#teeny tint

[bibleofficial]

today has been so good i saw so many people like i got a walk-in done for this parlours walk-in day & she was so sweet & fun & she was the 1 i was WANTING to get done by !! THEN i went back home after running errands & FIRST i saw my neighbour that lives in the flat below me, Li, then KP was walking to Tesco & saw me so he popped over! & then TASKIN who lives in the building across from me walked back from getting a haircut & was chatting w him before he & i met this random floridian girl that lives in taskin’s building 😭😭😭 she’s so fucking funny omg i don’t even remember her name but she literally hate crimed me by saying i look like im from colorado

[maretriarch]

Just in time for 4/13 here's the second line of my r63 dolls, this time CREEPover themed with bonus accessories! in an ideal world they would come in adorable recuperacoon shaped packaging. and probably a sopor slime making kit because kids love slime. which one are YOU picking up from your local Goreget today?

[carcarrot]

patrick bateman voice i need to buy some vintage boots

[recallback-art]

This was a commission for my buddy @cheeseofthecake of her OC Aurora, replicating a scene from one of her fics!

I've never drawn Sonic characters before, so it was a very interesting challenge to sit down and figure out the general shapes.

[cakegatedisaster]

HOW TALL ARE YOU IM NOT ITTY BITTY

Bestie I'm like 5'7, 5'10 in heels

[frogstappen]

𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧, 𝐮𝐬

best friend!max verstappen x reader / 2.4k

max keeps up your friendly tradition at the us grand prix.

⚠️: friends with a little something more on the horizon. one teeny mention of throwing up in a sleeping bag. cutesy, fluffy, best pal max.

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ

The world is alive with a kick only found in Austin.

Cowboy hats and cowgirl boots; star-spangled everything and a roaring reception fit for rock ‘n roll stars. Bloodthirst donned in a bolo tie and winning smile.

You swipe through your camera roll, pinching each photo to read the gimmicky banners and count the bullhorn gestures. Giggling when you spot a grown man with a sign addressed to Lewis: I called in sick to watch you race.

Max glances over his shoulder. “What’s so funny?”

You turn your phone.

He squints at the screen, huffing a laugh, then scrolls through some more. “They love and hate with the same passion. It’s actually kind of scary.”

“I love it here.”

You push off the couch and wander over to the window.

The sky is a brilliant blue, dazzling even through the tinted glass. Striking Southern sunlight bounces off each motorhome in the paddock. The lot busies away, polos scurrying from building to building, VIP lanyards shielding their eyes from the sun to take it all in.

Max taps your shoulder with your phone and nods to the door. “C’mon. Time.”

He leads you outside, loosening his elbow to let you slip your arm through his. He turns heads and raises whispers – though none of it seems to bother him. It’s like he doesn’t even notice.

He’s already turning inward, already picturing the starting line behind his eyes. He’s thinking tactics and thinking strategies, making mental notes about turns twelve through fifteen; tire degradation and DRS and not saying fuck or shit or driving too close to the car marked 4.

His eyes lift only for a second. He frowns at some photographers up ahead and positions himself in front as you walk. His head ducks again, giving them little more than a winning shot of his Red Bull cap – and he takes your hand.

“Here,” he says, “We can dodge them.”

He cuts between ferns and life-size driver banners, speeding past crowded bistro sets. By the time they clock him – Was that Max Verstap–? – he’s already thin air.

Through one of the backdoors to the garages, Max pulls you down a darkened hallway.

You giggle, trying not to trip over his heels. Cooler, though not by much, you breathe a sigh of relief and rub the starry sunshine from your vision. When you pull your knuckles away from your eyes, you gasp.

Max halts.

“What?” he asks, twisting around. His hand stays locked in yours. “You okay?”

Your nose bumps against his shoulder as you crane to see properly through the sliver of an ajar door.

Behind a throng of serious faces in white shirts and headsets – a table. Three trophies, tall and slender, polished to perfection. Obnoxious, maybe a little – but glamorous and gleaming all the same.

And right in front of them –

“Are those the podium caps?”

Max studies your face for a moment. A smile threatens the corner of his lips, but he fights it down. He follows your eye to the three hats.

He nods. “Looks like it.”

“Denim, Max. That’s so cool.”

“Well, y’know,” he sniffs, giving your hand a light tug, “It is Austin.”

“I don’t have a denim one. Yet.”

He shoots you a look more steel than blue. You don’t have to speak Max Verstappen to know exactly what it means.

You’ve been collecting his race caps – the rare designs, anyway – for as long as he’s been in Formula One. At home, there’s a whole corner of your closet dedicated strictly to Pirelli.

His very first winners’ cap sits proudly on the tallest hook, all the way to the Canadian maple leaf design that made you squeal when he presented it to you.

He knows the ones you’d like, the second he sees them. Eight years’ worth of victories, turned into something even more meaningful.

Granted, there have been a little fewer than normal lately – but sometimes, you like to pretend he’s in that cockpit aiming for first at least in part to see the smile on your face when he fits the cap on your head.

Still. He stares you down.

“I wouldn’t get too excited,” he says, walking on. “The car is shit, lately.”

“Language,” you hiss, grinning.

Max shakes his head. “I can still send you home, you know. The race hasn’t started yet.”

He’s only jesting – but annoying him is too much fun.

“Oh, you wouldn’t do that. I’m here for sympathy reasons, remember?”

He grunts in response.

Austin wasn’t meant to be on your list this year. It’s one of your favorite grands prix, that’s for sure, but you had planned to miss it this time around on account of the new guy you’d been seeing.

That is – until you called it quits last month.

It had only been a few months – three, if that – but the longer it went on, the more you noticed incompatibilities. Little things, like the way your schedules clashed, or the kinds of places you each liked to hang out.

He was a great guy, and he took it like a champ – which made the bruise sting a little…sharper.

Max let you wallow for three days. He spent a decent chunk of the month’s break after Singapore at your place; ordering you takeout and then refusing to let you pay, waking you up each morning to work out with him. You’d never admit it, but after a while, it got kinda fun.

Then, when it was time to get back to work, he invited you to Austin. You know being there will cheer you up, he said. And besides, I need my lucky charm.

So far – what with the denim Pirelli caps and the front-row qualifying result – he’s fast turning out to be right.

He pauses at the turn into the garage. “How are you, anyway? Feeling distracted?”

You smile, slumping against the wall opposite him. “Very. I forgot how hard this place goes.”

He nods, sipping from his bottle. He glances down the hall towards the echoes of photographers. “Sorry about the…” he waves a dismissive hand, “…Ever since Singapore, they…”

“You don’t think I’m used to it by now, three-time-world-champion?”

He curves his hand around the back of his neck, lips curling. “You wanna watch from the garage again, or upstairs?”

“Upstairs, please. I don’t need another 4D experience of you crashing.”

“Wasn’t exactly fun to me, either,” he says, nudging your arm. He lists directions, reminding you to stay behind the shrubbery to evade the cameras. He makes you swear you’ll text him once you’re seated.

“Do you want my pinkie, or is a blood oath more acceptable?”

“It’s a lot of different tracks, alright? Sometimes even I get lost.”

Your eyes narrow. Liar.

He smirks. “Okay, I don’t. But I also don’t stop to fucking stare at denim hats, so.”

“Go do your job, potty mouth. And drive safe.”

“Mhm.”

“I mean it, Max. Just – aim to finish in one piece.”

He pulls you in for a hug, pressing his lips to your temple.

“I’m aiming for a cap,” he says, and swings into the garage.

It’s Ferrari’s race from the opening lap. No other team gets a look-in.

Charles steals the lead from under Lando’s feet, propelling ahead with Carlos in tow to secure an easy one-two for the Prancing Horse. They hold fast the entire race and – though they are, in theory, two of your best friend’s current enemies – they nail it.

You know that, when you find each other later, Max will tell you the same. He’s never a sore loser when simply lovely racing is involved.

Fifty-six laps and five and a half kilometers later, you’re watching him on the podium.

Well. You’re watching your next collector’s item – on his head – on the podium.

Third place isn’t too shabby for a man perpetually fighting his machine – and even he looks relieved just to be up there. He glances down as the Monégasque national anthem plays, and tilts his head purposefully.

You grin up at him, eyebrows raised. I see it, you send telepathically. I’ve chosen its hook already.

Max is careful not to let it become too soaked during the champagne spraying. He ducks out of Charles’s path, aims his own at Carlos’s back. He’s the first to tip the bottle against his lips and drink, and the others quickly follow suit.

There’s probably a grilling waiting for him in the press tent. Was Norris’s five-second penalty just? How did the car feel during that battle? Do you see the rear-end of a McLaren when you close your eyes at night?

You take the opportunity while the paddock is still quiet to sneak back to his motorhome, falling back onto the double bed. There’s a flatscreen on the wall opposite you; a crystal vase of roses on the marble counter beneath.

Some days you have to remind yourself that, behind all the titles and trophies and treasure – he’s still the same kid who ate so much candy at your eighth birthday party that he threw up in his sleeping bag.

Behind all of it, he’s still Max. Your Max.

Says you can have a go at his racing simulator, then laughs while you fight with the controls. Says he’ll pick you up after a night out, then takes voice recordings of your drunken babbling to play back to your hungover self.

Says, He was a nice guy, but you’re going to be okay – and invites you to Austin to take your mind off it.

You’re watching some real estate show under eyes heavy with sleep when the motorhome door clicks open.

His shadow sways down the narrow trailer, and he materializes at the foot of the bed.

“Hello.”

You lift your head. “Hello, yourself.”

He takes your wrists and pulls you upright, scooping you in a strong hug. He’s soaked in sweat and champagne, race suit hanging from his hips, but you wrap your arms around his shoulders anyway.

His hair is damp, cheeks flushed and heated. His stubble scrapes your skin. He buries his nose in the crook of your neck and sighs.

“Thinking of moving to Mexico?” he murmurs into your shoulder, turning to look at the screen.

“The remote was on the other side of the room. I’m tired.”

“Me, too,” he says. He pulls back.

You take his jaw in your hands. “You did so good,” you whisper, thumbs smoothing the lines his balaclava has left behind. “That battle with Lando – I thought – maybe –”

He scoffs, lazy smirk pulling across his face. “Nah. Light work.”

It warrants the knock you deal his bicep.

Max laughs. “Oh,” he says, and reaches behind his back. From the waistband of his suit, he pulls a slightly dented, very drenched third-place cap. He straightens out the material. “Took it off as soon as we got backstage. Didn’t want my hair to make it all sweaty.”

You take it from his hands delicately, grinning from ear to ear as you tilt it in the light. “It’s so fucking cool, Max.”

He hums. “Here.”

He handles it with the same care you did, for the sole reason that it means this much to you – and Max knows it. With a gentle smile, eyes flitting from yours to your lips, he places the cap over your head and straightens it into place.

“There,” he steps back, “You just won third place at Circuit of the Americas.”

You giggle, turning to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. “Oh my God, I look so goofy.”

“No you don’t,” Max replies, standing behind your reflection. “You suit it better than I do.”

