly aware of the situation.

you could hear young-il’s voice telling you to stay in place and that he would go out and look for her but you ignored him, pulling open the door.

there you saw her on the floor, crying for help. but before you could step out, someone pushed you back into the room, knocking you back and locking the door behind him.

you felt a pair of hands immediately grab onto your stomach, catching you before you fell. young-il pulled you back, your body flush against him as the boy turned around, just as the timer hit zero and the door locked itself.

“nonono what did you do?!” player 120 shouted at him, shoving him to look out the hole. “young-mi! young-mi! no!”

“i just saved your lives! she wouldn’t have made it in time anyway!” he scoffed back.

“unnie!” young-mi cried, the pain in her voice piercing everyone’s heart.

“young-il.” you cried, turning to face away from the heartbreaking sight. you could still hear her cries as you buried your head into young-il’s chest. his arms wrapping around your body as he tried to comfort you.

then, there was a silent gunshot and the cries stopped.

for the first time, young-il felt a sense of guilt from the games. a stinging wave of sadness spread throughout his whole being.

maybe it was holding your shaking and exhausted body, or hearing your cries that made him soft again. he wasn’t sure whether to hate you or love you for it.

when the doors opened, everyone was still in a state of shock and grief.

“c’mon, it’s okay, it’s almost over.” he said softly as he guided you back onto the carousel.

⋆♱✮♱⋆ ──── 〇 △ □ ──── ⋆♱✮♱⋆

part five

final round

“it’s two.” young-il said coldly, looking around.

“how do you know?” you asked.

“at least a hundred people left, fifty rooms. they’re going to make us fight for it, that’s what they do…”

‘two’

without wasting a second, you and young-il ran towards the closest room.

this round was the more vicious and violent, everyone threw away their morales. there were some kicking others out of rooms, dragging teams away.

you must not have been paying attention because just as you were about to enter the room, right behind young-il, a pair of hands grabbed you from your waist, lifting you in the air and throwing you aside causing you to scream young-il’s name.

young-il whipped his head around, seeing you land on the floor, hitting your head in the process. rage fueled him as he pounced onto the man, giving you time to go into the room.

however, you were met with the sight of another man.

“get out.” you told him.

“no! we were here first!” he shouted back.

just then, young-il came running in, shutting the door behind him. when he saw another person in the room, he was fast to react, launching himself at the man.

“hey fuckin’ let me in!” a voice yelled from the outside.

you jumped into action, pressing your back towards the door, holding it shut while others tried to come in.

you looked up at the timer in the room.

10 seconds

young-il knew exactly what to do, he just wondered if it was the right thing to do in front of you. but as seconds passed, he knew for certain what he had to do if he wanted you to survive.

9

he grabbed the man by the neck, keeping him in a headlock

8

you could see the fear in the man’s eyes

7

the man started choking

6

his legs started to thrash around

5

he was fighting for every breath he could take

4

young-il’s grip tightened

3

‘crack’

2

silence filled the room

1

your eyes were wide open in shock as you waited for young-il to break the silence.

“y/n, i’m so sorry.” he finally said, putting down the now lifeless body onto the ground as he made his way to you.

you were beyond taken aback with the sight that was in front of you, hand over your mouth as you started to breathe quickly.

“hey, no, no. please don’t be scared. it’s me, y/n, it’s okay.” he said with that same gentle voice of his when he was talking to you, just not in a situation like this.

he took your hand away from your face, bringing it down and held your face in his hands.

“look at me please.” he said, his voice now so, so soft, almost as if he was pleading.

you blinked away tears as you slowly looked at young-il, staring deep into his brown eyes.

“thatta girl, it’s okay… i did what i had to do to keep you safe…” he said. “that’s what i promised you right?”

you nodded.

he leaned forward, placing a kiss on your forehead before stepping back. he wiped away your tears with his hands before taking your hand in his again, leading you out as the game came to an end.

what the fuck just happened?

[colebabey888]

Cultivating Your Signature It Girl Aesthetic | THE IT GIRL DIARIES

Fashion and style are critical components of the ideal It Girl. However, style is not about following every trend, you are the inspiration, the trendsetter, the It Girl style is about creating a look that is uniquely yours, an appearance that no one else can replicate but instead only have deep admiration for it. It’s about creating a personal brand that feels true to who you are and owning it.

How to discover and curate your signature look?

Know Your Aesthetic

Identify your fashion preferences. Are you drawn to classy elegance, barbie doll pink, edgy streetwear, coquette or bohemian chic? Curate a wardrobe that reflects this aesthetic consistently. Identifying your aesthetic does not mean limiting yourself to only that, else you're just another follower taking inspiration from the trendsetter. Take your aesthetic and make it your own, add your touch of personality and characteristic to it, give it a bit of you.

Invest in Staples

Build your wardrobe around staple pieces that can be mixed and matched. Classic items like plain white or black tees, versatile denim, fitted slacks, clothing that can never go out of style because it can always be made into something more.

Embrace Your Natural Features

Celebrate what makes you you. If you have big lips or eyes, find ways to accentuate them! Instead of conforming to trends that don't serve your look, embrace and elevate your features. For instance, laminating your brows for a neat, polished appearance instead of shaving them all off and redrawing them on like.. Discover beauty techniques that enhance your natural beauty rather than masking it.

Maintain a Signature Hair Routine

Your hair is one of your defining traits! Whether you have silky straight hair or kinky 4b curls, a consistent haircare routine helps you feel polished and put together. Invest in treatments that align with your hair type and goals—like deep conditioning and hot oil treatments for moisture and strength. If you love to wear your hair sleek, using heat protectants and frizz control products will help maintain your signature look while preventing damage.

Curate a Low-Maintenance Glam Look

You don’t have to spend hours on makeup to feel fabulous. Find key beauty steps that give you lasting results, like applying a lip tint every third day to keep your lips subtly flushed without constant reapplication. Design a makeup routine that emphasizes your key features. A weekly face mask tailored to your skin’s needs helps keep your complexion glowing. Embrace easy, effective beauty hacks that fit seamlessly into your routine.

Focus on Clean, Minimal Elegance

True elegance comes from appearance and how you carry yourself. Paying attention to skin, hair, and environmental cleanliness, moving with grace and poise. Keeping things simple yet chic, whether it’s maintaining a daily skincare routine or practicing oil pulling—ensure you’re always putting your best self forward. The key is consistency and subtlety, qualities that define It Girl charm.

Stick to What Works

The It Girl aesthetic isn’t about following every trend—it’s about finding what works for you and sticking with it. Your style and beauty choices should reflect what feels comfortable and sustainable for you.

Your personal style should reflect who you are on the inside and help you radiate confidence. Discover what feels authentic, and from there, curate a signature It Girl aesthetic that highlights your best self.

mwah! xoxo, colebabey8.88

www.thedigitaldollar/gumroad.com

[timmydraker]

Tim who’s a femme boy but not in a ‘skater skirt and thigh high socks’ kind of way.

No, he was raised by two people who value tradition and fashion, teaching him the ways of old money.

He watched his mother, who worked with woman who married into families and worse low cut dresses and diamond necklaces, hold the same power over men with only her wrist and head bare. He learnt that modesty was as equally powerful as nudity, that a woman could be devastating in any fabric if she out in the work.

Tim has always known he isn’t a woman, is comfortable being a man, but by all that’s natural does he not look at the way they dress and feel longing.

He’s twelve when he tries one of his mother’s dresses on for the first time.

It’s far too long, puddling at his feet, but he feels so beautiful in the mossy green fabric. The elbow length sleeves go to his wrist, but it still feels almost scandalous in a way that isn’t about the dress being on a boy.

He puts the dress away and begins to buy his own.

Naturally, he doesn’t risk his parents ire and keeps them hidden, but with them being gone so long it’s easy for him to spend some time by himself to dress up all he likes.

By the time he’s fourteen and has been around in for a while, he’s managed to go through a few different styles and find what truely feels like him.

He still wears his stupid science shirts and baggy hoodies over his formal dress shirts, it’s just that now he might add a simple long skirt instead of his dirty jeans. He won’t skate in a skirt, only because he doesn’t want to damage them and jeans are safer, but he also doesn’t leave the house in them for a while.

It’s not long after he’s recovered from Jason’s attack, his former idol still having trouble coming to terms with the lies he was told by the LOA, that he decides to see what Bruce thinks.

Ironically, it’s Jason that gave him the confidence.

Jason had made a comment when he was going on his rant to Tim about how Robin shouldn’t exist and he should get out, that he was warning the boy he should cut and run from Bruce. All he had said was that he was cutting his life short by being Robin and Tim felt that comment hit him harder than the bullet to his leg.

His time was short, most likely he would die before he got to marry or maybe even graduate (though he was considering dropping out anyway), so why hide?

Tim had been just about to get changed before he left to go see Bruce for a checkup on his mostly healed injuries when he caught his reflection and stopped.

The white shirt he wore was long sleeved and covered his neck, the buttons going up the front made of wood and shaped like hearts. His skirt, a dark brown flannel pattern prove that went just above his ankles, had a corset like fitting at the top that hugged his waist carefully. While he would prefer a more womanly figure, he wasn’t going to implement old Victorian body horror to get that.

Tim did go back to his room, but only to put on some simple heeled shoes of brown leather with a gold buckle on the side.

He put on a big shall over his shoulders, picking up his phone and putting on his headphones before he made the walk to Wayne Manor.

As usual, he didn’t need to knock as Alfred opened the door.

The man didn’t give any inkling as to surprise or shock at Tim’s outfit and simple said, “Glad to see you putting some effort into your appearance, Master Timothy.”

The snide comment made Tim relax greatly, quipping back about him being able to wear more than just jeans and t-shirts to the older man. The two talked normally and that made everything feel so much better than some grand speech on Tim accepted who he is.

Dick and Bruce are talking to each other in polite voices, both still a little awkward with each other even if they have gotten better, and both turn to great Tim as he enters the dining room for dinner.

Bruce looks shocked, showing he isn’t feeling too much like Batman at the moment, but he covers it up and says nothing and lets Dick speak.

Tim immediately feels stupid as Dick walks up to him with a big smile and opens arms, because Dick Grayson was raised in a circus! If anyone was going to accept ‘oddities’ in the family it would be him, “Timmy! Oh my little baby, you look so good! What’s the occasion? Oh! Do you have a date?”

His brothers teasing mg tone at the end makes him smile and shove him gently. “Not a date or anything else, I just… thought I’d wear something more my style out for once.”

Dick beamed, hearing the unspoken confession of trust and picking his brother up and spinning him around, “Oh, Timmyyyy! My baby, you look so beautiful! You can wear whatever you want, all the time, anywhere! I’ll will straight up eat anyone who has a problem, I swear I will do it, just say the word-“

Bruce finally talks just to cut Dick off, “Dick, no ‘eating’ anyone who hurts your bother. A lawsuit will surfice.”

Tim can’t help but beam at Bruce, knowing full well that those words are his weird way of showing his approval and acceptance. Him being more forward with it would have been nicer, but he was the most fluent in the language of Bruce Wayne outside of Alfred and so he was okay with it.

Dick went to whine, acting like a spoilt child while he secretly raged inside that he was being told not to commit a violent act. Honestly, Tim wasn’t sure if it was because it was in defence of his brother or because Dick was always secretly searching for something to get aggressive with.

Tim smiled happily, taking off his shawl and thanking Alfred when he swooped in to take it away for him.

As Tim sat at the table, he felt a peace build in his heart that he hadn’t felt… well, ever.

[rose24207]

My dad is a dumbass

Summary: Lucas is sent back in time to ensure his teenage father falls for his outcast mother instead of the wrong girl.

Genre: fluff, popular!Lando x bullied!reader, time travel

TW: bullying

A/N: I watched twinkling watermelon. SOMEONE SEDATE ME- anyways… *cough cough* English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist pt. 2

The moment Lucas felt the world spin beneath his feet, he knew something was very wrong. One second, he had been in his dad’s garage, tinkering with some old F1 tech Lando had insisted was too dangerous to touch, and the next?

He was here—standing in the middle of a high school hallway that smelled like sweat, cheap cologne, and regret.

Lucas stumbled, heart racing. The world had shifted—subtly, but undeniably. Everything around him was different. The posters on the walls advertised school dances from years ago. The fashion was outdated. The phones in students' hands were clunky.

His breath hitched.

This wasn’t just any high school.

This was your high school.

His parents had met here.

And from the way the students around him carried on, oblivious to the fact that a future-born kid had just dropped into their reality, it hit him.

He had traveled back in time.

And then he heard it.

A voice so familiar it made his stomach twist.

“Oi, Carlos, did you see that goal? Absolute beauty, mate!”

Lucas turned his head so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.

There, leaning against the lockers, laughing with a group of friends, was Lando Norris.

Not Dad, the grown-up who nagged him about cleaning his room and told embarrassing stories to his friends. No, this was seventeen-year-old Lando—loud, confident, grinning like he owned the world.

Lucas nearly choked.

Holy shit. My dad is a dumbass teenager.

You always knew how to make yourself invisible. It was a skill you had mastered long ago—sitting in the farthest corner of the library, keeping your head down, never speaking unless necessary. It was safer that way.

High school had been unkind to you. The whispers, the taunts, the stolen lunch money—they had worn you down over time, molding you into someone small and quiet.

You thought you were alone.

Until a chair scraped across from you, and a boy you didn’t recognize sat down.

You stiffened, gripping your book tighter.

“Uh… do I know you?” you asked hesitantly.

The boy—Lucas, as he introduced himself—smiled, easy and relaxed. “Not yet.”

There was something strange about him. He didn’t feel like a normal teenager. His gaze was too sharp, too knowing. And yet… when he glanced at your book and casually remarked, “Pride and Prejudice? Classic,” you felt your heart stutter.

Nobody had ever paid attention to what you read.

“You’ve read it?” you asked, voice skeptical.

Lucas smirked. “More times than I can count.”

A flicker of warmth spread through your chest.

You hadn’t had a real conversation with someone in months.

And for the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel so alone.

Lucas had a problem.

His dad was an idiot.

