#there's always something im not doing well enough

[mina-org]

simon can't believe how far hes fallen.

Lurking outside high street underwear shops, stealing your phone, worst of all? He’s sipping tea in an overpriced coffee shop, you used to always want to meet him in the place opposite but he didn’t fancy a public indecency charge so he’d let you sit there for while, order drinks for the two of you and wait, when his tea turned told and yours had been drank you usually got a text saying to come over, he didn’t feel like going into town.

Your not even with him explaining that matcha is actually really good and he should try it, no your fawning over johnny and he’s watching his bird. He hopes this is rock bottom but he feels like it’s not.

"lass if I dinnae know better, I'd think ya' was avoiding me" his playful tone doesnt hide the hurt, he wants you to feel bad for ghosting him, and you do. Johnnys never been mean. Never mistreated you, why are you punishing him for Simon’s mistakes?

"im sorry, I know you and simon are close but he really did number on me and I just, I just don't wanna risk bumping into him." he can praticularly smell the the anxiety coming off you.

"Aye he’s been going mad, wants his wee bird back." Johnny says feigning sadness for his mate. in honestly Johnny was enjoying it, you were talking to him, looking at him, while simon gawked at you two from across the road.

you laugh, "no he wants a warm hole." you blurt out, causing Johnny to laugh, he expecting you to cry or something but not be that blunt.

“Lass hes just nae used to-” johnny tries to defend him but you cut him off, frustrated, you were what? a decade younger and knew how to treat people well.

“Used to what? He’s 40.” You snap back, Simon was old enough to know better.

“He’s nae 40 yet hen, and he’s not used to tiptoeing, ya know?” He laughs at you adding years to him, he’s sure Simon is seething but he can’t quite make out his expression

“Tiptoeing?” You question. You can accuse Simon of a lot of stuff but tiptoeing? Not fucking one of them, if stomping on people was an Olympic sport he’d be bringing home a gold medal.

“Yeah like your so sensitive lass and he’s nae really used to it.” Johnny says simply and when your face drops he knows his choice of words could maybe use some work especially when you excuse yourself to the bathroom.

Johnny cant help himself. he can see simon through the window, sipping on his tea as he watches this little pre date. So he calls him up, simon was saying earlier he misses that pretty voice well he actually complained about how much you used to talk at him and how the peace and quiet was actually nice.

However Johnnys an expert in simonisms and that means he miss you and wants you to come back to him, he gets the same treatment, they all do. telling him to be quiet.

when you rejoin the table his phone is face or screen down, speaker pointing towards you, next to a another drink for you.

How sweet of him:)

"had to keep ya here somehow," he explained as he asked how you were doing, you had left the flat so defeated. He hated to see a pretty girl so sad.

his eyes seemingly look pass you though, getting lost out the window. Usually he was attentive maybe he didn’t want to slag off Simon, but he keeps pushing, asking how you’re feeling, what you’ve been doing and though his eyes drift back to the window but you can ignore it, for now.

"I don't know,“ you stare into the drink you stir it, the ice clinking against the glass. “It just hurt and I feel so stupid.” It’s practically a whisper, you look like a kicked puppy and Johnny, Johnny’s staring out the window with a smirk on his face. Does he find it funny? Is he gonna tell Simon? Why would you slag off Simon to his best mate?

Anxiety starts to bubble, and you just wanna leave before you embarrass yourself anymore.

Your gaze follows his out the window, now you don’t have binoculars but that looks a little like Simon, weird. It would look too weird if you were to pull out your phone and zoom in with the camera. You start to feel for your phone but it’s not in your pocket, you must’ve slipped it into one of the bags.

“Johnny do you have the time?” You ask softly and before he can react, you’re flipping over his phone and greeted by Simon’s caller ID. What the fuck?

“Johnny what the fuck? “

“Lass-“ johnny doesn’t have time to concoct a lie, your up and glaring down at him, he’d never seen you angry but it was hot, he just wished it was in different, more come backable circumstances.

“No johnny what the fuck, has Simon been on the phone this entire time?” Your voice cracks and your lips tremble, embarrassed you opened up to him, Simon’s best fucking mate, embarrassed Simon knew how much he hurt

“No I don’t give a shit Simon can go fuck himself and so can you” you cut him off again, he can choke on whatever he was gonna say.

Before johnny can ask for his coffee in a to go cup you’re out the door, rushing home, tears stinging at your eyes once again. You just want to sprint home once you hear johnny belt out your name and you speed up, darting down an alleyway.

You wipe your tears before colliding into a wall you swore wasn’t there on the walk into town, a fleshy, human wall.

Its Simon.

Once again! How perfect .

part one- part two

taglist: @skeletonsucker @supernova2205 @wh0re4-alexademi @grr457 @gh0st-spid3r @sweetlittleblackrose @aceywaycy @mooievis @theadultoedge @cheese-pull @imtherain

[pwnyta]

Something about Ivo initiating or prompting all the physical closeness or touch with Stone... Is something I can be so extra about.

Ivo masking his desire for human connection with flaunting and violence just in case hes rejected.

Meanwhile Stone rarely gets close or touches Ivo unless Ivo gets hurt and needs his help.