There’s a beat – a moment, stood against his chest, eyes locked and hearts aligned. You lean back on your heels, and he perches his chin soft on your head.

His hands find your shoulders. “I’m gonna jump in the shower,” he says. “Do you want to head back to the hotel now, or –?”

You shake your head. “I’m good. I’ll wait for you.”

“’kay,” he whispers. He lingers, still scanning the sight before him. Hands still on your body, squeezing in time with your hammering heartbeat.

Probably taking in the oddity of the entire thing, the same way you are. The two of you framed in the mirror, no closer than you spend most days, and somehow – the closest you’ve ever felt him.

Your Max. Who once caught wind that you had a crush on one of the kids in class, and teased you all summer long for it. Who once gatecrashed your horror movie night with Victoria; burst out of the closet in a Ghostface mask, screaming bloody murder.

It’s exactly the kind of feeling you’d text him for advice on. Hey, what do you think about this? I had butterflies today, standing next to this guy.

Exactly the kind of thing that he’d reply with, Does he know you cry at animated movies?

Does he know you say good morning to the birds?

Does he know you burn pancakes anytime you try to make them?

Yes, you’d send. And he doesn’t mind any of it.

Max takes the visor of your cap between his fingers and turns it. “This way for when you’re feeling fancy,” he says, laughing at his own joke the way he always does.

You breathe a relieved laugh of your own. “Sure,” you reply, shaking that feeling free. You turn, hands light on his forearms. Your gaze climbs from his chest to his eyes.

“Thank you,” you whisper, staring into the oceanic home you’ve known since you were a kid. “I’m really glad I came. You, uh…I don’t know what I’d do without you, Max.”

He shrugs – never one to take a compliment without wrestling with it first. “’s not about me,” he replies, tapping your nose with his knuckle. He swallows, shifting between feet, before his chest fills with a deep breath. “Let me take you to dinner. As a thanks for coming, obviously.”

“You mean the hat isn’t my thanks?”

He shakes his head. “I can do better than a smelly denim hat.”

“I’ll bet you can, Verstappen.”

[thebearer]

Ugh I love your writing 🫶🫶 could you do something where the reader and Carmen have that asshole to everyone but his partner trope 🫶like the staff see how he acts around the reader when they drop by to see him during his lunch break and they’re in shock ?

yes yes yes!! I feel like that's such a good trope for him!!

"Guys, what did I tell you? House keeping, please, fuck!" Carmen yelled, running a frustrated hand through his hair, a chorus of "yes, chef!" following him.

"Hey, Carmy," Neil puffed, carrying the ladder towards the bathroom. "Your girl's in your office."

Carmen's eyes lit up, frustration dissipated at the sound that you were here, waiting for him- surprised him. "Thanks, Neil." Carmen grumbled, non-slip shoes padding across the floor, rounding the corner with an announcement, slipping into the office.

There you were, sitting in the chair, legs propped up on his desk, lazily flicking through recipes. "Hey," Carmen greeted, lips curling when he shut the door behind him. "What're you doin' here? I didn't know you were stopping by."

You spun towards him, feet clomping on the ground at the movement, a tiny smirk on your lips. "Came to see you." You hummed. "Thought I'd take up your offer tonight and come have family with you."

"Yeah?" Carmen's eyes lit up, bright and excited- still a little bashful, even after all the time you'd been together. "That's nice, real nice. I'm glad you came, baby."

You giggled, flinging the recipes on the desk, hands cupping either side of his head to pull him closer when he ducked down for a kiss. Your lips slotted over his, hands sliding through his hair to push him further into you. Carmen laughed into the kiss, hands reaching for your jaw, tilting your head up towards him.

"Stand up," Carmen muttered, lips moving against yours.

You obliged, switching places with him so he was in the chair, you straddling his waist. Your arms looped around his neck, his on your back, the other cradling your ass, sliding and squeezing over the fatty flesh there.

"Hey, cousin, time for fami- oh!" Richie recoiled, slamming the door just as quickly as he opened it. "Oh, for fuckssake, lock the door if you're gonna be nasty! Christ!"

"How about you knock!" Carmen shouted back, cheeks tinging with the red tint of embarrassment. You bit your lip, biting back a laugh. Carmen glared at you lightly. "That's not funny."

"It's a little bit funny, Carmy." You grinned, gently petting down a stray curl tugged out of place. "Like a teeny tiny bit." You pressed your fingers together for emphasis, ignoring his light snort of laugher.

"Richie's runnin' his mouth in there, you know that right?" Carmen muttered, hands smoothing sweetly down your waist.

You shrugged. "He always is."

"Yeah," Carmen laughed. "You're right about that, c'mon." He patted your ass lightly for you to get up. You grabbed his hands, tugging him lightly out of his chair, swinging your arms between the two of you.

"Who cooked tonight?" You asked, arms looped around his waist, padding down to the back room.

"Sydney." Carmen replied, grinning at your hum of satisfaction.

"Oh, everyone avert your fucking eyes, here they come." Richie announced loudly, turning to the table before him. "Cousin, that was fuckin' quick, eh?"

"Shut up." Carmen rolled his eyes, annoyed, pushing past Richie. He ignored the snickers from Tina, placing a hand on your back, pulling your chair out for you.

"Here, baby, you want a pop or somethin'?" Carmen asked you in a hushed tone, reaching to grab a glass from the spaces behind him.

"I'll just do water." You nodded towards the pitcher in the middle.

"Sure. You want lemon?" Carmen asked, pushing your hand away lightly when you went to pour your glass, a simple "I got it" that shouldn't have made you as flustered as it did. You blamed the make out session that got cut short.

Tina's eyes cut to Richie, watching the two of you whisper gently. Carmen looked relaxed, shoulders not tensed and eyes not darting. No, he was calm when he talked to you... maybe even sweet? The smiles he gave you certainly were.

Tina shrugged lightly at Richie, a smug, knowing smile on her face.

[emilys-bangs]

cherry lips l e.p

Tags: fluff, first kiss, getting together, r has a lip peeling problem (bc I do too), teeny tiny mention of blood (from the lip peeling), no use of yn

Summary: Tired of seeing you pick at your lips, Emily gives you some lip balm. That proves to be a mistake.

Word count: 1.5k

“Here.” Emily throws a stick of lip balm at you. 

It falls on your lap and you give her a confused frown. She barely holds back an eye roll; your fingers are currently pinching a rough patch of skin on your lip—the rest is already peeled off—and when you drop your hand to pick up the chapstick, she catches a smear of blood on your thumbnail.

It really is such a shame. 

You have the most beautiful lips; kissable and soft looking and she’s so often gripped with the urge to lean forward and press her own to yours, test out that softness for herself.

But you have a bad habit—you pick at them constantly, your nails catching on rough skin and peeling it off, leaving behind bright red marks that are sometimes painful to look at. It doesn’t make you any less beautiful to her—god, she wished it did—but sometimes she takes pity on those poor lips of yours. And when she was shopping for some mid-week groceries last night, she couldn’t help but toss the chapstick in her cart.

She won’t be thinking too hard about why she did that.

“Really?” You ask, turning the chapstick over between your fingers, biting your lips to hold back a smile.

Emily’s heart trips when you look up at her with a quirk of your brow; she’s usually good at reading you, but right now she can’t tell if you’re amused or exasperated.

“Since you obviously don’t own one,” she quips, sitting down on the edge of your desk. You roll your eyes and run your thumb over the plastic tube, your nail dragging over the white lettering on the side.

Cherry.

Emily definitely didn’t choose that because it’s her favorite, and she most definitely didn’t choose it because she wants to see how that shade of red would look on your lips.

“I do,” you scoff, unthinkingly bringing your other hand to your mouth. Emily grimaces as you start tearing at the skin, insistent on peeling it off.

“Hey, stop that,” she swats at your hand. You frown as your hand drops to your lap. “Put some Vaseline on or something,” she says, her brow creasing at the blood slowly blooming on your lip, “or some of that chapstick you definitely own.”

She looks at you expectantly and you huff. “Smartass.” You mutter as she turns and snatches a tissue from Reid’s desk.

Emily arches her brow as she extends it to you. “Thank you, Emily, for giving me something I so desperately needed. Oh, no problem, it was my pleasure, really—”

You laugh as you take the tissue from her and press it to your bottom lip, wiping away the little smidge of blood. 

“Thank you, Emily.” You say sincerely, looking up at her through your lashes. “I really, really appreciate you giving me this lip balm and I promise to use it till it runs out.” You vow, your voice silky smooth, fingers wrapped around the chapstick as you hold it to your heart.

Emily’s heart stumbles once more. Do you know the effect you have on her? Sometimes she thinks you do, with the way you flirt with her, but other times you drip with genuine innocence, your smiles nothing but friendly.

“Whatever,” she murmurs, her booted toe lightly hitting yours. You smile and uncap the lip balm, twisting it to reveal a stick of deep red, almost burgundy. 

She almost stops breathing when you turn to the tiny mirror on your desk and start applying it, your lips quickly tinting red, the uneven splotches of recently peeled skin disappearing. You trace it over your skin and smooth your lips together when you’re done, spreading the balm evenly before you turn back to her.

“Good?” You ask as you cap the chapstick and slip it into your pocket. Something in her grows warm at the thought of you carrying it with you. She wonders if it’ll find its way onto your nightstand tonight, if it’ll be hidden in the pocket of one of your blazers tomorrow.

Emily almost laughs at the question. Her eyes drop to your lips, just to check, as if she hadn’t been ogling them while you’ve been turned away. She can still see the edge of the rough skin you were picking at, but it’s mostly hidden beneath the red. She has to tear her eyes from your lips, still ever so perfect.

Kissable. 

“Good,” she agrees, inclining her head in a nod. “I sincerely hope you’ll keep using it.” Her voice turns sickly sweet as she smiles, dimples curving in her cheeks. Your eyes brighten at the shift in her tone.

Grinning, you rest your chin on your palm. “Aw, you wanna kiss me that bad, Prentiss?” You tease. 

She laughs breathily, the sound a little choked if you listen properly. You have no idea.

“Just don’t want those lips to scare anyone away, hon,” she taps your nose and slides off your desk, grinning when you flip her off.

She settles back into her own desk and looks across at you, her heart warming at the light blush on your cheeks, a similar pink to your lips.

“Screw you, Emily,” you grumble, but you’re not fooling anyone with your poorly hidden smile.

She winks at you. “You’ll thank me later.”

----

It’s possibly the worst mistake she’s ever made.

Ever since she handed you the lip balm, you’ve been diligently applying it. Your lips are no longer cracked or dry; they’re plump and healed, shining with a subtle pink sheen, veering into red from the lip balm.

It goes without saying that work has become infinitely harder. She can’t focus when she sees the imprint of your lips on your coffee mug, a red kiss on the rim after you tip your drink back. When you pull out the chapstick in front of her she goes blank, her eyes zeroing in on the smooth, impossibly softer looking skin of your lips.

It only takes a week before her mind inevitably slips and exposes her.

You’re smoothing your hair in the bathroom when she walks in, also intent on touching up her appearance before delivering the profile. Your gaze slides to her and you smile, those perfect lips of yours turning up at the sight of her.

