#they like to bathe and sleep together

[ah-the-poultry]

Beautiful little cochin

[lil-vibes]

late night swimming with narilamb :3

some yapping abt them under here + template

This takes place about 5-ish years after their initial battle so he's just well enough to walk on his own. Narinder sustained pretty severe injuries that took years to even begin mending and in that time they both discovered that he really enjoys being fully in water. Warm baths are a favourite activity of his and, in summer, swimming! It used to be only at the large lake near the cult bc thats how far Lambert was willing to risk taking him.

Swimming is good for him bc it's an activity he can do a lot of (relatively) without his whole body hurting and a way to build some muscle back. He only goes at night so he doesn't get ill from the intense summer heat.

Also his hut has many shells decorating it and Mere (incoming bat cult oc that became his friend on accident) has received some as well! He's still looking for a Pretty Shell tm for lamb, but they are just happy that he has a friend.

heres the template!

[gasstationclown]

is this anything

standard practice

bubble bath for torbek, stupid hawaiian shirt for torbek (i didnt draw a pattern you just have to imagine), bow in hair for torbek

working hard

and the full thing

[shewhoeatssand]

they are similar

[thefaeriefeatherdark]

Oh people were not exaggerating about the Lesbians in this episode of Dungeon Meshi.

[starryetoile]

I keep having stoner domestic dyke dreams

[nthflower]

I think people who are says things like power and denji siblings you can't ship them and people who actually ship them or read their reletionship romantic equally annoying to me.

Their relationship is so cool to just get reduced to they are siblings no they are lovers shit.

[biolums]

watched an unrelated to grief movie and am currently sobbing my eyes out bc theres a cat who is left behind by a family member who dies and it reminds me of plur which reminds me of tia. was going to rewatch midsommar in hopes of coming to terms with my grief through seeing it elsewhere but i dont think thats a good idea anymore. um yeah i dont even know what to do. i want to move into college already but i know its going to be so upsetting all over again when i come home and they arent here. its everywhere its all in my life and my home and i dont know how to deal with it at all. let alone move on

[highlifeboat]

Speaking of those posts by sex-bots, have you noticed they startes tagging them "Asexual"? Like, I know it's done by machines, that literally have no idea, what they doing, but still... Way to miss your entire core audience 🤣🤣

And yes, i get the irony, considering we are two aroaces, talking about smut here :p

I haven't actually.

I don't see a lot of posts from pornbots, they most just send me messages that look like they had a seizure while typing or follow me and I block them right away.

Although that is really funny they're tagging stuff as "Asexual". Probably going off trends or something and whatever algorithm they use to tag saw the spike in the ace tag.

I like smut. I mean, I don't really read it, but like I've said I find sex to be a fascinating thing.

[succubusvalentine]

Part two of Simon Riley with a user who kidnaps herself. CW: Cunnilingus, Somnophilia, PiV, they're both a bit crazy, brief mention of blood (in a ring) part one here if you missed it!

Simon was currently stood over his bed. Staring at you. Under his covers.

You smelled so good too. Simon didn't want to get in bed and disrupt the scent of you with his own. He'd never forgive himself.

It was strange. Simon thought that if you found out he was stalking you, you would scream, call the cops, anything but this.

Maybe you were as crazy as he was. A thought that both terrified and excited Simon. Although the excitement definitely weighed out.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Simon merely watched you as days went by. He watched you eat, watch tv, sleep, bathe. And it didn't creep you out in the slightest.

You knew there was always an adjustment period when two people moved in together. So you let him watch you. He was like a wary cat. It was rather cute.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"You can get in bed, you know" you hum tiredly one night. Opening your eyes and looking up at the behemoth of a man that would have terrified anyone else if they saw him watching them sleep.

"Don't want to make the bed smell like me when it smells like you"

"If you cuddle me you'd be close enough to smell me really good"

Simon stared. Brows furrowing in thought. Before he gives in.

Simon awkwardly slid into the bed next to you, tensing slightly when you grabbed his arms and wrapped them around your waist.

But as soon as Simon seemed to understand that he was touching you and you wanted him to keep touching you, he grabbed the backs of your thighs, pulling you flush against him with your legs around his thick waist so he could bury his face into your chest.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

After that, Simon could barely keep his hands off you. As soon he got home from base, he would find you somewhere in his home and wrap his arms around you. Refusing to let go for at least ten minutes.