(technically the makeover scene is ALSO initiated by Ivo but Stone took several inches(pause))

And Stone pretty implicitly trusts Ivo so maybe he trusts that hes really not WORTHY of Ivos affections.

Something something... Ivo and Stone are both needy and touch-starved but neither of them know how to ask for affection. (Ivos like a weird little fucked up bird doin his eccentric little mating dances and flashing his colors but thinking hes the only one of his species while Stone is very impressed but thinking the little nest hes keeping tidy aint good enough.)

They almost got there in the crab tho!

But Ivo was depressed after his major failure and the pain from his loss and Stone sought to make him happy and motivated again... which got them to Gerald which causes Ivo to replace Stone and push him away... literally. The touch/closeness that Stone initiates after Gerald comes into the picture is IMMEDIATELY punished.

Stone lost the closeness he had with Ivo for a chance to see Ivo happy again.

Ivo realized far too late what he threw away...

But I do love that Ivo seemed confident that Stone would see his message because of course Stone would see it. Stone has always been there when he needed him to be. The vastness of space didnt stop Stone from being there for him the last time...

Im just realizing now too both their last calls they didnt get to see each other but they were very much verbally expressing how much they loved each other and showing their intense desire to protect one another.

'Im not there to protect you. I already lost you once, I cant lose you again.'

'Agent Stone, if I cant rule the world, I may as well save it for the one and only person who has ever cared about me.'

___(:3 っ )ぅ___

[reidrum]

hi lil headcanon: can’t stop thinking about how Spence sees the worst of humanity and lots of violence for his job so when he comes home to you he is extra gentle and savors your goodness and cherishes doing mundane things with you- tidying up and listening to his music, going on walking dates, holding you close literally always- he is extra protective of his beacon of peace and hope in humanity :,)

this is so post prison spencer coded

(i yapped again im so sorry)

following his release spencer reid would struggle to return to normalcy for some time after his whole life was turned upside down for months but the pockets of peace he creates with you he finds are essential to his well being.

your spencer reid wakes up early on the rare saturday mornings he has off making sure you’re still sleeping and sneaks off to the kitchen to make breakfast that will soon wake you up in a few hours with the wafting smell of waffles and coffee. he dons a ‘kiss the chef’ apron you ironically got for him that he unironically treasures deeply as he finishes plating the spread on the tray and bringing it back to the room.

maybe on saturday mornings you always go to the farmers market and you always buy a fresh bouquet of flowers because having them on sunday makes for a good omen for the coming week. and even on the saturdays spencer reid can’t be there you send pictures of the bouquet you picked out that day and it makes his heart so so happy. his favorite thing is when he tells you the significance of different flowers and they show up in the bunch the week after. if one day you don’t go to the farmers market or there just isn’t a bouquet in the house that day spencer reid absolutely cannot have that and so he goes out on his own curating the perfect bouquet of flowers because he’ll be damned if you don’t have your flowers!

i think he would also encourage you to ramble as much as he does because he loves hearing you talk, even if he knows nothing about it or it doesn’t make sense. like for someone who loves info dumping and telling people cool facts, spencer reid is much quieter around you because hearing you talk especially about things you love is so so special to him. he would trade his voice like ariel in the little mermaid if it meant he could hear you talk on and on about anything and everything for the rest of his life.

and like, because this is spencer reid there will be a time that something happens to you because of what he does (alexa play peace), kinda similar to matt and kristy when she’s held hostage at her work or derek and savannah when she gets shot. hotch has to physically keep him away from the scene because he’d be so close to losing it and risking everything by going solo but who can blame him when you, the other half of him that the prophecies say you’d spend your whole lives searching for but he was fortunate and grateful enough to find you so soon, could get hurt. he would harbor the same guilt hotch feels dating anyone after haley because after maeve spencer reid refuses to let anything take you away from him, but here he is putting you in a situation he caused because an unsub he put away has a grievance to settle.

and eventually you’re safe and back in the apartment with spencer reid and he’s just. in crisis mode. because he genuinely is not sure if he can handle something like that happening to you again. but he’s not even sure how to prevent that from ever happening. and he’s so proud of you for how brave you’re trying to be but it’s breaking his heart entirely to watch you do that for him, and he’s so sure he does not deserve your grace at all. so it’s not even a hard decision when he decides to increase his university teaching hours and step away from the bau just to be with you more.

because now you and spencer reid have more time to make flower bouquets at the farmers market every week. he’s bucket listed every museum up and down the eastern coast and fully intends on finishing it before the year ends. he carries a little trial size vial of your perfume in his satchel whenever he misses you a little too much, even when you’re just in the other room. spencer reid wants nothing more than to live a simple life with you, and after the world has dealt him too many bad cards, he’s more than grateful to get to hold these little moments of you close to mend his bruised heart.

[yslbooten]

˖ ࣪౨ৎ ˚◞ puppy princess

⊹ ˒ pairing : jason todd x fem!reader

⊹ ˒ idea : jason todd cant stand to say yell at his little princess, especially when she starts to cry and sniffle.

⊹ ˒ notes : this is a nsfw fic, so MDNI it contains size kink, unrealistic sex descriptions, oral, pim(pussy in mouth ) oh and anal

Jason Todd who is putty in your soft small hands and can't take his attention off of you, you're just too cute for this cruel dark world. Its as if you were sent down by the heavens to be his light.