“Hey,” you say as she approaches, but she’s not listening. You’re turning over the chapstick between your fingers, the sheen on your lips telling her it’s freshly applied.

Emily doesn’t return your greeting. Her gaze drops to your mouth as she steps in close, closer than she realizes. 

“Your lips look good,” she says quietly. 

Your brows lift and immediately she feels her stomach drop, a flush rising up her cheeks. “Better,” she amends, her words breathless with embarrassment, “they look better. Than before. Not chapped.”

She really should stop talking. Her mouth snaps shut as her cheeks start to flame. She should stop looking at you, she thinks as your gaze drags over her. Your eyes linger on the pink tint of her pale cheeks, her widened eyes, the flush crawling up her jaw. She swallows and your eyes track that, too, making her body heat.

Emily sees the exact moment something shifts in your expression, as if you’ve come to a decision. Absently, you rub your smooth lips together. Absently, her eyes fall to them.

“They look good, huh?” You tilt your head. You take a few steps and close the miniscule distance between you two. Her chest presses into yours; she breathes in sharply. 

“You know what, Em?” You murmur, your eyes locked on hers in a way that makes her feel dizzy. “They feel even better.”

Emily’s heart races as you slip the lip balm back into your pocket. When you lean in impossibly closer and place your hand on her cheek, she stops breathing entirely.

“We’ve been playing this game for a while,” you say, your thumb stroking the soft skin of her cheek. She leans her face into your hand, chasing your touch. You smile.

“But it’s not a game, is it, Em?”

God, when you say her name like that. When you say Em and not Emily, when you let the syllables roll around on your tongue, when you say it lazily, carefully, as if you have all the time in the world.

Her hand finds your waist. She smiles a little, through her racing heart. “No,” she agrees softly. “It’s not.”

Your skin is warm through your clothes. She hears the soft hitch in your breath, the way your skin caves beneath her touch.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Emily laughs, soft and a little breathless. “Please,” she twists her fingers into your shirt, feels the material slip against her skin.

When you finally kiss her, she tastes cherries.

*I didn’t expect to write this so quickly after the first one but inspiration struck and I ran with it haha. I hope you enjoyed <33 I’d possibly like to write more for em, so if you’ve got any requests, pop in my inbox and let me know!

[sh1-n0bu]

𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 17: public sex with sampo koski from hsr

warnings: exhibitionism, degrading, fingering, sampo being a slut as usual, finger sucking, gagging, slight feminization

notes: silly silly con-man getting fucked silly

it was sampo’s intention when he did everything.

annoying you, throwing paper balls at you, constantly going “psst! [name]!” only to blow you a kiss or wink at you when you do sigh and pay attention to him. just simply irking you in general. or getting on your nerves.

being a volunteering medic in natasha’s little clinic leaves your plate full of work to do, little to no sleep schedule except for the power naps you stela from time to time. even as the owner of the clinic worries over your health and the constant heavy eyebags under your eyes, all you do is wave off of her worry.

your work schedule is the reason why you’re always so slow and sluggish in your movements. words slurred, voice low and raspy as you literally fit the term ‘walking dead’. perhaps it was that nature of yours that caused sampo to be infatuated with you.

he’s always seen you around natasha’s clinic. helping out with her work, taking care of others, babysitting the younglings — you did everything and anything. the conman didn’t even bother to hide his eeny teeny crush on you. bringing you red roses, calling you cheesy nicknames, taking care of you, dragging you away to make you cuddle him because his boo boos hurt. it was just a mere sore ankles, sampo. get your act together.

but somehow, someway, you would end up in his arms before drifting off to much needed sleep. he has a silver tongue for a reason. but it was further into your little situationship that sampo started to get a little more daring with his little tease.

asking for your consent first, he would send you small little sneak peak photos that’s more similar to a nude pic. it started out relatively tame.

a small snap of him pulling up the front of his shirt that barely covers anything, showing his v-line perfectly. a little pic with a red rose held between his teeth. quick photo of him shirtless but it became progressively more daring with each pic.

picture of him straight out of the shower with a towel around his waist. a sneak peek of him wearing a bralette and his smug face. him in his boxers. it didn’t took long before he was sending you pictures of him in lingeries or him sucking on a dildo, saying wishing it was you instead.

it won’t take a genius to figure out that he wanted you. badly.

all it took for you to snap and give him what he wanted happened to be showing you a very thin lace tied around his waist. the sideless shirt of his did nothing to hide the string of what you would assume to be a lingerie piece as he pulls out the string, flashing it to you with a smug grin and a pink tinted cheeks.

that was all you needed to have all the energy you needed to fuck him in the empty alleyway next to the clinic. it was way past midnight and no one would be outside during such ungodly hours, making everything perfect.

“stupid slut. you wanted me that bad? did no one taught you how to use your words correctly?” you hiss into his ear angrily, pushing him flush against the wall as you shove two fingers inside his mouth. the thief gags at the feeling, choking on your fingers having not expected you to be so rough but that caused his pants to tighten more.

“now, at least for once be good and get my fingers all nice and wet, got it?” you demand, forefinger and middle finger pulling on his tongue. he could only nod dumbly, having been reduced to whines already. sucking on your fingers, swirling his tongue around them before flicking his wet muscle between your two fingers caused to briefly wonder how good he would be on his knees. that is for later.

once you deem your finger were wet enough, you pull them out. his saliva coating and dripping from your fingers to your palm. his own lips all swollen and green eyes looking hazy. you haven’t even fucked him properly yet.

turning him around with his chest to the wall, you slip a finger inside him, causing him to whine at the stretch. just one finger felt so good already. it made him drool as he wonders how your cock would feel inside him. it would definitely leave him sore and limping for days, rearranging his insides. pushing his leg up with your free hand hooked under his knee, spreading him open for you caused your finger to hit his spot.

“aunngh—! guuhck♡︎ [n-name]... there! r-right there!“ sampo moans out loudly, not even bothering to silence himself in the dark alleyway. he didn’t care about being caught, he just wanted you to fuck him stupid. whether that be with your fingers or your strap, he didn’t care. he just wanted to be fucked stupid by you.

slipping another finger inside his loose hole, you let out a grunt at how tight he was around you. it almost felt like you were fucking a cunt with how he was clamping on your two fingers, moaning and drooling like a cheap whore.

“dirty little thing… have you always fantasized about this? getting fingered in some random alley?” you ask, whispering into his ear as he moans deliriously. you may not have noticed but each time you scissored his hole open, your fingertips always grazed against that one spot. that one spongy spot inside his tight walls that make him squeal. head thrown back on your shoulder as he weakly bucks his hips.

“asnh! gyang… mmgh! anh anh anggh♡︎” whiny, high pitched noises of utter debauchery comes from the conman. weakly bucking his hips back into your fingers. he could only moan and drool in place against the wall as he takes whatever you give him without complaint.

this was all his intention when he first laid eyes on the pretty, lace purple panties. sampo knew you would like it on him.

[apomaro-mellow]

Hello! I love how you write and neeeed someone to steddie-fy this plssss

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZM6CptSbP/

ooooh delicious

also this gives me a chance to do a teeny bit of frat!steve that erryone's goin crazy for rite now

Eddie had come a long way from rolling his eyes at his frat brat of a roommate. He'd seen Steve on that first day with his backwards baseball cap and had been ready to write him off. But after only one semester, he'd become totally smitten. In a platonic way, of course.

Steve always texted ahead if his frat brothers would be in the dorm so that Eddie could decide if he wanted to be around that energy. Whatever mess they might've made, Steve always cleaned up. When Eddie was up late studying or working on a hobby, he could hear Steve creeping in like a mouse, respectful of his roommate's night owl tendencies.

Sometimes Eddie had friends over, and Steve was always offering drinks or snacks, playing the part of hospitable host.

And dare he say it? The man was funny. Charming even. To the point that when the semester ended and Steve asked if he wanted to be roommates again, Eddie accepted without a second thought.

Which brings him to the problem he had today.

Now, Eddie himself was pretty free with his emotions. He didn't hold things close to the chest, especially after getting to know someone. So he was no stranger to physical shows, even among his guy friends. He'd hold their hands, hug them close. Even tease them with the promise of a kiss ("Jeff, my man, I could kiss ya!").

But that last thing was a line he never crossed. Kisses were a little too much for surface affection, in his opinion. And as much as he liked Steve and his company, they were just friends. So why was Steve kissing him all the time.

Well, not all the time. Just when Eddie was asleep. Thanks to his late nights, Eddie would sometimes nap during the day. Usually in his own room, but sometimes on the couch. And sometimes when he was on the couch, not yet asleep but down for the count, he would hear Steve's familiar footsteps, and feel an unfamiliar set of lips brush against his forehead. Once Eddie realized what was happening, he first wondered how long Steve had been doing this. Then he wondered why he got butterflies in his stomach.

Honestly, he was surprised that Steve hadn't caught on that he had caught on. Eddie was fidgety by nature and even though he tried to rein it in, he was sure some of his twitchiness had to show whenever Steve gave him those little kisses.

Even so, Steve just went on with his every day routine. Acting like he wasn't giving Eddie a smooch like every other day. Actually, it was getting close to every day now. At least once a day, Eddie found the time to get on the couch in their living room and close his eyes and pretend to be asleep. Sure he could just tell Steve not to kiss him anymore, but he didn't wanna embarrass the guy. Plus, the butterflies.

Then, one day, while Eddie was having one of his pretend naps, he heard Steve come in with someone else.

"Is this the guy?", the friend whispered. It was a male voice so it was probably someone from his frat.

"Yeah", Steve said, just as quietly but with a dreamy tint to his voice.

"And you still haven't asked him out yet?"

"I want to. But he's-you know." Steve's voice was so much closer. Like he was crouching next to the couch.

"He's what?"

Then Eddie felt Steve playing with his hair. "He's so out of my league. He's the president of his club, has his own band, our Lit teacher loves him. Aaand he got here on a full academic scholarship."

"Then you gotta shoot your shot before someone else grabs him."

Steve sighed. "Let's just get the stuff and go."

They left and Eddie was filled with determination. Steve wanted to ask him out. Steve thought he was amazing. Steve thought that he was out of his league. The butterflies in his stomach were gone now and replaced with ants in his pants. Probably not the best analogy but it worked for now. Because in this moment, he actually had to go to sleep and be ready to wake up early.

---------------------

Even after a night of drinking, Steve stayed true to his routine and would set an alarm to get up for a quick morning jog. If he was truly hungover, he'd take it easy and shorten the run but all in all, he never missed it. And he never missed an alarm. But today, instead of waking up to the sound of his playlist on shuffle, he felt something soft and tender touch his forehead.

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty."

Steve's eyes popped open to see Eddie hover, haloed by the sun rising. "Wha?"

"I wanted to return the favor, but unfortunately you get up at the ass-crack of dawn."

"Return the...?"

"By my count, I've got a huge backlog of kisses to make up for", Eddie grinned, then leaned in to give him another, this time on the cheek.

Steve's cheeks pinkened and he had the nerve to look bashful and Eddie just had to kiss the other cheek.