A lovesick idiot.

And not for the right girl.

Her name was Jessica. And she was, in Lucas’ professional opinion, the worst person on the planet.

She was the kind of girl who faked sweetness when people were watching but turned venomous the second they weren’t.

And seventeen-year-old Lando was eating right out of her perfectly manicured hand.

Lucas watched in horror as his father practically tripped over himself trying to impress her.

“She’s so obviously playing you,” Lucas muttered under his breath.

Carlos, standing nearby, gave him a weird look. “Do you know Lando?”

Lucas coughed. “Uh, no.”

Carlos shrugged. “Then why do you care?”

Lucas clenched his jaw. Because if my dad doesn’t stop being a dumbass, I might never be born.

He had to fix this.

The first time Lucas tried to break them up, it was simple.

He “accidentally” spilled his entire drink on Jessica’s very expensive designer bag.

“Oh my God!” she screeched, jumping back like she had been set on fire.

Lucas put on his best innocent face. “Oh no. I’m so sorry.”

Lando, ever the gentleman, immediately started panicking. “Jess, I’ll fix it, I swear—”

But Jessica was too busy throwing a tantrum about her ruined bag.

She stormed off.

Lucas grinned, satisfied. Problem solved.

Until the next day, when Lando was still mooning over her.

Lucas groaned. This is going to be harder than I thought.

Lucas wasn’t just here to make sure his parents fell in love.

He was here to protect you.

And it didn’t take long for him to see how much you needed it.

You never told him what was happening, but he saw it.

The girls whispering behind your back. The stolen lunch. The tripping in the hallways.

Lucas’ hands clenched into fists.

One day, he caught a group of girls sneering as you walked past.

“She’s so weird.”

“I heard she eats lunch alone every day.”

Lucas saw red.

“Funny,” he said loudly, making them freeze. “I was just thinking how weird you guys are.”

The leader, a blonde girl with too much makeup, scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“You spend all your time talking about someone who doesn’t even know you exist,” Lucas said, crossing his arms. “Kinda pathetic, don’t you think?”

Their faces burned red before they stormed off.

Lucas smirked. That’s what I thought.

Later that day, you hesitated before looking at him. “Why did you do that?”

Lucas shrugged. “Because you don’t deserve it.”

You swallowed, blinking rapidly. “…Thank you.”

Lucas softened. “Anytime, Mum.”

You didn’t hear that last part.

Lucas had to be tactical.

He orchestrated run-ins between you and Lando.

He got you both paired as lab partners.

He even tripped Lando once just so he’d fall into your arms (which earned him a very suspicious glare from his dad).

And finally, finally, Lando started to notice you.

Lucas saw it—the way his dad’s eyes lingered too long, how he smiled softer around you.

It was working.

Until Jessica struck again.

She cornered Lando after school, batting her lashes. “Landooo, come to the party with me?”

Lucas froze.

If Lando went, he’d fall right back into her clutches.

Thinking fast, he jumped in. “Oh, he can’t.”

Lando blinked. “I can’t?”

Lucas clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Nope! He already has plans. With her.”

He pointed to you.

You turned scarlet. “W-what?”

Jessica scoffed. “Since when?”

Lucas grinned. “Since now.”

Lando looked at you, hesitant but intrigued.

“…I guess we have plans?”

You bit your lip. Then—shyly, hesitantly—you nodded.

“I guess we do.”

Jessica huffed and stormed off.

Lucas smirked. Checkmate bitch.

Days later, Lucas watched as Lando walked you home, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Lucas grinned.

His work here was done.

Now…

He just had to figure out how to get back home.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris

[woodle-isbae]

Ambessa treating reader like a prized pet please please please 😫🙏 and maybe also being very condescending and lowkey mean 🫣

Flaunted like a trophy

Ambessa.M x fem!reader

Warnings: Trophy reader, suggestive(very), Drabble.

There you were, in the bedchambers of the one and only Ambessa Medarda. You stood there, draped in the finest jewelry she could get, the softest fabrics and a personal stylist to meet your demanding fashion choice.

Spoiled rotten.

That's what you were, given everything you wanted on a golden platter- never settled for anything she deemed low quality. You had one job, very easy and simple considering that she made sure you did it every day- dress like a little trophy so she can flaunt you around.

Most people would've given up by now, having to constantly show out- even in private, making sure she liked your outfits. Being put on a strict care routine- all so she can brag about your beauty.

"Stunning."

Her voice rung through the large room, the glint of heavy golds and jewelry around the place partially blinding you at angles. You were posing infront of her, showing off the new outfits she had designed for you to last a month at most.

"Everyone's going to be set on you, my dear."

She stood up, placing her glass down to strut towards you, her rough hands tracing every stitch on the thing gold material. She only stopped when she made it to your breasts, examining you for a brief moment before snapping her fingers.

"It's not pushing them up enough, I want every aspect to be shown."

"I think there should be a deeper cut, they're out enough honestly."

You huffed out, shaking your head in annoyance with how it didn't fit the standard you had set, pouting from the simple mistake.

"We'll get it tailored, don't you worry y'little head off."

"Ugh, make sure it arrives back soon."

She turned to you, a brow raised at your sparky and demanding tone, running her larger hand on your cheek.

"Don't catch an attitude with me."

To anyone else, her voice was calm and hushed, but to you -she was giving you a clear warning, just do as you were required to and it won't be a problem.

"Hm."

Your eyes darted to the door, the guards standing there staring seemingly into the distance. Ambessa had lifted her other arm, waving them off so it could be just you two in the room.

"You know...I really like the gold on your skin, it really suits you."

She had led you over to the sofa, signaling for you to lay down besides her as she sat, leaning on the back rest.

"Strip, I..want to see how it would slip off your body."

Her dull attempt at a lie made you giggle, uncliping a few knots and buttons before sliding the dress off your body, Ambessa grabbing the clump of fabrics and tossing it aside.

You leaned back onto the sofa, spreading your legs in anticipation for her next moves, your arousal seeping through the thing lace pair of panties she picked for you.

"Ah...you are really inpatient huh?"

She chuckled, pulling you in my for a kiss by the back of the neck, her tongue slipping into your mouth. Pulling back for some air, she gave you a smug smirk before pulling back and standing at her full height.

"Get ready for tonight, mabye if your lucky...I could finish what we started."

She walked past you, her hand brushing past your shoulder before she left the room. Leaving you alone to cool down before getting redressed.

Oh, how you couldn't wait.!

[plutoswritingplanet]

Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader)

a/n: as promised, here's the full chapter. as a person who's only played skyrim and oblivion, writing for fallout is like throwing a hot dog into an empty corridor (i will not elaborate)

Warnings: Suggestive Themes, Attempted Kidnapping, Medical Malpractice, Cooper is a mean old man with a boner. Takes place before the events of the TV series.

Summary: The Ghoul takes up a bounty that has been gathering dust for quite some time. You, bored out of your mind, decide getting kidnapped might be the perfect way to entertain yourself. Both of you bite off more than you can chew. Cross-Posted on AO3

PT. 2

Copper knows this job will be different, before he even decides to take it up. 

Scribbled with flaky charcoal, your face looks at him from the notice board every time he delivers a bounty. For months now, a humble title of "The Healer" hangs without change, between criminals, raiders, and people who were in the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

Cooper hasn't considered going for you, it was never his first choice. The bounty on your head was moderately low, in comparison to your notice board neighbors.  He had other priorities, bigger than a smeared over pretty face, for half his usual reward.

Until one day, as he stomped his way through the dusty floor, his eyes caught onto your wanted poster yet again. 

Well, to be frank, his eyes strayed towards your portrait almost every time he crossed the threshold, but he would never admit it to anyone, let alone himself. Like a constant companion, overlooking all his accomplishments since he decided to stick around the place, your empty gaze followed every transaction, every head delivered onto the table. Some semblance of a routine, he supposed, looking over the board. 

 There, under the regular information, freshly painted numbers stared back at him. A new bounty, significantly bigger than any reward on the board. The red paint was still dripping down the yellowed paper, the addition must've been made quite recently. 

A hefty price. One, that would supply him with enough chems to last for half a year at least. Tempting. Especially now, that he's down to only a couple of vials, his coughing fits becoming longer and closer between. So tempting, in fact, that he tears your wanted poster from the board, finally getting a closer look, a deliberate one. 

Booker gives him a raised eyebrow, all the commentary needed, encapsulated in this simple gesture, and Cooper shoots him a nasty look. There aren't many requirements regarding the job, except one, annoying detail. 

You have to be alive and in good condition. 

Now, alive Cooper could do. Alive is easy. Good condition, however, opened a whole shitbag of problems, which he would be a fool to overlook. Still, the prospect of such money couldn't be ignored. And, he'd be damned to admit it, but he was curious. Who were you? Why haven't you been caught for such a long time? What caused this sudden raise in bounty?

- Did you piss someone off that bad, little lady? - he asks the yellowed paper, and gets no answer, as expected. 

***

The bar is filled with patrons, all tripping over themselves to loose as many caps on cheap alcohol and chems from under the table. It's not as rowdy, as one would expect. This settlement must be one of the few more civilized ones, for the Wasteland's standards at least. Farmers, mechanics, shopkeepers, they all clam together, smelling of smoke, sweat, and alcohol. 

You're here too, hunched over your drink with a sour expression. Your shoulders are slumped, covered by a piece of cloth, that used to be a shawl, but currently looks more like a rag used to wipe down countertops. Despite that, Cooper sees in the way your body is poised, taunt and graceful, that you're neither a naive Vault Dweller, nor a scruffy raider. A skinny scarf is tied around your neck in a fashion, that reminds Cooper of the old westerns he used to star in. 

The sudden influx of memories is neither wanted, nor useful, and he clicks his teeth in annoyance at his own betraying mind.

The Healer, he thinks to himself, making his way through the crowds, until he reaches the side of the bar, one seat from you. Not a glance is spared in his direction. The townsfolk must be used to seeing Ghouls run around the place. Still, when he orders a glass of moonshine, out of the corner of his eye, he can see you peaking at him with curiosity. There's a intelligent glint in your eye, and Cooper feels a shiver of curiosity climbing up his back. He scolds himself for being too old imediately after. 

By all that's holy, you look tired. And not the kind of tired, that sticks to a person living in the Wastelands, no. It's the exhaustion of a shitty day, dragging your eyelids down to flutter against creeping up sleep. The alcohol can't be helping your state, however, it will most definitely help Cooper. He almost feels sorry for you, but if your dumb enough to leave yourself in the open like that, while being hunted, there's nothing more he can do but take advantage. 

Cooper turns his face ever so slightly towards you, looking over your expression for any signs of recognition. He sees none, more than that, there is no emotion at all, not even a blink at his fucked up face. Raising his hand, he touches the rim of his hat in a wordless greeting. 

That finally wrenches some resemblance of a reaction out of you, and with a blink, you tip your glass towards him, before downing its contents. Your cheeks are flushed, lips wet with remnants of moonshine and there's a lock of hair falling out of place, and damn it, Cooper suddenly feels so old.

Ordering drinks while in your current state wasn't the most intelligent thing you could've done. The harsh taste of alcohol burned your throat in a way that was less than pleasant, and for a moment you consider turning to some good old chems for help with... Well everything really. 

It started with Old Lady Sal. 

You've replaced her hip a while back with some scrap metal and a fuckload of reused body parts. Now, every other day she demands you check it out, make sure it's in working order. Which it always is. This isn't your first replaced hip, you know what you're doing.

Then, you had to sit through the insanely uncomfortable marriage offer from Old Lady Sal's grandson, who is not only dumb as a bag of rocks, but also fourteen. 

And to top it all off, suddenly everyone needs you to solve their particular pains of the day. There must be an epidemic of aching heads sweeping through the town, because as soon, as you flee from Old Lady Sal's home, you're being hounded by everyone and their mother, looking to you for help. You were in town for two hours, and your herbs reserve went down to one fucking leaf. 

The Ghoul keeps looking at you from under his hat, and at this point it's gotten from uncomfortable, to straight up creepy. You were not about to pretend this stranger's interest in your particular person didn't unnerve you. Although, thanks to your mother's efforts, and later your own, the town practically worshipped the ground you walked on, the same could not be said about the rest of the Wasteland. 

You had enemies. You had people, who would love to get their hands on you. You were also deeply aware of the bounty placed on your person. Last you checked, it was quite small, but Ghouls don't have it easy out there, and if there's anyone looking like a bounty hunter in this fine establishment, it's the shady guy giving you a shameless once-over. 

So, you place a couple of caps on the counter, and gather yourself best you can. 

Perhaps drinking on an empty stomach was not the best idea, because as soon as you slide off the barstool, your head does a flip. Your balance completely off, you trip over your own feet, already accepting the floor, as your soon-to-be companion. 

That's when something strangely warm wraps itself around your waist, hoisting you up against the counter. The Ghoul smells just about as pleasant as one would expect, but moonshine is a powerful sedative, and instinctually, you lean into the warm embrace. Eyelids flutter, as you look up into the sunken eyes of your savior, and you can see his throat move, as he swallows thickly. 

- Careful now, sweetheart - the voice is low and reminds you of wind whistling through leaves - Gotta keep you in good condition.

Now, if you were completely sober, or at least less drunk, those words would fire an orchestra of alarm bells in your head. Instead, you smile, teeth on full display, as you reach up, to undo a tattered scarf from around your neck. 

- Mmm - you sigh, throwing the piece of cloth across the Ghoul's shoulders - My hero. 

Then, you grab onto his arm, still holding a tight grip around your waist, and lift it up by the sleeve of his coat. Despite your drunken disposition, you duck under the limb gracefully, and shoot the Ghoul a nasty, fully aware smirk. Realization flickers across his face, but before he can move to catch you, a series of body-wrecking coughs shakes his entire frame. 

You hesitate just for a second. The instinct to help is ingrained into your very being, passed down like a mantle from your angel of a mother. But then, self-preservation kicks in, and as the strager reaches into the pocket of his coat, to find his inhaler, you're already out the door, throwing yourself into a mad dash towards your cabin.

You were drunk, not stupid. 