Jason Todd who pecks you so many kisses that they’d practically cover your whole face, what can he say when his little pup stares up at him with those sparkly big eyes?

Jason Todd who's overprotective over his puppy princess, shielding you from the true wonders of Gotham so you don't end up like him. Anything that stares at your or comes in contact with you is always scared off because of big ol Jason!

Jason Todd who is 5x bigger than you, the height difference is obvious to the world. You standing next to him makes it look like your a midget at this point. He knows the height difference is huge and definitely doesn't take advantage of that.

Jason Todd who feels bad for yelling at you out of frustration, seeing the small tears pool up at your tear line. The audible sniffles echoed through the room making it clear you were about to cry.

“ look ma im sorry won’t you forgive me? “ he said kneeling infront of you, you were on the edge of the bed so him being between your legs made him look so, submissive. Jason yearning for your touch made him even more vulnerable to you, rubbing your thighs with his hands that he killed people with, oh how you were so innocent compared to Jason you’ve never killed before. Felt pain before not like him, but it felt like you did when he had yelled at you. Staring down at Jason you’d huff and puff crossing your arms together in the soft fluffy night gown he had picked out for you a long time ago when you two went on a shopping spree for your birthday. “ do you forgive me, mama? I’ll make this all up to you if you just say the word “ feeling a finger slide up and down against your clothed cunt made you shiver knowing exactly what Jason wanted to squinted your eyes at him mumbling something, soon opening your legs wide and laying on your back.

Chuckling from the brattiness he would take that as an answer of yes, hooking his fingers onto the lacey panties that matched the nightgown. Some shivers already went down your back once you felt your panties being pulled down, kissing at your inner thighs he was teasing. You couldn't believe him right now, teasing when he begged YOU to forgive him? “ just be patient doll, “ he said fully removing your panties off of you. Your cute cunt was already wet for Jason that's what he loved from you, just with the littlest teasing he could gather all of your lovely liquids up. Spreading your lips open to get a better view of your pussy he had heard the loud gasp from you, the air hitting against your wet cunt. The combination of the wetness and the air made you shiver once again “ look at my pretty pussy all eager for me to eat it huh? “ mumbling between your legs finally starting to eat your pussy out. A wet spongey tongue flattening against your clit the stimulation of him licking your clit already kicked in. Bucking your hips up the pornographic moans weren't stuck in your throat anymore, you were already loud enough so him eating you out did it for you. “ mm I can't get enough I swear I can't “ entering a finger inside your tight hole “ jason~! “ curling his digits up to hit that spot of yours, god could he multi task well, the feeling of his tongue twirling your clit into a circle like motion and his fingers curling had built up your orgasim inside of you, feeling that small little band almost snap.

“ oh! “ eyes widening when you could feel his tongue trying to prob at your unused hole, “ Jason what the hell are you u u- “ throwing your head back, he had finally entered his tongue into your puckered hole your walls being tighter than your pussy. Fingers still working inside of your pussy now starting at a new stimulation, pumping them in and out of your sloppy cunt he had claimed that was his. Grabbing onto his black and greyish locks you’d arch your back “ oh my fucking god.. Yes yes yes! “ you’d chant those exact words when he had continued to work with your two holes “ m gonna come~! “ mouth being gaped your eyes had already produced tears to roll down your delicate cheek, cunt pulsing around Jasons finger. Slowly pulling his tongue out your newly eaten hole he had gasped stopping the motion of his fingers now pulling out to see the creamy fluids on his fingers. Looking at you and entering his fingers in his mouth to get a taste of his princess “You forgive me now? “ chest heaving up and down you nodded exhaustedly “Words pretty girl. “ “ yes..mhmm I forgive youu.. “

[thechy-fychannel]

Hi ramble anon here i saw your post about Asks overwhelming you and im so sorry! Im gonna keep doing them, just reduce my frequency

Anwyays, brain rot hilson time

Imagine house like, talking or ranting or something, and Wilson gives him a kiss on the cheek or head to shut him up. Which it does, but unintentionally house gets this small, barely-there dopey smile, and stays quiet for like a half minute just thinking of the kiss and then snaps out of it and teases wilson about it.

"Thats fucking gay, jimmy" or something

Hi ramble anon!! No you're totally fine, no worries at all!! I was just thinking about you the other day and was wondering how you're doing! I hope you're well! I'm overwhelmed by everything all the time, don't even worry abt it aldklakf.

I love the hilson brain rot, just constantly rotating images of those men being disgustingly in love. House's dopey love sick smile when he's looking at Wilson is something that can be sooo personal!!!