"How long have you known?", Steve asked, pulling the cover over his face.

"About a month. How long have you been doing it?", Eddie asked.

Steve let out a groan and Eddie didn't know if that meant he'd been doing it for longer or if Eddie found out right away. Whatever the case, it was all out in the open now.

"You gonna show me your cute face so I can keep kissing it?"

Steve slowly peeked over the blanket, only showing his eyes. "....Only if you kiss all of it."

Eddie spent the better part of the morning, kissing every inch of Steve's face, teasing him for as long as he could before finally planting one on his lips.

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

Slacker // Tara Carpenter

request: none!

prompts: none!

summary: you’ve been in love with tara for as long as you can remember, but you’ve always been too scared to make a move. when she starts dating chad, you feel like you’ve lost your chance to be with here.

warnings: language, angst, hurt no comfort, reader having a low self esteem in a few parts, crying, slight ooc tara at the end (she's a teeny bit mean)

word count: 3.2k

a/n: gn!reader

join my taglist! album masterlist!

I open the door to you, and never close it

You make me feel brand new

And now you're in my room, I hope you know that

There's nothin' I wouldn't do

“So… what’s going on with you? Something seems different. You like someone, don’t you?” you asked Tara, a teasing lilt in your voice. 

Tara had seemed different in the past few weeks. She was happier. Brighter. Which of course you were happy about, it’s not like you wanted your best friend to be miserable, but you hated thinking about someone else making her feel like this. You had been in love with her for so long, and the thought of seeing her in another relationship made your heart ache. But you knew that she wouldn’t stay single forever, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

“Maybe…” she replied, a shy smile growing on her face as her cheeks tinted pink.

You felt your heart shatter at just that one word, but you couldn’t let it show. You had to force a smile and pretend to be interested. Because that’s what best friends do. Tara didn’t know anything about your feelings for her, and you wanted to keep it that way. You didn’t even want to think about what would happen if she learned about your feelings for her, and didn’t ever want to find out. 

“Ooo, spill!” you smiled, rolling over on your bed to face Tara.

She shook her head and smiled, burying her face in her hands. 

“I dunno. I don’t think I should.”

You huffed in exasperation and rolled your eyes, the smile never disappearing from your face. “Seriously?! That was one time, and I was drunk! You know I would never intentionally tell your crush that you liked them. And besides, it ended up working out with Amber, didn’t it?”

“I guess… but if you tell him, I’m never telling you anything ever again!”

You smiled victoriuosly. “So, it’s a him?”

Tara groaned, throwing a pillow at you. “You’re insufferable!”

“Maybe. But you still love me.”

Tara smiled. “Unfortunately.”

You smiled, sitting up and throwing the pillow back at her. “So… who is it?”

Tara blushed harder and buried her face in her hands once more. “...Chad.”

I could’ve had her

But I guess I'm just a slacker

And maybe it wouldn't even matter

Of course she liked Chad. Of fucking course. He was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Not to mention Tara had known him for years before she ever met you. They had grown up together, and they had been through so much together. Of course she would fall for him. He was everything you weren’t. Attractive, confident, popular. He was perfect. Even if you tried, you couldn’t point out anything wrong with him. Which just made you even more upset. 

“Y/n…? Is everything alright?” Tara asked, nudging you.

You shook your head slightly as you tuned back into reality. “Hmm? Oh yeah, everything’s fine. Guess I just zoned out. So… Chad, huh?”

Tara nodded, a wide, lovesick smile on her face as she rambled on and on about him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pay attention. Her words would only make you feel worse, and you were dealing with enough negative thoughts as it was. Instead you just focused on her. How beautiful she looked. That shine in her eyes as she talked about him. You wished she would talk about you like that. You wanted her to love you, not Chad. But some part of you just always knew that it would never happen. Tara never saw you as anything more than a friend, and nothing could ever change that. 

“Do you think he likes me? I mean I think he was flirting with me yesterday, but it’s Chad so…” Tara trailed off, looking at you hopefully.

“Well he does flirt with everyone. He’s just kinda like that,” you replied, immediately wanting to kick yourself when you saw the slightly deflated expression on Tara’s face.

Were you really that pathetic that you would turn your best friend away from someone she liked, and someone who you were pretty sure liked her too? You couldn’t do that to her. Sure, you might’ve been in love with her. But above all, you just wanted her to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with you. 

If it always ends in disaster

So I'm just a slacker

I'm just a slacker

“But, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s not like that with everyone. I think there could be something there. You should go for it,” you said, a sad smile on your face despite your best efforts to appear happy.

“Are you sure? What if he rejects me?”

You gave her an incredulous look. “Are you kidding me? No one in their right mind would ever reject you! I mean, you’re fucking perfect. You’re stunning, kind, caring, funny, thoughtful. You’re practically everyone’s dream girl.” You cut yourself off, realizing how you were talking about her and how close you were to accidentally revealing your feelings. “And besides, even if he did reject you, and that’s a big if, it’s Chad. He’s not gonna be a dick about it. He’d probably just pretend that nothing happened and would go right back to treating you like normal. You have nothing to lose.”

“You really think people see me like that?” Tara asked, a little bit skeptical of your kind words.

You smiled to yourself, knowing that everything you had said was exactly how you felt about her. “I know they do.”

Stars are in your eyes and mine won't focus

To me it's no surprise

And now I fantasize, of you and hope that

You won't realize

Well, she did it. Tara asked Chad out. And it had gone exactly like you had said it would. He liked her back and both of them were happier than you could ever remember seeing them. All because you did the right thing and pushed them together instead of being a selfish prick. So why did it still hurt so much? You should be happy for them, right?

But despite it all, you just couldn’t bring yourself to be. Just seeing the two of them together, seeing how happy Tara was with Chad, it made your stomach turn. She should be with you. You should be the one making her smile, the one holding her hand and kissing her goodnight. Chad didn’t deserve her. You did. You could treat her so much better than he ever could, but you knew that you would never get the chance to prove it. 

“What’s got you all grumpy?” Mindy asked, sitting down beside you on the couch and following your gaze to see what you were looking at. “Ohhh. You like Chad, don’t you?”

You shook your head, drawing your knees up to your chest as you let out a sigh. “That’s not it.”

Mindy gasped, her eyes widened as she turned to face you. “You like Tara. That’s what’s got you all upset. But I thought Chad said you were the one who convinced Tara to ask him out?”

You nodded, turning your head to look at her. “I did. She just looked so happy when she was talking about him, and I could tell he liked her too. I just- I didn’t want my unrequited feelings to get in the way of her being happy.”

“So you willingly decided to make yourself miserable just so she could be happy? Wow, you must really be smitten.”

“Yeah, I am. I think… I think I love her.”

“You know… it’s never too late,” Mindy said, nudging you with her elbow.

You sighed, turning your gaze back to Chad and Tara who were currently laughing uncontrollably over something he had said. “I think this time it might be.”

I could’ve had her

But I guess I'm just a slacker

And maybe it wouldn't even matter

“You really like him, don’t you?” you asked Tara, resting your head against your shoulder as the two of you sat in her bed.

“He’s… amazing. I don’t think I ever knew what it felt like to be in love before him. It’s like… it’s like he sees me for me. He’s not my missing piece, he makes who I already am better. He makes me want to be better. It’s like every day is a dream and it just keeps getting better.”

You raised an eyebrow and nudged her in the side. “Love?”

Tara’s eyes widened and her cheeks darkened as she realized what she said. “Oh, I uhm- I didn’t mean to say that. It just kinda slipped out, I guess.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you love him?”

Tara didn’t say anything for a while, and you were almost convinced she had fallen asleep, before she finally spoke up again. Her words piercing you like a knife entering your heart. 

“Yeah. I do. I love him. I know it’s only been a month, but I mean, I’ve known him forever. And when it’s right, you just know. And it’s all thanks to you.”

“It is…?”

“Yeah! I mean if it wasn’t for you, I never would’ve told Chad how I felt about him. You convinced me to go for it, and I’ve literally never been happier. I wouldn’t be with him if it wasn’t for you.”

You smiled and tried your hardest to stop your tears from falling. A month ago, you were convinced that you had done the right thing, that you should put Tara first, no matter how you felt about her. But now… now you wanted more than anything to go back to that night and convince her that Chad didn’t feel the same. Selfish as it may be, it would’ve been worth it to save you from the pain you were in right now. 

But you couldn’t go back. It was too late to change things. She was with Chad now. And there was nothing you could do about it. 

If it always ends in disaster

So I'm just a slacker

I'm just a slacker

“It’s never gonna stop hurting unless you tell her. I know that’s not what you wanna hear right now, but you need to tell her how you feel. Or you’re going to be stuck spending forever wondering if she ever felt the same. You’re never gonna be able to move on until you know,” Mindy said, frowning as she took in your disheveled state.

It had just been Chad and Tara’s three month anniversary, and they were still as happy as ever. You could barely hold back the tears that wanted to pour from your eyes as you watched them together. It was just too much. Seeing them together was too painful. And you didn’t know how much longer you would be able to take it. 

You had stormed off to your room, mumbling something about a headache, leaving everyone else in yours and Tara’s living room. Mindy had followed you, mumbling some other shitty excuse before rushing to go comfort you. But right now, her words weren’t making things any better. 

“You don’t understand, I can’t! I know she doesn’t feel the same. Okay? I know. Telling her how I feel is only going to make things worse. I don’t want her to be uncomfortable around me. I don’t want to lose how close we are. If there’s even the slightest chance that telling her I love her could push her away completely, I would rather take my feelings to the grave than risk having to spend my life without her.”

“But you’re miserable! You can only hide your feelings for so long, and it’s only gonna be worse the longer you wait,” Mindy said, sighing as you sniffled and wiped your nose with the back of your sleeve. “Look, I’m not gonna force you into doing anything. But I know what unrequited love feels like. It sucks. And the longer you hold it in, the worse the pain is going to get.”

You didn’t say anything, laying down in your bed and pulling the blankets around you tighter. Mindy sat there for a few minutes, waiting for you to say something, but there was nothing left for you to say. You had done this to yourself, and now you had to deal with it.

“I’m gonna go back out there with everyone else. If you need anything, just text me, okay? I’m here for you.”

And oh, I know I've been holding this in for so long

Thinking of you every time I write a song

And I could’ve had her

“Is y/n okay?” Tara asked as soon as she saw Mindy.

“Huh? Oh yeah, they probably just ate something bad,” Mindy said, waving it off.

“I thought y/n said they had a headache?” Tara asked, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

Mindy’s eyes widened, mentally cursing herself for her slip up. “Uhh, yeah, that’s what I said.”

“You’re not making any sense. I’m gonna go check on them,” Tara said, getting up and starting to walk down the hallway.

“Don’t!” Mindy shouted, grabbing Tara’s arm to try and stop her.

“Why? What’s going on?”

“I- I can’t say,” Mindy sighed, reluctantly letting go of Tara, knowing that she had fucked up and that there wasn’t anyway to cover it up without seeming more suspicious. 

