#so this week they said time to even it out

[littlelamy]

massages with rafe

They always started the same way—innocent enough, at least on the surface. It didn’t matter how much you told him you didn’t need it or how many excuses you tried to make. Rafe didn’t care. He was relentless in his mission to make sure you were taken care of.

“Baby, you’ve been carrying stress all week,” he’d say, his voice laced with that soft, commanding tone that left no room for argument. “Just let me handle it. Let me help.”

And so, you always gave in. How could you not? Especially when his hands were so good at coaxing away every ounce of tension you didn’t even know you had.

Tonight, you were on his bed, stretched out on your stomach, the soft glow of his bedside lamp casting golden light across his sharp features. The sheets beneath you smelled like him—cedarwood and something faintly smoky—and the familiar scent was enough to ease some of the weight pressing on your chest.

Rafe straddled your legs, his hands warm and firm as they worked over your shoulders. His fingers pressed into your skin with practiced precision, finding every knot and coaxing it loose.

“You’re all wound up, princess,” he murmured, his thumbs digging into a particularly tight spot between your shoulder blades. “What’s got you so tense?”

“Life,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by the pillow.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through the quiet room. “Good thing I’m here, huh?”

You didn’t answer, too focused on the way his hands worked their magic. His touch was firm yet tender, soothing yet intoxicating. It was almost too easy to lose yourself in the rhythm of his movements, to let your mind wander as his hands moved lower, tracing the curve of your spine.

But with Rafe, it was never just a massage.

The shift happened slowly, subtly at first. His hands lingered on the small of your back, his thumbs brushing against the waistband of your shorts in a way that made your breath hitch. You felt the change in the air, the way it seemed to thicken with something unspoken, something electric.

“Rafe,” you said, your voice soft, tentative.

“Hmm?” His response was casual, almost innocent, but the way his hands moved wasn’t.

His fingertips dipped just below the waistband, tracing slow, deliberate circles against your skin. “Relax, baby. Let me take care of you.”

Your heart raced, a mix of anticipation and nervousness coursing through your veins. His touch was intoxicating, making it hard to think, hard to breathe.

“You had a rough week,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your shoulder as his hands slid lower. “You deserve to feel good. Daddy’s got you.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your belly. You couldn’t stop the soft whimper that escaped your lips, your body instinctively arching into his touch.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “Just let me do the work.”

He tugged at the waistband of your shorts, sliding them down your legs in one smooth motion. The cool air against your bare skin made you shiver, but the warmth of his hands quickly chased it away. His touch was reverent, almost worshipful, as his hands skimmed over your thighs, squeezing gently before moving higher.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe as his fingertips traced the curve of your hips. “So perfect.”

Your cheeks burned at his words, but you didn’t have time to dwell on your embarrassment. Not when his fingers were sliding between your legs, finding the damp heat already building there.

“Look at you,” he said, his tone both teasing and adoring. “So puffy, so ready for me.”

A whimper escaped your lips, your hips bucking involuntarily as his fingers pressed against you through the thin fabric of your panties. He chuckled softly, clearly pleased with your reaction.

“Rafe,” you gasped, your voice trembling as he slid the fabric aside, his fingers brushing against your bare skin.

“What is it, baby?” he asked, his voice low and dripping with affection. “What do you need?”

“I...” Your words faltered, your mind too foggy with desire to form a coherent thought.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Tell me, princess. I want to hear you say it.”

“I need you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He groaned softly, his fingers finally sliding inside you, drawing a gasp from your lips.

He moved slowly, deliberately, his fingers curling just right to hit that spot that made you see stars. His free hand slid beneath you, his palm pressing against your stomach to hold you steady as he worked you over.

“Feel that?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. “That’s me taking care of you. That’s me making you feel good.”

You couldn’t answer, too lost in the sensation of his touch, the way his fingers moved inside you with an almost unbearable precision. He took his time, savoring every reaction, every moan and whimper that spilled from your lips.

“You’re so tight,” he muttered, his voice tinged with awe. “So perfect for me.”

Your body trembled beneath him, your hands gripping the sheets as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it, baby,” he said, his tone filled with pride. “Let go for me. I’ve got you.”

When the wave of pleasure finally crashed over you, it was overwhelming, all-consuming. Your body shook, your vision blurred, and all you could do was hold onto him as he guided you through it.

He didn’t stop, didn’t pull away. His touch remained steady, grounding you as you came down from the high, his lips pressing soft kisses against your shoulders and neck.

“Better?” he asked, his voice soft and filled with genuine concern.

You nodded weakly, a small smile tugging at your lips as you turned to look at him. “Yeah. Better.”

He smiled back, his expression tender as he leaned down to kiss you.

“Good,” he said, pulling you into his arms. “You deserve to feel good, princess. Always.”

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[ariestrxsh]

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 content warning: smut, an insane amount of teasing, dirty talk, praise, sexual touching, masturbation, oral (f!receiving), mentions of sex, power play, switch!chris, switch!matt, switch!reader

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 summary: matt and chris decide to participate in no nut november. the competition gets even more interesting when you get involved, making a bet with the two boys about who can last the longest while you're actively working against them.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 this fic was inspired/requested by this ask, and this ask, and the song/title was requested by this ask 🤍

love potions

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 Day One

"Oh, come on. You guys aren't seriously participating in that stupid trend, are you?" You scoffed after you'd walked in on Matt and Chris talking about their latest competition. "It's not just a trend. It's like a sexual reset," Matt said to you in a serious tone.

"Oh. Okay. I still think it's stupid. Why would you want to torture yourselves for a whole month?" You shrugged. "It's like a test of willpower and whoever makes it longer without needing to nut wins No Nut November," Chris explained.

"What do you win?" You wondered, looking between the two of them. "You're just the winner," Matt shrugged. You rolled your eyes. "And what are the rules?" You inquired, wanting to hear more. "No sex, no masturbation, and you can't do anything to make yourself cum," Chris replied.

"That's crazy. If the regulations are going to be that strict, I think you boys both need a little incentive," you smirked at them. They both glanced at each other and back at you. "What do you suggest?" Matt wondered aloud. "How about whichever one of you loses has to watch the winner fuck me, hmm? Don't you think that'd make it a little more interesting?" You proposed.

"Incentive? That sounds like a punishment," Matt replied, lifting his brows in a shocked manner. "Only if you lose," Chris teased him with a smug smile plastered on his face. "Punishment, reward. Same thing. Same desired outcome," you sneered at them.

"I think that would really help incentivize me," Chris eagerly nodded at you. "Can we both just rub one out real quick and start right after that?" Matt asked, biting his lip. "No, Matt. November has already started," you smirked at him.

"Okay, so the winner of No Nut November gets to use me however they want, and the loser has to watch. But I have a few rules of my own I'd like to instill. You guys both have to make it at least two weeks. If the loser caves on week one, the bet's off, and no one gets to use me. Also, I get to tease you guys as much as I want," your lips curled into a malicious grin.

"That's not fair," Matt glared at you. "Sure it is, Matt. If I'm the reward, don't you think it's only fair that I get to put in place some rules of my own?" You raised an eyebrow at him and crossed your arms. "Okay, fine," Matt huffed, rolling his eyes. "You boys are really in for it. I've been extra horny lately," you said in a luscious voice, looking them both up and down.

"What if we both go the whole month without breaking any rules?" Chris asked. "Then you can both tag team me," you smirked, glancing between the two of them. They both eagerly nodded at the sound of that.

"And what if we both lose at the same time?" Matt asked curiously. "Then I get to use you two however I want, and I get to humiliate you while you finish," you responded, putting your hand over your mouth to hold back a chuckle.

"Oh, don't tell Matt that. He'll like that too much," Chris teased his brother. Matt punched him in the arm. "Ow!" Chris shot back, rubbing his arm. You were already planning all the different ways you were going to try to seduce them and make them slip up.

"I'm going to go run some errands. I'll be right back," you teasingly waved at them both before strutting out the door. "Whoops," you said, purposely dropping your keys so you'd have an excuse to bend down in front of them.

Unfortunately for them, you were wearing your favorite pair of jeans that hugged all your curves perfectly, and as you accentuated your movements while you bent at the waist to fetch them from off the floor, Chris and Matt's eyes immediately traveled to your bottom.

Then they both glanced at each other, exchanging a look. It dawned on them that they may be in over their heads. You waltzed out the front door on your way to buy a new lingerie set along with some other things to tease them with.

A few hours later, you came back in with a few shopping bags in hand. "What did you get?" Matt wondered, peeking into the bag. He caught a glimpse of white lace before you yanked them away from him. "You'll find out," you told him, tucking them out of sight and wondering off to go plan your strategy.

You had a few tricks up your sleeve, but you couldn't just whip out your craziest idea in the first week. Your tactic was to keep it playful at the beginning, just little touches that would linger a few seconds too long and subtle comments here and there to fluster them.

Over time, you'd slowly work your way towards the more overt seduction after they'd let their guards down.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 Day Two

Throughout the day, you kept finding reasons to lightly and sensually touch both boys. You'd playfully hit Chris in his well-toned bicep when he'd say anything funny, and afterward, you'd make some comment to puff up his ego.

"You been working out? Your muscles look so hot lately," you said to him in a sexy voice, your eyes dancing over his lips while you spoke to him as you squeezed his upper arm. "You're gonna have to try harder than that," Chris arrogantly stated, well-aware of what you were doing.

Later on, you went up to Matt after spritzing yourself with a new perfume you'd gotten recently. "Hey, Matt. I want to get your opinion on this fragrance," you innocently told him, holding a lot of eye contact.

You tilted your head up, and he leaned down to smell where you had sprayed it just above your collarbone. Notes of jasmine and lavender filled his senses.

"Mmm. It smells nice," he commented. "No, you're not close enough," you responded, running your fingers through his hair and reeling him in nearer to you until his nose was resting against your neck.

"What do you think? If we were on a date and I wore this scent, would you take me back to your place and fuck my brains out?" You seductively asked him, gently massaging his scalp with your fingertips.

"Shit," Matt muttered, blood started rushing to the tip of his cock as he pulled away from you. "Nice try," he said, leaving the room.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 Day Five

You decided to ramp it up just a little bit. Throughout the day, you kept purposely dropping things so you could bend over and show off the little thong you wore under your miniskirt.

They couldn't help but fall for it every time, even though they knew you were doing it for the sole purpose of riling them up. You loved witnessing the desperation slowly creep into their expressions while you taunted them. You held a lot of eye contact while talking to them, purposely staring at their lips a lot and licking your own while you watched them become nervous.

That night, Chris was in his room, sitting shirtless in his gaming chair and playing a video game when you came into the room and started rubbing his shoulders for him. "Mmm. You're so tense," you stated, working through a knot on his shoulder blade. "Gee, I wonder why," Chris chuckled.

He let out a soft, satisfied groan as you massaged his back for him, making sure to whisper praises in his ear. "I bet you're so sore because you've been hitting the gym so much, huh? It really shows. Your back looks so toned right now," You cooed.

"What else am I going to do with myself?" He smirked, knowing he'd been working out every day since November started to fend off his sex drive. "I bet since you exercise a lot, you have good stamina, don't you? Bet you could fuck for a long time," you whispered in his ear. He responded with a loud scoff.

"I bet you're the kind of guy who likes to get off multiple times a day, don't you? So this must be extra hard for you. You're so disciplined for not caving yet. I could never do what you're doing. I swear, I'm horny all the time," you told him.

"I am disciplined," he reiterated. "So disciplined in fact that this doing nothing for me." But it was a lie. His dick was starting to perk up at your words and your tone of voice. "Mhmm," you said, unconvinced as you left the room to go tease Matt.

He was downstairs making brownies in the kitchen when you found him. "Have you been a good boy? Keeping your hands out of your pants, hmm?" You gave him a sly smile. He immediately met you with a needy look. Matt was a little more transparent than Chris, not quite as good at hiding how turned on he was.

"I've been good. Still going strong," He nodded at you while he stirred the brownie batter. "So well-behaved. Good boy," you said, your tone saturated with lust. Matt started to get a little hard at how you were speaking to him, but he tried to take his mind off you with chocolate.

"You should try this. It's really good," Matt said, dipping his finger into the brownie batter, but before he could get another taste, you gently grabbed onto his hand, and as he looked over to make eye contact with you, you were slipping his digit between your parted lips and sucking off the chocolate.

"Mmmm," you hummed with your mouth wrapped around his finger, subtly moving your head back and forth. His dick twitched in his sweatpants and he let out a soft whimper as you excited all the nerve endings on the tip of his finger.

"Maybe you're not such a good boy after all. I think you liked that a little too much," you taunted him, releasing his hand from your grip. It took everything in Matt not to run upstairs and go jerk off to the thought of your mouth on another one of his extremities. Instead, he went back to making brownies.

"You can't have any more until they're ready," he glared at you, trying to will away his erection.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 Day Six

It was nearing the end of the first week, and you approached Chris early one morning as he was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal and flipping through his phone. "It's almost the end of week one. How do you feel?" You asked, coming up behind him.

You seductively ran your fingers along his chest, whispering into his ear and making sure your hot breath hit the side of his neck while you did. "I feel great. I haven't had any urges at all," Chris lied through his teeth, trying to ignore the way you were touching him.

"Oh really, hmm? Maybe I'm not teasing you enough," you chuckled into his ear, gently nibbling on his earlobe. He let out a soft moan and his cock immediately grew hard. "Not even a single urge, huh?" You provoked him, staring down at the tent in his pants while you started to kiss his neck.

"Fuck, you're making this so difficult," Chris got up and stormed off, leaving his cereal unfinished. "Better not be going to touch yourself!" You called after him.

"I'm not. I'm going to the gym to burn off some of this energy," Chris huffed, heading to his room to change into basketball shorts. You smirked at his arrogance he'd displayed a few minutes earlier before nearly folding under your touch.

Around this time, Matt came downstairs in his Pokémon pajamas and started rifling through the fridge for something to eat.

"Hey, handsome boy. How did you sleep?" You asked, gently caressing his arm and asking in a sultry voice. "Really good," he said, avoiding eye contact and trying to hide the fact that he had morning wood.