He also gave you the best head you'd ever received. Definitely a bonus.

Every guy you'd been with before Simon, treated the act like a chore. Lazily licking you until raising their head and asking if you'd finished yet.

Simon though? He does it for his own pleasure.

Simon will find you wherever you're lazing about the house. Drop to his knees. And go to town.

Sucking on your clit until your legs shook, moving his head down to lick the wet slick coming from your hole. The first time he shoved his tongue in your hole to taste more of you? You nearly screamed as you came unexpectedly.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

And the way Simon fucks? You could barely think a coherent thought afterwards.

Sure, the first time you two fucked Simon came almost as soon as he thrust into you. But you couldn't blame him. He was fucking the woman he'd been stalking for over a year. He was bound to get overwhelmed.

Now though, Simon could fuck you for multiple rounds. There'd been times you had to call out of work because you either couldn't walk, or your body was so exhausted afterwards.

And after telling Simon it was okay to fuck you while you were asleep? He was even worse. The amount of times you woke up to Simon fucking into you while cuddling you and drooling into your shoulder was immense. But you loved it.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Simon's favourite part of you being his sweet little stalker, was that sometimes he would tell you he's going out. And then he would see you in the corner of his eye.

But Simon's favouritest part of his favourite part, was when he would go out with his team, and they'd point it out. Unfortunately it only happened a few times. The team getting used to seeing you watching Simon from afar. But whenever Simon noticed you, he got the stupidest smile on his face. Knowing he was definitely going to marry you. Propose to you with a ring where the gemstone was made of his own blood.

"tha' lass been followin' us bar tae bar all nigh'" Soap muttered. The rest of the team being concerned.

"Yeah" Simon grinned dumbly "she's the best ain't she?"

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Simon was just over the moon that you were just as obsessed with him as he was with you. And you moving into his home unannounced had to be the most romantic thing Simon had ever experienced in his life. You were perfect for him.

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

Tag list ~ @thefutureastronaut @illyanam1011 @likewhyareyousoobsessedwith-blog @hbaasaad @idknowwhattdowhitmylife @maybe-a-bi-witch @thatpersonnamedrook @miss-chanandler-bong @nicki-lovesolderfictionalmen @baduzzxy @skeletonsucker @drewsuncrustables @milanriol @aceywaycy @jooba @morallygrayboys @logansblackgf @dreamland08 @nicolebarnes @spacecola7 @teapartydreams @callsignao3 @garejuremuzum @laduenadelswing @xxkay15xx @simonsslut @princessbitchybucket @unclearblur @emily-roberts @nightreverie @huehuehuehuehehe @stayblinkarmyatinymoafearnot @wandabillywrites @mcira @klttn @ditzydoefx @vmaxis @keldeleine @persephone-kore-law @adrislibrary @arcvenes @thicksexxualtension @ltrileys @tbhiddlestan83 @lia-36 @happyficlibrary @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @hellshire-harlot @saturnspector @foo1ishs3renity @fishsinsareacknowledged @werebear-roams @cutedumbbunny @masterclassofescapism @lovelylocs @lady-of-death @fwoarmachine

guys I was even super nice and tagged a few reblogs that seemed super into this + made me giggle when reading. So so sorry if some of the tags didn't work/if I forgot someone. Feel free to scream at me in the comments if I did <3

just wanted to credit @feline-flame-fatale for the second last paragraph of this. Their comment was honestly perfect for this. Thank them in the comments RIGHT NOW.

[paragonrobits]

some important calvin and hobbes facts in case you haven't read the original comic strip in a long time or only absorbed stuff on it from memes and out of context bits on here:

Calvin's last name has never been given, and neither has any of his parent's names. This was actually why his uncle Max only showed up for a brief storyline; the creator of the comic, Bill Watterson, ultimately felt that while it was fine to have him as someone for his parents to talk to, it felt far too awkward to never have Max refer to them by name and he never made a return appearance.

The general tone of the comic is fairly light-hearted, with a big emphasis on goofy slapstick comedy contrasted by clever wordplay and often surprising adult-centered jokes that'll hit you like a slap. A big part of the comedy is, as Watterson put it (paraphrased) "It's really funny to me when people express deeply stupid ideas with really fancy terminology." One notable example you might have seen is that one bit where Calvin asks his mom for money to buy a Satan-worshiping rock album and his mom replies that there's nothing genuine about them and they're just putting on the attitude for shock value, and comisserates with Calvin as he deplores that mainstream nihilism can't be trusted. He concludes that childhood is disillusioning.