“I’m just gonna go make sure they’re okay,” Tara said, before turning to Chad and pressing a chaste kiss against his lips. “Be back soon.”

Tara started walking towards your bedroom, concern filling her from how mysterious Mindy had been. Something was definitely wrong, that’s for sure. But why was Mindy being so weird about it? What didn’t she want Tara to know? It was all so strange, but as Tara grew closer to her room, her concern multiplied tenfold from the muffled crying she heard coming from the other side of the door. 

But I wasn’t smart enough

And I’ll never ask her

If she’s still calling my bluff

Tara knocked on the door gently before pushing it open, peeking her head in to see you curled up in a ball on your bed, sobbing beneath the mound of blankets you buried yourself under. 

“Y/n…?” she asked, walking in and shutting the door behind her. 

Even underneath all of the blankets, Tara could still see your form tense at the sound of her voice, making her face fall. Was all of this because of her? Were you upset with her? Had she done something? She couldn’t think of anything that she could’ve possibly done to upset you like this, but that didn’t make your feelings any less real. 

Slowly you sat up, letting the blankets fall from your face. Your eyes were red and puffy. You looked utterly miserable. Tara frowned as she moved closer, sitting down beside you. You subtly shifted a bit away from her, which only made Tara’s frown deepen. 

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, sniffling as you hurriedly wiped your tears away. “I can’t tell you.”

“Y/n… it’s me. We tell each other everything. You can trust me.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just- I can’t tell you…”

“Did I do something to upset you?”

You shook your head. 

“Is this about me and Chad?”

Without even having to say anything, Tara could tell by the subtle shift on your face that it was. You were upset about her and Chad. Why would you be upset about her and Chad? Oh. OH.

“Do you… like Chad? Is that why you’re upset?”

You shook your head, feeling more tears slip down your cheeks. “He’s not the one I like.”

“What do you mean? I don’t- Wait… do you like me? Is that what this is about?”

You nodded, your face heating up in embarrassment. You never wanted her to find out, let alone like this, but you couldn’t lie to her. She would see through you instantly. So you figured that it was better to just get it out, rip off the bandaid and deal with the heartache that you knew was coming. Hopefully she wouldn’t be too harsh about it. 

I could’ve had her

But I guess I'm just a slacker

And maybe it wouldn't even matter

“Oh. Well uh- talk about shitty timing,” Tara said, a sad laugh falling from her lips. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, expecting a lot of different reactions, but not that one. 

“I like you too. Or at least I did. Before Chad. A few months ago, when I told you I liked him, I definitely played up just how much I liked him. I guess I was trying to figure out if you liked me too.”

Your eyes widened at her words, your vision going black as you felt your head spin. No. No, this couldn’t be happening. You must’ve heard her wrong. She probably just rejected you, and your brain just twisted her words to help cope with the hurt, and it just somehow made it worse. 

“What…?”

“I liked you. I really really did. But I could never figure out if you felt the same. So I told you I liked Chad, which I did, but barely. And then you pushed me to go for it. I just assumed that you didn’t feel the same. Because if you did, then why would you push so hard for me to be with someone else?”

“Because I wanted you to be happy! Seeing you get with Chad crushed me. Tara, I’ve been in love with you for years. I just gave up on anything happening because you never paid attention to me like that. I didn’t want to sabotage a chance for you to be happy just because I knew it was going to hurt me.”

“You were really willing to suffer just so I could be happy?”

You scoffed and gestured to yourself. “I’m pretty sure that’s what’s happening right now. I had the chance to be with you and I blew it. This is just great.”

“I’m sorry. I forced myself to get over you, and now I’m with Chad and… things just feel so right. I never meant to hurt you, y/n. Trust me, I had no idea what this would do to you. And if I had known all this back then, things might’ve been different. But now…”

“Now you’re with Chad. And there’s absolutely zero chance that you’ll leave him for me. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry, y/n. I love him. And I just don’t feel like that about you anymore. But you’re still my best friend, and nothing is going to change that. I didn’t want things to happen like things, and I’m so sorry it ended up like this. But it’s too late. I’m with Chad now, and that’s not going to change anytime soon.”

You opened your mouth to respond when there was another knock on your door as Chad pushed the door open and poked his head in. 

“Is everything alright in here?” he asked, his eyes locked on Tara’s even though you were the one who needed checking up on.

Tara nodded and stood up, walking over to him. “Just perfect.”

If it always ends in disaster

So I'm just a slacker

I'm just a slacker

tags: @Hocksetters @hyeyulove @shad-ade

if your name is crossed off, it means i can't tag you!

[heedmywarnings]

Once was never enough

(Part two of One Last Time)

Chapter 1 - 《 》 -Chapter 3

Navigation

♡~♡~♡

You awoke from your dream in cold sweat, your face visibly shows fear, the same expression you had when Ei decapitated you.

"What the fuck was that dream?"

Maybe it's one of those "you were too damn addicted to this so it entered your dreams" type shit, but you weren't exactly sure. The moment you stepped in your bathroom, the first thing you noticed is what appears to be a healed scar on your neck, not just a teeny tint scar a massive one. One that looks like you've been decapitated...

"Holy fuck"

Using concealer from your older sister, you managed to cover up the healed bruises on your big, weird how it's all in the same place where you get hurt in your dream? The stab wound on your thigh, the wound from Venti's arrow through your forearm and the small scratches from trying to run away.

Part One! Part Three! Part Four! Part Five!

Too much of a coincidence... unless you were previously then dreamed of the genshin cast, but that can't be possible. You had internal wounds as well, there would be no chance you survived, more so on the fact you had been decapitated.

Well, no matter you suppose. Just a weird ass dream with weird ass side effects, wrong. As soon as you arrived to your school, you were bored af--so what's the first thing that comes to your mind? Play genshin.

And oh boy, are they excited to see you.

The active character was Zhongli, like the last time you've played but now there was a red aura surrounding the corners of your screen, weird.

You toggled the map, parts of Teyvat were gone, there wasn't an outline around the parts of the map you'd usually see when you haven't unlocked the Statue of 7, they were just... gone. As if ot never existed. You toggled the nation key on the bottom right of your screen, there was only one nation, Mondstadt, your death place.

Feeling very creeped out by this, you log off and just red some fanfics from other fandoms. Once school was over, you go to your house, lay in bed and let yourself drift away to slumber. You've forgotten the very thing that kept you awake...

"THE IMPOSTOR HAS RETURNED!"

[inferencesarchives]

`•- Catching Feelings

matthias czernin x reader

prompt: pining / mutual pining

warnings: physical touch

a/n: i am the ceo of matthias czernin. he is everything ever to me. i spent everything i had (118 pulls so far) and he still hasn't come home. i actually cried a teeny tiny bit over not getting him. i have an extreme emotional attachment to this man. i love him sm!!! also this is day 3 of the valentines event yippee

when it comes to romance, matthias doesn't know a thing.

he's used to being forgotten in favor of louis all his life, and he expected to continue being ignored once he got to the manor. so, when you welcomed him in with a warm smile, he was most certainly caught off guard.

what shocked matthias even more, though, was the way you always seemed to offer him advice and a helping hand in matches. you even considered him as a friend, despite you two only meeting recently.

over the months, the two of you grew much closer to one another. although he's quiet, has a hard time talking, and stumbles over his words a lot, you're always very patient with him, and he always appreciated your kindness. it was only natural that this appreciation would soon turn into adoration.

matthias doesn't really notice it at first. as mentioned before, he's not really used to having people hang around with him, so he doesn't realize whatsoever how his heartbeat speeds up and a feeling of fondness overtakes him whenever he's around you.

when he does notice it, though, oh boy. he's certainly thrown for a loop. what first made him realize his feelings was a simple and mundane action from you that made him feel a lot more flustered than he should've. it wasn't anything special, you just happened to pull him into a warm, gentle hug and tell him that he did well after a match, but matthias practically froze as butterflies fluttered in his stomach and a soft red tinted his cheeks, rendering him speechless as he tried to regain his composure without alerting or concerning you.

later that day, once the both of you returned to the manor, matthias practically made a beeline to his bedroom, locking himself in and sitting down on his bed. he lost himself in his thoughts as he replayed your kind actions in his mind. he thought about the way he felt in that moment. up until now, matthias had just thought it was normal that he felt a bit warmer whenever he was around you rather than others, but now, he wasn't so sure. he had never felt such an intense surge of emotion before, and the fact that such a simple yet kind action from you made him feel so fuzzy and warm inside really made him question himself. matthias buried his face into his hands as he slowly, almost begrudgingly realized that he wanted to be much more than a friend to you.

the next time you two are hanging around with each other, he's a lot more reserved around than before. don't get me wrong, he still likes having conversations with you and being around you, of course. he just doesn't talk as much as he did before (which already wasn't a lot) because he's afraid of letting his emotions take ahold of him and accidentally saying something stupid. you're the only person who's ever really been kind and stuck around him, and he doesn't want to risk ruining it all.

what matthias doesn't realize is how obvious he is. whenever he's around you, as much as he doesn't want to show it, he always gets awkward and a bit red in the face. whenever he thinks you're not looking, he sneaks a few glances at you, a look of pure adoration in his eyes. he's always been a bit fidgety, but he's especially so when he's around you. he thinks he's doing a good job at hiding it, but you catch on pretty quickly.

he's afraid to confess. as mentioned earlier, he doesn't want to risk ruining your friendship because of his feelings. he's afraid of having to let you go. as much as he dreams of being in a relationship with you, he just doesn't think you'd ever feel the same way about him. you'd have to knock some sense into him. sit down and talk things out with him, start with telling about how much you've enjoyed spending time with him ever since you two met, and if he still doesn't get the message, just flat-out confess to him.

when you do, his face immediately becomes redder than a tomato. matthias stutters and looks at you wide-eyed, and you can't help but quietly laugh at how adorable he looks in the moment. if you want to fluster him even more, gently hold his hand and pull him into a soft kiss. he'll freeze up for a moment as he tries to process your affection, but pretty soon he just melts and gently kisses you back.

congratulations, you now have matthias czernin practically wrapped around your finger.

a/n: i love matthias czernin he is everything ever to me and i would do anything for him <33

thanks for reading, and remember to take care of yourself!

[ferrstappen]

the first time we broke up l Lando Norris

a/n: im sad so I wrote something sad? imsorry lol. feedback is always appreciated, and if you like this please let me know bc this is a story I have a pt 2 in mind <3 also, we are soon to reach 1k? on my side blog? OMG <3

pairing: Lando Norris x female reader

warnings: a teeny tiny mention of sex if you squint real hard, swear words.

words: 2.7k

genre: fluff, angst, everything tbh.

summary: it was easy to remember how you and Lando fell in love, but it kept getting harder for you to remember why you love him.

You didn’t fall for Lando Norris right after you saw him for the first time. 

He was a bit shy, easily flushed, but the glint in his grey eyes never failed to appear whenever he saw you. 

You didn’t meet him with the thousands of people following him, girls trying to get his attention, a garage with his name written in big letters. 

No, his racing career was a bit under wraps in your neighborhood. Yes, everyone knew the youngest Norris boy was into racing and had a promising future, but he still was the boy they’d seen grow up, nothing out of the ordinary. 