I see your vision and I love it. I can perfectly picture them walking together, shoulder to shoulder, and house is just jabbering on and on and on about something ridiculous as always. Maybe it was the new tie wilson wore that day or the way his shoes were a little extra shiny, just something stupid that sets off house's Wilson Is Trying To Look Pretty senses and makes him unable to shut up about how pretty his best friend is and how he looks pretty for everyone but him, basically (when we all know wilson likes looking pretty bc house will tell him more than anyone else how pretty he is). Wilson's blushing so hard bc house has said the words "you're pretty" no less than ten times in the last three minutes so he just. huffs and stops and kisses house on the cheek, knowing that small bit of affection is enough to make his brain glitch. And the way house's face goes all red is just too cute and he sputters a bit before getting the "that's fucking gay, Jimmy" out. But it's no use, it's clear by the smug look on wilson's pretty face that he's won this one >:))

[wroetolando]

𝚂𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝙻𝚊𝚙 | 𝙲𝙻𝟷𝟼

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: charles leclerc x fem!reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: the one where charles shares a sunset lap with her after his P3 finish at the 2022 Austin Grand Prix, enjoying a quiet, peaceful moment on the track

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰: lovers on the sun - david guetta, sam martin

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: none!

im just gonna leave this here

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The 2022 Austin Grand Prix had been a rollercoaster of emotions. It was a weekend of pressure, hope, and anticipation. Charles Leclerc had fought all weekend, pushing himself, his car, and his team to the absolute limit. And when the sun began to set on race day, the checkered flag dropped, and he had crossed the line in third. P3.

Charles stood next to his car, helmet still on, his chest rising with the adrenaline that still coursed through his veins. He could hear the roar of the crowd around him, the yells, the hum of excitement. But in the midst of the excitement of a podium finish, there was a subdued emptiness within him.

He'd done it for the team, for his fans, and for himself, of course, but there was always that desire to do more, to go further. But what lingered with him, more than the race itself, was the vision—those final laps as the sun dipped behind the hills of Austin, the sky coloring itself in oranges and purples. It was one of the most beautiful sunsets he'd witnessed from the cockpit of a Formula 1 car.

The crowd's roar faded into the distance as his mind drifted to her. The one person who understood how he felt at moments like these. She was not a fan or a supporter. She was someone who saw the world as he did, who loved the beauty of a sunset after a race as much as he did. Her unspoken understanding was something that comforted him in a way he could not quite define.

Standing there, smiling for the cameras, taking the podium picture with his team, Charles felt an overwhelming need to share this moment with her. Not just the result, but the process of the sunset itself—the impeccable, serene beauty of it all. She had been tracking the race from a distance, unable to attend, but he knew her well enough to picture the way she had watched him, glued to the screen, willing a win, yet finding peace in the moment just as he had.

The next day, with the race now behind him and the city of Austin still buzzing with the energy of the Grand Prix, Charles did something he never allowed himself to do very often. He relaxed.

He had asked his team to get ready for him to return to the track that evening. He wasn't sure how she would respond, but he needed to do this. He needed to show her that sunset. To share with her the lap, the one that had meant more than any podium position.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

As the day was coming to an end, Charles was standing at the edge of the track once again. The grandstands were empty now, the energy of race day spreading out into the cold evening air. The sun was setting already, casting warm, golden light out onto the asphalt.

He could sense excitement simmering in his chest, expectation running through his veins. This wasn't a race anymore. There was no pressure. No expectations. Just the road, the sunset, and her.

His car was parked nearby, a colorful sight under the soft, fading light. He had chosen to drive his own car—no team car, no restrictions. It was just him, the road, and the moment. His heart skipped a beat as he heard the familiar crunch of footsteps coming from behind.

She had come.

"Charles?" Her voice called out, a little unsure but with the warmth that always seemed to surround her.

He turned around, a grin spreading on his face as he took in the vision of her standing there. She had that knowing glint in her eyes, the one that always seemed to see it all without saying anything. It made his heart beat just a little faster, and in that moment, he knew that this was the person he had to share it with.

"Hey," he said softly, walking towards her.

You… you really want to do this?" she asked, her eyes flicking to the car, the track, then back to him.

He nodded. "I want to show you something. Something special."

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smile. "A special sunset lap?"

Charles laughed, the sound low and rich. "Exactly.

He didn't say another word, just gestured towards the car. She hesitated for a moment, but something in the way he was looking at her caused her heart to skip a beat. There was no mistaking it—this wasn't track or racing related. This was about them, about feeling something raw, something true.

She climbed into the passenger seat, and Charles closed the door behind her, then got into the driver's seat. The engine noise rumbled to life, the familiar rumble of the car sending a shiver through his chest. He breathed, and for the first time that weekend, felt a surge of peace.

The track stretched out ahead of them, the Circuit of the Americas' familiar turns now a close personal space. The sun sat low in the sky, its warm, burning light casting a glow on the asphalt, coloring the world around them in oranges, purples, and reds. The perfect backdrop for the perfect lap.

“I’ve driven this track so many times,” Charles said, his voice steady, “but there’s something about this sunset that makes it feel different.”

She glanced at him, her eyes catching the soft light. “I can see that. It’s beautiful.”

They began to drive, slow at first, letting the car glide along the track as the sun dipped lower. Charles' hands stayed steady on the wheel, steering the car through each turn with an unhurried precision that appeared second nature. As they passed through each section of the track, Charles noticed how she was looking at the world around her. Her gaze wasn’t fixed solely on the road or the scenery; it was as if she was taking in the entire experience—the hum of the engine, the quiet rush of wind against the car, and, of course, the sunset.

“This is amazing,” she said softly, her voice full of wonder. “I can’t believe I’m actually here.”