There is a LOT of criticism of the extreme materialism and selfish mentality of the late 80s, when the comic was initially written. This may go a long way to explain how its aged so well; much of what it criticizes resonates well with people today.

Bill Watterson views comic strips a legitimate form of artwork, and repeatedly fought to have more space to draw more beautiful and artistic backgrounds, which was a very hard fight and unpopular even with other comic strip artists. He eventually did win some compromises and a lot of Calvin And Hobbes' artwork shows it, with the use of space to indicate time as well as a sharp contrast between the often plain environments of mundane life contrasted by the wildly beautiful imagery of Calvin's imagination (which often sports realistic depictions in an art shift of sorts).

Hobbes is explicitly not an imaginary friend, by word of Watterson himself. We don't know WHAT he is exactly, and Hobbes is apparently unaware of the strange nature of his reality; people look at him and only see an ordinary stuffed tiger plushie, but he has a tangible effect on the world that would be physically impossible for Calvin to do on his own. He's apparently been around for a while, and was apparently around when Calvin was a young baby.

On that note; Hobbes has implicitly killed (notably treated as both a gag and also with the vibe of 'he's a tiger, duh') and while he doesn't do it again on-screen, he doesn't have any moral issues about it. Calvin claims that he's never had trouble bringing Hobbes to school because the last time he did, Hobbes killed and ate a bully named Tommy Chestnut and simply comments that it was gross and he needed a bath. Calvin's tried to repeat this again, but Hobbes was grossed out at the thought having to eat a kid raw and not being allowed to use an oven first, or complaining that children are too fattening.

Hobbes became gradually less human-like in body language and more like an actual cat in both body language and behavior; this was due to Watterson drawing more inspiration from his cat, who also inspired a lot of Hobbes' running gags, such as pouncing on Calvin when he got home. Several years into the syndication of the strip, Watterson's cat passed away, and he did a tribute to her with a comic strip of the two of them agreeing to try to dream together so they can keep playing when they have to sleep; Watterson's commentary (if I recall right), remarks on his cat: "We can see each other again in dreams."

[spurbleu]

to me it’s an inherent truth that ghost is socially “ugly”

scars that are uneven and pucker skin because he had hastily sewn lacerations together. burn scars on his back and hands, with skin that wrinkles like haphazard gills across his abdomen. blonde hair gene that makes his eyelashes and eyebrows near invisible. a crooked, broken nose that hardly works unless he brings whatever smells right to his nostrils.

and it wasn’t a sob story. he’s wasn’t insecure because to him it really isn’t all that important. at the end of the day the body he’s been put in sleeps, eats, and kills. fucks good, if it feels like it. that’s all he’s ever needed.

it’s not until you come into the picture, domestically enough, that he does start to care.

starts small, like checking if there was anything in his teeth, or smoothing out that one hair that likes to plant itself over his forehead.

the trivial, small details that furrow in between his ironed apathy.

then, insecurity blooms. found where one scar begins and the next ends. he stops lingering at the mirror, and wears thicker clothes because “london’s fuckin’ freezin”. keeps his eyes trained ahead when you shop downtown, so he doesn’t catch a glimpse of himself next to you in the store windows.

doesn’t realize how bad it had gotten until you, who had picked up on his lack of subtly and libido, asked him to take a bath.

with you.

and suddenly he’s rendered a quiet, awkward bastard in your flat bathroom, that is much too small for him.

you run the water to a boil and put relaxing salts in while he strips. he sits down with his mouth in a firm line because what the fuck is he supposed to say when his bird massages shampoo into his hair and hums a song that isn’t his favorite but becomes one when she kisses his cheek while at the chorus.

watches with wavering interest as bubbles form from the soap and the water begins to cool. hasn’t said a word since you started the strange routine that makes him feel raw and vulnerable in a way that he characterizes as childish.

“you’re so handsome, si.”

you’re swiping lotion onto his face. he hadn’t even realized you’d been staring.

“what?”

you laugh and swipe a thumb under his crooked nose, over the cleft lip. fingers trace the scar that runs up his cheek.

you hold his ugly in your hands. and you find him…handsome. he’s seen a liar and you can’t be one for the life of you. it disturbs him, that whatever comes from you lips isn’t just a compliment, but an observation.

what a foreign thing, to be given someone’s truth so easily.

the room gets quiet aside from the foam whispers and sputter of water when his legs shift.

“I said,” you kiss him gently, “I think you’re handsome.”

the apathy to his appearance never returns. however, the harshness is retired for however long you continue to hold him.

he will be whatever you want him to, and if that means he’s handsome, then a good place to start is believing you when you tell him so.

[reiyaus]

fem reader intended

fiancé gojo who shocked the jujutsu higher ups when he revealed his engagement to you, a grade 1 sorceress with no relation to any big 3 clans. imagine their surprise when he decides to get married out of love and not just to create a heir.

fiancé gojo who teaches with you at jujutsu high and is the reason why you can barely arrive to classes on time. with his pouty face and insanely toned biceps trapping you in his hold, who are you to say no?

fiancé gojo who whines when you actually leave him to teach your students, feigning offence when megumi shoots him a disgusted glare.

fiancé gojo who often joins in on your lessons when he starts feeling lonely, acting as if he were your actual student. your annoyingly smart A+ student who does nothing but brag about his intelligence.

fiancé gojo who likes to text you and send silly voice messages no matter the situation. picture satoru replaying his minute-long burp vm in front of the jujutsu higher ups so that he makes sure you can laugh at it (spoiler: all you feel is disappointment).

fiancé gojo who thinks it’s absolutely hilarious to flaunt his engagement and watch the irritation on their faces turn into pure horror. because for gojo, flaunting means interrupting you mid-sentence to practically make out for a minute straight.

fiancé gojo who asks everyday, “should we have our wedding now?” and sighs dramatically when you tell him to be patient. not that he’s actually mad, though. he likes the giddyness he feels while counting down to your wedding date.

fiancé gojo who drowns you in affection and praise after every mission, crying his heart out (jokingly) about how he felt like an abandoned princess waiting for her prince to come back from war.

fiancé gojo who, deep down, thanks the skies above that you get to come home safely everytime. and while he’s a jokester, all the ‘missing you’ parts in his sob stories were true. because while he knew you were strong, the lingering worry of you running into something way stronger bit his ass everytime.

fiancé gojo who indulges himself in your warmth, ignoring every single notification his phone pings out.

fiancé gojo who has a hold on you so secure, even during sleep, that you have to wake him up before he presses on your bladder any further. now you have to deal with his complaints of “do you not love me anymore? Is that why you let go? you’re so mean!”

fiancé gojo who shuts up when you offer to wash his greasy hair, immediately situating himself in front of you and leaning into every single touch you place on his head.

fiancé gojo who ends up getting you wet and makes a stupid excuse so that you can bathe together. no matter how difficult, the feeling of your skin against his was enough to get him through the day.

fiancé gojo who settles your back on his chest, lifting your arm to trace “satoru 🤍 [name] 4eva”. what a cutie.

fiancé gojo who genuinely can’t wait until he sees you walk down the aisle, exchange the vows he’s been working on since you first met, shamelessly give you the most passionate kiss ever (in front everyone you know and love), and officially get the privilege of calling you his wifey.

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (1/2) | two string bathing suit

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : your f1!boyfriend reacting to you showing him two strings as a bathing suit (tiktok trend - click for reference)

୨ৎ : genre : romance comedy ୨ৎ : tws : slightly suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 2073

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : a rare wednesday post that isn't a solo story !! also i will be putting a pause on request bc my inbox is flooded, but once i have released a majority of the stories (within the next few weeks everyday there will be a new post in honor of 10k) they will open up again ty guys so much for the support <3

ʚ・max verstappen

“max,” you called from the bathroom, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “don’t freak out.”

he barely looked up from his phone. “that’s the worst way to start a sentence.”

you stepped out, deadpan. wearing… if you could even call it that… a “swimsuit” made of two threads, three knots, and maybe half a square inch of material. total. it looked like it was crocheted by a sleep-deprived spider. you posed with a straight face.

max blinked. then blinked again, slower.

“no,” he said, setting his phone down with almost religious care. “absolutely not.”

“what do you mean?” you said, fighting to keep a straight face. “it’s trendy. minimalist.”

“that’s not minimalist. that’s missing.”

you twirled, the strings shifting dangerously. “it’s high fashion.”

max stood up like he was about to perform an exorcism. “that’s not fashion. that’s barely science. you could sneeze and the whole thing would combust.”