You joined Millfield right after he dropped out to focus on his career, but somehow your circles combined and were eventually introduced to each other just as teenagers. 

Lando didn’t exactly chase you, neither did he say anything to you; he was content with the way your gentle eyes met him, eyebrows raised while listening to one of his stories racing. Lando was sure he was sleek, covering his feelings.

Well, it’s not like he exactly knew about feelings. He was a teenager, getting accustomed to the weird twist in his stomach whenever he was told you were coming to a reunion, the inevitable way the corners of his mouth shifted when he noticed you, the glimmer in his eyes when you noticed him. 

You were oblivious as well. Maybe the feelings weren’t as clear as those of the curly haired boy with a passion for racing, but he made you happy as a friend. His presence gave you a tranquil sensation, you could listen to his stories, the drama between his mates on racing, the country he visited last week… you never realized when you began needing those stories, those eyes, those curls, to make your day, your week, your month. 

You remember vividly when he got to the coffee shop where you always met, this time just the two of you, completely unaware your mutual friends denied your invitations in order for either you or Lando to make the first move. 

Only one person in the group bet on Lando, everyone´s money was on you to make the move… if only you recognized the feelings. 

There was an unknown pep on his step when he saw you already sitting on the corner booth, and his smile only grew bigger when you told him you’d already ordered for him. 

His usual. 

You knew what Lando liked. You paid attention to him. 

That realization, that you knew him, you observed him enough to know how he liked his tea, how he always ordered a fresh orange juice because he needed something 

cold. It stirred something in him, Lando couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something shifted; the twisting was more intense, his heart beating faster, his hands getting clammy, his throat blocked because his brain was ordering to let his feelings out in the open. 

But he didn’t do anything until you left the small café, and that’s where you got the answer for his happy and almost childish demeanor.

A black mini, with tinted windows and everything. 

He asked if you liked it, coyly resting his body on the passenger door, keys carelessly dangling on his index finger. You laughed, loudly, asking how was he going to drive if he didn’t even know the street signs.

He shrugged you off, reminding you he’s an almost professional racer. 

Still, you pretended to be terrified when he switched the ignition and the engine roared, driving you home. 

This time, as you watched him drive you through the gloomy English skies, the same twist in the stomach, the closing of your throat, hands itching to touch him.

And you did. 

Lando didn’t try to hide his enormous grin when your hand was placed on his knee, then finding a more stable place over his hand on the stick console. 

He stopped the car in front of your house, the iron gate half covering the large family home, green filled your surroundings. All these details never left you; the humid window, water droplets running through the iron gate, the grass was greener after the rain last night, his shaky hands running through his curls every five seconds, his eyes finding your own as your name left his lips, even if he didn’t exactly know what to say.

Time stopped when you kissed for the first time. 

It was cliché, but it was true. 

The first kiss with someone you liked; the start of something new and exciting, the beginning of your first love. 

And it continued just like that. 

Movie dates, Lando masking his fear when meeting your father when he was just arriving from work, his mum telling you to wait for him upstairs because he was running late. 

Falling in love with Lando was easy, too easy maybe. Lando Norris was easy to love, with his boyish grin, the mischievous glint in his eyes when he made you laugh, the tears escaping his beautiful eyes when something was too funny, the way he clutched his stomach because laughing physically hurt him.

He always went all in, never trying to pretend something he wasn’t, never masking his feelings. 

Lando shared the same feelings, but maybe he fell in love with you before he was aware of it. Perhaps it happened after you dedicated him a bright smile, the way your facial expressions changed when he told you a story, feeling lucky during a weekend trip to Brighton where you let him be the first one to really love you, to truly be vulnerable with. 

Those weekends watching movies and playing Call of Duty, falling asleep with your hand on his hair, waking up every once in a while with your leg over his middle, surprising you on a school day to pick you up on his black mini whenever a race calendar was changed. 

Then, he was offered his first seat in Formula One for McLaren. 

You jumped into his arms, screaming with joy as his parents joined you in the living room, his tear stained cheeks knowing it was official. 

You don’t know how it happened, you’d been together for two years already when he was announced as the new driver, and maybe you were too young and naïve to think the only thing that would change was the distance after he moved near the McLaren headquarters, his calendar messier and tighter. 

You didn’t bother him to ask what you should wear to the first appearance on the paddock. Maybe jeans and a blouse would be okay for Friday, a long floral dress on Saturday to match the warm aussie weather, but Sunday…

When you voiced the concerns to your girlfriends they immediately got to work, marking a date on the calendar to go shopping. Your mum did the same, even offering to take you and the girls to London for the weekend. Money wasn’t an issue, you just wanted to look worthy of being there, the girlfriend of a Formula 1 driver. 

You stayed up all night studying other girlfriends. You checked Isabel Hernáez who always looked angelical and casual, freely using the merch of her boyfriend’s team. Giada Gianni gave you more inspiration with one colored suits, ankle length dresses, white jeans. Cate mas more into black leather, ripped denim shorts and high heels. Maybe you’d take inspiration from a pregnant Kelly Piquet, with cute dresses with denim jackets and jumpsuits.

Getting to know people on the team was easy, everyone was friendly and took time getting to know your name, shaking hands, introducing you to other members, but you didn’t really see Lando. 

Of course you didn’t, he was busy preparing for the race. 

But you didn’t see him afterwards; he didn’t look for you after the press point. At least his parents were there as well and they didn’t know about his whereabouts. 

He arrived to shared hotel room, throwing his body on the bed. You could see him still trying to process his first weekend on F1, not being on the sidelines but a protagonist, a star. 

But you were already wearing your pajamas. 

He never saw your outfit. 

The season went by and you don’t really know the moment where you sighed after not getting a text, a facetime call, an emoji. 

It was blank. 

College was kicking your ass, all of your friends were dealing with the same, and you wanted to lean in your boyfriend, to tell him you were tired, stressed and sad because you missed him, but never really got the chance because most of the time it was his assistant who picked up the phone and said she was going to remind Lando to call you. 

You weren’t oblivious enough to ignore the lacing pity on the woman’s voice, because she did rely the message every time, but Lando forgot every time. 

Or maybe he didn’t care.

The first time it ended, you expected it. It hadn’t been one of those situations where the boy notices his girl is drifting away and by all means necessary tries to win her back or remind her why he was the right guy for her. 

He didn’t even notice your absence in the last races of the calendar. Why would he? He didn’t pay attention to you even when you were there cheering for him, so why would you bother to fly across different continents if you’d only see him on a fancy hotel room where he fell asleep and be gone the next morning. 

Your friends started looking the relationship with other eyes, mixed feelings, not being able to ignore the mood swings whenever your phone vibrated and it wasn’t him. 

They also knew you saw the different fan accounts with his name, posting pictures of different women leaning in his ear and a grin decorating his features. 

It was the same grin, the same twinkle. Maybe he was more confident now and didn’t want to settle, because in your eyes, if he stayed with you he was settling for the easy, the known, the familiar. But maybe he could do better than that, perhaps he deserved the new, the exciting, the adventure. 

You don’t know when you took the decision, maybe when he called to tell you he was home and to come over to plan the Christmas presents.

And it gave you hope; of course he was going to be overwhelmed during his first season, it was a new life doing what he loved, and people seemed to really like him as well. 

He greeted you with a smile and quick peck, lacing his fingers with yours and walking upstairs of his family home. You greeted his family on the way, his younger sister announcing she needed your help with a school project, but Lando told her it was his time with you.

And your smile grew bigger, hand tightening around his.

Nothing prepared you for what was to come, though.

He said it so nonchalantly, like it was nothing, just a small relocation. 

Lando kept walking about thisnew apartment McLaren was paying for him; he could even have a yacht almost parked in front of his new apartment.

It was the dream for any twenty-year-old.

But you knew you didn’t have a part in that, because it didn’t take an expert to know how it was going to end. 

This wasn’t the case where everything would be fine because both people were just so sure in the relationship, not because they loved each other, but because they trusted and complemented each other. 

And that wasn’t the case for you and Lando anymore. So when you told him the words I think we should take some time, he didn’t take it too well.

Lando was blindsided, he felt betrayed and hurt and angry just by the fact you thought of needing some time away from him. He wasn’t aware of everything you’d done to try to fit into his lifestyle; the cameras, luxury, lack of stability. 

He didn’t slow his voice or quiet his tone. No. He got up from his spot on the bed and asked how you could do such thing to him, why if he’s been nothing but a loving boyfriend, and he couldn’t believe how selfish you were being, leaving him because things got harder than expected.

It wasn’t easy to smile through the tears flooding your eyes, even if it was a painful smile, but it was liberating to let him know everything you’d done for him; moving, studying in planes and uncomfortable airports, humiliating yourself with his assistant because he simple didn’t care, the sympathetic DMs announcing he was seen with a girl last night, they didn’t do anything but seemed really close. You got one of those messages every other week when you didn’t join him. 

He scoffed, tried to ridicule you, trying to express his feelings the best way an immature twenty year old could do.

“I don’t want to take some time, I don’t care about that. If you want to break up then that’s what we do. That way I don’t have to wory about giving explanations of whatever I choose to do,” His eyes didn’t meet yours, but it wasn’t because he was sad or anything, it was because he was angry with the situation, with you, and with him, even if he didn’t realize that part yet. “When did you become so selfish, you couldn’t wait a couple of weeks or even days after I got home? You are aware of that, right? I’m home with my family for the first time in fucking forever, and you decide to break up, fuck you.” 

You knew you wouldn’t be able to hold it inside much longer; vision blurry from the tears, lungs trying their best to keep breathing with the thick knot on your throat. 

And that’s when you knew it was over, because you didn’t want to fight. You didn’t want to make your point to him, knowing he wouldn’t understand. 

That was the first time you and Lando broke up.

[courtingchaos]

House Party

Steve Harrington x Fem Reader

Summary: See, you and Steve go to this really lame party, right? And you both wanna ditch it, right? And he’s got that really nice car, right?

A/N: Hey Tumblr, have my first foray into writing Steve. I intend to write him more, this was me getting me feet wet. Among other things….

Warnings: Sex, voyeurism, language, a little tiny teeny bit of dacryphilia.

NSFW 18+ No Minors Allowed

This party is lame, and you both know it. Steve had taken you only because you’d asked to go but as soon as you two had stepped over the threshold it was apparent this was a bunch of try-hards.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” It’s spoken against your ear, a hush of hot breath that’s tinted with cheap beer. You barely have to turn your head to catch his eye. His stare is heavy, loaded with his unasked question.

“It does kinda suck.” You hush back at him, your half empty cup bouncing against your fingers. “Sorry, I wouldn’t have asked if I’d known.”

“Hey, it’s not a big deal.” He brings a hand up to run a long finger down the line of your nose lightly. “I just figure, I don’t know…” He gives you an exaggerated shrug.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“No, but it could if we got out of here.” He wiggles his eyebrows and you slap his chest.

“Steve.”