***

The sun has barely had time to rise, when you're rudely awoken by the sound of a fist, pounding desperately on your front door. Hard enough to make the hinges squeak and shake. 

It tears you from your already light sleep, and you scramble to your feet, hastily pulling a shirt over your head, as you make your way towards the entrance. Hand on your pistol, you look out through the small space between two planks, which make up your door. 

It's not hard to understand what is happening. You remember one of the men standing outside your door from the nearby town. Benny or something like that, you were never good at remembering names. Hanging on his arm was another, barely breathing man, who was currently bleeding out right onto your porch. Pete. This one you recognize as a farmer and a hunter. You've treated multiple bites and scratches on him. So did your mother. 

Cursing under your breath, you undid all the makeshift locks with record speed, throwing the door open.

- I'm sorry to bother your so early in the morning Healer - you wince at the title, already making a beeline for the table in your kitchen - Pete and I were just...

Both men follow you closely behind, Pete's boots making a disgusting, sloshing noise. 

- Put him here, face up - you command, throwing a couple of papers to the floor.

- ...Coming back from a night hunt, and this fucking Ghoul was asking around town about you...

- Cut his shirt - another command, thrown over your shoulder, as you begin to rummage through a cabinet filled with chemicals and various herbs, barely registering the words. 

- ...And when we started asking questions back at him, he just shot Peter, right then and there...

You pluck a couple of twisted, dried herbs into your trusty, stone mortar, spitting into it, to gather some moisture. Throwing a semi-clean rag at the man, your voice cuts through his rambling.

- Put pressure on it.

There is no exit wound, and you almost sigh with annoyance at the prospect of fishing out a bullet. It had to be done, however, putting your sleep depriation and a building headache aside, you scoop out some of the herbal paste with your fingers, before pushing past the man.

- Hold his legs down - you mutter, taking a blink-and-you-miss-it moment to check Pete's temperature.

- ...Thankfully, he didn't kill Pete on the spot, so I brought him here straight away.

Pete flinches on the table, as you apply the paste to the wound. That's about as big of a reaction he's capable of, given the amount of blood he just spilled onto your porch. Another thing to clean up, after you take care of the table. What a way to start a fucking day. You can see his eyes follow your movements, barely conscious, but still alive. Sweat beads and gathers at his brow, and you reach out with a clean rag, to dab it off his skin.

Then, as if coming out of a stupor, your eyebrows scrunch together. The story of this faithful encounter finally registering in your brain. 

- A man was asking about me? - you ask, despite already knowing the answer. 

- Well, kinda. A Ghoul. 

You knew which Ghoul, it was not difficult to piece together. 

- And he didn't kill Pete, just injured him - you can feel another headache brewing just behind your eyes, as the sheer stupidity of the man in front of you finally comes to the surface.

They led him to you. 

Three, steady knocks to your door, smug and confident, interrupt the conversation, and deep down you can see the future of every person present in this cabin. As if you've developed some magical powers. 

Stilling your suddenly trembing hands, you settle the mortar back on the table. Thenyou instruct the man to keep pressure once more. Covering yourself with a robe you got as payment for stitching up a sliced finger, you make your way to the door. Fabric flows around your feet, shuffling like the wings of a moth. 

Your eyes flicker to the side, where, placed against a wall, stands a small end table. Under it, you've hidden a rather large kitchen knife, and for a second you debate, whether going for it now would be the best course of action. Call it dumb optimism, but deep down, you pray this is some big misunderstanding, and you'll be allowed to go back to your patient, preferably sooner than later. 

There's no need to bother with a gun, no time too. Pete is bleeding out faster than a stuck pig, and you were not one to leave your customers unsatisfied. Or, in this particular line of work, dead. 

The door opens with a slam. There's a small indent in the wooden wall, where the door handle has hit the surface.  The cabin is slowly entering the state of ruin, although, some places are more taken care of than others. Still, it has a roof, a semi intact entrance and even a window with actual glass in it. Quite the luxury in the Wastelands. 

Cooper didn't know what to expect, not really. Seeing you for the first time gave him a mixture of varying feelings, as well as a rather uncomfortable throbbing in the nether regions. Who could blame him, really? Your wanted poster gave you no favors, and although he was able to recognize you almost immediately, he still felt slightly short of breath.

He scolds himself for getting distracted by his thoughts, and as your eyes lock down on him, he lifts the barrel of his gun, touching the rim of his hat. Your eyes shift like little sparkling gems onto the weapon, before your jaw locks.

- Salutations Ma'am - his voice is rough from lack of use, the southern twang even more prominent, than usual. - I believe our introduction was cut short.

Yellowed teeth flash in a mirthless smirk, and then his expression tightens.

Cooper is used to people reacting, let's say, negatively towards him. Fear is the most common, and he can't blame the masses, he really can't. Disgust, as well, happens quite often. But as he looks over your feverish gaze, he can't really see either one of the emotions. 

No, what you give him is an annoyed roll of your eyes, and he's surprised to say, it bothers him more than he'd be comfortable admitting. He's a goddamned bounty hunter, a ruthless one at that, and a fucking Ghoul. Fuck you mean, you're annoyed by his presence?

- Look - you're already turning away from him, shooting a look towards your kitchen, where he can see a leg twitch in a spasm on top of your table - I ain't got time for whatever this is - your hands wave around in Cooper's general direction. - You'll have to wait your turn.

- Ah, well, I'm not the patient kind.

A squeak of surprise leaves you, as the Ghoul pushes past your body, entering your house gun first, murder clear in his deep set eyes. His steps take him through your living room, dangerously close to your kitchen. You know exactly, what's going to happen, and your arms shoot out on instinct. His body is unnaturally warm, even through layers of clothing, as you wrap yourself around his waist, tugging him back with all your might.

 He looks down on you, more bothered by the sudden contact, than the fact you're trying to stop him. It gives you a small leverage, and you push him back a couple of steps, settling yourself between the entrance to the kitchen, and the bounty hunter, raising your hands and getting ready to fight. 

- I don't have time for this kinda bullshit. Git. - Cooper snarls at you, his gun-free hand coming up to grab at your hair.

Before you have time to react, five fingers twist hard into your roots, and you stifle a scream, as the Ghoul pushes you off of him. On instinct, your hands come up to tug against his wrist, nails digging into the leathery skin. He lets you go with a hiss, and you use that second, to throw yourself towards the end-table. 

Your fingers find the handle with a practiced ease. Then, your body twists like a radioactive viper, and all Cooper sees is a flash of metal. The blade is rusty and chipped, but it could still do some damage. Especially now, that it's pressed against Cooper's jugular, the dull, cold presence halting all his movements. Your eyebrows raise in small recognition at the thin fabric tied around his neck. The scarf. Your mouth goes dry.

- Everything okay back there? - Benny asks from the kitchen, you can hear his approaching footsteps.

- All's well, kee pressure on the wound - your voice is tight with nerves, but the man obeys. 

Cooper watches your face carefully, his gun tucked neatly into the meat of your stomach, ready to fire, should the situation escalate. You can feel it, pressed right into the hollow space under your spleen, a good place to be shot, if you could even say that. You're dealing with a professional, apparently. 

- We seem to have a bit of a conundrum on our hands, little lady - Cooper drawls, voice bordering on a whisper, his eyes follow the way your tongue darts out to lick your chapped lips. 

- I have a patient, he needs help - you explain in an even tone, breathing shallow - After that, I'll deal with you.

Despite being at a loosing position, you refuse to back down, your eyes glued to the Ghoul in front of you. You're bracing yourself for the imminent pain, should he decide shooting you would be easier, but it never comes. Instead, the barrel of the gun presses further into your flesh, before lightly retracting. The cold metal is dragged up, across the expanse of your stomach. You bite the inside of your cheek, and surpress a shiver, when it travels between the swell of your breast, and settles into the dip of your collarbones. 

You swallow thickly, Cooper's eyes catching the movements of your trachea like a hungry vulture. The tip of the gun touches the underside of your chin, pushing your head to one side, then the other, as if the bounty hunter is taking inventory in a butcher's shop. Once he's had his fill, he lifts the gun completely, raising his hands as a peace offering.

- Git - you whisper back at him, and a flash of something rushes through his mangled expression. 

You take a step back, chest rising in falling rapidly, blade still in front of you, just in case. Then another step, and the bounty hunter dusts off his coat, before sitting down on a stool in your cluttered living room. You don't like the way he looks at you, eyes shining from under his hat, as he occupies your space like it belongs to him. Long legs apread in front of him, and you try very hard not to sneak a peak between them. Finally, you cross the entrance to the kitchen, and the knife is tucked under the leather belt of your pants. 

A sigh, a roll of shoulders, and you're off.

Cooper watches with curiosity, as you immediately start to work on the poor bastard stuck on your table. Your back is taunt, hands bloodied but steady, as you lean down to take the metal bullet out of the wound. The herbal paste you've provided earlier has dried up, and is currently working wonders for the bleeding, while you reach inside with not-so-sterile pliers. 

- Hold him down - he hears you say, as the legs on the table start to twitch again. 

Finally, a metallic sound of the bullet hitting a dish is heard, and you stand up, making your way towards the cabinet filled with chems. There is a grace to your movements Cooper wasn't expecting. Reminds him of dancers, ballet ones. 

Back in the day, his ex-wife would drag him to all those ballet shows, ones that made him feel stupid and uncultured. He swallows around the memory, willing it to die down, as you shoot him a cautious look over your shoulders. 

He wiggles his gun at you lightly, a reminder, that all this is happening because of his good humor. You scoff. 

Pete starts screaming as soon, as you begin to dress the wound properly. Chemical smell fills the air, and although Cooper lacks the nose to feel it, his eyes water all the same. You seem to be unbothered, years of doing this exact job must've hardened your senses. Finally, it's done. There's nothing more you can do for the man, and you wipe your hand on your forehead, leaving a large smear of red.

- He'll be fine - you mutter towards the other man in the kitchen - He needs rest, and a loads of it too. 

A couple of small bottles and dried herbs land onto a checkered cloth, and you tie it closed, like a small care package. 

- Dress his wounds twice a day - you press the package into the other man's hands while he helps his partner off the table - Good luck. 

Cooper glares at the men, as they stagger out the front door. They don't seem to pay him any mind. Well, the shot one definitely doesn't, he can barely walk on his own. His friend is too preoccupied with keeping him on his arm, to even acknowledge that this whole situation was orchestrated by Cooper himself. Or perhaps, he's to stupid to connect the dots. It's hard to tell these days. 

The door closes with a click, and Cooper stands up from his stool, sauntering over to the kitchen. 

You're currently trying to wash blood off of your hands, which are stained crimson almost up to your elbows. It goes about as well as expected, and as you dry your arms with a rag, there's still a pinkish stain to your skin. 

The table is a mess, blood and herbs seeping into the wooden planks which make up the surface. Cooper leans against the doorframe, as he watches you splash some chemicals onto the wood. It bubbles up in a disgusting mixture of red, green and yellow. You let it sizzle for a moment, before taking that same bowl of water you've been using to clean up, and dumping it all onto the table. The mixture flows down to the floor, the residing surface looking much cleaner. 

- Now, as much as I'd love to sit around and play house with you, honey - Cooper starts, and has to clear his throat, when you look up at him wordlessly, blood on your face and fire in your eyes - I have a bounty to collect.

Sighing, you push your hair back from your forehead, exhaustion, which is synonymous with living in the Wastelands seeping off of you like a tidal wave. 

- Do you have a name? - you ask, reaching for a leather bag sitting on one of the chairs. 

- I do - he says, and you roll your eyes at the deliberate lack of information his answer has given you. 

You mutter something that sounds scarily close to "asshole", and begin to chuck a couple of vials into the bag, then some herbs, then a water canteen. It's like you're ready to move out at any time, and a sneaking suspicion arises in Cooper's mind. This isn't the first time you're in this situation, if your calm demeanor is anything to go by. Suspicious, highly so, and as you turn around to face him, Cooper raises his hand ever so slightly. 

Your eyes fall onto the bundle of rope in his grip, eyebrow raising in annoyance. 

- You serious? 

- As a funeral, sweetheart - he sways the bundle lighty, his other hand pointing the gun at your abdoment - Now, are you going to be good, and come over here? Or should I come over there and make it unpleasant for us both?

- You're already making it unpleasant - you mutter, but cross the kitchen towards him, raising your hands, palms up. 

- Wait. 

Confusion hits you, when the Ghoul reaches into his pocket, producing a small piece of torn cloth. Your entire body goes still, as he grabs onto your chin, cold metal of his gun digging into your cheek, the barrel settling into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. Then, despite your best efforts at freeing yourself from his grip, he brings the cloth to his lips, wetting the fabric with his tongue. 

The bloody smear on your forehead is wiped down rather roughly, and you twist in place like an impatient toddler, when Cooper leans his head back, to look at his handywork. You shiver with disgust, at the feeling of his drying saliva on your skin, and as soon, as he lets you go, you begin to rub at your forehead with the sleeve of your robe. 

- Good condition - he rasps, and if looks could kill, he'd be six feet under.

He gives you a nasty smirk, settling his gun down for just a moment, and grabbing your wrists together, so he can tie them up. Which is all the time you need to make a decision, and kick out your knee, nailing him right in the crotch. He doubles over, cursing loudly, hands shooting out to grab you, but all he catches is your tattered robe, which you slide out of easily. 

Fater than he would've anticipated, you grab at your bag, and bolt to the back of the kitchen, where he watches you jump over the table and all but slide out of the house through an open window. It's like a choreographed dance, the way you move out of his grasp. When he reaches the window himself, there's no sight of you, other than the rustling of tree branches somewhere in the woods behind your cabin. 

- Fucking women. - Cooper whistles.

He can't deny the shiver of excitement running down his back, as he secures the hat over his eyes.  If that's how you want to play, he would oblidge. It's been far too long since he could actually enjoy a more challenging bounty. Cooper slowly walks out of your cabin, looking over all the little trinkets you've gathered inside. Then, almost lazily, he lifts the robe you've left him to his nose. He feels nothing, of course, but he has quite a vivid imagination. Vivid enough to supply him with a memory of a scent from his past life. Lavender, he'd bet you smell like lavender. 

Your tracks are deep and visible across the ground, and so, the hunt begins. 

[arc-misadventures]

It Was That Easy?!

Jaune, and Coco:

~~~

Velvet: That was fucking it?!!

Coco: Yeah...

Velvet: You two have been dancing around each other for months! And, what finally gets you two to start dating was the fact that you two wouldn't hang out as much if you started dating other people?!

Coco: Yes...?

Velvet: We tried to set you up for months! A simple conversation got you together?!

Coco: You tried to set me up?

Velvet: We locked you in a closet!

Coco: Oh, I remember that closet... That was quite cramped...

Velvet: The time we stole all his clothes so you would walk in on him naked!

Coco: My man looks like a marble statue. Mmmh~! Those abbs~!

Velvet: The tickets you gave you guys to go to that resort in, Vaccuo! You two were all alone, and you didn't do anything?!

Coco: We defiantly had plenty of beach suit fashion shows. For the record: Speedos do not word on, Jaune. That bulge... I have various mixed feelings after seeing that...

Velvet: We spiked your food!

Coco: You spiked our food?!

Velvet: There was faunas grade aphrodisiacs in your food! And, nothing happened?!

Coco: Wait, was that in the fish dish you made us. Because we had the runs after eating that.

Velvet: All that planning, all that work, all our scheming, and none of that work?!

Coco: Sorry...?

Velvet: That's it! You're going to the closet!

Coco: What?

~~~

Velvet: Get in there!

Coco: Whoa hey, Vel, what are you...?! Ooph!

Jaune: Uhh... Hey, Coco...?

Coco: Jaune...?

Velvet: This time you better do it!

Nora: Or, I'll spike your food again!

(Slam!)

Jaune: ...?

Coco: ...?

Jaune: So... I take it, Velvet let you know about her schemes to get us together too right?

Coco: Yeah, apparently she was the reason why were locked in a closet for the first time. And, she stole all your clothes so I would walk in on you naked. Got us those tickets so we could stay at that resort. And, she spiked out food.

Jaune: Oh, it was , Velvet who did that. Nora told me a different story about what she did.

Coco: What did she do?

Jaune: That resort we were staying at actually had two beds in it, Nora some how got rid of one of them.

Coco: What? The bed was made into the wall; How did she do that?

Jaune: Best not ask. She actually go that distress call from when we got stuck in the cabin in the mountain.

Coco: She did?

Jaune: Yeah, she wanted us to... mingle to stay warm before she rescued us the next day.

Coco: Posing naked in furs was certainly a way to mingle...

Jaune: And, she spiked our food...

Coco: And, after she learned that we got together because we didn't want to stop hanging out, she shoved you in the closet as well...

Jaune: Yeah... And, while i wouldn't mind us having some fun here in the closet~!

Coco: Oh, really~?

Jaune: But, they put us in the wrong closet...

Coco: Eh?

Jaune: It's too cramped, I can't move...

Coco: Grr... come one. I can...?! Grrrr...! I'm stuck too...

Jaune: Can you reach my scroll?

Coco: Nope, my hands our stuck here feeling up your broad chest~! You?

Jaune: Maybe...? Let's see if I can... Ahh found it! Uhh... Password?

Coco: 0-2-2-4.

Jaune: Okay... Calling...? Glynda...

Coco: Good choice.

Glynda: Hello, Coco do you need something?

Coco: Hi, Triple G! Uhhh... So, Jaune, and I started dating...

Glynda: You two started dating?!

Coco: Yes... and...?!

Glynda: Fucking finally!

Coco: ...

Jaune: ...

Coco: We should have started dating months ago...

Jaune: Yeah...

[gay-dorito-dust]

Domestic fluffy things you say? I’m here to hopefully help with that!

Can we get some cuddling hcs with the Lin Kuei trio? For example are they big on cuddling, favorite cuddle position, how is it like cuddling with them, ext. Just a lil idea I had and thought was cute and simple and classic also I hope you have a better day :)

Tomas Vrbada

Is MASSIVE on cuddling.

He loves it, lives for it, craves it. Cuddling to Tomas is therapeutic and gets his mind off of things that would normally disrupt his ability to get proper sleep.

It helps ground him and redirects his mind to focus on you and how your presence gives him comfort, reassured him of his insecurities and daily stresses, bringing him into a more relaxed state.

His top 3 would have to be;

Honeymoon cuddle

Sweetheart cradle

Good old fashion spooning

They’re all very self explanatory so I ain’t going to go into details. The man just likes holding you okay?

Cuddling either Tomas is bliss. Utter bliss.

He made you forget about everything that had ever concerned you, everything that had caused you pain, fear, anger, despair. He made you believe that everything was alright because you were within his loving embrace and that nothing else should matter.

Even his evened out breathing made you feel calm as it focused your mind onto his breaths, reminding you that lying beneath you was a living, breathing man who’d do anything you could ever possibly ask for and request for nothing in return. Tomas heart was too kind for most people, even you didn’t feel deserving of something so pure and beautiful despite everything he’s seen and done in the past, you were surprised that such a man still exists in this day and age.

So as a solemn vow, you swore to have this every night, not just for you but for Tomas too, where the both of you would be able to shed the worries and daily stresses. Only to eventually forget all about them as you fortified yourselves within the comforting arms of the other; Sleeping more peacefully than either of you had in ages.

Bi-Han

Isn’t massive on cuddling, he doesn’t like anything that might portray him as weak or soft in the slightest.

A mindset he’s developed overtime, repressing any and all childish wants and desires he might’ve had at the earliest convenience. Not wanting any distractions on his road to power. Plus he’s cold in more ways than one because like Kuai Liang, due to his body temperature, it makes something seemingly easy as cuddling difficult all of a sudden.

Even if you did ask hypothetically what his favourite cuddling positions, Bi-Han would probably say ones that requires the least amount of contact on his end:

Back to back - so he can feel that you’re still there.

Back cuddles- you’re the one cuddling up against that broad back of his.

Shoulder to shoulder - same reason as back to back; knowing that you’re still with him.

Cuddling Bi-Han is…something and I don’t mean this negativity but it’s Bi-Han, what else can I say other than cold, rigid, and a little awkward? The man is on guard even in his sleep and cuddling him the way you do doesn’t necessarily help.

Besides that there’s some semblance of companionship when you press your back into his own. It felt as though you had each made a nonverbal pact to have each other’s back in your most vulnerable states; Something that naturally comes with a sense of trust being put in the other and Bi-Han isn’t one to trust blindly.

Cuddling Bi-Han maybe awkward and a little finicky due to the walls this man had put up in order to protect himself from everyone else, he oddly enough made you feel safe, he made you feel guarded and warm, which was weird considering how abnormally cold he was in every possible way. Yet you knew he held honour- or his version of it at least- highly, so you didn’t feel like you’d have to second guess his every actions because that wasn’t the type of man Bi-Han was…

Even though cuddling him was obviously something he wasn’t attuned to, he nonetheless made you feel regarded in his own special way.

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang runs extremely warm, which could be considered overwhelming or perfect depending on the type of person you are, so whilst he likes contact; he likes to keep it minimal unless told otherwise.

He prioritises your comfortability over his own and understands that his abnormally body heat can be a bit too much at times. Outside of that he’s more than accepting of cuddling.

Kuai Liang’s top 3 favourite cuddling positions would have to be ones that were less on the physical context but unlike Bi-Han, it typically ends up with him cuddling you in some form of him protecting you:

Leg hug- incase you get overwhelmed by his body heat and need space but also wanting to keep touching some part him.

Face to face - this one’s a personal favourite of his because he loves waking up and falling asleep to your face.

Chest rest -the one where your heads on his chest and he’s keeping you in place with his arms.

Cuddling Kuai Liang is warm and secure because when you’re in his arms, feeling his warmth deep into you just as his arms tightened their grip, you’ve never felt more protected in your life then you did in Kuai Liang’s hold.

You never had to worry about being hurt, especially when Kuai Liang was there to shield you from all possible forms of harm; nor the way he always had his back facing towards the door so that if something were to happen then he was able to keep you safe with his body.

It was his duty to protect you, as he would often say whenever you asked him why this was.

You couldn’t act as though his declaration didn’t have your heart melting into a puddle.

So now you just allow his warmth to consume you like a thick, warm, weighted blanket that blocked out any and all cold that threatened to try and get to you; all the while you snuggled closer into him because despite every last part of you touching every last part of him wasn’t enough, you needed to be even closer to him. You wanted your souls to touch and feel the presence of the other but since you physically couldn’t do that, you settled for forehead touches instead. It was just as intimate after all.

[answer2jeff]

' treat me tonight '

a/n: this is (debatably) some of the best smut i've ever written but i'm still new to the field ! give ya girl some suggestions if desired.

song : i know we could be so happy baby.

warnings : fluffy smut, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), piv sex (unprotected), both reader and carmen have a bit of a praise kink, brief hairpulling, the "L-word," established relationship, gets a little rough towards the end, back scratching, porn with no real plot. not proofread

word count: 2.6k+

MDNI : i am not responsible for your media consumption.

NSFW under the cut — last warning!

"Try it," Carmen cupped your jaw as he lifted the wooden spoonful of creamy, tomato soup to your mouth, thumbing your bottom lip gently so you could carefully swallow every last bit. He enjoyed feeding you, if he was being totally honest. Even if this had been upon your request. Making his girl happy with what he did best was nothing short of a blessing to him.

"Mmm," you hummed in amusement, swallowing before smiling contently and nodding your head. "'S great, Carmy. Fuckin' delicious."

Long days at work dealing with insensitive clientele and immature coworkers seemed to be so easily remedied by Carmen's cooking. You weren't sure if it was because it was him catering to you and loving you the one way he always knew how, or if the food was just that fucking amazing. Maybe a little bit if both.

"Yeah? Alright," he chuckled a bit, grabbing the ladle beside the pot and scooping the simple, yet beautifully crafted tomato soup into a ceramic bowl. He seemed to know exactly how you liked it, despite him asking you if you enjoyed it every. single. time.

You accepted the bowl with a sickly sweet smile on your face, giving Carmen a kiss on his clean shaven cheek to thank him for his gesture before hoisting yourself up onto the kitchen counter. Carmen just stood with his arms crossed against his chest as he leaned against the dining table, candidly watching you enjoy the warm bowl of soup

"So," you slurped some of the soup as you paused, "I'm thinkin' of giving Syd that top we found the other day."

Thrifting had become of recent liking to you anD Carmen. Just shopping and mooching around Chicago in search of vintage pieces. Mostly to actually wear, but partly to collect or regift to fellow friends. Last time you two had a day off, you found a beautiful vintage button down. A white base with downward blue stripes with a finely stitched breast pocket containing a 'V' pattern. The cuffs were cinched perfectly. It was a little baggy, too, which you knew Sydney would love.

"Ooh, yeah. I, uh, I really liked that. I think she'd really love it," Carmen nodded, "You gonna get 'er somethin' else with it? Like, to pair with it? Or just the shirt?"

"I was gonna ask you to help me with that, actually," you pointed a finger to Carmen, turning away for just a moment to gently place the empty bowl and spoon into the kitchen sink.

Carmen always thought you had a good eye for other people's tastes. Not just in fashion. The world seemed unpredictable to Carmy. But you made it look so easy, so loving to just know what people wanted. He always wished he had that kind of understanding for people. But for now, he'd admire such a trait you had.

"Hm?"

"I remember she mentioned something about having all these cool tops n' jackets and such, but, like—hardly any nice pants other than those fuckin' jeans she loves."

"Mhm," he stepped closer to you and planted his hands on your shoulders. But you soon reached for them and planted them on your hips, earning a little upward curl of his lip.

"I know you loved those nice jeans like they were your babies 'till you had to sell them," you frowned, entangling your fingers in his messy, blonde curls while your other hand rested on the back of his neck.

"Fuck, I know. Really wish I didn't have to," he tried to let out a breathy laugh to compensate for the genuine disappointment.

Fuck, did he love those pants. Pants were the one piece of fashion Carmen didn't have to second guess himself on. From jeans to slacks, he knew how to pair every possible fabric. And he never knew how to flatter the upper half of his body, so he always wore those dammed white t-shirts.

Not that you were complaining.

Especially right now, the t-shirt highlighting his broad shoulders and exposing his thick arms plastered with sentimental tattoos you always loved. You began to run your hands up and down the exposed skin. He glanced down at your patterned touch, flattered.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, anyway, I need you to help me look for a nice pair of jeans for Sydney. Can y'do that for me, hun?"

Carmen nodded rapidly, his eyes drifting from your lips and back into your eyes. His thumbs rubbed intricate little circles of adoration into your thighs.

"Yeah, baby," he smiled. "This weekend, maybe? I can take a couple hours," tilting his head, he held your chin to pull your face just inches away from his own. Something about your tendencies to make the ones you loved happy with little surprises just warmed him.

"Mhm. That works," you sighed, planting a soft kiss on his lips before wrapping your arms around his neck.

Carmens immediate suggestion just struck something in you. Months ago, he would've thrown excuse after excuse (although valid) as to when he couldn't be available, but never when he could. You felt proud of him.

"You're so good to me, Carmen."

"Yeah?"

He was learning. He was loving.

"Mhm," you barred your bottom lip behind your teeth, giving Carmen's arms a squeeze. He exhaled sharply and wondered where this could've been going.

You drove him a little crazier than he ever liked to admit. A delicate hand reached away from your hip and up to your face. He thumbed your bottom lip, the reflection of the kitchen light shining against your mouth that was glossy with a mix of both of your salivas. Carmen gazed at you in awe, a little embarrassed when he realized how long he'd been staring.

"I—" he shrugged, struggling to find the words, "I'd do it all for you, baby."

Whispering back as he began to cave in, he leaned into your neck and placing an opened mouth kiss on the skin. The smell of your perfume and the natural scent of your body was so familiar to him. It distracted him enough to let his hands roam up and down your torso before repeating that same motion on your thighs.

"Want you t.." you swallowed, your eyes shutting harshly when when he sucked a bruising hickey onto your skin.

"Want me to what, sweet girl?" Carmen mumbled, the butterflies in your stomach raging when his teeth grazed against the spot. You gently anchored your hand into his hair and pulled him away from your neck so you could see him again.

"Want you to treat me tonight," you whispered as your hands travled up to his shoulders.

He wished you could be more specific. But with your pretty eyes, your kiss-swollen lips, your thighs spread against the cold marble counter as they spilled out of your cotton shorts, how could he tease you any longer?

"That I can do."

—

Carmens body seemed to loosen up and relax as his rough hand slid down lower on your back to grab at the waistband of your shorts. You practically melted to his touch. He kissed you again, smiling against your lips as you giggled into the kiss once he slid your shorts down to your ankles. You nodded when he pulled away, ensuring him that he was on the right track.

"Need you t'spread, baby," his hand pried between your soft thighs.

"O—okay," You bit the inside of your cheek as you slowly spread your legs apart. The wet spot of arousal in the middle of your panties was completely in view now. Feeling Carmen's eyes drifting downward, you accidentally drew your knees closer together again.

"Hey," Carmen whispered while he looked into your eyes for an answer, despite your gaze being glued to the floor.

"You okay? We don't have to do thi—"

"No, no," you shook your head, "I want to. Just..not used to it. That's all."

It was true. You'd only tried oral about twice. And it went great, you couldn't deny. But you still struggled to literally open yourself up to him. You just needed a little encouragement.

"You don't have to hide, baby. You look—you are beautiful," he kissed your forehead, "so, so beautiful. Okay?"

Finally feeling some reassurance, you tried again. You spread your legs once again and let Carmen peel your soaked panties down your legs to where your shorts had been. He gave you one last look to see if you were ready, to which you happily nodded.

In the sweetest gesture, Carmen removed his own t-shirt so you wouldn't be alone. He unbuttoned his jeans and tossed them somewhere near the dining table, being left in just his boxers that outlined his slowly hardening cock.

"Thank you," you chuckled.

"Of course."

Carmen began trailing kisses from your neck down to your shoulder blade. His hands gently lifted your tank top over your head before cupping one of your breasts, his fingertips playing with your hard nipple as he kissed you one last time. He sank down to his knees, hooking your calves over his shoulders. You scooted a little closer to the edge of the counter to give him the best access to your throbbing cunt.

"Yep. Right here, baby."

He had you exactly where he wanted you.

You finally looked down at him after avoiding direct eye contact for the past few minutes. His blue eyes fully encapsulated you. He looked gorgeous between your thighs. Especially when he sucked little hickeys that wouldn't actually last against your inner thighs that made you squirm.

"You look pretty like this, bear," your hand reached to brush a loose curl out of his face. The flush that colored his pale cheeks was cute.

"You think so?" Carmen grinned. He relished in the feeling of having such gentle yet everlasting control. In his own kitchen, his beautiful girl in his hands, her thighs around his head, fully willing and wanting to let him take every part of her he could ever imagine.

You were nothing short of perfect to him.

Not wanting to waste any more time, and without preamble, he licked a bold stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit. Your breath hitched in your throat when his grip on your thighs tightened. He started to create a sense of rhythm, roughly sucking on the sensitive mound of nerve endings before soothing it with kitten licks and flat-tongued strides.

Your hand tugged at a handful of his curls. He groaned at the sensation, swirling his tongue around you to feel every fucking inch of your pussy.

"Fuck, Carmy..."

"You got the prettiest pussy, baby. So good and wet for me," he mumbled against you, his eyes still remaining closed. He needed to focus, or else he might fall apart at the sight of pure, filthy pleasure on your pretty face.

"Shut up—" you protested.

Your thighs began to shake as your head reeled back. Carmen hesitated for a moment, wiggling his fingers around anxiously before pulling his mouth away from your vulva and ever so carefully slipping in 2 large fingers.

A long, drawn out moan escaped your mouth the moment he curled his fingers upward into your g-spot. The idea of staying quiet was out of the fucking question. Oh, and now that Carmen's tongue was back on you? Forget it.

"Oh my fucking g—fuck!" you smacked your hand over your mouth, your other hand still entangled in your lovers hair. Pulling and tugging and earning the sexiest groans you'd ever heard in your life.

The sound of your voice slowly raising in pitch was enough for Carmen to change his pace. He inched himself even closer, and at an otherworldly speed flicked his tongue repeatedly against your clit. Over. And over. And over again. But his fingers slowed down to avoid overstimulating you. He needed this to last. Blissfully.

The knot in your stomach that indicated your teeter against your orgasm taunted you.

"Carm, I'm—" you took a short breath moaning incohereant babbles along the lines of 'so fuckin' good, just like that, baby' until you blurted, "I'm probably not gonna last any longer..'S too much."

You'd grown so desperate to cum that your hips ground back and forth, the tip of Carmens tongue perfectly brushing against your sensitive clit while he used the hand that was once fucking you to squeeze the fat of your breast. With his other hand, he reached down to palm his throbbing cock through the thin fabric of his boxers. He pulled his erection out from the cloth and stroked himself slowly, the final moan of "fuck," shortly followed by your name before he harshly sucked on your clit once more, was enough to throw you over the edge.

"Oh, fuck, Carmy!"

After the last couple minutes of him practically making out with your pussy, your body finally allowed itself to release, your legs shaking vigourisly as you tried desparately to catch your breath. You could literally feel a pulse-like sensation on your clit from the orgasm.

It was dirty, filthy; cumming on Carmen's pretty face right on top of his kitchen counter.

But fuck, was it hot.

—

"You think you got another one left in there for me, baby?" Carmen cooed, wrapping your legs around his hips and drawing you in so close that your breasts were pressed against his bare chest. He peppered kisses along your jaw until he resided on your lips, his tongue slipping in to create a sloppy, passionate mess of a kiss.

His clothed hard-on pressed against your clit, which was nearly fully recovered, lacking the overwhelming sensitivity it had just a couple minutes ago.

"Maybe you should find out," you teased against his ear, nipping at the skin of his neck right underneath. You gently pressed your hand against his chest, backing him up just the slightest bit so you could slip his pre-cum soaked boxers with ease.

Without another thought, Carmen carefully lined himself up with your pussy. The head of his dick passed between your folds to build anticipation. Your hands gripped his shoulders, slippery with sweat, once he finally began to push his raw cock into your hole, your arousal serving as a perfect lubricant.

"Fuck," he rasped as he watched his cock disappear into your pussy in awe "so fuckin' tight for me. So pretty n' perfect."

The two of you hardly waited to allow every thrust and slap of skin against skin get messy and rough. With Carmen desperately needing to cum and you anxiously needing to feel him inside of you, there wasn't much consideration for a slow fuck.

"Fuck me, Carmen."

With that, Carmen dug his hands into your hips and pulled several inches out of you before slamming back in. You somehow moaned louder every time. His face contorted to pure, ravenous pleasure and lust as moan and groan after groan writhed from his throat. Your nails clawed at his back, earning a "shit," and his teeth sinking into your shoulder as you ground back and forth against him to achieve the perfect thrusting angle.

"I love you," he whimpered, fucking whimpered his adoration for you. He was completely pussy drunk, his thrusts turning fast and short unlike they were when they started out.

Those words made your heart pound in your head. Sure, you'd exchanged 'I love you's' during the last year or so of your relationship, but you couldn't recall a time it was said during rough-kitchen-counter-sex.

"I love you so fuckin' much, Carm," you sobbed in a fit of utter horniness and overwhelming sense of pleasure, feeling Carmen's thick cock and squeezing your warm, gummy walls around him.

"I'm gonna cum, angel, I—"

"I know, baby. Go ahead. W-want you to fill me up."

Almost as if the universe had been working specifically in your favor, you managed to reach your orgasm just seconds before he did. Every drop of your arousal went down his thigh, while his cum perfectly filled up your cunt. He pulled out slowly watching the white and sticky semen drip down your hole.

"Was that your idea of me 'treating you' tonight?"

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: Ghost x Family

So, back on my cute romcom BS

So the premise. Dani, as Danny's speed grown clone, wasn't the most physically stable. Turns out, it's really hard to speed grow a clone, and even harder when ectoplasm is involved. There's not enough time for the structures to properly stabilize and that leaves the cellular structure pretty weak and prone to breaking down into goo. The ecto dejecto was just a temporary solution and other measures were needed

aka Dani had to essentially grow a body from scratch the old fashion way, so she's now physically her actual age minus a couple months

So Danny, at the age of 20, is the father of a 4 year old Dani and is trying to keep a low profile in Gotham. His and his daughter's existence is still illegal, and being the single father of a 4 year old ghost girl isn't exactly easy. Now Danny has to deal with the very real threat of CPS being called on him by a neighbor, and trying to get Dani into school without either of them having papers for their assumed identity of Danny and Dani Nightingale and money to by fake documents. He'd ask Tucker, but that requires braking radio silence and potentially putting a target on all three of their backs.

Danny, desperate, asks his neighbor Jason to pose as his significant other for a meeting. Jason agrees, but things escalated and frankly he's now emotionally invested and committing to the bit

So now he and Danny have legally been married for about 4 months according to the papers Babs made them. The fake ID, birth certificates, SSNs, and high school diploma for the Nightingales were simple enough for her to do, but man Jason is going to owe her a BIG favor for this.

They move in together, Dani goes to a good private school, Jason is effectively Danny's sugar daddy paying for a sizable chunk of all this, and they are committing to the loving married couple bit, which is hard to do when the new in-laws are detectives

The best part?

Danny has not figured out Jason is the Red Hood, and Jason doesn't know about the ghost stuff. The only one that does? Dani, and she is physically and mentally 4 and watching Jason and Danny fall in love

oh the shenanigans

OR

I've been watching SPY x FAMILY and just need the fake relationship/family turns into a real relationship/found family dynamic. Jason is basically Loid, Danny is pretty much Yor, Dani fills the role of Anya, and uncle Dick is Yuri, except he's doting on Dani.

Dick is a smart man, but I love the headcanon that Jason is his emotional blindspot. Jason? MY Littlewing? He couldn't possibly.

[suugarbabe]

the 'anything but' party | m.r x reader

prompt: it’s a gryffindor (maybe) party but it’s acc a theme party. the theme is dressing up as another house and reader (not a slytherin) borrows some of the boys’ quidditch clothes (like a bomber jacket or a jersey) and theo/mattheo get super jealous even though reader and him aren’t together. but it’s like he’s been after her for the whole year but she likes to play hard bc he normally doesn’t have to make any effort to have whoever girl he wants at his feet, and she doesn’t want to be just another girl, if you get what i mean? so she just shows up wearing another guys’ name and he goes feral.

word count: 2.2k

warning: angst, smut, heavy smut, 18+ MDNI!!

You were okay with parties. You weren’t ever overly obsessed with them, but the party tonight you were particularly excited about. It was a theme party. The theme being any house but your house. Very typical of the Gryffindors to throw something that will likely cause absolute chaos, but you were here for it. 

You threw on the jersey you had borrowed from Enzo Berkshire. You had a few classes with him and was even partnered with him in potions last year. When you heard about the theme he was the first person you went to. You asked if you could borrow his jersey for the party and he was more than willing to loan it out to you. 

As you threw it on it fell to about mid thigh. You thanked Merlin for Enzo’s height because now you could just wear his jersey as a dress. You turned to Luna, who had borrowed a bomber jacket from Blaise, “How do I look Lunes?”

She tilted her head, smiling and clasping her hand together, “You look marvelous! I think it would’ve suited us well to be sorted in to Slytherin.” 

You laughed a little, “Yeah, I do quite like how I look in green.” Your thoughts drifted to another Slytherin that would be able to accommodate your new favorite color. 

“Thinking about Mattheo?” Luna’s voice cut into your internal monologue and your cheeks instantly flamed. 

You did your best not to stutter over your words, “I don’t, erm, I mean why do you ask?” 

In very Luna fashion, she made no comment about you being flustered, her voice fluttering out like a feather with simple observation, “I only ask because it’s obvious that he likes you very much. It’s quite sweet, really. Are you going to finally tell him that you like him as well?”

You couldn’t help but stare at her dumbfounded. You figured your constant rejections to Mattheo’s advances made it appear to everyone that you did not reciprocate his feelings. That wasn’t actually the case, but you wanted to make him work for it. 

Girls came far too easy for Mattheo, basically throwing themselves at him. It was vomit inducing to you at times, how blatantly obvious they would be and how he essentially cherry-picked whatever girl he was feeling that particular moment. 

You weren’t going to be one of those girls, you absolutely refused it. So when you first noticed Mattheo staring at you at the beginning of the year, you just rolled your eyes anytime they connected to his. 

The first time you did this, his eyebrows shot to the ceiling, not used to this type of response from a woman. When he tried to stop you after class, you quickly shot your hand up before he could even get a word out, “Not interested, Riddle.” 

He was met with a chorus of “ohhhh’s” from his friends, which likely died down quickly due to a glare or threat from the scorned man. He tried again after that…and just about every other day from that first moment you rejected him until this morning. 

You weren’t blind, you knew Mattheo was attractive. Hell, you’ve known since the bloody sorting ceremony in first year. But the way that all of the girls swooned over him, and how he so obviously ate it up, you vowed to never be that girl. 

So for the last six years, you never really paid him any mind. You knew he was there, you knew his reputation, but he never really consumed your thoughts. So when he started staring at you, then starting actually pursuing you, you couldn’t quite understand why your heart would beat faster, or get butterflies in your stomach. 

You had boyfriends throughout your school career, even dating the quidditch captain of your house, but something about Mattheo focusing solely on you like he has made your stomach flutter like no other guy you’d been with. You weren’t even with Mattheo, but him pursuing you essentially deterred any other guy from coming up to you. 

Finishing your hair and makeup, you and Luna joined a few other Ravenclaw’s and headed to the Gryffindor common room. Walking through the portrait hole you would think there was nothing going on, but as soon as you passed through the entryway you broke the silencing charm barrier and was assaulted with the sound of bass and smell of weed. 

You looked over at Luna, who took a deep inhale, “Don’t you just love that earthy smell?” You couldn’t help but laugh at her care-free spirit. “I’m gonna go get a drink, do you want one?” Luna nodded, telling you she was going to find Blaise and to look for her in the usual spot. 

Heading to the drink table you spotted Enzo who was adorning a Ravenclaw cardigan. You had a little skip in your step, sidling up next to him and grabbing cups for you and Luna, “Well hey there, looking dashing in blue and bronze.” 

He smirked at you, leaning against the table while you got yourself a drink, “Looks like you were sorted into the wrong house. Green definitely suits you.” You turned to him, a drink in each hand, “Thank you, Enzo.” 

He held an arm out, “Shall we? I’m assuming you're not doublefisting tonight and one of those is for Miss Lovegood?” You let out a laugh, nodding and following him to the back corner where his gang of miscreants resided. You both were simply walking next to each other. Your hands were full with both drinks and while he only had one his other hand was flailing around in the air as he recounted aspects of the last Slytherin quidditch game. 

So when you reached the group, you were surprised that Mattheo’s face was set in a scowl. You quirked an eyebrow when he finally met your eyes, which took a moment as his were apparently taking their sweet time scanning your body, his eyes rolled, scoffing slightly and leaning back on the couch. 

You decided to be bold tonight, Luna’s voice from earlier in the back of your head. You greeted the others, then went and sat down next to Mattheo. As soon as your ass hit the chair, Mattheo scooted a few inches away from you. You told yourself not to be hurt by this, but he had essentially been trying to be all over you for the last month and a half. 

“What’s wrong with you?” you turned to face him, one leg now on the couch, causing the jersey you had on the ride higher on your leg. Mattheo’s eyes cast down briefly, seeing more of your skin exposed before meeting your eyes again.

“What are you wearing?” His eye contact was intense, making you squirm a little. “It’s a theme party, I’m wearing Slytherin clothes.” He let out a huff of air through his nose. You narrowed your eyes at him now, asking him again, “What’s your problem?”

He pinched the number that laid just above your left breast, your breath getting caught in your throat with how close his hands were, “You’re wearing Enzo’s jersey.” You couldn’t quite place his tone but it sounded almost like…jealousy? This made you smirk a little and now the wheels in your mind were turning. 

You shrugged your shoulders, “I thought it looked cute.” Your hands caressing the side of your body to the hem of the jersey. You saw his eyes follow your hands as you roamed your body, now focused on where your hands played with the hem, “And it’s so long on me I didn’t even have to wear any panties.” 

You saw the clench in his jaw, and you’d be lying if you said the action didn’t send a searing heat through your body. You started to pull the jersey higher up your legs, just to tease him a little. His hand shot to your wrist, “Stop.” You smirked at him, “What’s wrong, Matty?”

The nickname was something new you were toying with and it seemed to have the effect you were looking for as the grip he had on your wrist tightened. He placed his other hand on your thigh, using it as leverage to lean closer to you. 

His lips ghosted the shell of your ear, goosebumps rising along your skin, “It’s gonna be really hard for me to fuck you with Berkshire’s jersey on.” Your cheeks immediately turned red. You turned your head, staring into his eyes, faces so close your noses are nearly brushing against one another. Your heart was beating out of your chest, you feared he could hear it over the bass of the music.

Your facade was failing, quickly. The desperation you were feeling was more extreme than you could control. “Kiss me,” you requested, eyes not leaving the brown ones you were gazing at. He laughs softly, smirk adorning his face as his eyes flicker down to your lips. 

Normally that type of cockiness from him would have you leaving Mattheo there hot and bothered but tonight you found yourself leaning towards him with just as much anticipation. His mouth slotted against yours, he tasted like cigarettes and firewhiskey. You latch onto him, fisting a handful of the hufflepuff cardigan he chose for the party. 

When you finally pull away, lungs burning for air you can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face. Mattheo’s lips were red and swollen. You look at him with big eyes, silently telling him you wanted more than was possible in the open common room. 

Mattheo glanced around, searching for a solution. He stood up quickly, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the stairs to the dorms. He led you down a hall, opening the first door he could find and pulling you in behind him. 

Before you could even glance around the room Mattheo had you pressed against the door. His arm circled your waist, sliding down the small of your back before grabbing a handful of your ass, his mouth attaching itself to your neck, sucking at biting at the soft skin there. The action had the most obscene noise leaving your throat.

His grip on your ass tightens, holding you flush against his body as he tucks a knee between your legs. You whine at the contact, the fabric of his trousers grazing against your bare clit. He braces himself with his free hand on the door, resting his forehead to yours, “Merlin, I’ve been wanting to make those noises leave that pretty mouth of yours all year.” 

You open your mouth to respond, fully prepped to give a witty retort when he pressed his leg against you again. A whimper leaves your throat this time and Mattheo looks cockier than you’ve ever seen him.

You gripped his forearm, “Matty…please.” You looked up at him through your lashes as his hand dipped under the jersey, fingertips feather light on your skin. “So needy, love. Had to wear someone else’s jersey just to get me riled up, hmm?” His head dips down, lips grazing the sensitive skin where your neck and collarbone meet. 

He bites you lightly, nipping and sucking at the skin there, surely leaving his mark in a place where it’d be hard for you to hide, claiming you as his. You’re basically grinding yourself on his leg now and Mattheo thinks he can cum from the sight of you using him for your own pleasure. 

“So wet, love, can feel you through my trousers,” Mattheo grabs your hips, stilling you against his leg emitting another whine from you. “You gonna be good f’me, love?” he was teasing you now, but that didn’t stop you from nodding pathetically. 

He dragged the material of the jersey over your hips, a gasp releasing itself from your lips as the air hits your bare center. Your teeth are sinking into your bottom lip and Mattheo drops to his knees. He puts one of your legs over his shoulder, your hand shooting to his shoulder to brace yourself as his tongue licks a stripe up your dripping cunt. 

A mewl spills from your mouth and you swear you can feel him smirk against you. Without warning he plunges two fingers deep inside you, your back arching off the door and into his touch. His free hand grabs your hip, stabilizing you against the door.

He flattens his tongue, dragging it from his fingers inside you back to your sensitive nub. Your other hand flies to his curls, fingers laced and pulling harshly. This only spurs him further, curling his fingers inside you. They rut against your g-spot, pressure building in your lower belly.

You thank Merlin for the loudness of the party because the sounds Mattheo was getting you to make were sinful. His lips are attached to your clit, mercilessly sucking and licking and humming against the bud. 

Your legs are trembling and Mattheo’s grip on your hip tightens, your vision begins to blank, mouth hanging open in a silent scream, you can’t even cry out, your mind dizzy with anything but the bliss that Mattheo is giving you between your legs as your tumbling over the edge.

He continues to eat you through your orgasm, overstimulating your clit as he slowly removes his fingers. “Fuck, Matty,” you breathe, trying to catch your breath as he lowers your leg from his shoulder. 

Mattheo stands, mouth attaching to yours immediately. You moan into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. He trails kisses along your jaw, down your neck then up to your ear, “Now let’s get you out of this fucking jersey.”

[hannieehaee]

How about yn taking care of Jeonghan's broken ankle ?

content: idol!jeonghan x nonidol!reader, established relationship, massage, mentions of nudity and showering together (not explicit), mentions of his injured ankle, fluff, etc.

wc: 1213

a/n: genuinely believe he'd either immediately feed into being taken care of or fight you all the way through it. there's no in between

masterlist

"yah! i already told you you don't have to do this!", whined jeonghan despite his clear struggle to get himself up from bed.

"baby, it's only been a few days since you got the cast on. i'm going to help you, i don't care how stubborn you are," you argued back, still helping him up by offering your shoulder for him to lean on.

with a frustrated yet playful groan, jeonghan used your arm for support, struggling to get up from the bed as you helped him get on his two feet with the support of the crutches you'd been holding out for him.

he grumbled a 'thank you' and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek when he finally got a firm hold of his crutches and was able to stand on his own, making his way out of the room with you following behind.

jeonghan always enjoyed being the caretaker in every relationship in his life. whether it be for his parents, sister, members, or you, jeonghan felt an innate need to take care of others in every way he could.

however, after recently hurting his ankle and requiring surgery for it, jeonghan had found himself unable to work his way through his usual daily tasks, not entirely used to the current state of his ankle.

he realized that his situation wasnt too bad. it couldve been worse, after all. but it was still proving to be quite an inconvenience, specially as he was bound to stay home for a few months while his members continued to work and tour without him.

jeonghan knew how lucky he was to have you stay home with him to tend to his every need, – even to an exaggerated extent – but he still couldnt help but fight you in every step of the way, insisting that you taking care of small tasks such as getting up to get a water bottle for him or brushing his hair in the morning was completely unnecessary. he enjoyed being tended to immensely, but he simply felt badly about having you go out of your way, unable to give anything back in return.

unfortunately for him, you were equally as stubborn as him, refusing to not care for the poor boy as he pretended not to struggle through simple tasks.

~

"hannie! stop moving! just let me wash you, okay?"

"you don't have to help me bathe! i can still move my arms!", he whined, throwing his head back in a petulant manner.

"jeonghan!" you grabbed his face in your hands and made him look at you, groaning at the pleased look on his face at knowing he was wearing you down, "i'm going to help you! i don't care if you can do this on your own, i want to take care of you, okay? now sit your ass down and stay still while i wash your hair. understood?"

he grinned at your serious demeanor, finding the furrow of your eyebrows and pout of your lips to be extremely adorable, even if he was driving you crazy. he nodded in a childlike fashion and gave a response of 'yes ma'am' before leaning back against you and letting you squirt some shampoo on his head.

it was easy for him to relax in your hold as you ran your hands through his hair, becoming extremely sleepy at the soft scratches against his scalp. humming against you, he murmured thank you's for being so nice to him despite him being a pest.

you shushed him with a kiss to his bare back and continued taking care of him. you knew how hard he worked, and how he was likely sore in all other areas of his body due to his endless and extraneous work. truly, you were kind of taking this break as an excuse to pamper him in ways you'd always wanted to – except that in regular circumstances, he would always pull a fast one on you and flip the cards, taking care of you instead.

after washing him up (and him insisting he help you wash up too), you helped your pretty boy get dressed and make his way to bed, where you held him in your arms as you attempted to sleep.

after feeding him his medicine, you fell into slumber next to each other, holding onto one another for warmth. falling asleep next to him was your favorite part, as you knew he was fully relaxed and no longer in pain – and he also couldnt fight you when you'd gradually wake up to check in on him.

~

it had now been a few weeks since jeonghan's surgery. the cast had been removed, but he still struggled a lot with soreness and was advised to stay home for a few more weeks. however, this did not derail you in your insistence to aid him with tasks such as bathing every so often or making his meals.

it took a bit for you to realize, extremely sleepy after a long day at work, – having only gone back a few days due to jeonghan's insistence – but jeonghan began fidgeting in the middle of the night, letting out quiet groans of complaint. blinking the sleepiness out of your eyes, you sat up to check what was wrong, making him sigh at being caught struggling (god forbid).

"baby? what's wrong?"

"nothing, angel, go back to sleep," he dismissed, sitting up and bringing his legs up to sit cross legged, pulling his hurt ankle higher up so he could rub at it.

"is it hurting, hannie?"

he nodded, wincing when he rubbed particularly hard. that's when you intervened, helping him turn towards you so you could take his foot into your own hand.

"let me help, okay?" you murmured, giving him a look of compassion that practically begged for him to not fight you on this.

likely very sleepy and worn down, he nodded silently, humming when your hands began to expertly rub at his foot, making him groan in appreciation at how well you were able to rid him of the soreness.

you massaged his foot silently for a few minutes, enjoying the low groans of pleasure jeonghan occasionally let out at the pain relief you were giving him.

"how are you so good at it?", he breathed out, eyes closed in relaxation.

you chuckled, "i did some research. wanted to make sure you didn't feel any pain as you healed."

he groaned adorably, "you're an angel," he breathed in complete relaxation, "don't deserve you."

"yeah, i know," you giggled.

"yah!"

"sorry, hannie. love you," you stopped for a second to grab at one of his hands and kiss the back of it, letting go to go back to his ankle.

jeonghan had different plans, though, grabbing onto your hand and pulling you to him, once again cuddling you on your shared bed.

"hannie, the massage-"

he grumbled, shaking his head, "feel so much better already. wanna sleep with you now, okay? just lay with me," he nuzzled his head into your hair, stubborn in the way he held you far too close to him (but just close enough).

"love you," he murmured, "thank you for taking care of me this past month."

"you're so fucking annoying," you rebutted, "love you more."

[filthyf1]

A Long Short Time

pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

content warning: MINORS DNI (18+); Porn WITH Plot, cunnilingus, blowjob, unprotected sex, slightly tipsy sex?... Not entirely healthy relationship dynamics….

summary: Daniel and you broke up two months ago. He comes back to get the last of his things…. And the rest is history.

word count: 5k

author's notes: AHHHHHH this was so nerve wracking.... it's been so long since I've written anything so please let me know your thoughts!!!

____

Two months. A short time that felt like a millenia to you. The apartment felt emptier than usual. He wasn’t there often before, but it was more than never. Life felt slow and tedious, and you weren’t exactly adapting well. 

It had been two months since you and Daniel broke up. That felt like such a silly and simple way to explain it, but that’s exactly what happened. It was and then it wasn’t. Four years and it was over just like that. 

Daniel was let go from VCARB after the Singapore GP. The fans could tell something was wrong from his interviews, and their guesses were spot on. He’d known it was the end and given it his all, understanding that it wouldn’t be enough. His whole life came to an abrupt halt, just like that. What was the point of contracts in the first place? It felt like a crime to let him go before COTA, and yet… 

Just as his career came to a screeching halt, your relationship did as well. The comfort you thought you could give was simply not enough. Nothing you could say or do could make it right. It made sense even if it hurt. What do you do when the thing you’ve worked for your whole life gets pulled out from under you? Some people cope and move on, collect the pieces and figure out how to go forward. Some people burn the rest of the world around them and crash. 

What began as trying to comfort him turned into an all-out shouting match and ended in the door slamming behind him. 

“I can’t do this! What the fuck would you do?”

“I don’t know! Lean on my friends? Family? My fucking girlfriend, maybe?”

“Well, nothing like this has happened to you. You just get to sit around and be pretty. Life is so fucking easy for you.”

That last one stung - his sharp words certainly hit their mark. You played the conversation over and over again in your head for the past 60 days, trying to think of an alternative ending.

The movers eventually came and took his things, leaving both the space and your heart wide and empty. And that was how the past two months went. Your apartment was small, but when a whole other person’s things were removed, it felt much too large.You got to see him unwind and find himself by his own posts and his friends’ on social media. The news outlets were fucking annoying. Apparently, one of the most interesting things to report on was an F1 driver’s relationship status. And the paparazzi had exactly as much sympathy as you expected. You were sure there were at least a dozen photos of you crying floating around on Twitter, Facebook, etc. 

It was your turn to feel stuck. You felt like the last four years were a waste. What were you working towards? It was upended so swiftly and easily. You saw Daniel regaining the light back in his eyes while he attended sporting events and went dirt biking with his friends. You sat in your flat drinking wine and looking at the city lights contemplating what could have been. 

There were things you wanted to accomplish that you put on the back burner and now regretted never pursuing. Maybe once you got your spirit back, you’d go after the fashion degree or write that book that always sat in the back of your mind. Just a little bit more groveling…

What really hurt was finding things the movers missed. Little things here and there that you knew he would miss, a helmet here, a jersey there. So instead of burning them like a lot of people might, you gathered them and put them in a box. You put your big girl pants on and sent him a text, hoping it would still go through, and let him know he could pick it up whenever he was back in the city. And to your surprise, not only did the message go through, but he answered. It was the only thing you’d heard from him since he left and unfortunately, you clung to it. 

It was another Friday night that wine was your companion. Your friend had visited for a few days for some gossip and retail therapy, but unfortunately she had left earlier that day and you let the loneliness seep back in. The riesling helped dull it a little bit. You were halfway through the bottle, feeling the pleasant buzz settle into your muscles. 

Music swept through your apartment while you danced and cleaned things here and there when your phone dinged on the counter, interrupting the melody you were currently feeling. Thinking it was your friend who forgot her lipstick on your counter, you swiped the message open without a second thought. Once you read it, however, the blood drained from your face and you looked on in horror.

Be there in 20 if you’re still awake.

Okay…. Okay. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You were very much not sober enough for this. The bottle of wine looked on in amusement and you glared at it, as if it wasn’t your choice to partake in the first place. That still didn’t stop you from chugging the rest of the glass in front of you. Maybe it would help you to be more relaxed or cool in his presence. You glanced at the clock on your oven.

11:20PM.

Late, but not ridiculously so. You wondered what exactly he was doing in the country. But that wasn’t really any of your business anymore. 

It was fully in your right to deny him, let him know it was not a good time to stop by. Your sober self needed 3 to 5 business days to prepare for this, but your tipsy self wanted him to stop by now. Your chest ached at the thought of seeing his face again in person. You craved it desperately. Against your better judgement, your fingers sent out a quick, “Ok.”

Oh, God, what were you doing? 

Simply put, you fucking missed him. There was no denying or getting around it.

“Fuck, this is happening,” you breathed to yourself. You ran a hand through your hair, a nervous mess. You ran to the bathroom to do a once over; you looked as much a mess as you expected. Hair everywhere and eyes slightly glassy from alcohol. You swallowed hard, trying to fix things, but gave up after a minute or two.

Sitting back in your kitchen, you nursed another glass of wine. There was no going back now, so you might as well commit. A knock came a few minutes later, causing you to jump in your seat. 

“Fuck,” one more for the road. 

You approached the door slowly like a victim in a horror movie. One last hesitation, and the door swung open and there he was.

He stood tall, not at all bowed under the pressure he had experienced so recently. His hair was longer than you remembered, the curls so perfect and tangled it hurt. They weren’t yours to run your hands through anymore. You were sure you looked sad and pathetic, and he stood in front of you looking healthy and radiant, something you hadn’t seen in a long time. He looked damn good.

A breathy, “Hi,” was all you could muster. You immediately kicked yourself internally. So much for keeping your cool. Daniel gave you a once over that made you feel hot inside and self-conscious at the same time.

“Hi,” he gave a soft smile and you nearly melted. It was such a stark difference from how your last conversation ended. You stood in silence for another few seconds, taking him in. This was how you wanted to remember him. 

“Fuck, uh, sorry, I don’t have your stuff here,” you shook yourself out of the trance. “Do you… want to come in for a minute?” You weren’t sure if this was a good idea or not. You didn’t have a great track record with exes and them visiting your place of residence. 

“I’ve got the time,” he said. 

You’d be lying if a plethora of less than innocent thoughts were running through your head. He looked better than you remembered, and the feelings were still there, ready to be unearthed at a moment's notice.

He took everything in. The air felt heavy with unspoken tension and you wondered what he was thinking. His eyes settled on the empty wine glass and less than full bottle.

“Been drinking?” He asked and a smirk settled onto his lips. His facial hair was growing in, and you’d be lying if your mind didn’t wander. Beard burn was a hell of a drug.

“Yea,” you said sheepishly, a hand running through your hair to dispel your nerves. “There’s whiskey if you want a drink. I still have your favorite… I don’t really drink it…” You trailed off, not really expecting him to accept. You thought he would be itching to leave as soon as possible, the weight of the last conversation heavy on your mind. To your surprise, he opened the cabinet that he knew very well and grabbed the whiskey. He grabbed a glass (that cabinet never changed either) and poured himself a double. 

“Cheers,” he held the cup out. You poured the rest of the wine into your stemmed glass and clinked your glass against his. You paused, watching him down the glass, his Adam's apple bobbing and a single droplet of whiskey dripping from his lips and trailing down his neck. Sinful thoughts flashed across your eyes, but long gone now were the days where you could lick it away. You averted your eyes quickly and drank your wine in one swift gulp. Anything to distract you from the images circling through your head. 

“You’ve been doing well - at least from what I’ve seen,” you placed the wine glass down in the kitchen sink and Daniel followed suit. The heat of his body was heavy behind you, his arm right next to yours. You fought everything in you to fight freezing. Surely, he wasn’t doing this on purpose? You didn’t have much time to contemplate as his body was gone in the next moment. 

He leaned against the kitchen counter - his arms propped his body up and you chose to avert your eyes from his toned form. Two months was clearly not enough time to stop those thoughts from clouding your mind. Was it you or did he just look you up and down?

“I’ve been… okay,” he didn’t elaborate, but the silence explained enough. Maybe it was easier to put on a smile for the camera.

“You still miss it,” it wasn’t a question.

“Every day,” he nearly whispered. His warm brown eyes held yours for a second too long and you wondered if you were still talking about racing. You cleared your throat, not totally sure how to address that. 

“Things ended pretty poorly, huh,” you averted your eyes. Now was not the time to let your tears get the best of you. Your last argument was the elephant in the room and you’d explode if you avoided it for another second. There was a tightly wound bundle of resentment, pain, and anger in your stomach. You were mad at him for walking away. Mad that he seemed to get over things pretty damn quick while you were still fumbling for a grasp on things. Mad that he walked right back in like nothing happened.

“You could say that again,” he said simply. You went to speak again but he cut you off. “I’m sorry for the things I said.”

Your eyes shot to his. He wasn’t really one to open up and talk about things like that. He tended to take things out on the track and work through them that way. He didn’t have that anymore though, so maybe he found talking was easier these days. 

“Thank you,” you said roughly. Blinking rapidly to stop tears from coming forward. What were you supposed to do now? You never stopped loving him, but you were feeling so many other conflicting feelings at the same time. Daniel made a move as if to come forward and comfort you, then thought twice about it. He was obviously feeling a lot of things too. He cleared his throat.

“So, you said you put everything in a box?” He looked around. If things were heavy before, they weighed a ton now. 

“Um, yes, your stuff is in the hall closet. I put it in a box for you - I’m not sure it'll fit in whatever car you drove, but you can always send someone to pick it up for you,” you over-explained as you walked towards said storage. Were you delirious or was that his body heat on your back? This time it did not disappear. 

You slowed, turning to face him. He was as close as you suspected, his strong frame standing over you. His pupils were blown, his breathing slightly accelerated. You’d be a fool to deny that his scent was intoxicating. The same cologne and musk you remembered that was distinctly Daniel made your head spin. You swallowed hard and Daniel’s eyes flickered down to your eyes then your throat.

“Daniel?”

“I’ve missed you,” he breathed out, his voice deep and husky. Your heart pounded hard in your chest. You wanted this more than anything. You wished he’d just kiss you already. Your body ached to feel his against yours again. It had been so long. You were both suspended in time, your eyes locked with each others’.

“I missed you, too,” you replied. He looked relieved at that, like he thought you had moved on. As if you’d ever be able to do that.

“Yea?” He was even quieter that time.

“So fucking much.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“I wish you would.”

Whatever dam was once there broke in an instant. Daniel surged forward and his lips enveloped yours. You couldn’t help the groan that leaked from your throat. You missed this so much it hurt. One of his hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him. His other hand found the back of your neck and his fingers wrapped into your hair. His body was hot against yours, your skin searing wherever it touched his. He backed you into the wall without his lips leaving yours once. You eagerly reached your hands to his hair and pulled on the curls you missed so much which earned you a groan in return. You fit together like two puzzle pieces. 

You gulped in air as he moved his attention to your neck, his facial hair scratching you in the way you remembered. Words couldn’t describe how much you missed this. His leg parted yours to push against your clothed cunt and pin you to the wall. God, if he thought you were moaning like a whore now… He suckled hard on the soft skin of your collar bone and your fingers tightened in his hair.

Things were complicated, sure, but this was here and now. Right now you were feeling pretty damn good for many reasons and your present self didn’t care much about the potential consequences. Daniel was a man starved and you were an oasis in the desert. 

“Take me to the fucking bedroom before I strip you here,” you barely got out.

“Can do,” he replied between pressing kisses up your neck. “Not that I would entirely mind…” His strong arms moved to loop under your thighs and lift you up easily. He took a moment to hold you against the wall and kiss you again. His need was as evident as yours; you could feel him straining against his jeans. His tongue was hot and furious against yours and you feared being fully consumed by him. 

Your body temperature was running at one-thousand degrees and you felt like you were about to burst. Daniel’s tongue was wet and insistent against yours and you drank him in. Soft groans echoed from him and you could barely handle it. He carried you to your room, placing you softly onto your plush bed. His body was heavy upon yours, barely holding himself above you. You took the opportunity to roll your hips against his, eliciting a moan from both of you. You wondered if he was with anyone in your absence and then quickly pushed that thought away. It was none of your business, and you chose to believe the answer was no based on the way he was acting. 

Your hands trailed around each other; you missed the feel of each others’ bodies. Something told you that neither of you would last long. Already you feel yourself soaking through your panties.

Barely able to tear himself from you, Daniel managed to rip his shirt off. He looked just as good as ever and your mouth watered at the happy trail disappearing into his pants. 

“See something you like?” He grins evilly.

“Shut the fuck up and take my pants off,” you sigh. He did not need to be told twice. Your pants were removed in a flash leaving you in your underwear and shirt. The shirt was quickly removed after. Lucky for you, it was nearing laundry day which meant you had only your skimpiest and laciest underwear leftover. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Daniel sighed. 

“I’d apologize but I’m not sorry…”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he leaned back in and placed soft kisses down your torso. His hands pawed your chest roughly, pinching your nipples between his fingers and causing you to keen into him. He came back to place one more kiss on your lips and captured your bottom lip between his teeth to nip at the soft, swollen skin. You rolled your hips into his again but this time he caught them and pushed his own into you to fight back. Everything with him was a delicious push and pull.

He edged back down, but not without placing wet kisses along your torso on his way there. He grabbed the band of your underwear between his teeth and pulled them off. His eyes held yours as he did so and you felt the blood rush to your cheeks. The man knew how to make you blush, that was for sure. They peeled back from your dripping pussy in a way that was almost embarrassing. You didn’t miss when he took the panties and shoved them into his back pocket. 

His lips ghosted over the inside of your thighs and drank you in in a way that made you light headed. You wanted nothing more than him to put his fucking mouth to work. He could sense your urgency and gave a cheeky chuckle.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want this as much as me. I’ll suck your dick if you hurry up and eat me out,” you threatened.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

His mouth was warm and the pleasure shot deep through your core as soon as he ran his tongue over you. 

“Fuck,” you barely managed. Your head hit the mattress - Daniel held you tight and didn’t allow an inch for you to squirm. Your legs draped over his shoulders and your toes curled as he worked on you. The wet sounds that came from your cunt were sinful; when Daniel paused for air and to smile at you, you could see his chin glistening. He was relentless, moaning into your folds and your head started swirling. “Daniel,” you gasped and one hand clawed at his shoulder while the other held tightly to his hair. “I’m not gonna last - if you keep doing that I’m gonna come.”

“Good,” he barely pulled back. Now that he had that information, he didn’t hold back and within a minute you were writhing and moaning underneath him as white hot pleasure coursed through you. He alternated between sucking and swirling his tongue around your clit. His strong arms barely flexed to hold you down as your hips rolled against his tongue. He only relented when your hips stuttered as you became overstimulated. You were gasping and swearing. It was way too long since you’d felt like this. He pulled back, but only far enough to place more open-mouthed, sloppy kisses along your thighs. He let you recover and kissed his way back up your body on your hips, your stomach, your breasts, and finally your collarbones and neck. 

“Sooooo, you said something about getting my dick sucked?” He asked and completely evaporated the heavy mood. You couldn’t help the laugh that exploded from you and you hit his shoulder weakly. He fell back dramatically on the bed, holding his shoulder in mock pain. “You wound me, woman!”

The light humor was nice, but it made your heart ache. You missed this so much and you realized that this ended with Daniel walking out the door. This was all a moment of passion after time apart. He’d take the rest of his things and go back to his life and you’d go back to yours. Instead of wallowing, you chose to shove it to the back of your mind and enjoy the moment that was happening in front of you. You put the smile back on your face and turned your attention back to Daniel. You kissed him deeply and softly once and ignored the slightly confused look on his face.

You pushed him back into the bed and he propped his head up by putting his hands behind his head, and you swallowed hard at his flexing biceps. He still wore his jeans so you palmed him roughly through the thick fabric which earned you a look that could kill. You licked a stripe over the coarse hair that sprouted up his stomach. He was hot and salty with sweat and you craved to take him into your mouth. 

Removing his belt slowly, you teased him; how much could he take? To your surprise, he was exceedingly patient and looked down at you with a disgusting smirk.  You pulled down his jeans and wiped said smirk off his face by placing a feather light kiss over his clothed cock. He smelled hot and musky, and you couldn’t wait to strip him completely. The pants and boxer briefs came off together and got tossed somewhere along the rest of the clothes on the floor.

He was just as you remembered. You suppressed the whine that built in your throat. He was already cocky enough; he didn’t need to know you missed sucking him off. You took as much of him in your mouth as you could, the rest taken care of by your hands. Another thing he didn’t need to add to his ego was his size. He was heavy and warm on your tongue with the sting of bitter saltiness from the precum that leaked from his swollen, red tip. A deep groan came from him and you looked up to see his head thrown back and his bottom lips caught between his teeth. A small ego boost for you too. 

You dragged your tongue from his base to his tip. Following the thick vein that ran up his length, you took him in again and hollowed your cheeks. He couldn’t control the groans and moans that spilled from him and one of his hands came down to wind through your hair and hold it up.

“Look at me,” he commanded. Bold of him, but you had to admit you missed this possessive side of him. You obliged him and looked him dead in the eyes but did not pause your ministrations. You let him push his hips into your mouth to fuck your throat. You were out of practice and gagged once before holding it back. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you loved it. You swallowed around his length and his hand tightened painfully in your hair. His hips thrusted against his own will and his eyes squeezed shut. “Okay… okay, stop, or I’m not gonna make it to the main event,” he breathed heavily. Still got it, you thought smugly. You released him but not before placing one last kiss on the crevice between his crotch and his thigh which earned you a satisfying twitch.

You climbed up, settling yourself on his lower stomach. This was one of both of your favorite positions. Daniel loved seeing you above him, riding his cock and finding the exact right spot that got you off. It was a position that allowed you both some control and he liked being able to see your face. You scooted back and grabbed his length, ready to position him and sink down when he halted you by catching your hips in both of his hands.

“Fuck, I didn't bring a condom,” he sighed and paused. You almost lost your mind. 

“I don't fucking care,” you moaned and pushed against him. “And I'm still on the pill.”

“You didn't stop it?”

“Just be glad I didn't and fuck me already, Daniel,” you whined. You knew adding his name would be the cherry on top of a cake he couldn't deny. He took the head of his leaking cock, swiping it through your folds to collect the excessive wetness there, and pressed himself into you slowly. The stretch ached deliciously. It had definitely been awhile. Daniel hissed between his teeth as you sunk down on his length inch by agonizing inch. 

When he was fully inside of you, you took a moment to adjust. You steadied yourself with your hands on Daniel’s chest, and he grabbed your wrists to pull you back down to him. Your lips met his in a surprisingly tender kiss that stirred things in your chest that you were having trouble keeping buried. You blinked away tears for the second time that night, but this time a warm hand came to cup your cheek and stroke the skin there. 

Whatever happened tonight, you hoped you and Daniel talked after this. He brought you so much joy and comfort. His warm brown eyes held yours as if to say everything would be okay.

“Okay, I’m fine. You can start moving,” you breathed out and began rocking your hips. He listened and held your hips to guide you up and down on his cock. He felt just as good as you remembered. Maybe better. The room was filled with the harmony of your moans and the wet, rhythmic slaps of your hips meeting each other. There was no sweeter sound.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” he moaned. “So fucking good for me. So tight and fucking soaking. All for me,” his hips snapped to meet your movements. Him calling you baby lit a spark in your belly and spurred you on.

“Faster. Fuck me faster, Daniel,” you whined, desperately chasing your high. He complied and moved faster and harder. He stuck his two forefingers in your mouth and you sucked on them, your tongue swirling around the digits. You looked at him through your lashes and he groaned deeply. You felt deeply in your soul that only you two could have this effect on each other. His thrusts became more erratic, his breathing deeper and faster, and you knew he was nearing the edge. You decided to spur him on, wanting to hear his sweet sounds and see the beautiful face he made when he reached it. You beared down on him, squeezing him and matching his rhythm.

“You’re so good, Danny. You make me feel so good,” you could barely get the words out.

His eyes squeezed shut as he tried to maintain his composure. Sweat beaded on his brow and shined on his chest. One hand left your hip to rub quick circles on your clit to give it right back to you. You were so sensitive from earlier that the effect was immediate. One hand flew to muffle the sounds coming out of you, but Daniel ripped it away. He wanted to hear every sound uninhibited. 

He held on until your orgasm crashed over you. You hoped you wouldn’t be receiving a noise complaint from your neighbors the next day, but would understand why if you did. Your thighs shook and you couldn’t control how you rutted against Daniel like a crazed person. That was all he could take and his hands tightened painfully into your soft skin. He bit his lips hard and his eyes screwed shut. His hips hit once, twice more before slowing. Was that a whine coming from him? God, that sound alone could make you cum again. You reveled in the bliss, slowly moving your hips to ride it out. 

The room was quiet for a few minutes after, save the heaving breathing coming from both of you. Finally, you pulled yourself from Daniel, a soft sigh coming from him. You were battling yourself on what to do next. Now that it was over… What came next? Maybe you would take a hot shower and then he’d be gone with his things when you emerged. That was usually how this kind of story went, right? At least he wouldn’t be around to see you fall apart.

You made a start to get off the bed, but a warm hand wrapped around your wrist. You were pulled back down. Warm arms wrapped around you and then you were laying against his overheated body, your legs draped over his like nothing had ever changed.

“Don’t go,” he said into the top of your head.

[hitomisuzuya]

Aventurine x fem!reader. Smut. Cunnilingus. Slight manipulation. Soft in some spots. Purely self indulgent. Implied size difference (Aventurine is taller)

My hands are shaking while I write this. I'm gonna slink off and hide when I am done 😭 I'm very nervous.

Aventurine had felt a soft tug on his sleeve one night at a roulette table. He kept betting more and more each time he won, and was drawing a crowd around him. He looked over and then down.

"Hold on," You'd said in the shyest voice, finding it hard to look away from his eyes. You'd never seen eyes quite like his. Eyes that could stop your heart in your chest with just one glance, the shock of how beautiful they were restarting it.

You'd been looking for a way, any way to get his attention all night. "Let me kiss your roulette chip," An even shyer blush crept into your cheeks, which he found incredibly endearing. "For good luck," You added, forcing yourself to look away from his eyes to control your pounding heart.

It bewildered him nonetheless that someone was showing him such sweet consideration without him having to ask for it.

Over the next few months, it soon became routine for you brush your lips against whatever gambling tool Aventurine was using that night. All in the name of good luck. Sure, he never lost but you, you were starting to make his winning feel even better.

That led to lingering touches and looks between the two of you. And it wasn't long before he felt the foreign feeling of wanting a level of deeper intimacy with you.

Aventurine knew he could seduce you for little tastes of you at a time, but why do that when he could go all in and win the chance in the fashion he was accustomed to.

He chose to simple game to play with you. Blackjack. First one to bust three times lost. And if he won, he got to eat you out. He couldn't lie to himself and say that he didn't choose this game specifically to get what he wanted.

You'd innocently told him that you weren't very good at math, agreeing to play if he checked your math for you.

His gloved fingers looked so beautiful dealing the card. He could see you considering your decisions to hit or stay very carefully. Did you want to impress him?

Aventurine selfishly fudged the math each time. His smirk on your third "bust" was one for the ages. One that made your heart flutter. Your wager was that if you won, you got play with his cat cakes.

Which he would still let you do. The way you smiled, giggled and cooed at them was just too adorable for him not to let you play with them.

After he devoured you first, of course.

Aventurine took his time slowly licking up and down the stripe of your cunt outside of your panties. The soft, shaky sighs that started to sound from your pretty mouth as his tongue deftly teased at your clit, coaxing it to throb stronger with each languid lick as his saliva soaked onto your panties.

He chuckled softly as you reached down to peel your panties aside. "I'll do you one better, sweetheart. Let me," He slowly pulled your panties down your legs and discarded them on the floor next to his bed.

Aventurine's eyes drank in the sight of your puffy pussy, almost embarrassingly wet from the teasing ministrations of his tongue. He was determined to take care of properly, returning all that consideration you'd showered him with by kissing his gambling chips for good luck.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to muffle your loud moan as his tongue parted your folds. He chuckled, his tongue dancing on your clit. He could tell you were being reserved about your noises.

His fingers brushed on the inside of your thigh, making you shiver as your hips suddenly jerked to grind against his tongue, the taste of you assaulting his senses. "You look cute when you are shy, but let me hear you enjoying yourself," He encouraged with an easy smile.

Aventurine didn't want you to think. The only thing he wanted you to focus on was him, and how good his tongue was making you feel. He groaned happily into your cunt as you grinded against his mouth again.

He was tentative about holding onto your thighs or your hips too tightly at first while he lost himself in your pussy. He didn't want to restrict your movements. Anything to keep you grinding and imprinting your taste on his tongue.

The way your hand shook as the found the back of his head, tugging on his soft, blonde hair as you pressed his mouth down onto your cunt was addicting. His fingers found purchase on your thighs, pressing inevitable marks of possession.

Now that Aventurine had you, he wasn't going to let you go. Especially not when you tasted this fucking good. He was absolutely reeling as he plunged his tongue as far inside of you as it could go.

He swirled his tongue, and it felt like every pleasurable nerve ending in your body was coming to life. The staticy haze of pleasure was overwhelming. It wasn't long before you forgot all about covering your mouth with your hand to hold back your noises.

The feeling to submit to his every intimate whim gripped you like a vice. He wanted you to moan, so moan you did. Your legs shook as his mouth latched out your clit, the wet slurping noises that mingled your moans said how much he was enjoying himself.

The wetter you got, the louder you got, the more your body twitched in response to him made him want more with each lick and suck.

Aventurine didn't even hear himself whimpering at first as he rutted his aching cock into the mattress. He was completely and wholly focused on you. You looked so beautiful with tears of pleasure welling in your eyes, his tongue teasing and swirling between your gummy walls.

His cock throbbed harder each time feeling your walls tighten around his tongue. Tears of pleasure were so interesting to see. He was used to tears of different variety. It was refreshing for him.

He vibrated moan after moan onto your clit as he sucked on it, feeling twice the rush observing you pinching one of your nipples to chase the high he was building up oh so agonizingly slow.

"Aventurine!" Your cry of his name as your orgasm hit you sounded even sweeter than he imagined. His tongue never stopped fucking into you through your orgasm.

"Let's up the ante," He purred, releasing your clit with a wet pop. You looked so defenselessly beautiful all fucked out above him. "How about we bet that I can make you squirt now?"

You pushed his mouth back down onto your pussy in response.

[poetryvampire]

Well, I feel like utter trash tonight so

Rating BG3 men on how well they'd take care of you on your period

This is dumb and not well thought out and probably a bit bias let's gooo

Gale 🔮 Sweetheart cannot read the room bless him. Is so ready to help easy the pain, he's cracking open dusty books, going through all his herbs, spends all day trying to craft the best potion for your needs. Very sweet but honestly Tara sitting on your lap is doing a fine job. Once you get him to cuddle you're golden 6/10

Wyll ⚔️ Cmon. Are you kidding me? He's got you babe. Need something picked up? Done. Craving something? Made. Just want to lay around in bed all day? Hell yeah he's right there with you, you couldn't get out of his arms if you wanted to.Also a fan of romance novels? Wyll would 100% read to you. Like voices and everything, really amps up the mellow drama. He's happy to keep you laughing or get sultry with it. Makes a great opening act to spicy times. 10/10

Halsin 🐻 Woof. Very happy to help chase away those cramps by some good old fashioned pounding you into the earth. You're not gonna be able to feel anything after he gets his paws on you. Not put off by blood that's nature ba-by. Also pls consider bear sized teddy cuddles. 7/10

Astarion 🍷 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 9/10

Rolan ✨️ As usual baby boy is too awkward to live. Not like super knowledgeable about them but wants to help you the best he can. Won't ask you directly though. Is a very quick study and takes note of what you need and like. If you need space or want to be glued to him hes already in place.If you're the kind of person that's laid up with cramps for a day or two he just happens to have those days off to be with you. You'll go for a hot water bottle and the kettle is already on. Honestly after awhile he knows your cycle better than you do. 8/10

Zevlor 🔥 If there's one thing this man knows it's being sore. It just comes with being a swordsman and an older gentleman. He is a god of working out sore muscles. Feeling achy? He goes all the way. Expect a long bath with a full body massage. He's gonna work out every inch of you and praise you like his personal god. Very patient really gonna go for the slow burn from sensual to sexual. Doesn't even expect anything back just wants to make you feel good. Will turn a downer day into a wildly romantic night. 11/10

Haarlep 😈 Couldnt give less of a shit. It's not that he's put off by it, he's had lots of experience with them but it doesn't do anything for him either. As for your suffering? He's a little empathetic, poor mortal with your poor weak body. That being said he does like you and to cuddle once in awhile so if you need some comfort he'll be there. 3/10

Raphael 👿 Jfc listen, he's waaaaay into it but will Not admit. In fact goes out of his way to let you know how off putting it is. He'll tell you how its nice to know you could still bare his young, like if he let's you. Loves the thought of breeding you and just the simple humanity of it that gets him. He cannot keep his hands off you but again will not admit why and will get mad about it. Like, how dare you look so good now of all times it's so rude. Guess I have to fuck you even though your pathetic little body keeps getting blood on my sheets smh -3/10