Charles smiled, his eyes flicking to hers briefly. "I wanted to share it with you. The lap, the sunset. Everything."

They simply continued to drive, each lap more peaceful than the last. The car glided across the track as if by magic, the sunset painting the sky with each passing moment of the clock. There was no rush, no necessity to perform. There was only them, the two of them together in the moment, watching the world change as day surrendered to night.

As they completed another lap, Charles slowed down the car and let it come to a stop at the edge of the track, where the sun's last rays kissed the horizon. The whole world was bathed in gold, and for a long time, there was silence between them. They simply sat, the only sound the gentle hum of the car.

I'm glad we did this," Charles said finally, his voice low.

She turned to him, her smile warm, her eyes reflecting the last of the light. "Me too. It's perfect."

He gazed out at the sunset one more time before his eyes moved back to hers. "You know, it's not about the results. Not about the podiums or the races. It's about these moments. These small, quiet ones.

She nodded, her gaze wandering to the horizon. "I think I understand now. This… this is why you do what you do."

Charles didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached out, taking her hand gently in his, the soft warmth of her touch grounding him in the moment. It wasn't about the podium finish or the roar of the crowd. It was about sharing something real, something that meant anything.

“We should come back here,” he said, his voice a little hushed. “Next year. And the year after that. Keep watching the sunset together.”

Her smile deepened, her fingers curling around his hand. “I’d like that.”

They stayed a little longer, the sun now completely down, with only the faintest suggestions of light lingering on the horizon. Charles was aware that this moment—this lap at dusk—would stay with him long after the track was empty, long after the weekend's noises faded away.

In the end, it was not the race that mattered. It was the one beside him, undergoing the understated beauty of the world, a single sunset at a time.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

masterlist

[muttsupreme]

omg you did my request tysm 🥹🥹 you write roman's dialogue so well

another request maybe,, idk what your inbox is like but,,,, maybe more sub romey? perhaps using a vibe or toys on him if thats something youre ok with writing,,

don’t worry i love procrastinating so my inbox is like rarely ever a problem lol it just gives me reasons to avoid actually writing wips😭

ALSO sorry this is late. and sorry to everyone ever that i’m always on pseudo-hiatus. don’t fear, i still adore roman in insane ways that im too horrified to post about and i’m open to the craziest vilest inbox discussions. if i don’t get back to you, don’t worry, im probably just putting it on the back burner for the time being🤍

wow, look at that oscar winner. still buzzing for him! (pun intended)

I’m thinking a vibrator though. And it’s probably his fault anyway, he’s all curious and nosey, you call him your little Curious George as he rummages through your stuff. He sticks his hand inside your thigh-high socks just to feel the insides where your bare skin has touched, thinking of ways he can bring up why you brought thigh-high socks to an international fucking meeting thing in Sweden with just you, him, his dad, the team of his dad’s goons, and Hotty McHotterson Matsson. Are you trying to give the Ikea guy a thighjob, or give his dad a heart attack, maybe let Frank eat you out — what is the reason for this?

He finds a little baggie that he’s seen before; he thinks you keep like, your razors and shit in it, probably just a toiletries bag. He doesn’t really understand the implications of there being little kittens on the bag, but okay. Inside of the bag is just regular shit like he expected, panties mostly (but unworn, so, y’know, kind of useless to him for the most part). But oh, he doesn’t recognize this fabric, the fuck is this lacey thing?

It’s a little baggie, and it’s sort of cute that it looks like lace panties, but it’s sheer enough for the cuteness to disa-fucking-ppear real quick and in a hurry. Pink, rubbery, with a rose gold cap where the charging port is, a fucking vibrator.

He takes it out, sniffs it real quick, trying to catch a whiff of your pussy. Presses the button to figure out how to turn it off and on, the settings, the vibration patterns. He wonders if you like the pattern where it does those little staccato beats. Maybe he could match his typically-stuttering thrusts to it. Maybe you’d cry a little, wriggle around. You’d probably cream the nicest on just the lowest setting pressed to your clit, go all gooey-brained for him.

When you walk in, it’s a standoff. Roman holds up the toy, finally turned off, like a fuckin’ mob boss in the dim-lit hotel room that you’re secretly sharing.

“Are you trying to star in a porno? What is this shit?” he says, also raising your thigh-highs before dropping the fabric on the nightstand. He’s not actually pissed, just sort of like a spoiled brat who’s upset that his mommy is dividing her attention with someone else. “You planning to use this tonight, right beside me? Infidelity is calling, and holy shit, you are picking up!”

“Umm, no. It’s a vibe, not a fucking dildo,” you mention, remembering the whole conversation he’s secretly referring to. You know, the one where he almost cried because you made a mean joke about buying a dildo and he told you that you can only use a dildo if it’s just like his cock. And preferably solid gold.

“It’s just for emergencies, if i just — need it, y'know?” Because sometimes you do just need it. You’ll see Roman do something fucking insanely hot and you just don’t wanna bother him, so you go back to your room and get under a blanket with a pillow between your legs to muffle the noise, and use your vibrator. A few times, maybe, all depends on what it is. Roman feels a little bit like shit hearing that it's 'in case of emergencies' even if it's meant as a joke; he's supposed to be there in case of emergencies, that's how a normal relationship works, where two people get each other off whenever they need to be gotten off and then kiss and chat and cuddle afterwards or whatever.

“Oh — emergencies, yeah. And what constitutes an emergency, seeing Kendall do a line of coke, getting a little too bored scrolling on Twitter?” he can’t meet your eyes. He just flaps his hand, signaling for you to come closer, and you do. “Here, come here,” he demands. What a brat.

As soon as you get close enough, he drops the vibe, leans up, and kisses you, all tongue and teeth and excitability. It’s almost forced.

“Mm — mhh,” you make some noise to signal that this is clearly about more than just him being horny. You pull away.

“Fuck, what? What?” he sounds fussy.

“Roman, you don’t have to — whatever it is you think you’re doing.” It feels forced, and with Roman, you don’t like the idea of him doing something because he feels shitty. That’s kind of your job. “Chill out, just calm down, okay? It’s okay.”

“I know it’s okay, why the fuck wouldn’t it be okay?” he snaps, then makes some weird noise between a groan and a sigh. He grabs you by the waist and tugs you to straddle his lap on the bed, all playful how he normally is, burying his face in your clavicle and resting his forehead in the crook of your neck. “Sorry, Jesus. Sorry. I don’t know what the fuck came over me. Guess I got jealous thinking about you using your little fucktoy without me.” He spits out the words like they leave a bad taste in his mouth.

“I mean — you know you can just use me instead. I might be the wordy but I’m, like, usable. You can stick the vibrator on my thigh or something,” he huffs, placing a quick peck to the soft spot between your neck and shoulder. He’s still rambling, doesn’t give you the chance to respond.

“I mean really, a vibrator? Over me? I see how it is. It buzzes a little and you’re sold. Not like I’ve got fingers, a tongue…other things. No, you’d rather have some piece of fucking gross plastic that doesn’t give a shit.” The hurt is evident in his voice through his exaggerated, whiny approach.

“Oh my fucking god,” you chuckle, like it’s some kind of joke. “So what you’re saying is, you give a shit?”

“Well, I’d at least like to be there. I wanna be here instead of a piece of pink plastic, I can fucking hold you afterwards,” he doesn’t realize how humiliating the shit he’s saying is until it’s already out. There’s an awkward pause, like he’s waiting for a response but can’t imagine one that wouldn’t humiliate him. “Can you just call me a slut or something? I don’t know, might help.”

“Baby, you wanna hold me afterwards?” you melt. He visibly tenses. “Romeo, gimme the vibe. M’kay? Lemme make it up to you.” Your voice is all saccharine, like you could write love songs and poetry for the way he twitches and his littlest tics. How he follows you like a puppy into your room, even on business trips, even when you’re only a few doors down. You’d ride him until he jizzed in you a million times.

“Whatever, I wanna hold you, big whoop. Breaking news, a Roy actually expresses emotions — oh em gee! Can you just be normal? Because I am. I’m a normal, manly man. I’ll pass on being the subject of your next emo Tumblr lovecore post.”

You giggle a little, lean down. You grab the vibrator from where it sits on the bed, on top of the fancy comforter. Leaning down, it’s one of those moments where he’s just quiet for once, almost struck by you, almost scared, in that nice jittery way, impatiently waiting for what you’ll do next. You kiss him, a small peck that he doesn’t further, knowing you too well, almost certain that you have your own plans and your own way to go about them.

“Take your pants off, briefs too,” you speak quietly. “And I can show you. Okay? We can share.”

He obeys. Mumbles complaints as he unbuckles and unbuttons, lips curling up in a sneer at his own clumsiness. When you offer help, he snips little defensive remarks at you that just make you grin.

“Okay, here, fuck,” he huffs. No witty remark, he can’t even think of one. The situation is conflicting because yeah, your intent is to show him that you can use a vibrator that doesn’t resemble him at all while still thinking of him, and yay, how exciting to have the pink vibrating nub you grind your clit against on his tip, but also it isn’t your pussy? So he’s a little extra excited about the new unexpected shit, while less excited because it isn’t technically you, so — it equals out.

He yanks his pants off real fuckin’ quick but is reluctant with his briefs and shirt. Slowly he unbuttons his shirt but keeps it together, doesn’t take it off or spread it open — like he’s shy. He awkwardly fumbles with his too-tight Calvin Kleins, cock hitting his tummy as he kicks the fabric off his ankle onto the floor, lying on the bed. He lays straight, like you’re about to kill him rather than get him off. Shrugs his shoulders, arms raised a little with an expression that says all the demanding shit he can’t think to voice.

You don’t turn on the vibrator yet, you just crawl over to straddle him and kiss him, his scruff tickling your face. Holding the pink plastic in your left, your right hand encircles the meaty middle of his dick, and you aren’t just doing it for him, that’s apparent. His dick jumps in your hold and he lets out a little sigh, a whimpery one.

“Haven’t — you know it, it’s um, it has���been, like, a while. Like, a while a while.” His hands feel like they’re bruising your thighs with his grip on them. Feels like he’s floating away.

“I know. That’s why I wanna treat you well. I have manners,” you claim, a fucking bold claim in his opinion.

“Hhyeah,” he makes a sarcastic noise.

“I do! I’ll show that I do, okay?”

He’s a little put-off by how you’re so okay with it. He’s kind of not? Horrified now as he watches you reach for the vibrator, that pink fucking rubber is making him feel all tipsy-topsy-turvy and the second you turn around, and it’s a knee-jerk reaction, he kisses you. You can’t not be a little shocked. It’s all sudden and teeth clacking and his tongue forcing itself in your mouth, his hands grabbing your face.

You giggle and he makes a little “mmfh” noise when he pulls away, plopping back against the pillows. “Don’t — laugh at me, fuck, I’m trying to make this at least a little romantic.”

“Yeah, well you put the ‘Roman’ in romantic, don’t you?” you tease.

“You — oh, can we, uumm—,” he’s twitchy and almost scared. It’s hard to actually believe this is happening, he feels lightheaded.

“Shhh-sh-sh. Stay down,” you push him down, keep him still. “Good boy,” you say sweetly, almost taunting him, inching his briefs down as he instinctively lifts his hips up. His tip is leaky and he’s half-hard and fuck, it makes you feel like a drooling perv just looking at him, his soft tummy revealed from his shirt hiking up, his pretty dick, his balls on display. You press the tip of the vibrator to the base of his dick.

“Be good for me,” you say and he just nods, eyes closed like he’s scared to get a shot instead of — this.

It starts slow and low and he bucks his hips. You run the vibrator up and down his cock before circling it on his tip; he’s fully hard in no time.

“I’m — stop, stop it,” he demands, fucking up into the vibrator.

“You wanna tell me what you’re thinkin’ about?” you continue circling his tip, pressing it against the sensitive ridge on the underside, the vibrator still on the lowest setting.

“Fucking — fucking you into oblivion,” he threatens through a swallowed whimper. “Fuck! You — you, okay? I get it, I get it, you can stop now, I can’t keep—,” his cock jerks and oh, he’s so close.

“Keep on. Be detailed, tell me more. Prove it to me.”

“Oh — yeah, o-okay, fuck,” he gasps, holding onto your wrist and fucking up into the air, bucking his hips to slide his dick against the vibrator. “You, you’re pussy, it’s used this and been against it or whatever, so — my…dick, is against where your pussy, has been, kinda?”

“Uh-huh? That’s nice,” you coo, your other hand grabbing his dick and slowly jerking him off at the base of his dick. He jolts. “Keep talking to me.”

“Can’t — can’t, can’t, I’m gonna fuckin’ blow my load all over that thing if you don’t stop, now,” he threatens, thighs twitching visibly beneath you.

“Go ahead, honey. Do what you gotta do,” you kiss the tip of his nose and it’s chaste, but it’s the last fucking straw for him. He cums in thin spurts, staining your shirt at the tummy, and his button-up, but most of it landing on the vibrator that keeps on buzzing.

“Okay, you proved your point, Jesus fuck — let me—,”

“Uhn-uhn. Just ‘cause you cum doesn’t mean I’m done with you,” you say, clicking the button to harshen the vibrations against his red and cum-slick tip. He melts.

“Don’t, I’m gonna — I’m not fucking — made for this shit! Blow-up Roman-doll is gonna deflate, I’m not—,” he makes a silly, garbled noise of frustration that makes you giggle. “Oh — fuck, I’m so glad you think this is funny. Nice.”

You press the vibrator to his balls for a moment and his dick jerks like a live wire as you cup them, holding them in place with the hand that was once on his cock. You bounce on his lap with his thrusts against fucking nothing.

“Please, can you just give me your, I don’t — mouth? Pussy? Ass? Fuckin’ pinkie toe?”

“You gotta learn to love the vibe. ‘S yours now, too, y’know,” you say, moving it back up to his dick once you get all your eye-candy in of his cock bobbing. His eyes roll back.

“Again, gonna—,”

“Good boy,” you drawl. Your hand moves to his tip, holding the vibe to his shaft as you milk the cum from him.

He lets out some pathetic noise that’s almost cute, like he’s truly as desperate as he looks with his hips twitching and hands gripping the skin of your thighs for dear life, eyes taking pitiful glances at your own eyes when they can stay open despite how misty they’ve gotten. He spurts a nice little dribble of cum, pathetic and milked dry, just running on empty today. It’s sort of hot, in the most piteous way.

“That good, do you think?” you pull the vibrator away and turn it off, holding it up.

“Good, good. ‘M good, yeah,” you chuckle at his drowsiness and drop the vibrator on the bed, but your hand doesn’t stop milking him.

“One more. Just us this time, right? That’s what you wanted?”

“Mmmhm, mnn,” he nods and fucks into your fist lazily.

“Fuck it for me. Can you do that?”

He nods excitedly, leaning into your touch as you run your hands through his hair, down his face.

His hips hump the hole you’ve made with your hand, cocktip poking through with nearly every thrust, leaking onto you.

“Already?” you ask in response to his cock twitching in your hold.

He nods his head sheepishly, “Uh-huh, I gotta.”

“Go ahead then, come on. Gimme a good one and next time we’ll get you a fleshlight. Can pretend it’s me when—,” he cums before you can even finish your sentence, his thighs shaking and hips bucking, dick fucking your fist nice and deep, like he’s in your pussy trying to fuck his cum as deep as possible, rut against your cervix. “…I was gonna say you can pretend your fleshlight’s me when we’re away on these things, but okay.”

“Yeah, I connected the…dots,” he says breathily, putting his fingers together to symbolize the ‘dots’ being ‘connected’. “Fuck. Gross. Three trips to splooge city enough, ball-drainer?” His cum is nice and thick this last time, came real hard. “Or you want me to let you hump my thigh? Come on, sit on your daddy’s knee,” he drawls lazily and giggles, tugging you on top of him, not a thought spared for your clothes being coated in his cum or your immediate cringe.

“Sleep. Sleeeeep, now, shut up, shut the fuck up, no — nope, none of the whole thing, just sleep, all I want. Be my weighted blanket.” He holds you like a teddy bear on top of him. He’s snoring, nice and tuckered out, in minutes, cum drying on both of your clothes and your hand, vibrator lying on the bed beside you both.

[e5e5e5e5e5]

gotta prove you can show up. Apparently college isn't enough for that any more. no one trusts any one to keep their stories straight. banger of a CV right there. From you 10 years in the future, doing paperwork for the government I was well taken care of. You gotta be ready for the customer service side of it and it gets bad. People only deal with you when they really don't want to. Youve gotta be ready to always sound like the good guy and always take blame. but paperwork skills and computer skills and phone skills are what got you here so congrats. sorry if im being lazy in my writing, this isnt a work email. this is meeting minutes. umm. udnerstanding power structures. read your history. Machivelli wasnt a bad guy, they just named it after him. Michaelangelo was a criminal who painted NO HOPE NO FEAR on walls like a ninja turtle Molotov didnt invent his cocktail 3M stands for Minnesota Mining and somethingeratha The full story doesnt matter, not in hte meeting minutes. Table it and move on. that means something. you can be that guy, you know you can. even the execs need someone to keep meetings on track. its DJing but with people. hahahahaha.

The start of a new Greasy Journey

Graduating college was great. I walked across that stage with a 3.0 GPA—respectable, not extraordinary, but enough. My degree in sociology, with a concentration in oppressive government systems, felt like it meant something. Like I was equipped with knowledge that could make a difference.

I imagined myself stepping into a world where my education mattered. Maybe I wouldn’t land my dream job right away, but surely there was an organization out there that needed me—an activist group, a political nonprofit, something. I had spent years writing about power structures, organizing movements in theory, and analyzing the mechanisms of control that kept people oppressed. Now, I was eager to apply that knowledge. I was ready to do the work.

But I never thought it would come to this.

After months of sending out applications, rewriting my résumé, fine-tuning my cover letters to sound both passionate and competent—nothing. The rejections stacked up faster than I could process them. Some were automated, some were polite and regretful, and a few just never came at all.

I had exhausted every option that felt meaningful. The political organizing jobs, the nonprofit gigs, the advocacy roles—none of them wanted me. Every listing asked for experience I didn’t have, and I was beginning to realize that a degree in sociology, wasn’t worth much without the right connections or prior work history.

2 months went by and now I really have to pay back my student loans loans. $120,000 worth of regret, accruing interest like crazy. The payments weren’t abstract anymore; they were real, tangible deadlines looming on the calendar. There was no grace period left. No time to wait for a “real” job.

I told myself I wouldn’t come back home. That I had escaped my small town for a reason. But here I was, sitting in my childhood bedroom, scanning the local job listings. There were two that actually required a degree: Walmart assistant manager and Burger King assistant manager. I applied to both, clinging to some shred of dignity.

I prepared for the interview very well. But without any retail or leadership experience- they rejected me outright. Burger King still offered me something: a job. Not as a manager, not even as a shift lead. Just an entry-level trainee position to “learn the ropes.”

So here I am. I am Tyler Morrison, I went to Ridgeway University. I’m about to start a new position … at Burger King.

[moneygoblin04]

I am stressed, and I am on edge, and I feel like I'm actually, legitimately reaching my limit. It's kinda funny how my mom was the one to push me there

[xxplastic-cubexx]

i didnt plan to spend my sunday this way

[shepscapades]

shep I was talking to my brother about dbhc xisuma as one does and mentioned that ask about not being able to puzzle xisuma's face together mentally and my brother joked that the reason you put the spoiler bars and such on his face is cause you cant draw his whole face yet 😂

anyway I might have talked his ear off about dbhc idk tho lmao

LMAOO NOOOO!!! MY SECRET FINALLY IS OUT!!! /silly

[kheprriverse]

Y’all thinking about an older Ares has RUINED me

[lightbulb-warning]

so has anyone figured out WHY there is the Need To Share our Artworks™ or is it just the vibes and our Soul apparently

[no-thanks-bro]

what if i just cry every day of my life forever and ever

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

the doctor isnt neurodivergent or autistic or adhd or nonbinary or genderqueer or asexual. what the doctor is, is Not From Here

[krotiation]

this soundtrack genuinely makes me so emotional like damn. the jack vs fiona scene at the end of ep 2 is already so perfect and then they had to go make this beautiful as hell ost with it too. those bastards