“What?! You don’t want to be here either and I have like, two other ideas that are so much better than…whatever the hell this sad gathering is.” He casts a look around at everyone before his eyes land back on you. He’s letting his annoyance out, not schooling his face in the least bit and you can’t help but grin at him and his effortless disgust. Instead of saying anything you just grab his cup and set both drinks down before silently gesturing to the front door.

“Oh seriously?” He changes his tune quick when he realizes you’re indulging him. Really you’re indulging both of you, but you can let him think he won you over.

Steve makes a quick exit, doesn’t even bother pretending to say goodbye or giving you a moment to say anything. He drags you out of the house while you laugh at his eagerness. Weaving through the parked cars to get to his beemer you get a great view of his ass, poured into his stonewashed Levi’s and can’t help but catch up enough to sneak your hand into his back pocket and pinch him.

“Hey!” He shoots over his shoulder but doesn’t bat your hand away. You do it again and he laughs. “Just wait.” A simple warning that you won’t heed. What’s the worst he’s gonna do, eat you out in the back of his car at the lake?

Okay, and?

You laugh to yourself and Steve pulls you a little harder when he spots his car.

“I’m serious.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He stops at the back passenger door to open it for you, but he’s not smiling his normal. Where that goofy sunshine typically is he’s showing teeth under a smirk. That gives you pause but just long enough for him to gesture into his car for you to get in.

“You’re letting all the bugs in, honey.”

You barely get your legs in before he’s shutting the door and walking around to the driver side, sliding in quick. He looks at you in the rear view. “Can you roll that down?” He points at the window on your left.

“Oh, to let the bugs in?” You joke at him. He doesn’t laugh but he does smile at you, more smirk when you roll it halfway down anyways.

“Maybe.”

“What are you up to?” You ask him, leaning forward to wind your finger in the hair brushing his collar.

“Why don’t you get comfortable.” He won’t acknowledge your question, just keeps glancing in the mirror to watch you staring at the side of his head.

“You gonna take me out to the lake?” He starts his car and lets it run for minute while you toy around with his hair, running your finger over the shell of his ear. “Oh, maybe the quarry? That’d be a nice change of pace.” You’re poking a little, trying to get a rise out of him so maybe he’ll tell you his plan. Instead he just props his elbow up on the center console and lays his palm back.

“Give ‘em to me.” He’s pulled off and started driving slowly.

“Give you what?” You lean back to give him a confused look.

He makes a grabby hand at you. “Panties.”

“What.”

“You heard me. Hand them over.” He won’t look at you, diligent driver keeping his eyes on the dead roads of this sprawling neighborhood.

“Are you gonna be a creep and sniff ‘em or something?” Even though your sarcasm bleeds through your words you’re still bunching up your dress to hook your fingers into the waistband to pull them down. “What if I wasn’t wearing any?”

“Then I’d ask for your bra.” He still won’t look at you. Doesn’t even flinch when the body warm silk hits his hand, just scrunches up the fabric and folds his arm down onto his knee.

“Steve?” You singsong from the back seat. He grunts, waiting for your snappy one liner. Instead he sees your bare foot, now shed of its slip on nightmare, sliding over the back of the passenger seat in his peripheral. He glances up then and sucks in a breath that turns into a deep chuckle.

“Oh you wanna play like that?” He misses your nod, the way you bite down on your lip and make doe eyes at him. He’s stuck on your hand running lazy lines up and down your pussy, dipping down to gather up the slick drooling out of you. “Okay.”

You aren’t paying attention to anything except your hand and the back of Steve’s head. Any little glance he shoots you in the mirror, any little twitch of his shoulders. You haven’t noticed him making a big circle back to the house you’d just left and back into the gaggle of parked cars. You barely even register he’s stopped the car until he’s curving his broad shoulders up and over between the front seats, crowding your bared thighs up against your body.

“You’re sick of the lake, I get it.” He says and you can still smell the beer on his breath. It makes your breathing pick up until he runs his big hands up the back of your thighs and your heart races. When he hits the back of your knees he pushes your legs out to make room for him so he can crouch on the floorboard.

“Steve you can’t be comfor-oh!”

He wastes no time running the flat of his tongue over your center. Your head falls against the back dash, rolling between the headrest when he flicks the tip of his tongue over your clit making you gasp into the window. He grabs your left hand and makes you hold your leg behind the knee. The little slip of your leg forward has him taking his mouth off of you and you whine.

“Hold your leg or I’m gonna let this whole party know what you’re doing back here.”

“Wh-“ You pick your head up and look out the partially rolled down window. Parked across from the house party, between street lamps. There’s a few people milling around out front and some around the cars and all of them are far too close. Steve sees you’re distracted for a moment and decides to sink two fingers in when he starts mouthing at your pussy again. The yelp you let out causes the two people closest to the car to look over but they don’t move.

“Keep your leg up.” Steve says from between your thighs, fingers working up their pace. Your mouth drops open and all you can do is nod at him the way he’s nodding at you, that smirk still on his face. The wet sound of his fingers curling inside of you make you groan and he mocks you as nicely as he can.

“Aw, that’s good huh?”

“Steve.”

“What’s that?” His thumb rubs down firmly on your clit while his mouth leaves a wet trail on your inner thigh, the occasional bite into the soft flesh making you jump and whimper. When your grip starts to slip again he ‘tsk’s’ at you.

“What’d I say?” He warns just as he picks up the pace of his hand, pumping his fingers faster. He dips his head again to lap at your folds before zeroing in on your clit, sucking hard and flicking his tongue. Your eyes roll back on a deep groan and there’s no way the people on the front lawn didn’t hear it. Steve laughs against you and lets you get a few more loud sounds out before he takes pity on you. Dropping your leg on his shoulder he works his free hand up and stuffs the ball of silk in your open mouth, stifling the long groan of his name quickly.

“Here, I’ll help you out. See if you can stay quiet with these.” He can feel you clenching down on his fingers when he clamps his palm over your mouth. “You like it when I shove things in your mouth?” The vibrations under his hand tell him all he needs to know. Between his tongue and his thumb he gets you teetering on the edge, your thighs shaking around his head.

“Gotta keep your leg up or I’m not gonna let you cum.” Your wide eyes make him laugh. Behind him you try to point your toes to help keep your leg braced but he notices, of course.

“No cheating.” He gives your inner thigh a love tap. From his vantage point he can see the strain you’re under, your knuckles white and grasping at your slick flesh and suddenly his jeans are just too tight, his own strain unbearable.

“Is it too much honey?” Steve sits up as best he can to keep his hand over your mouth and his fingers in your cunt. You make a desperate sound and he decides to cut you some slack. “Just nod yes, I promise it’ll be worth it.” He unfolds himself from the floor, pushes his broad body into yours until you don’t need to hold your leg anymore. You’re nodding yes yes yes as he moves you over and down, fingers still curling up into that sweet spot. He drags the hand down from your face to the top of your dress and pulls it so he can get at your chest.

“Be a doll, get my belt?” He asks breathlessly.

It’s like you forgot you had hands you could use. There’s a pause for you to think about what he’s asking before you dive down and undo the buckle and attack his jeans. You barely get the waistband of his boxers down before your release creeps up fast. Your hand curled around his thick length when his fingers hit you just right and you go motionless for a moment before you melt into his backseat, chest heaving and trying to breathe around the underwear in your mouth.

He’s slapped your hand out of the way so he can shimmy his pants down enough, cock heavy in his grip when he slides himself over you to prod at your sensitive clit. “Come on honey, tell me. Want me to fuck you?”

You groan around the fabric and nod.

“In front of all these people?” He nudges your hole, can feel you fluttering at the barest push, has to hold himself back from sinking right into you. You keep nodding, fingers grabbing at his polo and trying to lace into the few locks of hair dangling in his face. You want him nearer, you want him inside, you want him to kiss you or fuck you, anything but run his mouth at you.

“Roll the window down.” He’s waiting, cock in hand, smirking at your indignation. “They deserve to hear you loud and clear.” You’ve been moved so you’re laying in your back, angled so you have to bend awkward to turn the handle. But Steve is doing his thing where he’ll wait you out, make himself wait and you wait and the whole universe wait until you do what he asked.

You make a noise that sounds like a question and he just laughs before you roll your eyes and stretch your arm back to turn it. You get the handle turned once before he’s gripping you to keep you in place so he can sink in slow.

“Oh fuck. Baby, so wet for me.” His eyes roll back while you preen under him. Watching his mouth fall open and his hips twitch forward. He takes his time getting fully seated, pulling your leg around his waist so he can get as deep as possible.

When his cock nudges deep inside you let out a deep grunt and when he finally rolls his hips you keen around your underwear.

“God you really can’t keep quiet can you?” Steve asks before bracing his hands on your knees so he can drive into you. The cramped angle your at, head shoved into the door and knees slowly sinking up to your chest has you making little pathetic noises that Steve laughs breathily at.

“You like that?”

Your grip on the lever for the window loosens and a muffled ‘yes’ comes from you.

“‘Course you do, all these people around.” He’s not taking it easy on you. “Want them to know who’s fuckin’ you?” You’re sensitive and when he drives deep it makes your eyes water and your chest rattle with deep grunts. If these people can’t hear you they’re definitely getting a show. Steve doesn’t duck under the level of the windows and your hands grip along the edge, fingernails scratching at the burgundy paint outside.

“You cryin’ about it?” He asks when an errant tear falls away and down your temple. “Dick that good?” All you can do is nod at him while he pushes your knees further back so he can get a better view of you taking him.

“Never gets old, pretty all over, honey.” He pants, letting a hand drop between you two so he can rub tight circles clit. It makes your legs jump around his hips and his laugh is all breath blown over your heated skin. “You gonna cum again? Come on, show me how good it feels.” His deft fingers don’t let up just like his rolling hips don’t let up just like his filthy mouth doesn’t let up. He coaxes you right up to the edge again and doesn’t pause his hand when you spasm around him, teeth bared around your underwear. “Oh I know, I know it’s good.” He keeps going even when you hiss and pull your legs together instinctively and he groans, long and low when you clench down on him.

“Shit, keep that up your gonna make me cum-“

Through the ringing in your ears you hear the whimper on the end of his words. Your hands find his shirt to pull him down close and he ends up rutting into you while you continue clenching and he’s quickly following you. A faltering of his hips and you feel him twitch inside, spilling hot and fast. He tries to kiss you but forgets about your full mouth and ends up dotting the corner of your mouth and cheek while he comes down.

His full weight isn’t on you but he’s still heavy and unmoving for a few minutes while you both cool off. In the distance there’s a long wolf whistle and someone clapping and Steve groans into your ear before picking his head up to look at you. He pulls a corner of the fabric to unspool it from your mouth, flinging the damp bunch onto the floorboard.

“Please don’t forget those in here.” You rasp, mouth dry while he kisses you between words.

“Yeah that’s the last thing I need, fucking Henderson finding those.” Both of you groan then, picturing explaining it to his shitty little grinning face. Steve sits up first and gets situated before he helps you sit up against the door, looping his arm behind you to roll the window up jerkily. You watch him dazedly, a smitten grin plastered to your cheeks.