“i think it’s cute.”

“i think it’s… illegal.”

you walked over slowly. he didn’t move, just looked absolutely offended by the garment clinging to your body with the hope and optimism of dental floss. “so… i can’t wear it on the yacht?”

he stared at you, stunned. “if you wear that on the yacht, i’m jumping into the ocean and letting nature take me.”

you burst out laughing, and he immediately buried his face in his hands. “who sold you that? who allowed this to exist?”

“i made it myself.”

his head snapped up in horror. “what.”

“yarn. patience. emotional damage.”

max grabbed the nearest towel and threw it around your shoulders like he was shielding your soul. “you need help. professional help.”

you leaned in, still grinning. “so that’s a no?”

he groaned. “i love you. but you’re grounded.”

ʚ・lewis hamilton

you stepped out slowly. wearing… well, calling it a swimsuit would be legally questionable. two strings of yarn tied together with the optimism of a third-grader’s friendship bracelet. honestly, it looked like you raided a kindergarten art bin and called it couture.

lewis lowered his sunglasses.

paused.

stared.

“be honest,” he said, slowly standing up. “did you lose a bet? or is this, like, a charity stunt i don’t know about?”

you fought to keep a straight face. “it’s my new swimsuit. do you like it?”

“do i like it?” he walked in a slow circle around you, studying it like a museum exhibit. “you look like someone gave a hamster a crochet hook and no supervision.”

“be serious.”

“oh, i am.” he waved a hand at the barely-there strings. “you’re out here dressed like a cursed macramé project.”

you pouted. “it’s artistic.”

“it’s traumatic.”

you posed dramatically. “but imagine this on the beach… champagne… sun setting…”

“yeah, and a full-blown scandal.” he crossed his arms. “you’re gonna flash everyone.”

you smirked. “so you’re saying it’s a little much?”

“i’m saying it’s one wardrobe malfunction away from me throwing my entire body over yours like a security guard.”

you grinned, stepping closer. “but you’d still let me wear it?”

he paused.

then? “yes. but only indoors. with the curtains closed. and a blanket.”

you laughed as he wrapped you up in the nearest hoodie and muttered, “i need a drink. and therapy. and maybe a glue gun.”

ʚ・george russell

you walked into the living room with the fakest innocent smile on your face and the largest box you could find on amazon. george was sitting on the couch, laptop open, looking like a ceo of something important.

“i got something for the trip,” you said sweetly.

he looked up. “that box is huge. did you order a tent?”

you beamed. “bikini.”

he blinked. “that’s not a bikini-sized box. that’s an appliance-sized box.”

you set it down and started dramatically peeling off the layers — tissue paper, unnecessary foam, even a fake ribbon — while george just watched in mild horror.

“is this an unboxing video?” he asked, deadpan. “should i film this for content? are we reviewing the manufacturer’s efficiency?”

you reached the final layer.

and pulled out the swimsuit.

or… the two lonely strings of yarn and a prayer that you were calling a swimsuit.

george stared.

and stared.

“…where’s the rest of it?” he finally asked, voice cracking ever so slightly.

“that’s it!”

he shut his laptop slowly. “that’s not it. that’s… that’s not a garment. that’s yarn.”

“it’s cute!”

“it’s nonexistent.”

you turned it around, holding it by the strings like it was a spider you weren’t sure was dead. “you don’t think it’s cute?”

he stood up like he needed to physically confront the reality of the situation. “how did you even find this? who sold it to you? did you blackmail someone? did it come with a warning label?”

“i packaged it myself.”

he blinked. “you what.”

“it’s a prank, babe.”

silence.

then, he slowly sank back onto the couch, covered his face, and mumbled, “you’re the reason i have stress dreams.”

you dropped the string bikini on his chest and smiled. “but you love me anyway.”

“i do,” he sighed. “i just… wish you loved fabric.”

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos was lying on the bed, one arm behind his head, scrolling his phone while you rifled through your suitcase.

“i got a new swimsuit for the trip,” you said casually, pulling out a folded towel to fake wrap the "swimsuit" in.

he hummed. “another one?”

you smirked. “this one’s special.”

he turned his head just in time to see you dramatically unwrap what could only be described as two strings of yarn connected by stubbornness and delusion.

carlos sat up.

paused.

blinked.

“…dios mío.”

you fought to keep a straight face. “it’s cute, right?”

he stood up slowly, like his body was moving while his brain was buffering. “that’s not a swimsuit. that’s—that’s a trap. you wear that, and i’m fighting everyone.”

you held it up by the strings. “it’s kind of artistic.”

“it’s kind of criminal.”

you twirled it once. “it’s technically wearable.”

“it’s technically two pieces of string and a death wish.”

you laughed, tossing it onto the bed. “so you’re saying you don’t want me wearing it at the hotel pool?”

“hotel pool?” he gave you an incredulous look. “you can’t even wear that in our apartment without risking emotional damage.”

“too much?”

“i’ve seen paper towels with more coverage.”

you walked over and looped your arms around his neck, grinning. “jealous?”

he rested his forehead against yours, sighing dramatically. “no. i’m concerned. for your safety. and my blood pressure.”

you leaned in close. “you’re just mad because you know i’d steal the show.”

he kissed your cheek. “i’m mad because i know i’d get arrested for public indecency by association.”

you laughed into his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around you like a man who had just stared into the abyss.

“i’m hiding that,” he muttered. “i don’t even trust you to prank me with it again.”

ʚ・charles leclerc

“charles?” you called sweetly, stepping into the hotel room with a mischievous grin and a suspicious little shopping bag.

he glanced up from the bed, where he was sitting with his ipad and airpods, one brow raised. “yes, amour?”

“i got a swimsuit for this weekend. want to see it?”

he smiled, setting the ipad aside. “of course.”

you pulled it from the bag slowly, two strings. only strings. it might have once been a swimsuit, but now? it was a scandal waiting to happen.

charles stared.

then blinked once.

then smiled. slowly.

“mon dieu…” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “is that legal?”

“technically,” you shrugged, holding it up. “there’s a front. and a back. i kind of wish it was thinner.”

he tilted his head, eyes trailing the string in your hands with the fascination of a man watching his entire moral compass short-circuit. “and you plan to wear this in public…it's already thin enough?”

“maybe. why?”

he stood, crossing the room in three slow, measured steps. “because, chérie… if you wear that outside, i will never survive it.”

you smirked. “you hate it?”

he leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. “no,” he whispered. “i want you to wear it. but only where i can see you.”

you blinked.

“put it on,” he said, voice low, fingers brushing the hem of your shirt. “let me see everything.”

you burst out laughing, hitting his chest lightly. “charles!”

he laughed too, pulling you in by the waist. “you’re evil,” he said against your neck, voice playful. “you come in here with two strings and expect me to be normal?”

“you seemed pretty into it.”

“i am,” he said shamelessly. “but mon amour… if you wear that out, i’ll have to start swinging. and i don’t want to go to jail in monaco.”

ʚ・lando norris

you stood in front of the mirror, struggling to keep a straight face as you unwrapped the tiny bag you’d stuffed the “swimsuit” into. two strings. one knot. less coverage than a shoelace.

“baaaabe,” you called sweetly. “i got a new swimsuit. wanna see?”

“yeah, sure!” lando shouted from the other room. “wait—should i come in there or—?”

you opened the door slowly, string bikini dangling from one finger like it was a precious artifact. “no need. just look.”

he turned.

froze.

squinted.

then: “what is that?!”

you fought a grin. “it’s my new bikini.”

“that’s not a bikini,” he said, already walking toward you like he needed to inspect it up close for safety reasons. “that’s—that’s a joke, right?”

you turned it around like a qvc host. “front and back. simple.”

he gaped at you. “it’s a crime scene.”

“very fashion-forward.”

“it’s barely forward! it’s not even forward-adjacent!”

you were shaking with laughter now as he waved his arms in genuine disbelief. “where did you even buy that? why did you buy that? how did they ship it? in a matchbox?!”

“i thought it’d be cute on the beach.”

he took the swimsuit carefully, like it might bite him, and held it up with two fingers. “there is more fabric in a tea bag.”

“i think you’re being dramatic.”

“i think you’re being dangerous.”

you stepped in close, resting your hands on his chest. “so you don’t want me to wear it?”

lando looked at you. then at the strings. then back at you.

“i want you to burn it.”

you grinned. “too late. i packed it.”

“i’m not letting you leave the hotel room.”

“promise?”

his jaw dropped. “you’re the worst.”

you winked. “and yet.”

he groaned into your shoulder, muttering, “i need therapy. and a one-piece. for you.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

you didn’t warn him.

you just walked into the hotel room, holding what looked like a piece of yarn with a dream. no dramatic intro, no buildup — just straight chaos.

“new swimsuit,” you said casually, tossing it onto the bed like it wasn’t about to destroy him.

oscar turned from his laptop, expression as flat and unreadable as always… until he saw it.

he stared.

blink.

longer stare.

“…that’s it?”

“that’s it.”

he sat back in the chair slowly, arms crossed. “that’s not a swimsuit.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you don’t like it?”

he took a very long pause. processing. buffering. internally screaming.

“i… don’t disapprove,” he said finally, choosing his words like they were part of a hostage negotiation. “but… i’m trying to understand where the rest of it went.”

you held it up by a single string. “it’s trendy. daring. very… cute.”

“it’s barely thread.”

you grinned. “so you do disapprove.”

he didn’t answer right away, just tilted his head, looking you up and down like he was trying to calculate structural integrity. “…if it makes you happy to wear that, then it’s fine.”

you squinted. “but you’re dying inside.”

he blinked. “a little.”

you walked closer, draping the swimsuit over his shoulder like a sash. “you don’t think i’d look hot?”

“that’s not the issue,” he said immediately, not even blinking. “the issue is physics.”

you burst out laughing, and that finally cracked a smile from him — soft, a little resigned, but full of affection.

“i trust you,” he added, voice quiet but firm. “i just… don’t trust gravity. or wind. or humanity.”

you kissed his cheek. “so private pool only?”

he nodded. “preferably with no windows.”

you leaned back, watching him eye the bikini like it was a cursed relic. “you’re kind of obsessed with me.”

he smiled again, this time without hesitation. “obviously.”

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[calebsdraft]

big brother!caleb hcs ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

warning : stepcest, creampies, manipulation, use of gege, your pussy is referred to princess, drugging, fingering, public sex !!

౨ৎ au : 𝓼tepbrother!caleb x 𝓼tepsister!reader ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

big brother!caleb who… takes care of you 24/7!! he dresses you up, gets you everything you want, makes you food, everything you need he gives to you willingly like the amazing gege he is <3

big brother!caleb who… gets you gifts whenever he goes out for his missions. whenever he leaves, he always comes back with a little necklace or plushie that you’ve been wanting for a while—or a little special addition of a book you’ve been wanting!

big brother!caleb who… helps you get dress! he helps you put on your bra and panties too… but that’s okay because he told you that all big brothers do that! not only that, but he always picks out your favorites.

big brother!caleb who… always tucks you in at night all warn and comfy, always. no matter if hes not in the mood or tired, he’s always there to help you get under the covers!

big brother!caleb who… helps you take a bath or shower! whenever he knows you’re too tired to, on your period, or just don’t want to, he’s always there to help. sure, he gets in the shower with you, but that’s just because he wants to clean himself too. two birds with one stone, right? he always cleans you so well, too, with your favorite shampoo (that smells like his) and massaging your head <3

big brother!caleb who… never lets you out of his sight. you want to go out with your friends? good thing he was just about to go to that same store you were going to! you wanna go to a party? sorry, but there’s bad men at the party; it isn’t safe to go. you want to go to the movies? he got two tickets!

big brother!caleb who… sometimes, late at night, helps you with that achy feeling in your princess! ever since the first night, you’ve been learning that the only person you could come to that helps that achy feeling is your gege.

big brother!caleb who… ends up with your legs wrapped around his waist, pinned to the shower wall with his cock deep inside of you. shh, don’t worry! all big brothers do this to their little sisters! since he took such good care of you, you have to take care of him, right? lately, he’s been feeling full lately… mind if he dumps himself inside of you? “(ノ _ <,, )

big brother!caleb who… absolutely makes you never wear any underwear or bras when your parents aren’t there. you guys grew up together, why would it be weird? obviously, you’ll end up prancing around with your bare pussy—i mean princess—out, nipples hard through the thin fabric of his shirt. and yes, i do mean caleb’s shirt.

big brother!caleb who… tries to fuck you on every surface of the house. surprisingly, your princess will always be feeling achy! she needs her gege… ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა good thing he’s always there to help with that! he’ll stuff you bent over on the couch, on the dining table, the floor, kitchen counter, shower, bed, chairs… anywhere! not that you’re complaining, you’ll always be feeling so warm and stuffed with his cum afterwards!

big brother!caleb who… even stuffs you full when having dinner with your parents! they could be eating and conversation about work but you’ll be too distracted with caleb’s fingers knuckles deep in your princess. he’s just keeping you filled so you don’t feel achy! even though it’s hard not to cry in front of your parents, you always manage to take it like a good girl, even when he’s rubbing your little nub <3

big brother!caleb who… knows that sometimes you have a hard time falling asleep, so he helps you by putting some little drugs in your drinks! all it does is make you soo tired. your gege just tells you that its time to go to bed and carries you up to your room. by then, you’re already passed out cold! don’t worry, he’ll protect you. to your parents, he’s just sleeping with you to protect you from your monsters! little do they know, your hole is warming caleb’s cock while the two of you sleep.

[dmitriene]

continuation to this small work, cw: two freaks in love.

könig finds out you're kind of shy, a meek, pretty thing, sure, you send him such a revealing, unabashed polaroid pictures, but now, with him appearing out of nowhere at your door, giant and rugged, your fingers fiddle nervously at your own clothes, tugging down and trembling at your sides, wide eyes looking at the letter he holds in his gloved hand, from colonel, to you, name written by the way you already memorized, making you understand that it's really him.

the man you sent your nudes to, who would've know that he'd get so obsessed to try and find you like possessed dog, but you welcome him nonetheless, shuffling aside to let him in, bend his head down with a curl to his back so he would get past the doorway to your living room, dirty boots leaving a crumbs of dirt, his gear coated in things you don't want to know about, but his bright, unmovingly focused eyes look at you with a crinkle of delight, pupils could've dilate by now.

sure, könig is a little bit sad you didn't welcome him naked, or undressing at the very first sight of him, but he can work from what he got, from your shy touches when he wraps a hand around yours, for a handshake, that's it, but his by now ungloved, sandpapered fingers rub and circle around your wrist, curious, almost shuddering at the feel of your much smoother, gentle skin against his, and just this is enough to turn him on, cock swelling hard in his cargos.

he wonders if you'll let him bend you over the couch and eat your pussy from the back, or just stretch your pretty hole around his swollen cock, but you ask him questions, how he found you, why, does he wants something to eat, but könig already plans a small wedding for you two so he could make you his forever, an adorable housewife that will take care of her hard working husband with sending him pictures of her holes he could pump full after coming home.

könig tells you everything, how much times you made him cum, that he fantasized about you in any possible situation and position, dreamed of entering his quarters, and instead of a empty, boring room see you curled at his bed, his thumb tracing along your knee all the while he babbles your ears off with all disgusting, horny talks, but it's amuses you, to the point your thighs start to clench together, pressing harsh, as you lean in, watching his eyes nearly eclipse from the very little contact.

you put the letter he brought aside on the table, instead, asking your questions, and then answering his, which only contain of awkward, boyish laugh and stuttering words of if he looks the way you imagined, and könig is, a little bit awkward, in the same time cocky enough to touch you, nearly groping, looking enchanted on the outline of your breasts from beneath your sleeping shirt, before rubbing an sweaty hand against the back of his hooded head, such a silly man.

nearly jumps out of his pants when you offer him to take a bath at your place, voice mellowy and inviting, and könig trots behind you with a wagging tail when you lead the way, filling the bath full of warm water and couple drops of shower gel, making some bubbles that not really suit him, but would make the room smell nice and block out all that reeks out from him when he starts to undress, preening under your touch when you help to unclasp couple of things off his gear, könig holding down from to not shove your hand down his crotch.

it's when you join him that he gets insistent, all your shy act dropping down, your nails raking down the expanse of his toned, tissued back with tiny, reddening streaks, as könig corners you against the bathtub ceramic, moaning raggedly and humping your pussy persistently, messy, hips grinding and twitching, and the way he acts so eager and silly makes you really aroused, mewling right against his wet ear as he sloppily makes out with your neck, his hair and stubble rubbing all over your sensitive, bruised skin, sharp teeth's closing around the warmed flesh.

seems like now, you have a strange kind of boyfriend, a military colonel, a right pervert, and a pussy drunk pup that pumps your soppy, gummy cunt full of his thick, creamy release, one he kept in his balls especially for your meeting, his vision nearly blackening from how long his cock throbbed and spurted, squeezed tight by your pulsing, milking walls, enjoying your palms stroking his face, cooing at him hushed and lulling, everything könig dreamt of.

main masterlist. quidelines.