"I slept well, too. Except I had this dream that I can't stop thinking about," you seductively bit your lip. "What did you dream about?" Matt naively asked. "Well, I'm a little embarrassed to say, but it was a wet dream. About you," your eyes flicked up to meet his. "Really?" He asked, falling right into your trap.

"Yeah, you were making me scream your name because of how big your cock was and how hard you were fucking me," you teased him, painting a picture in his head. "Fuck. Please don't tell me anymore," Matt replied, still peering into the fridge.

"You mean, you don't wanna hear about how I played with myself after I woke up from it?" You simpered at him. Matt let out a loud sigh and pulled out a carton of eggs and some bacon while he ignored your temptress ways.

"You don't wanna hear about how I rubbed my clit in circles and filled my pretty, pink hole with my favorite dildo while I thought about you and moaned your name?" You snickered. "This is so unfair," Matt replied, covering his ears and looking at you with his desperate expression and his puppy dog eyes, his dick aching in his pants.

"If you think I'm being unfair now, you just wait," you responded before skipping off to go plan your next move.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 Day Nine

A few days later, Chris came out into the living room to find you sprawled out on your yoga mat in a tank top and spandex shorts. "Oh, thank god you're here. Mind helping me with something really quick?" You innocently asked him, batting your eyelashes in his direction.

"Depends. What do you need?" Chris skeptically asked, narrowing his gaze. "Will you come over here and help stretch me out?" You requested, smirking at him as he grew flustered at your word choice. "Fuck this. You're on your own," Chris said, immediately walking the other direction.

"Chris! Wait!" You called after him. He stopped, let out a loud sigh, and slowly turned around. "What?" He asked impatiently. "Chris. I'm not trying to pull anything. I just really need your help. Please. My muscles are so sore," you begged, pouting at him.

After a few seconds of deliberating, he rolled his eyes and started heading back over towards you. "Fine. What do you need me to do?" Chris asked, kneeling down on the floor next to you and immediately regretting it when you spread open your legs.

"I need you to push my thighs apart," you told him, trying to conceal your condescending grin. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Chris snarked at you. "No, I'm not kidding. I'm really sore. Just put your hands on the insides of my thighs and push down," you directed him.

He did as you said, trying to ignore the damp spot on the front of your shorts. "Oh, Chris. You stretch me out so good," you maliciously moaned. He clenched his jaw as he glanced into your eyes. "I haven't cum in nine days," Chris responded.

If looks could kill, the look Chris was giving you right now was damn near fatal. "Nine days? Only twenty-one more to go!" You sneered, reminding him he wasn't even a third of the way there yet. "You fucking bitch," Chris dug his fingertips into the fleshy part of your inner thighs and started pushing them apart until you let out a pained whimper.

"Oh, Chris. Don't stop. I love when you're mean to me. It turns me on so much," you responded in a sultry voice, flipping his power move back onto him. He let go of you and stormed out of the room to go play video games and take his mind off what was between your legs.

About ten minutes later, Matt came downstairs, his eyes immediately falling onto you in a compromising stretching position. "Oh, Matt. I'm so glad you're here. Think you could give me a hand or two real quick?" You cooed, motioning with your finger for him to come here. Matt nodded despite the fact that he knew you were up to no good.

"What do you need?" He asked, eager to please you in any way. "Will you give me a little massage? My muscles right here are very sore," you motioned towards the muscles on your inner thighs while you bit your lip, peering up at him. "O-okay," Matt stuttered, walking into the next trap you set.

He couldn't help notice how wet you were, but he tried his best to ignore it. He kneeled down between your legs and started massaging where you had asked. You let your eyes roll back in your head and let out a few satisfied sounds as he worked his thumbs on each one of your fleshy thighs.

"That's it, Matt. Just like that," you whined in a sexual manner, causing his dick to twitch in his pants. "Go up just a little further," you said, guiding his hands closer to your pussy. He nodded, doing as you asked. "Good boy," you moaned as he rubbed that spot over and over again. His eyes shot wide open.

"Can you move up just a little further?" You wondered, batting your lashes. "I-I can't," Matt shook his head, knowing if he moved up any further, he'd be right on your private parts. "Here," you said, grabbing his hand and placing his thumb directly on your clit.

"There you go. Now move it in circles. A little more pressure. Oh, just like that. Good boy," you cooed, looking seductively at him. Matt knew it was a dangerous game for him to be touching you there, but he couldn't stop.

He loved the words and sounds that were falling from your lips. He loved the way you were looking at him with desire in your eyes and pleasure written all over your face.

"Faster," you whispered, throwing your head back. Your shorts were soaking wet where Matt was massaging you with his thumb, and your legs started to shake while your cries of delight became louder. Chris came downstairs to see what all the commotion was.

You started seeing stars as your orgasm crashed over you. You moaned Matt's name over and over as he rubbed your clit in tight, fast circles, completely mesmerized by you finishing for him. Your whole body trembled until your climax subsided while Chris watched from the bottom of the stairs.

"Holy shit, Matt. I think you just lost No Nut November. Fucking pussy," Chris smirked. "What? I did not! I didn't break any of the rules!" Matt exclaimed defensively. "He's right, Chris. He didn't break any rules. He did, however, make it way harder on himself to follow the rules," you devilishly grinned, peering down at Matt's neglected cock that strained at the fabric of his pants, begging to be stroked.

"Now you gotta deal with having that boner until it goes away on its own," you chuckled at him, closing your legs and getting up. You rolled up your yoga mat, bending down in front of them both, and they each angrily groaned at you and stomped out of the room.

You were plotting your moves for the next few days. Meanwhile, Chris had a plan of his own. Upon learning that he was allowed to touch you however he pleased as long as he wasn't sticking his dick in you, he decided he was going to make you sweat a little the same way you were doing to him and Matt.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 Day Twelve

The next night, in an attempt to turn on the boys, you tried on your new lingerie you'd bought at the beginning of the bet. You stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom dressed in a white lace bra and matching panties, knowing it was going to drive Matt and Chris crazy.

You wandered off to the living room where Matt was sitting on the couch, flipping through movies on Netflix and trying to find something to watch. "Hi, Matt," you cooed, leaning up against the wall. "Hey," Matt responded, his eyes flickering over at you and back at the television, and then back over at you when he realized what you were wearing.

"Wow," he whispered, studying the way you looked in white. "I have to show you something," you said, wandering over to him and straddling him on the couch. "What are you doing?" He asked, accusingly.

"Look," you said, pulling down your bra to reveal your breasts to him. "I got them pierced about six months ago, and they were finally healed enough for me to change out the metal," you couldn't contain your smug smile as you flashed Matt.

"Wow," he whispered again, reaching up to grab both your breasts, and he ran his thumbs over the heart-shaped rings. You shuddered at his touch. "They're so much more sensitive now," you whimpered. "Did it hurt when you got them pierced?" Matt asked, looking up at you. "A little, but I liked it," you snickered and bit your lip.

Without thinking, Matt leaned forward and took your right nipple into his mouth, delicately swirling his tongue around and gently suckling on it before moving to the left. You let out a few soft whines while he pleased you. You started to rock your hips back and forth, grinding up against Matt's rock hard cock.

"Okay, that's enough. You're being totally unfair right now," Matt said, lifting you off of him and shoving you to the other end of the couch.

"Hey, what's the matter, Matt?" You asked, crawling back over towards him. He jumped to a standing position. "I have to get out of here. You're too good at this," Matt grabbed his keys off the coffee table and headed out the door, fleeing from temptation. You smiled to yourself, getting so close to making him cave for you.

You picked up the remote and started searching through the various streaming services, waiting for Chris to come home so you could tease him next. Chris came bursting through the door, mad as hell. There was something about his demeanor that was off and slightly unsettling.

"Are you okay, Chris?" You asked him while sitting on the couch in your lingerie. "It's been twelve days since I've had an orgasm. I'm full of testosterone and cum, and I've had a shitty day, and I can't even to go to my room and beat my meat about it. I need to take all this aggression out on someone," Chris responded, his eyes sparkling and his lips curling into a smile as his eyes landed on you.

He walked over towards you, fell to his knees in front of you, and forced your legs apart. "You're such a fucking tease, skipping around in my house in your fucking lingerie. I hope these weren't expensive," Chris growled, ripping a hole in your lace panties.

You gasped and your eyes widened as you watched while Chris' lips latched onto your clit. He started moving his tongue in fast, jagged movements, making animalistic sounds while he ate you. "Chris, it's so sensitive," you squirmed around beneath him. "I don't mind," he smirked at you as he went back to assaulting your pussy with his mouth, sucking on your clit and licking it at the speed of light.

"Oh, Chris!" You called out, tugging on his hair, but he didn't let up. "If you want me to stop, just say that," he said, his lips vibrating against you. You didn't want to tell him to stop because you knew he would altogether. Malicious compliance was always one of Chris' favorite pastimes. "Don't stop, keep going," you whimpered, closing your thighs down around his ears.

You pulled down your bra again, gently tweaking your nipples while you looked down at Chris. His eyes flicked up at you. "Oh, my god. I didn't know you had your tits pierced. That's so fucking hot," he whispered, reaching up and grabbing a handful in each palm while he went back to eating your pussy like he was enjoying his last meal.

He squeezed your breasts and started pinching your nipples and rolling them between the pads of his fingers. You threw your head back and let out a satisfied moan as you began to shiver. "Yeah? You think you get to cum after all the shit you've been pulling?" Chris said, withdrawing all attention right before you finished.

"Nice try, fucking slut," Chris responded, spitting on your pussy and getting up to walk right back out the door. "Chris, please!" You called after him, nearly on the verge of tears from being teased like that. Chris slammed the door shut behind him with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Well played, Chris," you whispered from the couch, staring down at the torn fabric that barely covered your bottom half while you decided to take matters into your own hands. You reached down to soothe the aching feeling Chris stuck you with after leaving you high and dry.

You rubbed your clit in fast circles with one hand and pinched your nipple with the other as you finished, remembering the way Chris' mouth felt on you. Just as you were trembling and reaching your much-needed climax, Matt walked back in through the door after finishing up his late night drive, his eyes immediately landing on the way your fingers were manipulating your clit.

"Oh my god. You're relentless!" Matt exclaimed before running up the stairs to take his mind off the scene that had just unfolded in front of him. You breathlessly chuckled about being caught. You hadn't meant for Matt to walk in on you and be tempted by you even further, but you weren't mad that it had played out that way.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 Day Fourteen

You decided to kick it up a notch in the teasing department. By now, both Matt and Chris were very skeptical of you any time you wanted to show them anything or ask for help with something, so you had to get more creative with it.

You started taking naked pictures of yourself in the bathroom mirror after your shower, saving the good photos. After walking out into the hallway in just a towel, you opened up the group chat and sent in the best nude photo you'd taken, following it up with an "Oops! Didn't mean to send that! ;)" But they both knew better than to trust that it was a simple mistake.

When Chris opened your message, he let out a loud, annoyed grunt that resounded throughout the house. A few seconds later, you heard Matt's voice from down the hall, "You're evil!" You decided to strut around in your towel for the rest of the night, randomly dropping it while you were around the boys.

They used what willpower they could muster to keep their eyes off you as you relentlessly teased them with your body. While it was the closest they'd each gotten to saying fuck it about the whole No Nut November challenge, no one caved that night...

INTERACTIVE CHOOSE-YOUR-OWN ENDING AHEAD:

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 if you choose to have Matt and Chris both fail the challenge and become your submissive little fuck toys, click here 🤍

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 if you choose to have Matt and Chris win the challenge and turn you into their submissive little fuck toy, click here 🤍

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[defmaybe]

Lotus Eater

aespa’s Yoo Jimin/Karina, Jo Yuri x Male Reader

1.4k words

Inspired by FINNEAS' Lotus Eater

“A few things before we start,” Yuri says groggily.

The dim light from the living area casts into the room. It’s nighttime, and the three souls in this room are drunk.

“This doesn’t mean”–Jimin lets out a loud burp, stopping Yuri in her tracks. She turns to her–“would you be fucking quiet for a second, Jimin?”

Jimin lets out a childish giggle, unable to control herself under the influence of alcohol.

“God, as I said”–Yuri adjusts her crumpled shirt a little, it doesn’t help much, really–“this doesn’t mean anything, alright?”

You profusely nod. Kissing any of the two in the hallways isn’t an appropriate thing to do, anyway. So, just hi-s and hello-s in the classes, that’s all. Hell, you’d even trade an arm to get a chance with any of these women.

“Just waving to each other and smile, and that’s enou–”

“I wanna kiss you so bad, baby,” Jimin says with another stupid chuckle, before pulling you into a deep kiss. Her breath smells like alcohol, so is yours—cannot complain. Her tongue invades your mouth aggressively, and you have to do your best to keep quiet—the room next to you might wake up if you scream.

“Bloody hell,” says Yuri. Poor, poor Yuri, always has to put up with her friend’s naïve antics, and it gets worse under intoxication. Waking up in other men’s (or women’s) rooms isn’t a far-fetched concept for Jimin. At least once a week, she finds herself away from this room in the morning.

You sign an OK for Yuri, just hi-s and hello-s, no kissing, no strings attached. You’re too drunk and too busy having your mouth locked with Jimin.

On the edge of your vision, Yuri takes off her blouse in a quick motion, revealing her pert breasts covered in a white lace bra, and you have to stop the kiss immediately, making Jimin groan in frustration, as you gawk at the sight of Yuri.

“Fucking whore,” she says, clearly unimpressed with your behavior.

“Yuri! Don’t scold him!” Jimin says with a pout while you chuckle at the banter.

“I mean, I get to fuck, Yuri. Call me names, I don’t care,” you answer Yuri with a smirk. It’s like you’d care about this, anyways.

Yuri can’t help but laugh. “Alright, you slut, let’s just get it done.”

She then pulls you into another deep kiss. Unlike Jimin (who is now lying still on the bed, watching you two), hints of cherries remain on Yuri’s lips. Automatically, your hands go onto her covered firmness, and she lets out a moan into your mouth. You can feel her shallow breaths.

“F–Feels so good, baby,” Yuri says muffledly.

“No feelings involved–mm–remember?”

“Baby means shit–mmm–you man-whore,” she deflects.

“Thanks, babe.”

You can hear Yuri giggling into your mouth, as her hands start to reach the strap of her bra behind her back. It falls off so easily, as you’re trying your best to not pull back from this kiss and stare at her tits.

“Guys, ugh”–Jimin then gets up, before taking off her oversized t-shirt, revealing the chest that her bra is doing its best to hold–“I wanna join!”

Yuri pulls off from the kiss, and you whimper in frustration. You try to kiss her again, but she raises her hand up to stop you. “Wait for Jimin, baby.”

“Ugh, fine.”

You take off your shirt, waiting for Yuri to unclasp Jimin’s top garment. Your upper body becomes bare in front of the two drunk women, and you hear a clicking sound.

There it is, Jimin’s breasts, all for you to see. She bites her nails shyly, as if this is her first time doing this. She’s gorgeous, but so is Yuri. You’re lost in the body of these two women. Your length is throbbing in your pants, so you quickly take them off. Your cock springs free from the fabric cage, as Yuri and Jimin both gawk at the sight.

“Looks good, baby,” Jimin says with a chuckle. Her hand is snaking under her sweatpants. You can see the circular movement under them.

“C–Can I suck it?” Yuri asks, intimidated by the length.

“Uh, sure.”

Without another word, Yuri dives onto your cock eagerly, creating a suction with her mouth. Again, you’re doing your best to not let out a moan that would wake up the neighbors. On the other side, Jimin is rubbing her clit, whimpering at the sight. Her breaths come out in shallow pants.

“Y–Yuri, fuck.”

Yuri only chuckles on your cock. With each bob of her head, she takes in your length longer and longer. You moan rapidly as the sensation grows on your cock. She knows how to make you moan. She’s so damn good at this.

“Babe, please fuck my cunt, please,” Jimin says from your right, as she hastily take off her pants, revealing her glistened cunt under the dim light.

“I–I only have my fing–”

“Please, I beg you,” Jimin pleads, so eager to have you stuffing her cunt with your digits.

Yuri gets off your cock. “Just fucking do it, babe, relieve her.” Before she goes down with her mouth again.

“O–Okay.” You then, slowly, insert your trembling fingers into her wet cunt. Her tightness grips you like a vice. She moans. Her breasts heave up and down with her shaky breaths. Jimin’s hands fight for purchase on the bed sheets.

“Fuck!” Jimin screams. Yuri quickly brings her hand to close her mouth, not wanting to wake the neighbors up. Her mouth is still adeptly giving you the suction you need.

You dive into her deep, before flicking your fingers up onto the upper wall of her cunt. Jimin wails. 

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, fuck, I’ve never cum this fast in my li–”

Jimin cums, hard. Her cunt sprays gushes clear liquid onto the bed sheets. They’re going to have to wash them tomorrow. Her whole body shakes and writhes, and she screams in ecstasy.

She then collapses onto the bed, chest heaving, panting. Yuri pulls off your cock, watching her friend lying happily on the bed, eyes fluttering.

“That’s quite–something,” says Yuri. “Use that whore mouth of yours, make me cum.”

You nod sheepishly, before laying down on your side, just beside the panting Jimin. Yuri’s facing your throbbing length, while you’re facing her wet cunt. She’s fucking aroused as you are.

“Ready?” Yuri asks.

Without a word, your tongue dives onto her cunt, tasting that sweet nectar you’ve been craving. Yuri is caught off guard with a whimper, struggling to contain her resolve for a blink of an eye. Still, she finds the rhythm, before diving onto your cock in the same fashion, eager to drink that divine syrup of yours.

You eat her cunt like there’s no tomorrow, lapping up the juices off the slit. Wet sounds of the oral misdeeds fill the room. You can hear Jimin moaning from behind again. She’s going for round two. She pulls your hand onto her tired hole, and you reply with a plunge into her slit. A moan leaks out of her mouth.

You can feel Yuri’s thighs clench. She’s close. You keep lapping up her juice profusely. Her breaths become more shallow. On the other side, Jimin is also going to cum. Her breathing and Yuri’s are in sync.

Your fingers’ movements become more erratic. You’re close too. That feeling is building up in your loins. You’re going to cum into Jo Yuri’s mouth, with your tongue on her puffy cunt, and your fingers inside Yoo Jimin.

“Y–Yuri, I–I’m gonna cum.”

Yuri signs a thumbs up to you, giving you the permission to cum in her mouth. Your breathing syncs with Jimin’s and Yuri’s. You’re all going to cum together. Fuck, this is a fucking heaven.

And your dam breaks. Jimin gushes liquid onto your dirty hands, wailing in ecstasy. Her body shakes and trembles. Your whole frame jerks into Yuri’s mouth, unloading spurts of cum down her throat. And Yuri cums with you, spraying clear nectar into your man-whore mouth. You three revel in the high. Nothing can come close to this.

“Shit,” Yuri says, breathing still out of rhythm.

“Yeah, shit,” you reply. And you hear Jimin burps again, bringing out laughs from all of you.

“Are we doing this again?” you have to ask.

“Fuck, yes, definitely,” Jimin replies.

“Well, maybe,” Yuri adds.

—

[shouyuus]

very 18+, vi-shaped, modern underground fighter!au tw: in which vi uses a vibrating strap d1ldo and also fucks ur throat

popular underground fighter vi! x reader in which vi "soft launches" your relationship with this photo posted on instagram with clear red nail marks down her back and just the caption "post fight ritual 💋" and it's obvious that her knuckles are still bruised, but someone else made those marks on her back and they're definitely not from any fight she's ever been in.

and it's not like she's a stranger to people thirsting over her posts -- she kinda knows she's hot. or at least, she's been told enough times to know it empirically, but it still stuns her a little when she catches you staring, or when she sees the way your pupils literally dilate in her presence; it's not something that she grew up hearing, always being told that she's too tomboy or that she's not feminine enough, even though her own family never cared, and they've always supported her no matter how she wanted to dress or what she wanted to do.

you, though. she doesn't know how she got so lucky with you.

she might call it a chance meeting, but later on, you'd admit that you'd had your eye on her for weeks, thought she was so, so pretty, even with all her black eyeliner and her choppily cut hair (she does it herself; oh, you could tell? why? what gave it away? the weirdly uneven buzz or the fact that she totally missed a patch at the back of her head?), and you'd put yourself squarely in the line of her sight and hoped (prayed, really) that she'd notice you.

and notice you she did.

wearing that pretty little sundress of yours, leaning up against the bar of her favorite lesbian haunt, the one she goes to nine times outta ten after her fights, the adrenaline's still high, eating through her veins, the tattoo of her pulse pressing against her ribcage.

she'd pushed off the far wall and caged you in against the dark wood of the bar, turning her charm up to eleven and hoping against hope that she wasn't just imagining things when she saw your gaze run up and down the length of her body (she wasn't).

"hey pretty. thought you might wanna take a closer look."

you'd grinned then, caught someplace between bashful and triumphant.

"but... it's so dark and so... loud," you say, letting your hand linger on her shoulder even as you put up the very convincing front of uncertainty, the blatant tease of your words the only thing cueing her off that you were picking up what she was putting down.

"yeah? then... wanna go somewhere quiet where you can... take a better look in peace?"

vi's apartment, despite all the winnings from her fights, was a modest place, a small studio in the heart of the city, though the floor the ceiling windows are really what caught your eye that first time she brought you over.

that, and the giant mirror that covered the length of an entire wall opposite the windows.

"so i can check my form," vi says when you ask, running a tall glass under the tap water, holding it out to you afterwards.

and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't been expecting a hookup. and honestly, so had you. but somehow, the pair of you had just ended up curled on the couch, sitting face to face, sharing stories and laughing. the next you looked up, the pink of dawn was teasing across the far skyline and vi was frowning at the dying phone in her hand, her eyebrows hitched.

"holy shit... it's 6am."

you bury your face in the cushions of the couch, your hands still wrapped around a half-empty cup of spiked apple cider (a bottle of martinelli's at the back of her fridge, along with a half-empty thing of grey goose she'd found, tugging the cap out with her teeth), feeling the tiredness drag at your eyelids.

"oops... sorry," you grin sheepishly at her, "usually, when i keep people up all night, it's not like this."

vi laughs at your tired little innuendo, but her eyes soften when she catches you watching her. and for some stupid, unfathomable reason, she feels her cheeks heating up.

"yeah peaches. i figured. but... i don't mind being kept up like this."

your brows furrow even as a grin threatens your lips as she nudges you with her hand. you shift back, making room for her as she sits down in front of you, close enough for you to feel the heat rolling off her skin.

beyond the windows, a brilliant sunrise is peering out over the city, and the sharp, shard-drawn light of it pierces vi's studio as she reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, her thumb and forefinger trailing the line of your cheek till she's coaxing your chin up towards her.

"peaches?" you ask, your breath a bit short.

"yeah," her eyes flicker towards the tiny little stud earrings you'd put in, truly miniscule peach-emojis that you'd picked to match the shade of your dress. and you laugh, the tiredness making the air around you both effervescent.

and that was the first of many nights you'd proceed to spend at vi's, though eventually, she does drag you forward to kiss you, her lips insistent against yours, with you pulling back to gasp -- "took you long enough --" against her only for her to sink her teeth into the bared skin of your neck, letting her fingers curl around the delicate pulse-point nestled there as she says --

"they say good things come to those who wait."

neither of you can truly pinpoint the moment where this... thing became something more. something that neither of you had the words or will to deny any longer.

it might've come up the first time vi pressed three fingers into your sopping cunt, her eyes fixed on the way your expression goes slack, how your hips kicked up at every curl of her expert fingers. or perhaps the first time you'd pushed her back and kissed a line down her front, lavished her body with your lips, teasing and nipping at her tits before making your slow, arduous way down to her clenching cunt, licking up the wet slit before latching your mouth around her clit and sucking hard enough for her eyes to roll out of her eye-sockets.

or maybe the first time she'd pulled out her bright pink strap, the base equipped with a vibrating function and an opposing dildo that hooked into vi's pussy as she rucked her hips into yours, fucking into you so hard that tears had creased in your lashes after she was done with you.

"fuck peaches -- you just look so good cumming on my cock, don't you?"

and that's all it takes these days, a smirk, a slap on the ass, and her voice saying peaches for you to feel your body clench over nothing, for your stomach to curl with heat, even if she's just coming over to press a kiss to your cheek or murmur against your skin, asking how your day went, though sometimes, you'd get shy and your voice would get a bit too quiet.

"c'mon, speak up, doll. and look at me when i'm talking to you, yeah?"

her fingers squeezing your jaw, just tight enough to make you gasp.

and no one questions it; bc why would they? her coach is ecstatic -- not like vi's ever been an unfocused fighter, but these days, she's in such tip-top form that he's not got much feedback for her after her long training sessions.

"whoever she is," vander says, grinning even as vi flushes and sighs (she knows it's useless to lie, vander's known her for way, way too long), "she's good for you."

he presses a hand to her shoulder, shaking her slightly, "and my advice? when you find a girl like that -- you grab on with both hands and you don't let go."

so that's what she does, and what she's still doing now. it's been months -- almost a full year since you've made it all "official", though neither of you have posted much about it online (her fans have been speculating for a while though, specially the hardcore ones, the ones who have been with her long enough to know her, to spot how she scans the crowd before and after every right, how her smile's just a bit different these days, how there seems to be one particular girl she's always winking at, always hidden in the shadows but she's always swiveling around the first thing after a fight, win or lose).

"f-fuck -- that's a good girl --" vi groans, her hips jerking against yours as she fucks you through your third orgasm of the night (she'd wone her fight that night -- as she does most nights -- and you'd come over to celebrate), your nails biting into the skin of her back, dragging down the expansive tattoo there.

she feels the burn in her own thighs, her arms flexing, the veins popping blue as she drags you down the length of the bed by your hips, fucking into you, her eyes trained on the sticky white ring at the base of her pink strap, the sight in and of itself enough to send her over the edge.

"c'mere -- open your mouth, peaches," she says, guiding you towards her even as she pulls out of you, a thick string of cum slicking off the head of her strap as she inches up the bed to position herself over your chest and shoulders.

you let your jaw fall slack, moaning thick as she presses the tip of her strap to your tongue. you blink up at her, lashes fluttering as she sinks her fingers into your hair, hissing out a long breath as you swallow around her length.

"sweet fuck that's hot..."

she pulls you over her cock in shallow thrusts, her breath growing quick as she watches the way you eagerly clean your own cum off of her with your tongue, the completely fucked out, blissed out look in your eyes as you look up at her, so utterly besotted and at her mercy.

her feels the coils twist in her gut seconds before she shoves you down over her, the combined sound of your gagging and the pinpoint vibrations of the dildo sending her right over the edge.

"shit, shit -- shit oh -- fuck... mm..."

her fingers fist in your hair as she jerks around the dildo end of the strap, tugging out of your mouth with a lazy, lopsided smile.

"such a good girl for me, hm?" she says, tugging you up for an open-mouthed kiss. you mewl against her lips, so soft, absolutely melting into her arms as she shifts the both of you into the center of the bed.

it's not till she goes to shower later, with you sound asleep in her mussed up blankets, that she sees the marks -- red and raised on her back, scratched over her tattoo. a soft smile lifts her lips as she stares at her own reflection in the mirror, her neck twisting over her shoulder to get a good look.

and before she knows it, she's grabbing her phone and turning around to snap a pic, with the full intent of keeping it just to show you in the morning but... well, she thinks as she stares down at the photo with a dopey sort of grin, her heart thudding dangerously close to her mouth.

maybe the best gift she could give you on your one-year anniversary is this -- telling the world that she's yours.

[creamflix]

part two here

it wasn’t in words, and it certainly wasn’t in grand gestures, but it was there — woven into the quiet corners of your shared life, stitched into the routines neither of you ever admitted to.

you and sukuna didn’t do “romantic.” there were no declarations, no flowery exchanges. hell, you’d scoff at the idea if anyone even suggested it.

but the love was there, silent and stubborn, like the both of you.

you noticed it when you went to grab your shampoo one morning, only to find it full again. sukuna’s brand was there too, lined up neatly beside yours on the shower ledge. when you confronted him about it, towel still wrapped around your hair, he grunted without looking up from his phone.

"wasn’t me," he muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching like he knew he was lying.

"right," you’d said, narrowing your eyes. "guess the shampoo fairy came by then."

his response was a noncommittal shrug, but his smirk gave him away.

it was the same when you went to make coffee. his mug was already sitting by the machine, his preferred dark roast brewing without a word exchanged. you didn’t think much of it until you caught him doing the same for you — setting out your mug, pouring it just the way you liked, even when you hadn’t asked.

"don’t make it a habit," he grumbled one morning, catching your amused look as he handed you the steaming cup.

"me?" you teased, blowing over the rim of the mug. "you’re the one making coffee every morning, sukuna."

"tch. don’t flatter yourself," he shot back, though his ears reddened faintly.

then there was laundry day, your least favorite day of the week. sukuna always got to the clothes hanger first, hauling the weight of damp fabric without complaint. he didn’t ask you to help, didn’t even look at you while he did it. but every time, without fail, you’d find yourself ironing, smoothing out the wrinkles he’d leave behind as he tossed shirts into the basket.

"if you’re gonna do it, do it right," you’d gripe, gliding the iron over one of his dark button-ups.

he’d glance at you over his shoulder, one brow arched. "then stop fixing it if it’s so bad."

"maybe i will."

but you didn’t, and he knew you wouldn’t.

there was a rhythm to it all, unspoken but understood. sukuna wasn’t one for sentimental displays, and neither were you, but your actions betrayed you both.

when you stocked his favorite snacks in the pantry or folded his socks the way he liked, it was a silent "i love you."

when he hung your coat by the door after you forgot it again or shoved an umbrella into your hand before you left for work, it was the same.

still, the thought of anyone pointing it out was unbearable.

"you two are cute," a friend dared to say once, watching as sukuna passed you the soy sauce before you even asked.

"shut up," you both snapped in unison, faces heating simultaneously as you turned away from each other.

but later that night, when he set his phone down and you leaned your head against his shoulder, neither of you spoke a word.

love didn’t need to be loud. not when it was tucked into every small, stubborn act you did for each other.

you and sukuna weren’t the type to hold hands in public or plaster your relationship across social media. “weird, couple-y shit” was beneath the both of you — at least, that’s what you told yourselves. you didn’t need to broadcast anything when the proof lived in the details, subtle and quiet, but undeniable all the same.

it was in the way you’d casually grab his jacket before heading out, draping it over your shoulders like it belonged to you. and the way he’d let you, even when he’d grumble about it under his breath.

"that’s mine, you know," he’d mutter as you adjusted the sleeves.

"looks better on me," you’d shoot back, smirking.

he’d roll his eyes, but he didn’t argue. instead, the next time you reached for his jacket, he’d already pulled it out for you.

and then there was the jewelry. you’d notice him wearing your ring on his pinky sometimes, spinning it absently while he worked through emails. or your earrings — simple studs he’d shamelessly tuck into his pocket before heading out, claiming he needed “a little flair.”

"didn’t know you were into accessorizing," you teased once, leaning against the doorframe as he adjusted the earring in the mirror.

"you wear my shit all the time," he replied flatly, glancing at you with that deadpan expression he’d mastered. "fair’s fair."

you had no comeback for that, though your smile lingered long after he left.

even when apart, there were echoes of each other in your days.

commuting to work, you’d pop on the playlist he’d made — a perfect blend of your favorite tracks and his, the 99.5% compatibility a badge of reluctant pride. you’d sit on the train, listening to a song he swore you’d love, and hate how much you did.

he wasn’t immune, either. on those rare days he missed you (not that he’d ever admit it), he’d scroll through your spotify history to see what you’d been listening to lately. or he’d catch sight of flowers in a shop window, lingering just a moment too long on the ones he knew were your favorite before moving on.

you both had your quirks when you were alone, too. sometimes, without thinking, your hand would drift to your arm, tracing soft patterns into your skin the way sukuna did. when you realized it, you’d roll your eyes at yourself, muttering under your breath.

"idiot," you’d say, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you.

sukuna was no better. he’d catch himself staring out his office window, the song you’d sent him last week playing faintly through his headphones. it annoyed him how much it made him think of you, but he never turned it off.

when the two of you finally came home, words weren’t needed. all of it — the small acts, the quiet thoughts, the unspoken gestures — culminated in that one hug.

his arms would wrap around you, firm and grounding, while yours slipped around his waist. the tension from your day melted instantly, replaced by the warmth of his body pressed against yours. neither of you said anything — there wasn’t anything to say.

it was all understood in the way his hands lingered on your back, or how you buried your face against his chest, inhaling his familiar scent.

"miss me?" you’d ask eventually, the words muffled against his shirt.

"nah," he’d lie, but his hold on you would tighten, giving him away.

and that was enough. no declarations, no theatrics — just the quiet assurance of being known, cared for, and loved.

it was a question you’d gotten more times than you could count.

are you sure you two are dating? they’d ask, with raised brows and skeptical tones, watching as you and sukuna bickered over the smallest things.

the answer wasn’t straightforward, because how do you explain a relationship built on years of chaotic familiarity, on the kind of comfort only two people who’d clashed and tangled relentlessly could find?

you still remembered that first day of college, sitting in class and thinking you’d never met someone more insufferable. sukuna was loud, cocky, and so obnoxiously confident it made your skin crawl. he’d snorted at something you’d said during a group discussion, and you’d fired back with a sarcastic quip, the tension between you sparking like a live wire.

"you think you’re so clever, huh?" he’d sneered, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair.

"clever enough to know you’re full of shit," you’d snapped without missing a beat.

it was war from then on. you couldn’t stand how he seemed to revel in getting under your skin, and he hated how competitive you were, always ready to one-up him in any way possible.

and yet, somehow, you two ended up spending more time together than anyone else.

"just here to keep you humble," he’d say, leaning against the doorway of your dorm, that smug grin never leaving his face.

"please, you’re the one who needs the humbling," you’d reply, throwing a pillow at him before grabbing your keys for yet another midnight drive.

it wasn’t all bad, though. between the insults and the relentless teasing, something softened. there were the early morning drives when neither of you could sleep, windows down as you cruised through empty streets, sharing playlists like it wasn’t a big deal.

or the smoke sessions on campus, crouched behind the library where no one could see, only to promise each other, "never again," when you got caught and barely avoided trouble.

halloween was a different kind of tradition. every year, like clockwork, you’d drag him to the drive-in theater, claiming it was the only acceptable way to celebrate. he’d complain the whole way there, grumbling about how cheesy the movies were, but he never once turned you down.

by the time graduation rolled around, something had shifted. the teasing got softer, the jabs less pointed. still, when he finally snapped at you — yelling at you on the quad about how you were "impossible to deal with" — you’d been too stunned to realize he was confessing in the only way he knew how.

"you make me insane," he’d blurted, running a hand through his hair, exasperated. "i can’t stand you, but — god, i like you, okay? you happy now?"

it had taken you a moment to process his words, mostly because you were yelling back, equally frustrated. "you’re the worst! how do you even think this is a confession?!"

but somehow, in all that chaos, you figured it out.

now, years later, the bickering hadn’t stopped, but it had softened into something comforting. you still got on each other’s nerves, but it was different. familiar. the sound of him complaining about your cooking or you groaning about his laundry habits was just another layer to the life you’d built together.

there were no more impulsive smoke sessions or late-night drives — well, not as often — but there were groceries to split, bills to argue over, and an apartment to share.

"you left your stupid socks on the couch again," you called from the living room, holding up the offending pair.

"and you stole my hoodie again," he shot back, strolling in and snatching the socks from your hand.

you rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to hide. this was it — your version of love. messy, chaotic, and wrapped in years of banter and care.

and honestly? you wouldn’t change a thing.

you heard the whispers sometimes, muffled through the walls or passed between neighbors as you walked by.

“failed relationship.”

the words always carried a judgmental edge, laced with the kind of smug certainty that only came from people who had no idea what they were talking about. you’d scoff and roll your eyes, but the audacity of it stuck with you. all because you and sukuna weren’t the quiet, overly sweet, hand-holding kind? pathetic.

what did they know?

they hadn’t seen the nights when sukuna held you close while you bawled into his chest, a miserable mess of cramps and hormones. they didn’t know how he tried — really tried — to be supportive, offering hot packs and snacks, his voice gruff but oddly gentle.

"here," he’d say, shoving chocolate into your hand like it was some kind of peace offering.

but then, because he couldn’t help himself, he’d ruin it.

"are you seriously crying over a commercial?" he’d ask, incredulous, pointing at the tv.

and just like that, the tears doubled. "you’re the worst!" you’d sob, throwing a pillow at him.

he’d groan, clearly out of his depth, but he never let you go. instead, he’d mutter something about how “women are terrifying” while holding you tighter, stroking your hair even as you blubbered into his shirt.

the neighbors weren’t there to see him the morning after you’d had one too many at a party. you barely remembered stumbling into the apartment, but sukuna had already set up everything you’d need: water, painkillers, even that greasy breakfast sandwich you craved when hungover.

"drink this," he’d bark, shoving a glass of water into your hands while you groaned pathetically on the couch.

"you’re too loouuud," you’d whine, shielding your eyes from the light.

"and you’re a lightweight," he’d fire back, but his hands were already pulling a blanket over you. "don’t do it again."

the thing was, he didn’t have to do any of it. but he did. without complaint.

well, not much of one, anyway.

and what about how he was your parents’ favorite? your mom still gushed about how thoughtful he was, always showing up with her favorite flowers, and your dad kept every sports magazine sukuna brought him, flipping through them like they were rare treasures.

"he’s such a nice boy," your mom would say, sighing dreamily.

you’d gag every time. "nice is a stretch, ma."

but deep down, you got it. sukuna had this way of worming his way into people’s lives, even if he’d grumble the whole time about how annoying it was. it wasn’t sweet in the traditional sense, but it was undeniably him.

and no, you didn’t owe anyone an explanation for your relationship. it wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t have to be. love wasn’t always quiet or polite, and yours had sharp edges and biting remarks, but it was yours.

“you think we’re a failed relationship?” you’d said to him once, smirking as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

he glanced up from the fridge, holding a beer. “what idiot said that?”

“mrs. tanaka next door. apparently, yelling means we’re doomed.”

he snorted, taking a swig. “old hag wouldn’t know love if it bit her.”

“so biting is love, huh?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“depends,” he said, stepping closer, a sharp grin spreading across his face. “you complaining?”

you rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “you're a weirdo.”

and maybe he was, but he was also yours — your college sweetheart, your partner, the guy who sometimes bit you because he thought it was funny. and honestly? you wouldn’t have it any other way.

sukuna heard it all the time — questions dripping with disbelief, laced with a kind of awe that annoyed the hell out of him. his coworkers couldn’t seem to wrap their heads around it, and his friends from college still brought it up every chance they got.

"seriously, man," one of them had said during a reunion, leaning across the table. "how the hell did you end up with her?"

and sukuna, being the smug bastard he was, never missed the chance to milk it.

"what can i say?" he’d say, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed with that stupid grin. "she couldn’t resist me. practically yelled it out in the quad, begging me to date her."

"that is not what happened," you’d hiss later when he relayed the same story to you.

"oh, but it’s so much better my way," he’d reply, dodging the cushion you chucked at his head.

but if sukuna ever sat down and told them the truth — not the exaggerated bullshit, but the real story — they probably wouldn’t believe him anyway.

because how could he explain the chaos of falling for someone as maddening and stubborn as you, and how he wouldn’t trade it for anything?

he liked how you had this streak of righteousness that made you storm up to people in public settings.

like that one time at a café, when a customer had been rude to the barista. sukuna had barely registered the situation before you were there, fire in your eyes and voice sharp as a blade.

"there’s no reason to be nasty," you’d said, crossing your arms in that way that made even him take a step back.

the rude customer had left with their tail between their legs, and sukuna couldn’t help the little smirk tugging at his lips.

"you’re scary when you’re like that, you know?" he’d said later, earning a glare that only made him like you more.

he liked how animals gravitated toward you like you were some kind of magnet. stray dogs would wag their tails, cats would nuzzle up to you, and there was even that one time with the trash raccoon.

"sukuna," you’d said that night, voice hushed but frantic, "look at him. he’s adorable."

"that’s a wild raccoon," he’d replied, deadpan.

but he still stayed outside with you until it wandered off, grumbling the whole time about how “only you” could make friends with literal wildlife.

he liked the way you’d dismiss other men with just a glare — sharp and unforgiving, the kind that sent a clear message. it wasn’t about jealousy; it was about how you made it crystal clear that you had standards, and none of them were worth your time.

and then there were the little things.

the way you’d offer your seat to someone who needed it, even after a long day at work.

or the way you’d make silly faces at kids across the room, their giggles a bright, unexpected melody in otherwise mundane settings.

he saw it all, even if he never said it out loud. sukuna wasn’t the type for big, flowery confessions. hell, he wasn’t even the type for small ones.

but sometimes, when he looked at you across the apartment — the same apartment you’d gotten for him as a gift — he felt it in his chest, a warmth he didn’t quite know how to put into words.

would he ever tell you? no chance in hell. he wasn’t about to ruin his reputation.

but sometimes, knowing was enough.

my pookie ( @curtins ) saw it first <3 this concept's been in my mind for a while and i finally got to write it. i'll be doing more oneshot drabbles like these, but you can leave few ideas or questions in my inbox if you'd like!!! thanks for reading produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi Drabbles,

I wanted to ask if you still do prompts and if you do can you do the one below?

So Danny is the Ghost King and was friends with Bruce’s parents so he felt when they died. They could become ghosts but I’ll leave that up to you. But either way, Danny feels their death and assists Alfred when he can to raise Bruce. Due Danny’s visits and Bruce’s holidays in the infinite realms they (Bruce and Alfred) became very Liminal. So they have slight powers. One day, Danny comes over with Ellie and Dan (who are like siblings to Bruce as both we deaged/destabilised and Danny raised them) but Bruce forgets he never told the newer kids about them as Danny hasn’t come over in a while. Dick has meet them, Jason has heard about of them but the rest don’t know about them.

There were three strangers in their house. Usually, that would be okay, as multiple people came and went through Wayne Manor. It was customary to hire random crews to help set up for a Gala, or maybe some representatives from the various charities they helped would come over for dinner or a meeting.

Sometimes, a few of Bruce's old party buddies would pop up to get him to stop being a dad and return to his party boy days. They've all learned how to dance around visitors and hide their identities.

The thing was, these strangers were kept from the main parts of the manor. Their rooms, the sitting lounge, Bruce's Office, Damian's art studio, Jason's library, Tim's game room, Cass' dance studio, and Duke's music record room were all inaccessible.

Bruce would always ask if someone attempted to sneak away and stop them. There was a time when paparazzi disguised themselves as crew members—the three idiots even got jobs at the cleaning company—and tried to see if they could find a scandal on the children.

Brucie Wayne was seen crying hysterically on the news that night for accidentally pushing down a piano on them. He was trying to take it up to the Music Room as a surprise for Duke and wanted to avoid bothering the cleaners to have them help him. He had no idea the rope he was using to drag the grand piano up the stairs would have snapped and rolled backward onto the paparazzi, who had previously been taking pictures of Cass practicing without her knowledge.

People told him not to feel bad, as Bruce had cameras in the hallways of his home due to the last time someone broke in, and it was obviously not his fault. Some people said they deserved it, but Bruce wouldn't hear it. He paid for all their medical bills and gave them enough funds to tie them over for three weeks while they recovered.

Everyone shook their heads at poor Bruce. After all, the piano had fallen so far that the only real harm was that each of them got a few bruises and a broken arm, but that was all.

The point was that no one went up there that shouldn't be.

Yet here, standing in the middle of the Gaming room, were three strangers who were all aggressively battling it out on an old remaster shooting game.

"This is way harder than I remember," said the oldest one, who seemed to be Alfred's age.

"That's cause you always sucked at games," The woman taunted, but her words were countered by the other man shooting her down. "Hey!"

"Ha!" Barked the last man from where he was twisting his elbows, moving alongside his running character. "I'm unstoppable!"

Tim turns to his siblings, about to ask them how they want to play the dramatic scene where they would throw these people out, but his words catch in his mouth upon spotting Cass' expression.

Her narrowed, guarded eyes watched the three with the same amount of steel she had reserved for only the worst of their enemies. Whoever they are, they set off so many alarms in her. She knows they're dangerous.

At once, this minor inconvenience turned into a severe risk to his health. He snaps back towards the strangers, tense and ready for battle. Around him, the rest of his siblings are in similar stances, quickly signing how they would attack.

What kind of message were they sending if someone on Cass's danger scale was able to break in undetected and choose to play with their things? Was it a show of what they could do? Claim that they could beat the Bats without really trying?

The woman's eyes snap towards them so fast she could have been a speedster. He had even noticed her turning around; one second, she was back to them. The next, she was half-turned, staring at them. It looked like a poorly edited video. Everyone jumps, but all she does is smile. "Hey, it's Bruce's kids! Anyone want to call the winner?"

The older gentleman drops his control, turns around to fully face them, and gasps. He puts one hand on his chest and the other right above his mouth. "Look at them! There are so many! Alfred must be so excited to be a grandfather. Why aren't you two giving me grandbabies?"

"Ugh, not this again." The man sighs, continuing to play despite the fact that the other two are no longer paying attention.

"It's fine time you find someone nice." The other protested.

"I'm not nice," Countered the player. "I highly doubt someone would want to find me."

"That's not true, Dan. Most of my co-workers want your number, " the woman chirps. "Also, stay away from my office. It's gross."

"Aren't half of your office married?"

"That's why I said most, you idiot."

"Just for that, I'm going to your office dressed like a romance novel protagonist. The modern professor who goes home for the holidays and finds his humanity again. I'll have a trench coat and everything."

"How dare you. Then I'll strut by your friends in a bikini."

"That's mean. It's not Halloween; there is no need to scare them."

"I'll kill you-"

"Enough! Honestly, you two, you're in your late thirties. Stop bickering."

"No matter how old we are, Dani will always be my little sister."

"Aw. " Dani poses the same as the older man—hand on chest, hand over mouth—and looks close to tears. "I love you too, you big waste of space."

Cass creeps into the room, somehow vanishing from view as the three strangers chat. Tim is still determining where she is, but he figures she'll strike when she has the opening. He feels Duke palm the knife in his pocket, and Damian lowers himself in preparation to throw a ninja star.

Dan snaps his head up with a laugh. "Wow, you're fast. A little too loud, though. Make sure to flatline your heartbeat when sneaking up on people."

Cass drops down over him, but Dan only laughs. Her blade goes right through him, and her fast place kicks do nothing. She accidentally cuts the controller in half, stopping the man's laughter.

"No! I was winning!"

"Ha!" Dani barks, uncaring the ninja star that goes through her right shoulder and flies through her body to exit on the other side. "Dan forfeits!"

"How does this count as forfeiting-"

"Guys, the children are trying to kill us." The older man cuts in. He levels the Waynes with large, grandfatherly eyes. "Children, why are you trying to kill us?"

He says it the same way someone would as a child why they were putting things in their mouths.

"Not kill. Just harm," Duke responds, voice low and dangerous. " Why don't you answer our questions. How did you get in here?"

"Alfred, let us in. He said we could make ourselves at home while he stepped out." The old man frowned. "He went to get Bruce from his office."

"Who are you?" Tim demands next, filing away the claim that Alfred let them. The butler would have told them days in advance if someone would have access to the game room.

"I'm Danny Fenton. These are my children, Dani and Dan." Danny introduces, eyeing the crowd. "We're close friends of Alfred and Bruce."

"How-"

"It's so good to see you all again!" Dick cheers, running down the hallway and still in uniform. He jumps over his siblings in an impressive flip, not breaking stride to race into Danny's arms.

The older man holds them open seconds before they crash together. "Dick! Look how big you've gotten. Oh, it seems like only yesterday you were waist-high!"

"Ha ha ha, it has been a few years, Granpa Danny. Hi Auntie, Uncle! How are you?"

"Dickie, my sweet pea, look at you!" Dani squeals, leaning in for her own hug. She passes through a confused Cass like a ghost. "So handsome! And Tall! Who told you that you were allowed to grow taller than me?"

"Seeing that you are barely over five' six, everyone," Dan laughs, clapping Dick on the shoulder. "It's a shame we're twins, so I'm no taller."

"Um, Dick?" Tim calls as his brother breaks in fast-paced, reassurances that no matter how tall he is, he will always be open for hugs from the shorter adults. "Who are they?"

"Oh these are Fentons. Danny helped Alfred raise Bruce, so their like our extended family."

Tim blinks, wondering if this feeling of confusion is what his classmates mean whenever they joke about being at family functions and people who last saw them as babies walk up to them like they should know them. It's an odd feeling.

"Oh, them?" Jason says from behind the hallway. He peeks in casually, lowering his gun and raising the soda can in the other hand. "I heard about them but never met them. They have level purple clearance."

"Of course we do! We build that stupid cave for Bruce." Dan scoffs. "He got stuck down there as a kid and thought it was safe just to make an entire headquarters in a hole. Honestly."

"At least Bruce has a career and children," Danny says pointingly.

"Please don't compare me to my cousin." Dani groans. "It's exhausting."

Yeah, this is definitely extended family.

[p0orbaby]

Hey, can you maybe write something about reader surprising Leah? Reader been away for work for a while & Leah’s really missed her. Reader comes back early to surprise leah at a family meal/after a game or something?

-

You can hear Leah before you see her. Her voice carries through her mum’s kitchen like a melody she’s been rehearsing all week, familiar and warm, laced with the faintest edge of exasperation.

“It’s not that bad, Mum,” she says, and you picture her perched on the counter, half-smiling, half-defensive, probably swinging her legs like a kid. “I’ll eat it, just—maybe not right now”

Her mum’s voice floats back, mock-indignant: “You said you wanted stew!”

“I didn’t mean one that could double as glue!”

It’s such a quintessential Leah moment that you almost forget why you’re here. Almost.

You linger in the hallway, setting your bag down quietly so they don’t hear you. The house smells like something vaguely burnt but not unpleasant, and it feels like home in a way that’s entirely unfair for a place you’ve barely spent time in.

“She’s still not back, huh?” Leah’s brother says from the dining table. You peek through the doorframe and see him fiddling with his phone, half paying attention.

Leah shrugs, but her face gives her away. “Nah. Still working”

There’s something in her tone that makes your chest tighten—soft, wistful, like she’s trying to sound indifferent and failing miserably. She looks tired in the way you only get when you’re waiting for something—or someone—and you don’t know when it’ll happen.

Well, she’s about to find out.

You step into the room, the floor creaking just enough to give you away. Leah glances up, her eyes landing on you with that split-second hesitation of disbelief before they widen.

“What the—” She doesn’t even finish the sentence.

Her family looks between you and Leah like they’ve stumbled into the climax of a romcom. Her mum’s face breaks into a grin. “Oh, you’re in trouble now,” she says, more amused than concerned.

You drop your keys on the table and hold your arms out. “Surprise?”

Leah doesn’t move at first. She just stares at you, blinking like you might vanish if she blinks too hard. Then she’s off the counter and across the room in a flash, her arms wrapping around you so tightly you think she might actually crack a rib.

“You’re home,” she mumbles into your shoulder, and it’s not a question. It’s a statement, a fact, like she needs to say it out loud to believe it.

You grin against her hair, letting her squeeze you like a stress ball. “Miss me?”

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. “Shut up.”

“You’re gonna cry, aren’t you?” you tease, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

“I am not gonna cry,” she says, even though she very much looks like she might.

Her brother snorts. “She was sulking for days, by the way. Wouldn’t shut up about—”

“Shut it, Jacob,” Leah snaps, though her face is still buried in your neck, so the effect is slightly ruined.

Her mum pats her on the back as she passes by with a fresh glass of wine. “I think you owe me for sitting through her mood swings”

“I’ll send flowers,” you quip, and Leah pinches your side in retaliation.

The rest of the night is a blur of laughter, teasing, and Leah not letting go of your hand even once. When the meal is over and everyone’s settled into the sofa for a film, she tugs you aside, her voice soft.

“I really missed you”

“I know.” You kiss her, your grin melting into something softer. “I missed you too”

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

What's more is, I'm not sure about anyone else, but my school started enforcing this in 6th grade. I mean enforce.

Beginning in the 6th grade, history class required us every Friday to bring in some news article of a current event, and we began our classes with each student presenting a summary of their event.

Our English class required us to write a periodical weekly on a current event.

Our science teacher required every student to bring in articles each week regarding scientific current events, whether about disease, discovery, developments, etc.

If there was a huge event happening, our teachers loaded the live stream on every classroom computer but kept it silent, just so we could watch as we learned.

And every teacher repeatedly told us, especially our history teacher, it was our responsibility as US citizens to keep up with the worldwide news. No exception. He forced it down our throats that we had to morally throw ourselves into the worldwide happenings daily and that we should all watch multiple news sources. Our English teacher did the same.

And for every single year following until graduation, it was enforced in our curriculum to keep up with worldwide news without any exception unless we wanted to fail and repeat the year since the majority of our grades relied on the homework which, again, was always based on current events.

That fucking term. "Current events". It sickens me. It's legitimately traumatic.

Because you know what happened to every single student in my school by junior year?

We were depressed as fuck without reprieve, unable to even focus in class with half the kids falling asleep at their desks, no one was happy, and literally all of us hated our lives. Many were admitted to mental hospitals for anxiety and depression issues, and it wasn't unusual to see someone gone for days or weeks at a time and for others to forget about them existing entirely because it's a very small school with less than 1,000 kids and you just let shit slide there. And that missing kid was always in a mental health crisis of some sort.

As an adult who's been out of school for 7 years now, I'm trying my damnedest to break the habit of burying myself in the news that my school enforced.

I don't know what's going on at all anymore. I don't pay attention because I need to focus on myself, my health physically and mentally, I need to take care of my sick mother and my father who is getting a hip replacement next month, I have to work and pay off my car repair, I have a life to fucking live.

And that life is not obligated to impart itself entirely unto the worldly events that drain my will to live and cause nothing but depression, despair, and immense sorrow.

People have called me selfish for this. They've called me careless and ignorant, said I'm looking at the world through rose colored lenses.

But you know what isn't selfish? Helping my homeless friend by cooking her meals and offering a place to stay. Translating Spanish to English at the store for customers and workers who don't understand each other even though I don't work there I'm just shopping. Standing by my best friend whose dog just passed tragically from cancer this week. Helping my neighbors clean the fallen branches in their yards because they're elderly and can't do that. Stopping when I see a car broken down to ask if they need a cable jump or tools for repair.

The point is there are countless other ways to be morally and ethically good that aren't dependent on burnout and enthralling yourself in world news. There are ways to help that don't require money and donations, too. I'm disabled on very limited income, and I still do my part without being able to donate.

Give your neighbor a hand. Help that stranger with their car. Give some food to the homeless. Put your old books in the little free library. Be genuinely kind and understanding to folks you come across whether daily or just once in a lifetime. Donate clothes you dislike or no longer wear to the local foundations and drives.

But for fucks sake, stop burning yourselves to the point you're melted wax in the glass jar with no wick to reignite you.

the social norm of “its your ethical responsibility to be constantly aware of, and angry about, every bad thing happening in the world at all times, even if you can’t possibly do anything about it” is possibly the best way I can imagine to create burnout and cynicism and depression in a population, so good job guys

[landopoet]

high enough.

pairing lando x piastri!reader

warnings drug use, smut

playlist so high - doja cat / slow down - chase atlantic / friends - chase atlantic / sex money feelings die - lykke li / the morning - the weeknd / cherry hill - russ

synopsis it’s not everyday you get to see your brother’s teammate take not only the edge off, but also your clothes.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You watched as the smoke rose to the ceiling after the soft puff past your lips. The swirling of smoke hypnotised you, before it twirled and disappeared into nothing.

The joint burned between your fingers when you passed it to Lando. “You have a few puffs left.”

Lando was completely out of it, practically melting into the couch when he mindlessly lifted his arm and softly plucked the joint from your fingers. You turned your head and watched as he brought it to his lips, taking a long drag before pulling the burning bud away from his face.

He could feel your gaze on him, burning about five times as hot as the smoke in his lungs. He can’t lie and say he doesn’t like you staring when all he’s been thinking of was making your eyes roll back into your head. The image of you sprawled across the couch, his lips soaked in you and moans leaving your mouth was enough to make him go crazy.

“You’re taking too long,” you rush him. He turns his head to you, half-lidded eyes hiding so much more than what he lets you see. You could look at those green hues forever, but the soft pull of his lips pulls you back into reality. Or as much of it as you can comprehend in this state.

Lando motions to the joint in his fingers. “You want another hit?”

“Yeah,” you nod, about to take the bud from his hand before he pulls it to his mouth and takes a long drag. “What the–”

Your question gets interrupted when Lando’s hand firmly grips the back of your head and pulls your face in. When he blows the smoke out, you’re quick to understand what he’s doing and suck the smoke in.

Lando smiled to himself as he pulled away, watching how starstruck you were by what he just did.

Even though all he meant to do was to shotgun smoke into your mouth, you can’t help but pull him in to close the gap between your lips. The urge to kiss him was too much to handle for you, even when sober, but the confidence to finally kiss him came when being inebriated.

Lando can’t deny that he’s been thinking the same— he’s been pondering the thought of kissing your lips way before you decided to smoke. He’s been waiting for you to make the first move, knowing you definitely would at some point, and he wasn’t wrong.

Smoke left the crevices forming between your lips as you moulded against one another, hungry hums and whimpers already leaving your throats. Lando’s hands softly pulled your hips closer to him until you ended up in his lap.

The mere feeling of you sat on him, already pulsing against him, had his mind reeling. You felt him hardening underneath you, perfectly slotting his boner against your clothed entrance.

You smirked into the kiss, a single thought popping into your head— teasing him.

The two of you had made a deal. You’d spend some time together, just as friends, before trying to be in a relationship. That seemed to work, for about three weeks, until this night when you invited Lando to hang out. It was supposed to be nothing but you watching a movie together, until you remembered the leftover weed in your grinder.

You remember the light in his eyes when he heard you mention weed. “It’s been a while since I’ve had any,” he said. But you promised to take care of him.

And take care of him you will.

Lando’s mind is a mush, any movement he makes feels like he’s slowed down or like it’s missing frames, so he doesn’t understand that you’re softly rocking your hips against him until he feels the need to fuck you again.

“Love,” his raspy voice whispers against your numb lips, fingers digging into your skin to stop your movements. “What’re you doing?”

“Hm?” You pull away, softly biting your lips as your hands brace you against his chest, hips stilling above his dick. “What do you mean?”

You watch as his lips pull into a smirk again. “Don’t play stupid,” he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “If you want me to fuck you, just say that.”

The tone of his voice mixed with the haze settling in your mind just after that last puff of smoke you had is making you think less and do more. Instead of answering him, you crash your lips onto his again and subconsciously go back to rocking your hips again.

He smirks against your mouth, guiding your hips to grind harder against him. You whimper and he catches the noise with his mouth, tongue swirling against yours when you wrap your fingers softly around the base of his neck.

Lando’s hands softly tug on the waistband of your sweatpants. “Take them off.”

You hum, lips still connected to him as you lift yourself up and tug your pants down. They pool at your knees, you still straddling Lando. “Can’t do it.”

“You want me to do it for you?” He asks, more of a mock than a laugh leaving his mouth. When you nod, eyes still half-lidded and examining him, he lays you down with your head on the armrest of the couch. You watch carefully as he softly tugs your sweatpants lower, before completely tugging them off your body.

Lando sits back, hands on your knees as he memorises the view of you— underwear soaked with your need for him, sticking to the curves of your pussy so perfectly that it leaves little to the imagination.

“Can I?” Lando asks, fingers hooking around the waistband of your panties. You nod, like you’ve been doing for pretty much this whole exchange, and he can’t help but beg you to speak. “You gotta use your words, baby.”

“Please,” you beg, voice hushed as if you’re scared anyone in your empty house would hear you. “Touch me, I need you.”

Lando laughed, almost pitifully at your state as he pulled the panties down your legs, agonisingly slow. You were too high to function enough, so your plea for him to move faster came out as an annoyed grumble.

“Impatient much?” Lando laughed, hands softly dragging their way up your legs from your ankles. When he notices the lack of response from you, he stills. “You okay? How do you feel?”

“I’m good,” you mumble, peeling your eyes open to look up at his worried eyes. “But you could make me feel much better.”

You smile at the return of his smirk. You’ve grown quite fond of it, getting used to the look of his dimples returning. “I’ll make you feel so good, baby. Are you sure you want this, though? You know what Osc would do if he found out.”

“But he won’t,” you bite back a smirk of your own, propping yourself up on your elbows. “He doesn’t have to know about everything I do.”

“Atta girl.” He smiles before positioning himself between your legs. “Lean back and relax for me, pretty.”

You do as told, laying back on the couch and looking up at the ceiling. It took you a moment to realise that he was just looking at you, admiring the view in front of him.

It’s exactly what he imagined. He couldn’t help but watch as your chest rose and fell with fast-paced breaths, anticipation creeping up your spine with each moment. It took everything he had in him not to fuck you right then and there.

Instead, he dragged his tongue through your folds, the taste of you being almost as satisfying than what he thinks fucking you will feel like. Lando wants to take it easy and make the most of your high, so that’s exactly what he’ll do.

It doesn’t take long before he hears the pretty moans fall from your lips at the mere contact of his tongue on your clit. He circles it, gently sucking on it and you feel like you’re floating in space, so relaxed and pleased that it’s almost too much to take.

“Taste so fucking good,” he groans against you, the sound vibrating through your body. You felt some pressure on your clit, his tongue circling it again.

Jagged breaths leave your lips, the feeling of his lips softly suckling on you mixed with the buzz from the joint tipped you over the edge way sooner than you’d expect. You felt the euphoria was over you as he still flicked his tongue over your sensitive bud.

“Lan,” you murmur, fingers somehow in his hair and tugging hard on it. You felt the pattern of his curls embrace your fingers as you arched your back, almost pulling away from him.

Lando wouldn’t have that. His hands firmly gripped your hips and pinned them down. Instead of letting you squirm away, he forced his tongue onto your clit harder, using the base of it to get as much surface area as he can get.

You felt dizzy. It’s the first time you’ve done anything sexual while high and it was better than anything you’ve ever imagined. You almost feel numb, as if you were melting into the couch.

Lando felt your hips tense in his hands, knowing you’re close to tipping over the edge, so he does what he promised you he’d do. He makes you feel the fucking best.

His tongue licks you like he’s a starved man, thirsty for anything he can get his pretty little lips on. And it just so happened to be you.

Lando basks in the pretty whimpers leaving your mouth and the flavour of you on his tongue, not noticing how he let one of his hands travel down to his dick. He palms himself through the fabric of his grey sweatpants, a wet spot already evident.

You feel him moan into your pussy, sending that last nervous impulse that makes you finish all over his mouth. He laps you up, satisfied groans and moans escaping between shallow breaths.

Lando keeps his lips on your skin, kissing your thighs before softly biting them. He mumbles something to you but you can’t hear, too busy looking at the pathetic mess of a man at the end of the couch— sloppily marking your thighs while he continues to palm himself.

“Let me help you,” you whisper and he whips his head up. You watch as he sits up, tugging his sweats down and leaving his boxers on.

Lando watches as you straddle his thighs and softly tug down the Jack&Jones waistband of his boxers. He hisses when his dick flings up and slaps against his clothed abdomen.

It’s your turn to hear the string of curse words and moans leave his mouth as you drag his tip across your folds before sinking onto him, his dick filling you up in just the right way.

“Fuck, baby,” he hums contently, one of his hands palming the back of your neck before he pulls you in for a kiss. “You take me so well, so fucking well.”

You whimper into his mouth, slowly moving your hips after getting used to the size of him. His breath hitches, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you sink back onto him again.

The pace of you riding him quickens in no time, the noise of skin-on-skin contact filling up the empty space of your room.

Lando’s fingers tangle in your hair as he turns your head to the side, lips making a trail of kisses down from your jaw and ending at your collarbone, with the occasional hickey or nibble between kisses.

“Lando,” you moan his name the second you make contact with your clit, lazily rubbing it to match the pace of your hips clashing against his.

His lips make contact with yours again, kissing you with an aggression you’ve never felt before. It was borderline addicting, kissing you. Like a drug Lando knows he would never stop taking.

“You sound so pretty moaning my name,” he mumbles between kisses, not long before his tongue tastes your mouth again.

“I’m close,” you whine, arm tired from rubbing your clit. Lando notices the twitch of your hand and takes over, his thumb matching the pace you had set before.

His hips buckle and a knot forms in your lower belly at the feeling of him pulsing even deeper inside you, your walls embracing his length perfectly. “Me too. Think you can gimme another one?”

“Mhm,” you nod, eagerly. “Please.”

“You don’t have to beg for me to make you cum, princess.” His mocking tone soothes your ears. It’s quite an opposite feeling from the harsh grip he has on your hip with his left hand, the other still toying your throbbing clit.

It’s a few seconds before you feel a warmth filling you up, a string of moans and curses leaving Lando’s lips. It doesn’t take long for you to do the same, head tilted back and chest heaving with hasty breaths and an unsteady heartbeat.

Lando’s hands still guide your hips for a bit longer, before coming to a halt. The green in his eyes traces all over your face, looking for a sign of anything negative. Instead he finds that you’re grinning.

“You good?” He asks, fingers softly tucking the strands of hair that stuck to your sweaty forehead.

“Never been better,” you reciprocate the same thing, playing with the curls at the front of his head. “But you fucked me so good I’m not high anymore.”

“Want me to roll another one?”

“No,” you lean in and close the gap between your lips. “Kissing you gets me high enough.”

© all rights reserved.

[auclairedetoru]

Namami has only been seeing y/n for a month but he's already so smitten.

The way she walks, the way she talks, the way she carries herself, her confidence, the way she applies her makeup, the colours she gets on her nails, the pretty outfits she wears, her facial expressions, everything. He's obsessed with her.

He met her at a little bookstore. He mostly goes there to browse and relax after long and tiring shifts. He enjoys the smell of the books and the overall atmosphere, sometimes he ends up picking something that pricks his interest.

Y/n was there doing the same thing when she saw him holding one of her favourite books. She couldn't help but comment on his amazing choice. He thanked her and asked her if she liked it. She let him know that it's a top pick for her but not number one. He proceeded to ask which book she liked the most. One thing led to another and he ended up leaving the store with her number saved on his phone.

After he noticed that not only has he been talking to her for a week straight, but he also always looked forward to reading her texts, answering her calls and talking on the phone, he decided to ask her on a date.

Namami did not go on many dates before. But when he did, he'd always asked his coworker Gojo to call him at a specific time, if he was enjoying the date he would tell the person he's with that it's just work related and not to worry about it, but if he wasn't he would tell them that he's needed for an emergency and he would pay for their cab and make sure they make it home safe before letting them down gently the next time he talks to them. Thankfully he only did the latter once when the person was being borderline creepy and he felt unsafe.

The date with y/n was a first for him. After she agreed, he told her about the time and location, planning on taking her to a nice restaurant, a classic. He was surprised when she disagreed and asked if he'd be comfortable with coming over to her house. She told him that she loved cooking but never got the chance to make big meals. Namami agreed, and it made his heart swell with happiness when she told him she was excited for their date.

The date was nothing less than perfect. He immediately felt at home the moment he stepped foot in her apartment, he particularly loved that she uses small lights instead of overhead ones, something he does at his apartment as well. She set the table beautifully, with candles and some of the most unique tableware. The food was a whole different story. He could not believe he was eating all that for free. He has been to many fancy restaurants, but none of them compared to her cooking.

When Namami asked if it was okay for him to ask her a couple of questions to see if they were on the same page when it comes to the future if they're planning on sharing one, he was surprised again when she said she was glad he brought up that topic because she had her own questions as well. Namami immediately knew that this would turn out for the best because his past dates always either tried to dodge this discussion or told him he was rushing things.

He first asked her about marriage. She told him that she wants to get married and that it's definitely something she hopes would happen in the future when she's ready, he agreed. He asked her if she'd want them to live together with a partner, she said yes but not immediately, maybe one and half to two years into the relationship, he agreed. She asked him about kids and if he sees himself being a father in the future, he said yes but he wants kids not immediately after marriage but to wait a year or two before trying, she agreed. She asked him about how he would handle disagreements and arguments, he told her that he was a very calm person and enjoys the peace communication brings, so he'd sit with his partner and figure out the problem and how to resolve it, she agrees.

Namami started to feel giddy when he realised they have both agreed to many of each other's answers and even shared similar opinions. Would she be the one he spends forever with? The thought didn't seem so bad at the moment, he hoped to get his answer quickly.

But he wasn't expecting it to happen within a month.

They discovered they shared the same route on their way to work and began walking it together. Nanami started to look forward to seeing her. Every morning, she greets him with a smile and "hi, Ken!" which he started responding to with "hi, Barbie" after watching the Barbie movie, she always giggles and throws her arms around his neck in a hug. He buys her her favourite boba and she drinks it while they walk and talk about whatever comes to mind. He drops her off at work since it's closer than his, but not before pressing a kiss to her forehead that she started calling her "good luck kiss". They even spend their lunch breaks together by talking through facetime. He was the type to skip that free time to get more work done, but he stopped doing that in favour of talking to his favourite girl.

He started looking forward to seeing her and talking to her. Weekends have become boring, sure they text, but it's not like hearing her voice, even through the phone speaker. She consumed his brain, she became his first thought in the morning and his last before bed. Thankfully, Nanami isn't dumb, and he realised he is in fact falling in love.

He didn't want to play around, after all, they're both serious about this relationship. He plans on confessing, letting her know his true feelings. It's a scary thought, something he has never done before, and he hopes she wouldn't reject him given that he fell for her fast when they both agreed this would be a "getting to know each other" phase. But he can't control how he feels about her, she makes him look forward to the future, as long as she is a part of it.

It's the weekend, Nanami invited her over in the afternoon to watch movies and hang out at his apartment, but despite what the weather forecast said, the somewhat sunny morning quickly developed into a stormy evening, one that was strong enough for him to turn the hang out into a sleepover. He gave her a pair of his pajama pants and a shirt to get comfortable and put the frozen pizza he has for emergencies in the oven.

They're sitting on the couch, a movie long forgotten on TV as y/n tells him a very interesting work story. He's trying to focus, he really is, but the way she's so close to him, her folded legs almost on top of his, her hair wrapped around his fingers as he plays with the strands, the way her face lights up when she remembers a detail, it's all so precious.

“and then she got mad and-”

“I love you.”

Y/n stops talking and he's instantly regretting his words. They literally slipped out of his mouth, he had no control over them. It's like she pressed a botton and they came out. He starts fearing the worst and his brain starts telling him that he made things awkward and uncomfortable for her and she can't even escape because there's a storm outside. Fuck... Why did he need to rush? Everything has been going perfectly, and now he ruined it. He's gonna have to find a way to make up for this. He'll apologize a billion times if needed, but he can't afford to lose her.

“Ken, I love you too, so much, but I need to finish the story.”

Huh-

“Right. Sorry, darling. Please continue, I'm all ears.”

He isn't all ears, he can't be all ears, because he can hear how fast his heart is beating and he can feel the blood rushing to his face. She said it back, she loves him, so much too! Is he dreaming, is it still the night before and he hasn't called her yet to invite her over? No. It can't be. He wants this to be real... and it is, everything is real. The way she's holding on to his fingers is real, the way she's excitedly telling him the rest of her story is real, the way he's holding back from smiling so hard is real, the way the pizza smell is filling the room is real.

“oh shit, the pizza.”

Nanami bolts to the kitchen, quickly grabbing the oven mitts and pulling the pizza out just in time. When he quickly glaces towards the living room, he can see y/n hunched over and squealing into the pillow, her feet kicking slightly. He chuckles. She really tried to play it like his words did not affect her the way they affected him, but it seems like their feelings are mutual in every way possible.

Nanami is somehow even more excited for forever with her now.

[lucedilunax]

Bed chem - Q. Hughes

Songs masterlist

song: Bed chem - Sabrina Carpenter

pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

summary: Three stages in Quinn and his girlfriend relationship: how they met, how they had crush on themselves and how they sex life looks like

warning: mentions of sex (nothing graphic), swear words

words: 1.0k

note: ahh this week songs masterlist will be done, i'm gonna miss it but exciting things are coming in december!

masterlist

---

Your friend hit me up so we could connect

Brock’s girlfriend, Bella, and she were friends since they were kids but now, she finally moved to Vancouver. When Bella met Quinn, she knew that she had to set up her friend with him. She believed that they had the identical personality. The same lame jokes, the same awkward laugh and the same commitment to their jobs.

Bella told Brock about this idea and he immediately agreed. He knew her friend and totally saw her and Quinn as a couple. Both of them set them up on a blind date. She and Quinn were skeptical about this. They haven’t been looking for a partner, at least not at this moment and to be honest, they didn’t trust their friends in this field. Eventually, they agreed and went on a date. 

I digress, got me scrollin’ like

Out of breath, got me goin’ like

She adored Quinn. One date and she was all over heels for him. At first, he was giving her weird vibes but when he opened up to her, it turned out that he’s talkative and funny. She couldn't remember the last time a guy made her laugh this hard like he did this one night. When she got back home, she went on instagram and followed him. She started looking at his profile and looking at every single photo. She enjoyed what she was seeing. In her opinion, he was super handsome. 

Quinn, who wasn’t sure about this date, was thankful that he agreed to go. She was different from other women who tried so hard for him because he was an athlete. She didn’t care, he was certain that she didn't even watch hockey because she was asking him the most basic questions when he mentioned this sport. He came back home and saw that she followed him on instagram. He did the same and started looking at her pictures. He couldn’t believe how pretty she is. 

Are you free next week?

The next day, Quinn wrote to her asking if she had time next week. Now, he was leaving but he wanted to invite her to his match. Maybe even go on another date if he gets lucky. Impatient, he was waiting for her response the whole day. He was checking his phone every five minutes to see if she wrote him back. Thankfully, she did. She said that she’s free and it would be a pleasure to go to his game. Quinn was relieved. 

For a moment, Quinn thought that she might not be into him but this message changed it. He said that he’ll give her all the information when he gets back home. She thanked him and in that moment, she asked him about his day. They started writing every day about everything and nothing. His teammates caught him smiling on his phone when he got a message from her. 

Who’s the cute guy with wide blue eyes and the big bad mm?

Quinn wasn’t a big fan of taking photos of himself, but he loved doing this for her. He tried to keep her updated while being away as much as he could. She was sending him pictures of what she’s doing, which was watching tv shows, cooking and working. On the other hand, he always took pictures of himself in a suit and sent them to her. When he was coming back to Vancouver, he took a selfie on the plane and sent her a message coming home, can’t wait to see you soon.

She received the photo when she was out on lunch with her coworkers. She right away opened the message and saw him looking good as always. She stared at her phone too long and one of the girls noticed this. She looked on and saw Quinn’s face. The questions started floating around about her mysterious boyfriend. She felt embarrassed at first but talked about him with love in her voice. 

How you pick me up, pull’ em down, turn me ‘round

She and Quinn haven’t wanted to label themselves. They just went with the flow and if they are made for each other, they’ll end up together. Although, this hasn't stopped them from having sex with each other. Both of them loved this kind of deal. The sex was always incredible, especially when he was coming back pissed.

Quinn was manhandling her like a personal sex toy. She was more than willing to agreed on everything he was giving her. He was throwing her around the bed in every position that he wanted her in. Often, he would bent her over the couch or kitchen island and fuck her roughly. 

How you talk so sweet when you’re doin’ bad things 

She adored Quinn. He was always a well spoken guy who couldn’t miss a day without giving her a compliment. Always showing up with flowers and gifts from his trips. He knew how to make her feel better after a bad day. His words were always on point and she felt loved and adored. He treated her like a princess knowing that she has a low self confidence. He was her hype man. 

Quinn was changing completely when it came to a sex. He was dominating her, doing whatever he wants and likes. In his movements, he remembered about her boundaries but this hadn’t stopped him from treating her like a whore. As much as she loved his quiet and calm side, there was something so tempting and hot in his bedroom side. He enjoyed that she was there for his every beck and call. 

And I bet we’d both arrive at the same time

Despite the fact that Quinn was setting the pace and treated her like he wanted, he always made sure that she cum. He didn’t want her to feel like she’s just for his pleasure. He never denied her orgasm, sometimes controlled it but most of the time, he was overstimulating her. He was giving her at least two climax every time they had sex. His favorite part was when both could cum at the same time.

When it happened for the first time, it was a mind blowing orgasm for Quinn. He couldn’t keep his mind straight the minute he felt his release and her tightening muscles around him. Since that, he made this his own mission to end their sex with them cum in the same moment. She loved when this was happening, when their moans filled the bedroom after reaching a climax.

[writerdownbookworder]

Dear Diary,

I'm going to have to lock this diary away and destroy it. I love kids.

The Addams kids? They're menaces!

I'm fairly certain the girl wants to kill me. At least the boy seems fairly... sweet? No, not the right word. If I did die, he would definitely hide the evidence. Or eat it. The kid eats like a pig.

One thing is for sure. If I go missing, the girl got me and the boy finished me off.

Dear Diary,

Today was worse. I left the Addams kids playing upstairs while I went to make them lunch. When I came to fetch them, the girl had strapped her brother to some sort of contraption. I'm fairly certain it was an electric chair, though I don't know how she got one. Or why...

He was fine, just hungry. Which is almost more concerning. He ate so much at lunchtime, I'm not sure how he had room for dinner. I thought he might explode.

Oh well. Better luck tomorrow.

Dear Diary,

It's been a week. That girl - Wednesday - has tormented me within an inch of my life! There is blood in strange, unexpected places. Snakes and critters hidden in my bed. She locked me in my room for a whole day! There's even a disembodied hand in this house! It moves.

I think she might be clinically insane.

Pugsley on the other hand...I think he just does whatever she tells him to. Yesterday, she told him to jump out the second story window. I barely caught him. Then, I could barely pull him back inside. The kid weighs a ton.

The kicker? Wednesday said she wanted to see if he would bounce.

Dear Diary,

The Addams family will be reunited in two days. I'm overjoyed. I should've listened when everyone warned me. I won't lie, the house is interesting, and the stories the kids tell are...intriguing, at least, if not worrying. But you won't catch me anywhere near this place again. I wouldn't touch it with a very long pole, not even with several weapons hidden on me.

At least Wednesday has stopped trying to give me a heart attack. Instead, she takes it out on Pugsley.

But at least he seems used to it. Sometimes, I think he enjoys it.

Dear Diary,

Change of plans. Pugsley didn't want me to leave. He sat on my feet and cried when I tried to walk out the door. Not even Wednesday could make him move. Although, I'm not sure how hard she tried. I think I maybe saw a glimmer in her eyes.

It might have been a tear, but I guess it's more likely a plot.

Dear God, I hope it's not against me for leaving.

Maybe I'll come back to visit.

Dear Diary,

It's been awhile. The Addams family is...strange.

Wednesday and Pugsley meet me at the park every weekend for a picnic.

Morticia has me over for tea every other week.

Gomez decided I needed to learn how to fence. I don't think I had a choice. So now I have a fencing lesson twice a week. It's an odd sport.

That hand...Thing. Apparently, he likes playing checkers. I still don't know how I got roped into that.

I avoid the grandma though. She gives me the creeps. Not to mention the bald uncle. I'm fairly sure he's been arrested multiple times.

Anyway, now the Addams family is like my second family. My home away from home.

Who would've thought?

You, new in town and strapped for cash, see an ad in the paper; apparently, a "Gomez and Morticia Addams" are in need of a babysitter to watch their two children during a business trip. Despite the VERY high pay, no one has pursued it. Ignoring warnings from the locals, you sign up.

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ top of everything (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : max verstappen x male reader

summary: max is best because he believes he is the best ( in everything )

tw : fluff; a little suggestive

fc : vinnie hacker

a/n : MY FIRST MALE READER FIC ! if you don’t like reading it, please don’t read, but leaving hate is not an option, AND I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANY HOMOPHOBIC COMMENTS, you don’t like it or support, just skip it ! lysm 🫶🏻

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by nicholaschavez and 636,287 others

ynhacker my love is a monster in the show ( and 🛌 )

view comments

user1 HE IS GAY !?

user2 LMAO BOTH THE ACTORS IN MONSTER ARE GAY !?

user3 CHAVEZ IS GAY !?

nicholaschavez I am never letting you click pictures of mine

ynhacker alright then, you are not licking my tattoos

user4 SIR FREAK !?

user5 OPEN AN ONLYFANS, YALL WILL BE BILLIONAIRES

user6 me being an old fan and sipping tea ☕️

user7 they loooook so good together

user8 if they have a kid- the gene race is won

user9 both of them are so hot

user10 why are hot men all gay ?

liked by user1, maddisonbeer and 763,862 others

ynhacker oh, I am both 😌

view comments

user1 SOMETHING HAPPENED BETWEEN HIM AND NICHOLAS

user2 WHAT !? THEY BROKE UP

user3 no they didn’t, nich still has their pictures

user4 no, I mean, Y/n said that nicholas doesn’t like him posting thirsty pictures so for the past 7 months he had not posted even one thirsty selfie

user5 THIS IS A THIRST TRAP !?

user6 they def broke up if y/n is back to posting fuck me daddy photos

user7 he is def the one doing the cardio, not receiving -

liked by maddisonbeer, maxverstappen1 and 873,367 others

ynhacker they said Latina air and fast cars helps with break ups 🍃

view comments

user1 THEY BROKE UP 😭😭😭

user2 DAD AND DADDY BROKE UP 😔😭😭😔

landonorris it was amazing meeting you !!!

liked by ynhacker

user3 where did lando spawn out of 💀

user4 let him spawn, he is not gay

user5 Lando is dating magui I think

user6 IDC, Y/N'S FUCKBOY ERA IS BACK !!?

user7 we love a hot gay man with hot girl besties 👄

mclaren see you soon again!!!

ynhacker definitely admin, coming for the cars and bundas 🍑

user7 HUH!?

liked by user1, user2, and 736,276 others

enews Weeks after rumours, Y/N Hacker, who is the ex-boyfriend of Nicholas Chavez was seen in his car with a mystery man at the gas station in Vegas.

view comments

user1 my man does not waste time 😭

user2 who is the mystery man !?

user3 that's..MAX VERSTAPPEN !?

user4 ARIANNA WHAT YOU DOING HERE !?

user5 he is soo drunk

user6 WHY IS HE DRIVING !?

user7 they casually be exposing max breaking laws-

user8 not only the FIA but even FBI will be after him 😌

user9 MAX IS GAY !?

user10 nah, they maybe friends ?

user11 I am loving to see this side of max

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 876,279 others

ynhacker Jimmy and Sassy love me, he does too well 🙂‍↕️

view comments

user1 wasn't he a dog person ?

user2 when did he adopt cats ?

user3 those are Max's cats !!

user4 MAX VERSTAPPEN !?

user5 the f1 grid in the likes-

landonorris max is cursing in Dutch here

ynhacker that's a very Charles thing to do

charlesleclerc EXCUSE ME !?

ynahacker excused, now let Carlos overtake 😌

carlossainz55 whenever you come to Spain, tell me, you are not even spending a euro

user6 I am living for these sudden interactions-

maxverstappen1 return my sons

ynhacker they love me more than you 🤭

maxverstappen1 get my sons along with you

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 1,367,972 others

ynhacker shirtless because he does not own any shirt except the redbull one

view comments

redbullracing glad to see our driver doing his duties

ynhacker you certainly are not doing anything for him tho -

landonorris mate, you are going to get him kicked out

ynhacker nah, they will be digging their graves by kicking him out

landonorris YOU can get banned

ynhacker will they mess with Max's plus one?

landonorris point

maxverstappen1 why do you own a phone!?

maxverstappen1 stop clicking random pictures of me

charlesleclerc give the context of the middle on though

ynhacker one word : REDBULL

maxverstappen1 we look cute in the last one

ynhacker it's all you 🤭

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liked by landonorris, francolapinto and 1,762,576 others

ynhacker Lando's and I are matching 4️⃣💤

view comments

user1 his closet is exactly like I imagined

user2 messy like his driving -

user2 is blocked by ynhacker

user3 KING 👑

user4 are all the f1 drivers gay ?

user5 wasn't he like dating max ?

user6 and now Lando ?

landonorris can I kill you for exposing my wardrobe ?

maxverstappen1 let me kill you before that

liked by ynhacker

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 2,765,465 others

ynhacker MY CHAMP IS ON THE TOP OF THE CHAMPIONSHIP ( and me 🤭)

comments on this post have been turned off

tg : @callsignwidow

[majinbangus]

been feeling anxious lately so now guard dog!ghost is gonna be an emotional support dog too -> more here

"Your heart is racing."

And your breathing is shallow. He can feel it. It's hard not to when you're curled up in his embrace. Back to chest. His palm pressed flat against your chest, right over your pounding heart.

There's no denying it. Your body never lies to him.

"Is it?"

Yet you still try.

Ghost tuts halfheartedly, tempted to make a quip about being the reason your heart races. But that doesn't feel appropriate, so he rests his chin over your shoulder, and squeezes you closer. "Is it Johnny?"

The man had called earlier, informing he'd be held back a week later than scheduled. It was on facetime too, and he had a bandage wrapped around his head—or more specifically, his left eye. He said it wasn't anything to worry about, but maybe that call bothered you more than you let on.

"... Not entirely," You answer, murmuring quietly as you place a hand over his. Light tremors reverberate through you. "I know he'll be okay, but I... would you fuck me? Please? It'll help take me out of my head for a bit."

"Would that really help?" He asks because as much as he loves turning your brain into mush and making you incapable of thought, he doesn't think that's what you need right now. He suspects you know that too. But he'll obey any command you give him, even though what you're requesting—begging—for doesn't really sound like one.

You're quiet for about a minute or so, but he can still feel it. The storm going on inside your head. Your heart thunders under his palm. It's more apparent now that you're holding your hand over his, trapping it to your chest.

"No." You finally breathe out, tension slightly easing, but there's still a restlessness running through you. He listens intently as you lower your voice to a defeated whisper, "No, that wouldn't really help."

He doesn't waste time for another breath to get in. "Tell me what you need."

"I need..." You bite your lip. He stays patient. You tell him your command. "I need you to hold me."

Then that's what he'll do.

"I won't let go."

If this is the kind of protection you need, he'll give it. It's why he's here. He'll guard you from anything. Even from the thoughts haunting your mind.

[kinardsevan]

What is your opinion on Tommy coming back or not? And in they case we see him again, do you think it’ll be just for closure (ex: Abby in season 3) or maybe for a BuckTommy second chance?

fun fact: i was considering doing an entire breakdown with a bunch of Oliver's interviews from the start of this arc until now to point to my opinion:

Tommy is coming back. The romcom theme is still in effect, and we're only about midway through the 3rd act.

Long story short (and without sources right now), I think that the interviews were actuallly pointing in this direction with the wording for a hot second. We have OS telling us that he thinks the best relationships have a "will they, won't they" bit where the audience and the characters are pining. We've seen this play out on the show. And we also have to remember that Oli knew during this interview that the breakup was coming. We also have the interview (I believe it was the Decider one I linked last week) where he mentions choosing to fight for the relationship or not. I feel like a lot of people have taken the context of that and twisted it into "they didn't do it right away, so they're not going to". Except, there's ANOTHER quote of relevance, which is Oliver talking about how Buck's queerness isn't tied to Tommy or Eddie, and only to himself.

Obviously, there have been things said since 806 that would point towards me being delulu, except, here's the issue: TM, OS and LFJr are NOT going to tell us that Tommy is coming back if that's the intention. It would spoil the surprise of it all, and the win of it all. What fun is there in that? What TM has said is that Tommy is Buck's romantic past but that doesn't mean he won't turn up again in the future (all relevant and true facts which do not shut down a reconciliation). Lou never out-and-out said he was done with the show. He's said time and time again that he wants to come back. TM has mentioned Tommy coming around again. OS literally said in an interview "they may run into each other on scene and have it be awkward".

Now obviously we don't actually have the full story with how things went down and the show decided to go with splitting the boys up. I think the fact that Lou has called out the bullying but says he wants to come back suggests that it wasn't him saying it was too much. I have two theories that could honestly run concurrent with one another:

Evan and Tommy break up in 806 at the end of the episode. With 911 having 18 episode seasons, this quite literally only makes up the first third of the season. It set up the beginning of the year for us. We're now two episodes into the second part of the season with a pretty clear idea of where the next three will go and suggestions (by fans, nothing official) that the "soonest" we could see LFJr again is 812. This is reasonable, as it would be the end of the middle of the season. Knowing that TM has suggested he might do a multi-episode season finale, pushing LFJr back into the show in 812 (or even the end of 811 if we go with my theory that Eddie could possibly leave around this time and Tommy helps them pack up/his and Buck's first time spending time around each other again), there would still likely be something around this time period that would be around when they would open the doors to this. As it is, we know that 809 and 810 go together, and then we'd have 811 to really flesh out the end of Buck's fling. I think there's even more possibility of LFJr being in this episode as well because if the plan is to bring them back together (which everything has been suggested so far ON screen in terms of keeping Tommy "in" the story), three-episode arc gives us several things: a. it allows the show to make the point that Buck's queerness is not intrinsically attached to Tommy; that his interest in men is as equal as he know his interest in women is. b. it gives them the ability to also show that his feelings for Tommy are not based in Tommy being his "first", or Evan needing to "discover" more about himself. They're in love with each other, and the show has given us the pieces for that. LFJr has acknowledged it in an interview, Tommy loves Buck. We also know that Tommy's line to Evan is "you'd end up breaking my heart, and I don't think I could deal with that". When I hear that sentence, what I'm actually hearing is "I'm already in love with you, and if I let myself fall more in love with you by being with you every day all the time and this ends, I won't survive it". By relation, we have Josh ask Buck if he loves Tommy and Buck waffles, but I think this has more to do with his lack of understanding of what a healthy love is in a relationship, given his past relationships. He never got to tell Abby. Ali left. and saying I love you to Taylor wasn't about the core of actually being in love with her, which I think is another important piece for BuckTommy: they don't just love each other, they're in love with each other. Still, sometimes it's hard to quantify that feeling, and I think (as I've referenced before), for Evan it was easier to ask Tommy to share a living space with him than to share how he feels about him because historically, things haven't worked out well for him when he's been in love outwardly. Further, the questions Josh asks Evan are directly correlated with loving someone, and Evan answers yes to all of them. (I don't think I need to add this, but he also sees a future with Tommy, talks about being engaged or married. He's serious about Tommy in a way he never has been before.)

There's also the theory that the breakup happened because of scheduling conflicts. Now obviously the show could've found other ways to work around LFJr's scheduling issues by having Tommy go on a trip or what-have-you, but let's remember OTHER things that have been said by OS in prior interviews: a. back in June, he did an interview where he stated that he wanted and hoped that BuckTommy would go through issues that couples normally go through in their first year together. He wanted normal issues. This storyline IS normal. b. he didn't want to repeat Tarlos. By the very definition of what the show is doing right now, we're not. Tarlos and BuckTommy are their own things with their own reasonings.

One of the other things I also keep being pulled back to is these issues: first of all, we know how LFJr plays with the 911 demo, given that they got to see it last season. It's why he was written into more episodes after his initial four episode arc and brought back. ABC has also used BuckTommy in their own adverts, which suggests that they are very supportive of the relationship continuing because it draws in viewers. Truly giving that up for good feels like dousing yourself in gasoline and then considering striking a match. Second, people also keep calling out that TM only plans a few weeks in advance. I believe this is true with story beats. We know that the writers room has a general idea on character arcs, thanks to some of the discussion on the cheese page post-806. I really struggle to believe that TM didn't know going into going forward with the breakup whether or not he wanted to bring LFJr back. We know he waffled back and forth on the idea of the breakup, meaning he probably had other solutions on his mind for whatever LFJr's schedule needed adjusting for, and this is what he decided on. Also, even if 8b hasn't been broken down yet (we know it hasn't), they would still know at this point what they do or don't want, what their ideas might be. Solidification for why Tommy should be brought back is directly shown in the reaction by the GA and the fandom to the breakup. They may not know exactly how that reunion happens yet, but what they have suggested is that Buck's new relationship will be short-lived. That he's using it to cope. We also know he's still processing the break-up and still misses Tommy. These are all things that point to the story not being over. Plus, I feel (once again), if the story really was over and they didn't have plans to continue this in 8b, LFJr wouldn't be talking about wanting to go back. It be far more "yeah that sucked, but it's over now and what can you do? I'm off to this new show and I'll never be back." (I've commented also on the fact that the fangirlish interview comment about his "i'm going here, doing this, have some opportunities" statement is very run-of-the-mill. Obvs I could mean something. Or it could literally just be a canned answer.) (This might feel a little off-center, but I think his commentary on trusting TM and knowing what he's doing in one of his post-806 interviews directly suggests that he believes the story is going to be handled properly.)

I realize at the end of the day, all of what I'm piecing together could mean zilch and Tommy could possibly never come back. They could truly just drop the story and never circle back around, set fire to a beautiful arc and lose thousands (possibly millions) of viewers. I've certainly suggested myself being one of them. But I don't see BuckTommy only getting an Abby fix for two reasons. LFJr wants to come back and continue the story, and Connie Britton only ever intended to do one season. Also, the fling has been called out as being planned to be short-lived. Why bother mentioning that if you don't have other plans for the story.

The last thing I'll leave you with is my commentary from the interview Oli and Aisha did with the guy from Chicago. That reporter obviously liked the BuckTommy storyline and said he's choosing to believe that the relationship is paused, not over. By relation, we had Oliver say three things: (1 and 2) Buck is still looking for love, both in himself and with another person. (3)The season is only half over. Circle that back to 806-808. Buck is finding love in himself by dealing with it in a healthy way (so far) with the baking. We've also seen the "cracks" Oli mentioned with his continued urge to want to text Tommy, as well as him fighting it off by baking (referencing the "pendulum swinging"). Looking for love in others will likely be this arc where he tries to deal/move on. I feel like we collectively watched the end of 806, and then 807 and 808 yelling at the TV "you're in love with him, piece it together already!" (or maybe that was just me???). But truly, whether it's a fling, his therapist, or Bobby/Maddie/Eddie who finally spells it out of or him, I think there will be a point at which we see that come to fruition. The seeds were sewn in for it in the scene with Josh. Now it's just about watching those seeds sprout.

Final note: we've had a good run up to this point with these two. Did we truly thing that the honeymoon phase would last forever? (I didn't. Conflict and the pink bubble popping have to happen eventually.) If we really want to suggest that what BuckTommy has is real, they have to go through this and come out the other side. I think everyone is justifiably frustrated due to the 4 month wait on new episodes (I personally would not have left people hanging quite like this, but that's just me), but the narrative does lead us toward what the show is doing with the suggestion that it does have a natural (and good) conclusion. (Possibly with a helicopter/truck/jeep crash?!)

And just as my singularly LAST note, here's my other thing: Evan and Tommy both have abandonment issues. (Tommy's are clear based on the break up and we know Buck's.) By that correlation, when these two finally get back together, they're never going to fucking let the other go.

(This was so much longer than I intended it to be, but that's my answer 😂😂😂😂😂😂)

[ugf-viridis]

I'm actually gonna chime in right quick on this, if that's alright.

As someone who has been impersonated many times on socials, across multiple personas, it does suck. It can have negative consequences, for sure. But you can't be everywhere, and you shouldn't place yourself in crappy online environments just because you're afraid that someone is going to pretend to be you and start trouble. 'Oh no, I better make an appearance on 8chan or someone will pretend to be me....' No.

As others have said, delete the profiles in toxic spaces. Your friends (and your enemies) will ask you what's up if someone's doing a good enough job impersonating you. And if they don't, then it's not really affecting you, so don't worry about it. And if you don't have people you can count on to do that (not everybody has a 'network,' or even wants to have one online) there are ways around the fuckery.

Easiest way is to link all of your profiles of the same type / persona and network those. Put 'em in your bio. That way, if someone sees something awful everyone knows where to find you to complain / dogpile about it. Over on main I crosspost. All accounts are basically clones of one another (partially for the aforementioned reason that people have impersonated me before, and caused trouble). But you don't even need to do that.

If someone wants to frame you up, they will find a way. It's a big internet and there's lots of mean people with lots of spare time on it. Don't worry about it. You're not gonna starve if you go a week without as many likes or replies. You'll live. You do you, and get out of toxic spaces, because, honestly, being in those toxic spaces reflects more poorly on you than the occasional episodic nonsense. And being in crappy communities is just bad for your outlook and your mental health. No worry. Just be a stand-up person and you'll be fine.

should you delete twitter and get bluesky? (or just get a bluesky in general)? here's what i've found:

yes. my answer was no before bc the former CEO of twitter who also sucked, jack dorsey, was on the board, but he left as of may 2024, and things have gotten a lot better. also a lot of japanese and korean artists have joined

don't delete your twitter. lock your account, use a service to delete all your tweets, delete the app off of your phone, and keep your account/handle so you can't be impersonated.

get a bluesky with the same handle, even if you won't use it, also so you won't be impersonated.

get the sky follower bridge extension for chrome or firefox. you can find everyone you follow on twitter AND everyone you blocked so you don't have to start fresh: https://skyfollowerbridge.com/

learn how to use its moderation tools (labelers, block lists, NSFW settings) so you can immediately cut out the grifters, fascists, t*rfs, AI freaks, have the NSFW content you want to see if you so choose, and moderate for triggers. here's a helpful thread with a lot of tools.

the bluesky phone app is pretty good, but there is also tweetdeck for bluesky, called https://deck.blue/ on desktop, if you miss tweetdeck.

bluesky has explicitly stated they do not use your data to train generative AI, which is nice to hear from an up and coming startup. obviously we can’t trust these companies and please use nightshade and glaze, but it’s good to hear.