“What are you grinnin’ at?” He mumbles while he pulls your dress down from your hips.

“You. That was fun.”

“You like an audience?” He raises a cocky eyebrow and you push his shoulder back.

“No…” Your eyes trail down the long line of his nose. “Maybe. It was thrilling.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it now?” He kisses you up against the window for a few minutes before climbing back over to the front seat, patting the passenger seat once he’s situated. When you don’t move right off he shoots a look at you through the rear view. “You coming up?”

“Uh, well I might be making more of a mess if I do.” You glance down at the crumpled pile of your underwear on the floor and think about him not pulling out.

“Mm. Well, if you come up here maybe I’ll take you out to quarry and help you clean up, yeah?” He says nonchalantly. Adjusts his seat and his jeans, puts his seatbelt on and turns the key in the ignition and turns to stare at you over his shoulder.

“Do I just need to take you to more lame parties to get this treatment?” You ask while you try to wiggle up to the front seat with some kind of modesty. Steve just watches while you fall into the seat finally and chuckles before grabbing your knee.

“Care to test that theory?”

[raspberrybesitos]

take all of me | javier peña x f!reader

Javier Peña masterlist | Main masterlist

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~1.7k

Summary: After trying Javier at a work event, he puts you in your place on the way home.

Warnings: established relationship, pwp (filth just pure filth), exhibitionism, a little bit of voyeurism, teeny bit of dacryphilia, dom/sub dynamic, papi (daddy) kink, dom!Javier, sub!reader, bit of brat tamer!Javier, bit of brat!reader, possessive!Javier, degradation, oral (m receiving), ass spanking, titty fucking, cum play, bit of praise kink, some spanish translations, reader is female with hair Javier can grab, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: alas, another result of watching way too many Javi edits on tiktok. he’s living in my brain like Joel’s got a roommate now, they split the rent. also, Bey + Javi will always go well together. slowly dipping my toes into brat tamer!Javi… anyway, hope y’all enjoy!! i’m gonna go watch more edits and run away now, byeee 🏃‍♀️ not beta’d, all mistakes are my own.

Divider by @/saradika

His lips instantly crash into yours the second the chauffeur shuts the door, he roughly cups your face as the driver steps into the car.

“Javi, esperate mi amor. (wait, my love) The driver can see us,” you mumble against his lips. He pulls back, fishing for something in his pocket as his other hand remains on your cheek.

“Oye, patrón, puedes poner la particion por favor?” (Hey boss, can you put the partition up please?) Javier asks the driver, handing him a huge wad of pesos. The driver just looks between both of you in the rear view mirror before accepting the money.

“Claro patrón,” (Sure, boss) he says with a nod. The partition slowly rolls up, tinted pitch black, and the two of you impatiently watch as it whirs. As soon as it’s shut, Javi slams his lips back on yours, ravenously devouring you.

He swallows the small whimpers that bubble from within your chest. His large hands roam to your hips, gripping them tightly as he sweeps you over his thighs and settles you onto his lap, making you straddle him.

You rut your hips into his, rubbing your core on his clothed cock, moaning at the euphoric friction. He grabs your hips in a vice grip.

“Mmm mm, baby. You think you can just get away with acting like a brat? Teasing me like that at dinner with all my colleagues, even my boss, there? Huh?” His lips ghosting over yours, giving your ass a hard squeeze.

“I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to,” you say, voice caught in between a whine and a moan.

A sudden, sharp smack to your ass elicits a yelp from you, your hand flying to cover your mouth.

“Uh uh. You know my name, now use it,” he snarls.

“I’m sorry, papi. I didn’t mean to, lo prometo (I promise),” you whine.

Javier delivers a second smack to your ass, the sting of it making more slick pool in between your thighs.

“Now you’re lying to me, baby? You’re telling me you didn’t mean to grab my cock under the table in front of everyone? Didn’t mean to make me hard as a fucking rock? Because I don’t buy that one fucking bit. Una pinche putita como tu (a fucking whore like you) likes to be fucked like a brat. You thought if you pissed me off enough I’d fuck you. Am I right, baby?”

You nod as you gnaw on your bottom lip, another smack to your ass making a moan tumble from you.

“Words, muñeca (doll),”Javier growls.

“Yes, papi. You’re right,” you whimper. “Wanted to be bad so you’d fuck me, punish me with your cock.”

A smirk plays on his lips as he caresses your ass, soothing the stinging sensation.

“So fucking needy, you can never get enough of this cock, huh, princesa (princess)?” You nod a little too quickly, agreeing with him as tears of desperation sting your eyes, making him chuckle.

“My greedy girl. Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna punish you with my cock, alright,” he rasps, kissing you roughly, teeth clashing as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. You moan and involuntarily buck your hips. Javier grips your waist, stopping you and pulls back from the kiss.

“On your knees, baby,” he mutters as he slides you off his lap. You sink to your knees and onto the floor of the car, settling yourself in front of Javier’s clothed cock, looking up at him.

“Look like a fucking dream, baby, on your knees for me in this goddamn dress,” he says as he caresses your cheek, hooking his index finger under your chin and his thumb running over your lips. You eagerly suck his thumb into your mouth, desperate to please him. He groans, his brows scrunched together and lips parted.

“Vamos princesa. (Let’s go, princess) Cock isn’t gonna suck itself.” He leans back against the leather seats, arms crossed behind his head as he eyes you up and down.

You fumble with his belt and pop open the buttons of his slacks and slide down the zipper. Catching one last glimpse of his eyes, you silently ask for approval. He smirks and nods, reassuring you have his permission.

Slowly wiggling his slacks and briefs down in one go, his cock springs free from the confines and the sight of him is mouthwatering. Precum dribbles from the tip, down his shaft and onto his hairs. His whole length is red and throbbing, having been half hard for at least an hour.

Batting your lashes, you dive in, licking languid stripes along his length, Javier pushing some of your hair out of your face with a groan.

You pull away, gathering spit in your mouth and letting it dribble from your lips onto his tip. Taking in a deep breath, you wrap your lips around his tip. He hisses as you suckle it into your mouth, teasingly swirling your tongue around it.

Inhaling, you hollow out your cheeks as you make your way down his cock, eventually reaching the base. His wiry hairs tickling your nose as tears stream from your eyes while focusing on your breathing.

“Fuck, good girl taking papi all at once, baby,” he moans. You drag your mouth back up to the tip and repeat the motions, your pace slowly increasing as you bob your head.

The delicious taste of his salty precum makes your head spin as you toy with his balls, stimulating them as you slurp up and down his cock.

“Shit. Always suck my cock so fucking well, muñeca. Feels so fucking good,” Javier rasps, another pool of wetness grows in between your thighs at his praises. The rough carpet of the car’s interior chafes your knees, your skin burning as you suck him off, adding to your pleasure.

The sounds permeating the air in the car are obscene - slurping mixed with yours and Javier’s moans.

Your lipstick smears around your lips as his heavy length fills your mouth. Mascara smudges around your eyes, tears smearing into the mixture of saliva, lipstick, and cum that gathers around your lips. You gag around him, your throat contracting around his girthy, long cock. 

“Fuck!” He yells, making a quick mental note to tip the driver even more.

“Squeeze your tits together, muñeca. Wanna cum all over those gorgeous tits, been teasing me all fucking night with them,” he snarls.

His cock still in your mouth, you breathe through your nose as you squeeze them together, creating a crevice in your cleavage. He pulls out of your mouth, a string of spit and precum hanging from your lips. Scooting forward and hanging off the seat, he braces his hands on your shoulders. He stuffs his cock in between your tits, rutting his hips into your chest. You moan wildly as he fucks your tits, your chest slick with cum and saliva.

“You wish I was fucking your tight little pussy like this, huh, baby?” He asks tauntingly as he pants.

“Yes, papi! Wish your big cock was stuffed inside me!” You wail beneath him, more tears streaming down your face. 

“Well then you should’ve thought about that before acting like a brat. Should’ve just asked, you know papi will always give you what you want if you ask nicely,” he grunts.

“I’m sorry, papi, I know that,” you sob, pleasure burning in your belly as he thrusts into your chest.

“My little fuckin’ cockslut, mi putita sucia (my dirty little whore). Trying to get me to fuck her in front of my friends and my boss. That what you wanted, muñeca? Wanted them to see how well you take my fat cock, huh?” His words only fanning the flames of desire in your belly, fire roaring higher.

You nod mindlessly, desperate to seek some sort of relief. You’re tempted to reach between your thighs and touch yourself, but you know better than to do that without Javier’s permission.

“Words, muñeca, I’m not gonna tell you again,” he snarls as his thrusts grow sloppier in between your tits.

“Yes, papi! Want everyone to know how well you treat me.” A dark chuckle rumbling in Javier’s chest. “My dirty fuckin’ girl wanting everyone to see how I fill those pretty holes, you’d like that wouldn’t you, baby?”

“Mhmm, y-yes, papi.”

“Too bad I don’t like sharing what’s mine,” he grunts, punctuating his words with each thrust.

Hearing him claim you outloud will always drive you wild.

“I’m yours. All yours, papi,” you cry out, squeezing your tits together even harder, earning a guttural moan from Javier.

“That’s right, muñeca. Mine, you’re all mine,” he groans, cumming hard all over your tits, staining your dress as he makes a mess of you.

Endless moans stream from your lips as he coats your chest, some of his spend spurting onto his stomach and your lips. You eagerly lick up his spend from your lips, moaning as you slather your fingers in the cum that drips down your chest and suck them into your mouth, swallowing his salty, bitter taste. Diving down, you lick up every last drop of his load from his navel, he groans as he floats back to earth from his orgasm.

You squeeze your thighs together, your slick smearing against your skin. Clenching around nothing as you pathetically seek relief from the lacy thong you’re wearing as it catches against your clit. Javier harshly grabs you by the arms and lifts you off the floor, perching you atop his lap once more.

He ravishes your lips, kissing you hungrily as he tastes himself on your tongue. You moan into him as he sucks your tongue into his mouth.

“Did such a good job, princesa. Such a good girl for me,” his lips ghosting over yours. His timbre low and husky, full of lust, love, and admiration. He litters kisses all along your neck and nips at your chin, your meek moans like music to his ears.

Like putty in his hands, he’s got you right where he wants you.

The car rounds the corner of your shared home, the remainder of the ride feels agonizingly long as it slowly comes to a halt in the driveway. He presses soft kisses on the pulsepoint near your ear, his strong nose brushing against your hoop earrings as goosebumps trail along your skin.

“No te preocupes princesa. (Don’t worry, princess) I’ll take care of you once we’re home. I always take care of you, don’t I, muñeca?”

ya me puedo casar Javi. puedo cocinar y limpiar. la cena estará lista cuando llegues a la casa todas las días🧎‍♀️

where my Javi girlies/theylies at??? JAVI NATION MAKE SOME NOISEEE 🫡 shoutout to us fr

anyway, i hope y’all enjoyed! 🫶🏼

tag list: @mandoisapunk @tinygarbage @gracieheartspedro @undrthelights @jenispunk @persephone-girl @javierpena-inatacvest @daydreamingmiller @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin