#voila has something to show you 。➴ 。

[madamvoila]

ISSEI

[yandereforme]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader x Yan! King and Queen of the Winter Fae

Tw:

You’re Bruce’s biological daughter from a one night stand. You joined the family only a month or so before Jason’s death, which was definitely a big factor of the neglect.

You had one month where the house was good. You had been living with your grandparents, as your mother hadn’t been able to parent you, but they had gotten too old to care for you. So, your mother told Bruce about you, they did a DNA test, and voila! It’s a child

Your first month was tense but good. Bruce was distant and awkward but he genuinely tried. Alfred was always willing to talk with you. Jason was actually really nice to you, and the one time you met Dick, you really liked him.

However, everything changed when Jason died.

You were mourning too, having cared about him, but you were left alone in your grief. Bruce shut you out, rarely showing up to dinner or anything else. Alfred was more distant, colder. Dick wasn’t there. No one was.

Then, a boy with black hair and pale skin started randomly coming in and ordering your dad around, and Alfred welcomed him with open arms. Bruce took longer, but it wasn’t too long until your father started treating that way better than he treated you.

The thing you hated most about the whole situation was that you were absolutely being kept in the dark about something. The minute you entered any room three of them were in conversations stopped. Usually the boy, Timothy, would change the subject or just excuse himself. Then Bruce would go back to being Brody.

You got the message. You stopped going to breakfast or dinner with them. You faded into the background easily, and could go weeks without seeing Tim or Bruce. Alfred was more regularly, but never for long. In the morning before school when you get the bus, he packed you breakfast to go, which was nice.

You spent a lot of time outdoors, even during the winter. That was probably why you started, noticing the odd behavior of the air around you. You noticed the odd sound coming from the abandoned shed on the property.

You weren’t expecting to see a small being that looked like they were made of ice stuck in a mouse trap made of plastic, their oxygen being cut off, but you couldn’t leave them there.

When you entered the shed, having successfully broken the lock, you could tell the being was surprised. You spoke in calm tones, explaining that you lived on the property and you wanted to help them, but that you needed them to hold still.(in the back of your mind, you wondered if they even understood English. Hopefully, if they didn’t, your tone would help them understand.)

It took you a minute to figure out how the trap worked, but once you figured it out, you let the being free. They stared at you for a moment. They flew up to eye level with you for a moment, and touched your nose.

The little hand on your nose felt surprisingly nice. It wasn’t the bad, kind of cold, but rather felt like snow when it hits the tip of your nose. It made you smile.

The being winked at you, smiling and making sounds that you couldn’t quite understand, before they flew off into the sky, which you noticed was rapidly getting darker. You hurried back to the manor to get your dinner, not realizing just what you had started.

Edit: I’m so sorry I haven’t been writing lately! Things have been hectic, but summer starts soon, so I hope I will have more time to write! Also, in case you don’t realize it from reading this, the reader does not know the Waynes are the Batfamily, and the reader has not been publicly acknowledged as a member of the Wayne family. You were supposed to be publicly acknowledged after being there for a month and a half, but when Jason died, those plans got thrown out. 

[gothcsz]

Visitation | Javier Peña x F!Reader | ~4.3k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Javier visits you in prison after putting you in there.

Tags: SMUT, pwp, dirty talk, cursing, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, cock worship, ball sucking (we're doing it all!), unprotected p in v sex, bi!reader, mentions of f/f sexual activities, creampie, 2 degrading uses of the word(s) 'slut' and 'bitch', untranslated spanish, reader has hair that can be put into a ponytail and carded through, mention of reader losing weight, no use of y/n, reader is afab and able-bodied, little to no physical descriptions, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, barely beta'd, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: so this is def inspired by me being put into horny jail for no reason! straight up indulging in this fantasy, if you couldn’t tell by the bi!reader tag 🙂‍↕️ javier peña i went to jail for you, the least you can do is screw me right 😇 thanks to @ovaryacted for slithering into my brain and convincing me to write this, same with @probablyreadinsmut for lowkey enabling it too, lmfao. oh, and how could i forgot, this is my ride4ride fic for @javierpena-inatacvest lol she gave us this sexy masterpiece right here and i told her i'd write a riding fic back so voila! i hope you guys like it, we are so back (kinda... sorta...) 🖤

Javier leans back in the stiff, uncomfortable chair, fingers drumming lazily against the surface of the scratched-up table. The dim, fluorescent lights cast an unflattering yellowish glow over the grimy glass partition that separates him from the other side. The air in the room is stale, the only sound filling the emptiness is the slow, torturous ticking of the analog clock above the heavy steel door.

Every second drags until finally there’s movement. The shuffle of boots. The metallic clang of cuffs. And then, the slow, aching creak of the door.

There you are.

Dressed in that drab gray jumpsuit, wrists shackled in front of you, your hair pulled back into a ponytail. His eyes roam over you without shame, mapping the way your body has changed, the slight weight you've lost—but fuck, you still look so damn good. 

Like a fucking feast laid out before him. The curve of your hips is there, the same mouth he’s spent nights getting lost in still just as plush, just as dangerous.

Your eyes lock onto his and you freeze, the recognition flaring in your dark, narrowed gaze before your full lips part, nostrils flaring. The guard grumbles under his breath, nudging you forward and you move reluctantly, making a whole show of it; like you’d rather be anywhere but here with him. But Javi knows better. Knows the way your pulse is probably kicking up, just like his. Knows that despite everything, you still feel it too.

You sink into the seat across from him with a huff, and he watches as the cuffs come off, his own fingers flexing at the sound of metal unclicking.

You snatch then lift the receiver to your ear, and he follows.

“What the fuck do you want?”

That voice. Laced with biting attitude and something else he knows all too well—resentment, sure, but beneath that? Heat. Lust. A wound that never fully closed.

Javier wets his lips, his mustache twitching as he suppresses the smirk threatening to curl at the corners. Goddamn, he missed this. Missed you.

“Chiquita, why you bein’ so hostile?” His voice dips low, smooth as whiskey, feigning innocence. His brows draw together in a mock pout,  savoring the way you bristle at his tone. “Figured you’d be happy to see me.”

Your scoff is immediate, eyes rolling hard. “Have you forgotten why the fuck I’m in here in the first place?” You snap, no patience for his bullshit.

That attitude is what hooked him in the first place. You were never the type to be tamed, never the type to fall in line like the others. You made him work for it, played the game better than anyone. Had him chasing after you like a man possessed.

The way you writhed beneath him, nails scratching down his back, thighs locking around his hips, your breathy little gasps turning into full-on cries when he gave it to you just how you liked it—it was intoxicating.

It made him reckless, made him stupid. Made him a fucking addict for you. He lost himself between your thighs too many times to count, missed calls, ignored protocol, fucked up royally—all because of you.

And when shit got too messy, when the walls started closing in, he had to make a choice.

So he chose.

Chose to play you, to make you believe turning yourself in was your only option. 

And yeah, maybe tricking you wasn’t exactly the cleanest way to do it, but Javier always did have a habit of getting what he wanted—one way or another.

“¿Sigues en eso?” He tilts his head, settling back in his chair like he’s got all the time in the world. “I’m workin’ on getting you out.”

Your laugh is sharp, humorless. “Oh yeah? ¿Y por qué debería creerte? Eres un maldito mentiroso.”

He doesn’t flinch, shoulders rising and falling in a nonchalant shrug. “Because I’m the only one taking care of you right now.”

Silence. He watches the shift in your expression, realizing that he’s the one putting money on your books, making sure you have what you need. That despite it all, despite how he fucked you over, he’s still the one looking out for you.

Your lips press into a tight, furious line. Then—

“Fuck you.”

You slam the receiver down, the sharp sound slicing through the air, and he feels it—the thrill, the heat licking down his spine. You turn away, signaling the guard that you’re done, but he doesn’t move. He just glances at Javier, waiting for his cue.

Javier gives him a lazy nod.

And just like that, the guard steps out of the room, leaving you two alone.

He watches as your lashes flutter shut, as you take a slow, measured breath like you’re trying to get a grip. And then, just as quick, you whip back around, snatching the receiver again.

Yeah. That’s more like it.

“What do you want?”

He leans in, forearms bracing against the table. “I just wanted to see you, baby. Been missin’ you a whole lot out here.” He sees the way your resolve wavers, however briefly, under the weight of his stare. “Still so fuckin’ pretty.”

You can try to act indifferent all you want, but Javi knows you. Knows what happens when he leans in close, when he lowers his voice, when he looks at you like this.

“Miss that pussy even more,” he murmurs, tongue swiping slow over his bottom lip. His gaze drops lower, like he can see through the fabric of your jumpsuit, down to the heat between your thighs. “You been takin’ care of her in there?”

You tilt your head, eyes glazed over with mischief, giving him a slow, sultry once-over. “You really wanna know?”

He doesn’t answer—doesn’t have to. His tongue drags out again, a deliberate movement, and your eyes track it, just like he knew you would.

Javier watches your pupils dilate, sees the memories flash across your face—the same ones flooding his mind. His tongue buried inside you, lapping at every inch of your cunt, drinking your heady sap while you quivered beneath him.

His cock twitches in his jeans, stiffening against the rough fabric.

“Found someone to help me pass the time,” you murmur, watching his reaction carefully.

His expression tightens, the easy arrogance in his face slipping for just a second before jealousy flares hot in his chest. His mind goes straight to the worst fucking scenario—some sleazy correctional officer shoving you against the wall, making you take his cock like you belong to him instead. The thought burns.

“Who?”

You bite your lip, clearly enjoying the shift in his demeanor. Letting the tension linger, stretching it out until you finally purr, “My cellmate.”

Javier exhales shakily.

His jealousy shifts, transforming into something filthier. His cock throbs painfully against his zipper as his mind floods with sinful images of you—your naked body tangled with another woman, fingers buried in her cunt, lips slick and shining as you look up at her with those heavy-lidded eyes he knows too fucking well.

Jesus fucking Christ.

His hand slips beneath the table, palm pressing against the thick bulge in his pants, fingers flexing as he tries to keep his composure.

“And she’s been takin’ care of her?” His voice is rough, laden with interest.

You hum, mirroring his stance, leaning in close until your breath fogs up the scratched glass separating you. “Leaves me satisfied every time. Can’t complain… had to teach her a thing or two, though.”

“Yeah?” His hand continues to palms his growing bulge under the table, thumb stroking over the fabric, imagining your lips wrapped around him. “She spoilin’ you? You fucking her too, gettin’ your mouth full of pussy or what? Or is she the one doin’ all the work?”

Excitement bleeds into your countenance as your breathing picks up, chest rising and falling a little faster now.

“I do it all, Javi.” Your voice is a sexy, quiet purr that makes his cock ache. Your fingers drag slowly down the glass, a teasing mimicry of how you’d drag them down his chest. “I see why you like being in control so much. Feels fucking good when she comes all over my tongue.”

Javier swears under his breath, gripping the receiver so tight his knuckles turn white. He can see it so vividly, the way you’d dominate, take what you want, just like he does to you.

“Fuck.” His hips roll deeper into his palm, subtly trying to relieve some of the pressure. “Tell me—what else do you do?”

He needs to hear it, needs to burn it into his brain for the nights when he’s alone, aching for you, stroking his cock to memories that no longer feel like enough.

Your pretty eyes twinkle, eyelashes fluttering as you lean closer, voice dropping to a hushed, breathy confession. “We rub our pussies together, and it feels so good,” you moan sweetly, lost in the memory. “I fuck her with my fingers until she’s crying into the pillow. Ride her face, trying to pretend that it’s you, but she’s so soft. It’s nice sometimes, but fuck, Javi—” you shudder, not breaking eye contact, “I miss getting fucked by you.”

Javier stands so fast, the chair scrapes loudly against the floor, receiver slamming into its cradle as he strides straight for the door that leads to your side of the room, his fingers fumbling with the keys he secured earlier.

The moment he crosses the threshold, you’re on him, fists gripping the front of his shirt, yanking him down as your lips crash together in a desperate, bruising kiss. He barely has time to kick the door shut before he’s walking you backward, guiding you with firm hands until the backs of your thighs hit the table, forcing you to perch on the edge.

Your hands are greedy, roaming over the hard planes of his body, fingers raking through his hair, gripping his shoulders, smoothing down his chest. He groans against your mouth, reveling in the way you touch him like you’re trying to memorize every inch of him all over again. His tongue sweeps along the seam of your lips before plunging inside, licking deep, tasting you.

Then your hand is there—palm pressing against the thick outline of his cock through his jeans, fingers curling around his length, stroking slow.

“Shit,” he grunts against your mouth, hips jerking up into your palm.

His hands are just as restless. One palms your tit, kneading roughly, while the other glides up your outer thigh, his thumb slipping beneath the loose fabric of your jumpsuit to graze bare skin, savoring the weight of you in his grasp. He pulls away only to bite down on your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth before releasing it with a wet snap.

“Mouth tastes so fuckin’ sweet,” he rasps, breath fanning hot against your lips. His fingers slide into your hair, yanking the ponytail loose, letting your tresses spill over your shoulders. He tangles his hand in the strands, grips tight, pulling your head back, exposing the soft column of your throat, locking you in place beneath him. “Bet it feels fuckin’ sweet, too. That bitch make you forget how to suck cock, or do I need to remind you?”

Your whine is immediate, needy, and he can practically see the way your mouth waters, tongue darting out as if you’re already imagining wrapping your lips around him.

“Fuck my throat, Javi.”

He chuckles darkly, bringing you in with the tight hold he has on your hair as he crashes his mouth back onto yours, devouring you, tongue thrusting deep.

Your hands are already working his belt open, yanking it free with practiced ease before moving to his zipper. He growls when your fingers slip inside, brushing through the coarse hair at his navel, teasing the thick base of his cock.

“Shit—”

Then you wrap your fingers around his shaft, and fuck, he swears it’s never felt this good. His dick throbs against your palm, heavy and hot, leaking onto your fingers as you stroke him slowly, teasing him, making him suffer.

He can’t take it. He needs more.

“Ponte de rodillas.”

His hand slips from your hair as he steps back, dropping into the chair you’d just been sitting in, manspreading wide. His jeans hang open around his thighs, exposing the thick, aching length of him. His cock lies heavy against his stomach, veins prominent, the swollen tip glistening with precum, smearing into the dark hair of his happy trail.

You obey instantly, sinking to your knees, sliding between his thighs like you belong there. Which you do.

“Take your top off, baby,” he murmurs, desire evident in his tone. “Show me those pretty tits of yours.”

You bite your lip, trying—and failing—to hide the smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth.

That gorgeous smile. It’s dangerous. It reminds him of all the things he tries to keep buried, the real feelings tangled beneath the lust, the ones he’d rather not acknowledge.

Javier’s serious thoughts vanish the second your top half is exposed. His breath stutters, hunger sharpening in his brown eyes as your tits bounce, nipples peaked and aching. You shift slightly, arching your back just enough to tease him, and his gaze shamelessly devours every inch of bare skin now on display.

Then he sees it. A lovebite, right where the swell of your right breast begins. It pisses him off.

His expression darkens, heat shifting from lust to possessive jealousy.

Before you can react, his hand snakes around the back of your neck once more, fingers tightening in your hair as he yanks you forward, shoving your face into his lap. The hard weight of his cock presses against your cheek, and he grips the base with his other hand, slapping the tip to your lips, smearing precum across them.

“Open.”

It’s not a request.

The second your lips part, he thrusts forward, feeding his cock into your mouth in one brutal stroke, groaning at the slick warmth as you struggle to take him all at once. Your hands clutch at his thighs as you gag, saliva spluttering everywhere. 

A muffled moan of protest vibrates around his length, but he doesn’t care, moving you up and down with his hold on you. His head falls back, the tendons in his neck flexing as you begin to match his thrusts eagerly, sucking him down with hollowed cheeks, tongue moving sinfully. 

Javier gathers your hair into his fist, twisting it into a makeshift ponytail so he can control you with more force and desperation. Your nails dig into the meat of his thighs, dragging down his skin, the sharp sting spurring him on.

He watches, enthralled, as drool and precum smear across your lips, dribbling down your chin, coating your throat. Each wet squelch echoes in the air, obscene and addictive.

“So fuckin’ hard to stay mad at you with a mouth like this,” he grits out, hips moving enthusiastically while fucking your mouth. His free hand slides over the swell of your breast, thumb flicking your nipple, making you moan around him “Holy shit, chiquita—your throat is fuckin’ heaven.”

Javier lets out a throaty groan, head lolling on his shoulders at the feel of you choking around his cock with every harsh stroke. He chases after the filthy gagging sound, holding you down until your nose is flush against the damp curls at his base, soft puffs of breath exhaling from your nose as you struggle to breathe.

“That’s right, mierda putita, guess you didn’t forget how to suck cock after all,” he laughs breathlessly, his words tapering off into a sharp grunt when your tongue drags along the juicy protruding vein that curves around his shaft; throbbing when the tip of your tongue brushes against it.

He jerks your head back suddenly, pulling you off his cock with a wet pop, and stares down at the wrecked state of you.

Your lips are swollen, eyes dazed, spit and precum caked all over. A beautiful and obscene visage.

“Javi,” you rasp, voice raw. Your hands stay busy, both wrapped around his cock, twisting, pumping, stroking in opposite directions, making a mess of him.

Your tits press together as you work him over, your nipples just barely grazing against his thighs. 

“I need your cock inside me. Please.”

He exhales sharply, chest rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths. His eyes flicker to the mark on your chest again, jealousy spiking all over.

“Do you?” Javier mocks, putting just enough pressure on the bruise to make you squirm. “Seems like you’ve been doin’ just fine without it. S’that why you’re lettin’ her mark you up?”

You don’t get the chance to answer. He yanks you forward again, but this time, he shoves you lower—forcing you down until you’ve got a mouthful of balls.

He groans, eyes fluttering closed as your mouth opens, tongue stroking over the sensitive skin of his sac, licking, teasing, making him curse under his breath.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” he pants, feeling your lips curve into a smirk as you suckle at his scrotum, getting them warm and wet.

Your hands never stop jerking his dick, moving rhythmically. His breath shudders as pleasure builds. He could spill down your throat, paint your face in his spunk—but he’s been fantasizing about this moment since making the plans to come visit last week.

He needs to be inside you. Needs to bury himself in that tight, wet pussy he’s missed so fucking much.

His grip in your hair loosens—a silent signal that you have control again. You pull back slowly, leaving a string of spit bridging your lips to his balls.

“I’m just having fun with her. You know I’m yours, Javier.”

Your tongue flicks out, kitten-licking at his slit, circling his spongy head, then tracing that sensitive vein before pressing your lips fully against him. You make out with his cock like you would his pouty mouth, worshipping every inch.

His heart damn near bursts at your words paired with such a euphoric act. Damn fucking right you’re his.

“Mmm, chiquita… come up here and ride me.”

You fucking giggle, a sultry, wicked little sound.

It’s a stark contrast to the hardened, fiery woman who had been dragged in here earlier, all steel and bite. But now? Now you’re dripping with excitement, turning into the version of yourself he’s missed most—the one who melts at his touch, who aches for him the way he aches for you.

Javier leans back as you slowly rise to your feet, utterly enthralled as he watches you strip bare, peeling away every last scrap of fabric until you stand before him in nothing but a pair of plain white socks.

Fuck.

He’s not sure where to look—those full and soft tits, the soft curves, the dip of your waist, the swell of your hips, the luscious, messy wetness between your thighs, the bush at your mound making him feral. His fingers twitch with the need to touch, to grab, to claim.

Javier fumbles with the buttons of his shirt, popping them open hastily but leaving it on, needing the contrast of his still-dressed body against your completely bare form. His control is slipping, hips shifting as he strokes himself, his cock aching for the heat of your cunt.

“Vamos, súbete, nena,” he murmurs, his hips shifting provocatively, arms reaching for you. He expects you to straddle him immediately, to sink down onto his cock like the greedy little slut he knows you to be. But you don’t. Not yet.

Instead, you turn away from him.

You brace your hands against the edge of the cold metal table, bending forward, presenting yourself like a sinful offering.

His breath catches in his throat, jaw going slack as his half-lidded eyes drink you in.

Your messy cunt glistens, soaked from how wet you got blowing him. The soft curls framing your pussy lips only make her look even more enticing, your swollen folds parting slightly, practically beckoning his tongue to part them like the red fucking sea.

He wants to spread you open with his fingers, to press his mouth against that pretty, weeping slit and drink every single drop from your tight, wet hole.

You smirk over your shoulder, rolling your hips just enough to make his mouth water, and then you spread your legs even wider, blooming yourself open completely for him.

Javier groans, his grip tightening around the base of his cock.

“Stop bein’ a fuckin’ tease and c’mere before I leave you with nothing.”

You laugh, the sound dripping with amusement. “That doesn’t sound ideal for either of us, Jav.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

He pulls his chair forward, closing the distance, and you move with him, reaching down to grab his cock, keeping him steady as you finally—finally—lower yourself.

The first push inside is enough to make both of you moan, your walls stretching, gripping, molding around him as he sinks into your cunt until you’re fully seated on his cock.

“Ay, Javi…”

“That’s right, baby," he groans, pleasure clawing up his spine. “Shit, you feel fucking amazing.”

Your forearms rest against the table, giving you leverage as you begin to move, rolling your hips in a teasing, delicious rhythm. The reverse cowgirl position gives him the best fucking view—your slick folds stretching around his cock, your greedy little hole swallowing him over and over, sucking him in deeper.

His breathing grows ragged as a thick, creamy ring forms at the base of his shaft. The wet sounds of your pussy slapping against him fill the room, weaving with your high, breathy cries.

“Javi! Javi! Ohh—fuck me you’re in so deep, ah shit your cock feels so good inside my pussy baby fuck me!”

You’re a blabbering mess, moans and whimpers spilling from your lips as your pace quickens, your ass bouncing against his lap.

Javier watches, completely wrecked, large hands grabbing at your ass, squeezing, kneading the meaty flesh. His thumbs pull your cheeks apart, exposing the tight, untouched pucker above your stretched pussy, and his cock throbs at the sight.

Without warning, his palm cracks against your ass.

You yelp, jolting from the sudden impact, your rhythm faltering for a second before you push through it, still grinding, still taking him.

“Keep fuckin' taking it.”

Another slap. Then another. The heat of your ass gets hotter with each strike. 

Your moans turn into soft, gasping sobs, the overwhelming pleasure tipping you into something almost delirious. But Javier doesn’t let up nor does he give a shit.

Because he knows—deep down, past the pain, past the shock—you fucking love being treated like this.

His cock slips out of your pussy, smeared in your mixed wetness, swollen and pulsating as it rests between your ass cheeks. Your body doesn’t know any better, still grinding against him, his dick sliding between your sticky lips, making a sloppier mess.

Javier actually fucking whimpers at the sight, teeth biting into his bottom lip while his hands moved from your sore ass up to your love handles, pushing you further up the table as he stands.

He grabs his wet cock, smacking it against each cheek before he sheathes himself inside you again.

“Javiiiii,” you sing for him.

“That’s right, just like that.” He grunts, slipping his hands up until he’s cupping your tits, pulling you flush against his chest as he starts plowing you vivaciously. 

His fingers tug, roll, pinch and strum at your sensitive nipples, the texture of his mustache at your neck as he licks and nips at it, leaving blotchy marks of his own as both of you begin to orgasm.

“Please please please don’t stop Javi, oh my g— I’m about to come,” you whimper, totally fucked out, digging your nails into his wrists as he continues to play with your tits, dragging scratch marks down his brown forearms.

One hand leaves your breasts and glides down to your pert clit, rough fingertips swirling it around, pinching it, and that does you over.

“Come all over my cock, fuck, eres tan pinche hermosa.” 

You turn your head and he quickly slots his mouth over yours, the kiss messy and sloppy as your high pitched moaning fills his mouth, his tongue licking over your teeth and swapping spit.

His thrusts grow frantic, rutting into you wildly, holding your bouncing tits for dear life when he finally comes, clutching you so tight he’s almost afraid he’ll crush you to death. 

You’re both panting frenziedly, all types of bodily fluids coating your skin. His mind feels fogged over, orgasm so intense he swears he’s seeing fucking stars.

“Mmm,” you hum, going pliant in his arms while he holds you, caressing you dotingly, swollen lips leaving open mouthed kisses all over your bare shoulder and up your neck, making you sigh contently.

“Te extraño,” he mutters sincerely against your skin and he feels your body tense briefly.

“Then why am I in here?” Your voice is a mix of frustration and something softer, hurt, he guesses.

Javier hesitates, the lines of worry etching deeper into his face. “It’s complicated,” he admits, his words slow and measured, “but I meant what I said—I’m workin’ to get you out.”

You offer no reply—only a long, weary sigh that betrays the depths of your desire and the burden of your reality.

He pulls out of you then, already missing your warmth, and you both hiss at the feeling.

Then he sees his milky spend bubbling out of you, dolloping at your clit. He’s quick, fingers returning to your used cunt as he collects it and shoves it back in, plugging you with his seed.

“Hold it in, chiquita. When you get back to your cell, I want her to eat my cum out of you.”

i have a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

@almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiamore . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @persephone-girl . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @almostfoxglove . @thundermartini . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @marisemonteiroo . @picketniffler . @getitoutofmymindwrites . @penascigarette . @bunniboo0015 . @kirsteng42 . @ivuravix . @joelmillerisapunk .

[livwritessometimes]

F1 Drivers & Their Couples Halloween Costumes

: Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, George Russell, Lewis Hamilton, Pierre Gasly, Alex Albon, Franco Colapinto, and Daniel Ricciardo

: Main Masterlist

: Author’s Note - Ik I’m a little late, but I had terrible migraine and just could not bring myself to finish this. But here we are! Here are some costumes I think that F1 Drivers will wear with their girlfriends

…

Max Verstappen

- Was absolutely against any stupid costume but the moment he saw this, it was over for him.

- For someone who was not interested in dressing up, Max took an awfully long time to make the cat’s head.

- Tried to show his outfit to Jimmy and Sassy……ya let’s just say, it did not go as well as he would have liked it to go 🤭

Lando Norris

- I mean….do I even need to explain this one???

- Lando was the one who came up with the idea (shocker)

- Put more effort and dedication into making the boobs than he does in race strategy! (He’d like to call this costume his life’s best work)

Oscar Piastri

- After rejecting several costume ideas (which included salt & pepper, socket & plug, jam & toast) he finally gave in to this costume (not that he had a choice)

- Decided to be Pete (totally called McLaren to get the orange hoodie set)

- Wanted to truly understand the essence of the character (spent 20+ hours trying to memorise the rap)

Charles Leclerc

- Honestly….even Charles has no idea why he suggested this costume.

- He wanted to do something fun….so he asked Arthur for help (this actually explains a lot why he was dressed like The Simpsons)

- This costume really grows on him, especially the headpiece (the expression reminds him of his years in Ferrari)

Carlos Sainz

- Tbh he has no idea what he’s doing! He’s just happy to be included.

- He doesn’t have many opinions about the costume; he just likes the fact that he gets to be close to his girlfriend.

- Gets so many compliments that he’s already started planning for next year’s couples costume.

George Russell

- Made a bet with Alex about who can become the most iconic Disney duo….hence Darla and Nemo 🐟

- Is more than happy to wear an orange wig, plaid skirt and glittery sweatshirt…🤨

- Even called Toto and asked him to play the dentist as a way to gain bonus points.

Lewis Hamilton

- He would rather die than be caught in these tacky outfits….which is why he found the best costume to wear!

- Got the suits custom made from the best designers (yes the alien is also custom made 👽)

- Won the best costume award (are we even surprised tho 🤷🏻‍♀️)

Pierre Gasly

- Just don’t ask why….this is what Pierre came up with!

- Now you might think the girlfriend is dressed as the chicken. Well….YOU’RE WRONG!!!

- Pierre insisted on dressing up as the chicken (bonus: he even asked Yuki to dress up as a knife)

Alex Albon

- Made a bet with George and he knew exactly what he wanted to become!!

- Truth be told, Alex made one hell of a Vector.

- He was surprisingly good at putting on the bald cap for Gru….which makes you wonder this isn’t the first time he’s done this 🤔

Franco Colapinto

- He had no intention of dressing up but got invited by the other drives, so he had to come up with something QUICK!

- Voila! Did a quick google search and decided to dress up as the first thing he saw.

- Not the best costume but 8/10 for his efforts and last minute planning 🥉

Daniel Ricciardo

- Does this not look like a pose Daniel would 100% do!!!!

- He said #Green&Proud

- Tried a lot to convince Max to dress up as the donkey 🫏….ya it didn’t happen!

…

Tags: @wobblymug | @evasmlp | @ln8118 |

[sapphos-maiden]

THE INNER CIRCLE CIRCUS

(Can someone please hand me some wine because this is gonna be long...)

Inner Circle Circus stans are you guys okay cuz you're telling me that a bunch of drunkards and clowns are canonically the heads of an entire court???

• Let us start with RhySAnd

The "most powerful high lord" is clearly not the smartest because which person in power in his right mind would have such an unstable court? This man has 2/3rds of his court living in misery and only utilising them when it suits his needs. The Hewn City has been given free rein to mistreat and abuse the women population as and when they like and RhySAnd as a ruler should have implemented laws long ago! Laws are the basis of social change!! And then we have the Illyrians whom Cas*ian himself considers to be expendable pawns and the inner circle even thinks they should be wiped off the face of the earth because they couldn't be courageous enough to actively try and educate them or set laws. I mean ofc if a community that has backward tradItions and doesn't comply with you... Means that they should go through ethnic cleansing, right?

• Amren

The four-foot, possibly a felon, grandma hobbit with a bob cut who can only be mean and tyrannical is the second-in-command? She literally suggested that RhySAnd be the High King and exploit the Archeron sisters by using their powers just because all of them ended up in the Night Court. Do you hear yourself oldie??? Calling someone "girl" or "child" clearly doesn't prove that she's mature even though she might have lived for over a century.

• Morrigan

Wtf is THE MORRIGAN YALL. TRUTH TELLER FROM WHAT ANGLE😃⁉️ this bit*h was giving Nesta sh*t and telling her that she should be thrown into Hewn City or Human Lands all because she was drinking and sleeping around? HMMM I WONDER WHAT MORRIGAN DOES IN HER FREE TIME. BECAUSE IT SURE AS HELL ISN'T ACTIVE WORK TO HELP THE HEWN CITY, WHICH SHE IS THE INCHARGE OF. She herself is drinking and sleeping around but once Nesta does it as a coping mechanism, it isn't classy anymore? She just shows up to Hewn City in fancy and scanty clothing every now and then just to glare at them. I wonder what the women who are still going through torture must think of her. "The Morrigan" who could have maybe helped them.

• Cassian

SJM made him Nesta's mate when he really should have been RhySAnd's. Have you seen how that man tries to defend RhySAnd. And then uses his trauma to justify each one of his wrong doings and petty acts just because Nesta asked him to respect her boundaries. Literally threw a tantrum and then stalked her like a creep. Overgrown manchild istg.

• Azriel

I don't have much to say about him because he just seems like a victim of manipulation to me tbh. I wonder if he'll actually have the guts to stand up against RhySAnd's manipulation, something which Cassian seems to treat as his religion. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt though I clearly don't understand how someone can be quiet all the time and actively ignore every wrongdoing.

• Feyre

The moment she learns to read... Voila! We've got a new high lady!!! Girl please get off your ass and try and help your people in the slums of Velaris who are going through the same sh*t that you once endured. Go help the Illyrian women who can never fly but whose wings you flaunt. But no she gotta paint, build her fifth mansion and then make Nesta earn her love and be redeemed so that she can live freely.

Phew- that was long. I gotta go on a vacation and revive my mental peace after reading the bs in ACOTAR.

[ladyofmonaco]

I've just read 'milk & honey' and it is actually one of my favs rn i'm obsessed with ur style, please write something about the 'orange peel theory' with either charles or oscar when you can !! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

clementine ౨ৎ

notes: charles leclerc x reader, established relationship, fluff.

a/n: i love the orange peel theory, honestly. simple.

the orange peel theory: inherited from the psychological ideology surrounding one's willingness to commit acts of service for a loved one because they care ie. peeling an orange to make it more easily enjoyable.

A slow afternoon in late August – the sweet serenity of virgo season – where the skies are a mosaic of white clouds against the pale heavens, white lilies flourishing in a water glass upon the oak coffee table, a lingering aroma of a strawberry cake baked and left to set a few hours before.

After a morning of almond croissants and cappuccino at the Café de Flore, sunbathing for several hours, talking in the intimacy of lovers and walking around the familiar streets, you and your boyfriend are most content to spend the remaining hours in the peaceful ambience of home.

He is stood by the marble-polished kitchenette counter absently perusing through mail, handsome as ever: soft, brunet hair slightly tousled where he has not trimmed it recently in a manner you love; sun-kissed with the hints of subtle freckles against the bridge of his nose; white, linen shirt half-unbuttoned.

"Hm," Half lost in your own daydreams and musings, distracted from where you had previously been crocheting a gift for your mother from your comfortable seat about the plush sofa, re-watching Breakfast at Tiffany's, you wander quietly into the room.

Initially, your gaze falls to where Charles is stood, some desire to approach and bury yourself in his embrace most alluring, until eyes flicker towards the nearby porcelain bowl where recently-bought clementines sit, thoughts drifting elsewhere about the remembered conversation with your friends the week before.

When you let own settle in your grasp lightly – the Monégasque momentarily showing no sign of acknowledgement minus the ghost of a palm that comes to your lower back whilst his gaze remains on the intricate writing of a letter – there is a near-minute of lulling quietude as you merely gaze at it before sighing in supposed, audible defeat.

"Troubles, bébé?"

His voice is calm, almost a little teasing but genuinely intrigued. The endearment is enough for you to feel a slight warmth in the depth of your stomach like dancing butterflies, his eyes dancing over you momentarily, though you merely offer a gentle, vague shrug of your shoulders to begin with whilst shifting the citrus in your touch between manicured nails, "I kind of want one, but..."

Charles arches a handsome eyebrow in wordless inquiry, the paper held against the light callouses of his palm forgotten when he silently offers an opened hand that – with hitched breath and subtle uncertainty – you place the clementine upon.

He does not seem to question your demeanour or reluctance, merely working on deftly removing the thin rind before the sweet, alluring scent is all the more prominent harmony of its citrus fragrance to its nakedness before he's offering you a single segment with the beginning of a dimpled smirk, "Voila."

Flushing a little and hoping the rosiness of a blush is not perceptible along your neck or the apples of your cheeks, you merely meet his gaze through your lashes as you indulge in the sweetness of it slowly, swallowing.

Through your clothes and within your ribs, you can feel how your heart flutters a touch quicker like a sweet dove trying to flee its gilt cage.

"Thank you." Punctuated by the meeting of mouths in a slow, sensual kiss that begins chastely until he cannot quite convince himself to drawn away, the peeled clementine forgotten to the side on the marble whilst fingertips trace the curve of your waist through soft cashmere.

"Avec plaisir."

You will certainly have to notify your friends about your own experiences surrounding the recently-tried theory and its heartfelt success of a result.

[heartzfromel]

undercover

detective!agnes x fem!model!reader

summary; agnes has a bit of trouble in the makeup department. tony is useless, and rio is busy. luckily, miss texas is bored out of her mind in the room next door, and just so happens to be looking for something to do.

tags; queer awakening question mark, age gap but nothing overly crazy

a/n; jen mentioned who cheered, fyi reader doesn’t know she’s queer, also its the 90s so take that as u will, ignore any mistakes

chapter 1 | chapter 2

your stylist, jen, glared daggers into the back of marvin’s head as he paced around the room, answering several phone calls per minute and overall just distracting her from her work, which just so happened to be your hair.

“does he ever stop that?” she mumbled, leaning over your shoulder to grab hairspray.

“i don’t know,” you whispered back, “sometimes i think he’s a robot who got sent to spy on me by my father.”

“wouldn’t put it past him,” jen smirked, combing her fingers through your hair as she fluffed it up, “et voila! all done.”

“thank you kindly jen, your’e a lifesaver.” you grinned, showing her out.

once jen had left, you pushed your door closed and threw yourself onto your bed, rolling over to turn the cd player on, before closing your eyes, basking in your moment of silence.

•☽༻¨:·. ──── ₊☽◯☾₊ ──── .·:¨༺☾•

“what?” agnes deadpanned.

“we don’t have anyone to do your makeup.” tony mumbled, repeating himself.

“are you joking?” she spat.

“no…” he began, “we sorta thought you’d be able to do that yourself.”

“tony.”

“yeah?” he replied terror evident in his expression. he loved agnes dearly, but it didn’t take away from the fact that she was possibly the most terrifying woman to walk on planet earth.

“do i look like the sort of person who would know how to do my own makeup?”

tomy paused. now that he thought about it, he had never in his life witnessed agnes in a dress, nevermind makeup.

“get out.” she spat.

“huh?”

“get out! is that so hard for you to grasp, tony? i said GET OUT.”

•☽༻¨:·. ──── ₊☽◯☾₊ ──── .·:¨༺☾•

you groaned, the sound of a woman yelling filling your ears as you tried to get 20 minutes of sleep. now normally, you would’ve just got annoyed but left the situation alone, but this girl sounded MAD, and you were bored out of your mind by now, so you decided to go investigate.

when you left your hotel room, you realised that the yelling was coming from the room next door. huh, these walls must be thick, you thought to yourself, because the yelling sounded like it had been coming from somewhere a lot further down the hall.

the pristine white door lay wide open, and a man with dark hair was anxiously listening to the woman’s angry voice, before she yelled at him to get out.

before she slammed the door, you caught her.

“hey, everything alright out here?” you asked, shooting her a smile. this was the first time you had gotten a look at her, and quite frankly, you thought she was ethereal. her long dark hair tumbled effortlessly down her shoulders, stopping at her hips, and her skin was glowing, despite the obvious stress she was under. her eyes were piercing and as blue as sapphires, and she was in nothing but a plush white dressing gown.

“oh everything’s fine, hon!” she grinned back, giggling slightly, as she leaned on the doorframe.

“you sure? didn’t sound like it a second ago.” you replied, curiosity getting the better of you.

“well, that was my agent.” she began, “he just came to tell me my makeup artist couldn’t make it on this trip, she had to cancel.”

“oh, well that’s terrible! do you think you can do it yourself?”

“sure! i’ll be fine!” she reassured you, but something in her voice just wasn’t quite right.

“you don’t sound so sure. here, let me come in and help you out.” you offered.

she looked taken aback to say the least, and you were almost worried you had overstepped. that tended to happen with the other pageant girls. you had a really hard time getting them to like you. marvin told you they were just jealous, because after the pageants were over, you had a dozen magazines and perfume shoots booked, but you weren’t so sure, so whenever someone showed any sort of interest in interacting with you, you would jump at the chance, and sometimes you could be a bit much.

you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in as she stepped out of the way of the doorframe to let you in.

you smiled, and she smiled gratefully back at you as you ushered her to the chair that sat in front of her vanity.

“you got any makeup with you?” you asked.

“i’m afraid i’ve only got this.” she replied, ruffling through her bag, before holding up two bottles, foundation and concealer, looking at them as if she wasn’t fully aware of what they were.

“wait one second.” you grinned, before running back to your room, grabbing your bag and rushing back to the woman’s room.

“i got stuff!” you spoke, excitedly, laying various makeup products out on the vanity.

“oh, thank you doll, you’re a lifesaver.” she sighed, the nickname sending a shockwave through you as it slipped from her lips.

“so- uh, what’s your name, anyway?” you mumbled, trying to brush whatever that feeling was as you kneeled down to her level, pinning her hair out of her face.

“agatha harkness, you?”

“y/n y/l/n.”

“that’s pretty.” she sighed, closing her eyes as you began to apply her foundation to her face.

as you continued to do her makeup, your knees began to get tired, causing you to have to stretch them out every few minutes.

“are you hurting, y/n?” agatha began, “here, get up.” she added, gesturing to the vanity. you let out a sigh ad you sat up onto it. you tried not to notice the fact that her eyes never left you, trailing up and down your body every so often, but you didn’t see that part.

“better?” she asked, and you nodded. as you leaned in to do her eyeshadow, you could feel her breath, caressing your face gently. your own breath hitched as the action, mixed with her unbroken eye contact, sent shivers down your spine. what was happening to you?

you shook it off as you picked your favourite red lipstick off the table, leaning in to paint her lips. as her rich, amber scent enveloped you, all you could think about is how beautiful she was, how inviting her scent was, and how you just wanted to fall into her lap and kiss her right there and then, you hands running through her luscious dark locks and her stunning hands gripping your waist. you tried to shake the feeling off, not knowing what was going on. she’s a girl, you thought to yourself. oh my god, am i-

“am i all done?” agatha asked, staring up at you.

“uh, yeah. all done! i’ll see you later, yeah?” you gushed, not fully aware if you’d been staring at her or not. you quickly rushed out, grabbing your things.

“alright!” she smiled, “thank you!”

•☽༻¨:·. ──── ₊☽◯☾₊ ──── .·:¨༺☾•

agnes was in big trouble. she didn’t know how she’d managed it, but she’d managed to fall for the one person that she couldn’t, and it was made worse by the fact she couldn’t tell anyone. if this didn’t go away, she’d be done for. she had known you for twenty five minutes and was already struggling to keep her composure around you, which was a really bad thing, considering that her whole goal here was to keep her composure.

suddenly, there was a knock at the door. she groaned, moving to open it, before being greeted with tony’s dropped jaw.

“you look fantastic!” he began, “i saw y/n leaving, by the way. how did that go?”

“uhh..”

one thing was right. and that was that agnes o’connor had messed up.

•☽༻¨:·. ──── ₊☽◯☾₊ ──── .·:¨༺☾•

taglist; @hannah-0730 @m1vfs @creaturesaphique @push-on-me @chiar4anna (comment to be added)

[brayneworms]

and teary faces know the craft | lyney

kinktober day one: lingerie

word count. 1.8k

content. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, lingerie, making out, both lyney + reader getting blueballed, allusions to jealousy + insecurity, somewhat established relationship, lyney is a bratttt, gender neutral reader

♪ death kink - fontaines d.c.

notes. call that lyngerie

kinktober 2024 m.list | regular m.list

He's a tease. 

You should more than likely stop being surprised by it; like the owl is wise and the bake-danuki is curious, it's simply in his nature. The coy flutter of a lash, the point of a toned leg, the briefest catching of his amethyst eyes on yours at something that could be construed as innuendo. A flash like the white spark of a kamera bulb, and then gone again, retreating into shadow like it was never there in the first place. 

Backstage smells like pine wood and wax. The stage squeaks with each turn of Lyney's boot upon the shining floor. In around an hour, the Opera Epiclese will be seething with audience members, packed in and huddled tight for the show. For now, it is only a palimpsest; the only people in the seats for now are you and Freminet, who maintains a shy distance a couple rows in front of you, fiddling with his little robotic penguin. You think he's started to grow used to your presence—and he's pretty sharp beneath the sandy bangs, his eyes snagging on little things others might gloss right over.

You suppose Lyney and Lynette are similar, though; beneath different veneers, all of Arlecchino's children are remiss to let any small detail slip by them. 

You suppose it's a mark of the Hearth, that inclination towards neuroticism. 

"And voila!" The twins' routine finishes with a swish of Lynette's skirt and Lyney's arms raised towards the domed ceiling. "What did you think?"

Freminet raises his head. "It was great," he mutters. "As always. The bit with the water tank is new, right?"

"It's merely a spruce-up of our old bit with the box," Lyney smiles. "But yes, essentially, it's new."

Freminet hums. "Well... be careful, is all. I liked it though."

Lyney beams. It's an inevitability that his gaze turns to you then, hunched a little further back. "And you, our dear guest? Do you concur?"

You raise your chin. "I think... it's your best work yet." 

The smile Lyney offers is beatific—and genuine, you know, only because your own praise is such. As someone who lives a life half behind a mask, Lyney has become well-tuned to the frequency of other people's lies; it's why, you often think, he's so enamoured with you. Because you don't lie to him. 

"Does that mean we can take a small break?" Lynette asks, fiddling with a glove. "I'd like a chance to refresh before the real show."

"Of course, of course. I would say we've more than earned it." As Lynette makes her way offstage, probably on the hunt for a teahouse, Freminet trails after her and Lyney catches your eye. You approach up the centre aisle that runs through the middle like a parting through a scalp, up to the edge of the stage. It’s so tall that it comes up to your chin, and Lyney extends a hand down to help you haul yourself up. It smells like rosewood and wax up here, settling pleasantly in your nose. Lyney watches you, eyes wide, earnest. He has such a sweet face, if you can learn to ignore the gleam in his eye. 

“Want to help me get ready?” he asks casually. You bite back the urge to raise a brow; he looks stage-perfect already, down to the outfit. He doesn’t need help with a damn thing.

All you say is, “Sure,” and he leads you happily through the maze of corridors backstage to his dressing room. He and Lynette have separate ones here, which is nice; neither of them particularly like sharing space. Lynette keeps her things organised, and Lyney… decidedly doesn’t. He’s not a messy person by metric, but he does tend to charge forward toward the goal without realising the trail he was leaving in his wake. 

The dressing room is modestly sized, draped in swaths of red and gold cloth that make it feel heady and hot and close. A sparkling mirror edged in something that glows lurid and blue-white, throwing your features into sharp relief; and a complimentary basket of local Fontainian specialities which you pick through with interest, coming up with foreign titian fruits and crystal bottles of fizzy alcohol.

“So…” Lyney hovers at your shoulder, watching you pick through the cellophane-wrapped morsels. “You really liked the show?”

“I did.” You put back some fancy chocolate thing and turn to face him; he doesn’t back off, watching with his hands twisting like snakes before him. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was nervous. “You’re really getting into it. Lynette’s working very hard.”

It’s a prod, a careful poke—and as you guessed, Lyney pouts. If he had ears like his sister, they’d probably be pinned back against his head right now. “Only Lynette?” 

 A slow grin spreads over your face like molasses. “Oh, I see. You’re fishing for something.”

“Ahaha… I don’t fish.” He crosses his arms over his chest, chin jutting petulantly. “But when you go out of your way not to compliment me, you can’t blame me for thinking the worst. Perhaps my loveliest guest of all is losing interest?”

“Perhaps,” you say mildly, then backtrack as soon as his expression falters. “Oh, come on. You know what I think of you. Must I say it every time.”

“You could stand to say it more.”

“I bought you that lovely gift only a few days ago.”

Lyney’s eyes flash; that gleam, like the side of a cut amethyst. “Oh, I remember,” he says coyly. “I’ve grown quite familiar with it, in fact.”

The notion makes heat flare in your gut. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.” He pauses, smiles—catlike, just a hint of sharp teeth between the plush peach of his lip. “You might say I’m familiar with it right this second, actually.”

You blink. Your mouth is as dry as the Great Red Sand. “Are you trying to tell me—”

Tease. It’s in the way Lyney’s face slips into an innocent little smile as he hooks a finger over the cuffed edge of his shorts and yanks it up enough to expose a glimpse of rouge lace. Unable to stop yourself, your hand flies out, keeping it there. You stare from it to him. 

“Are you serious?” you whisper. 

Lyney giggles. “I take this to mean you’re not losing interest, then?”

“I’ll kill you.” You sound too hoarse. “Show me.”

Lyney casts a slow, obvious look at the ornate clock hung open the wall. “Y’know, I’m just not entirely sure we have time right now, dearest.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” you mutter, fingers hooking onto his stupid bodysuit and fumbling at the buttons. You can feel his stomach flex with silent laughter at your obvious eagerness; usually you’d be trying to reign it in—the last thing a tease like him needs is more fire to stoke the fuel of his ego—but sue you. He knows what buttons to press. He has way too much power in his sleek gloved hand. 

You get a handle on the suit and yank it down with difficulty to his knees. What you’d seen a glimpse of were two thin silky garters, encircling the plush of his pale thighs, just about hidden by the hem of his shorts. One wrong move and they’d slip out from under the black leather, glaringly visible to everyone. The idea makes you feverish with anger and also so turned on you can barely see straight. 

The garters clip onto dusky pink underwear, arching gracefully over his pubic bone to encircle the triangle of his waist. When you lift a trembling hand to lift his shirt, you see a matching bralette, satiny cups tight against the soft swells of his pectorals. You can see straight through the gauzy fabric, coffee-coloured nipples pebbled under your attention. 

“I hate you,” is the first thing that come out of your mouth. The sight of him in this sparkling pink-red set makes you want to do unspeakable things. You want to ruin that fabric forever and buy him a new one. A dozen new ones in hundreds of different shades, ruin them systematically, rinse, repeat. 

He laughs again, but even his facade has its limits; he sounds slightly breathless, and you can see the faint pink blush on his cheeks starting to crawl down his chest. His collarbones gleam like cut diamonds, archons you wish you could bite them. “I take it you approve?”

Your answer is as animalistic as you feel, the rough crush of your lips over his. You’re rewarded with a muffled mmphf?! as your weight pushes the both of you back against the table, sending the cute basket of edible arrangements sprawling in a mosaic upon the floor. You muscle your way between Lyney’s legs, the press of his stiffening cock so close through only the wisp of organza, hot and insistent as a brand mark. Your hand tangles in his hair, dragging him impossibly closer as your lips duck to press against his butter-soft skin, his jaw, his neck—

“N-no marks!” he gasps, even as he presses his hips against yours with a moan. “Dearest, lovely, mon chérie, please—”

“You’re so pathetic,” you whisper into his neck, feel the buzz of your words sink into the soft skin of his throat. Lyney shudders and whines his protest. “No time, remember? Whose fault is that?”

“I just wanted—you to look at me,” he grits out, legs locked around your waist. It occurs to you that his fears of you losing interest are likely to be grounded in reality, dressed up with a lilting voice and wave of a hand. Your heart twitches. 

“I’m always looking at you, stupid.” 

Lyney’s cheeks darken, brows coming together as a sort of glaze slides over his eyes. This look you’re familiar with; it makes your breath hitch. He leans forwards, lips parted—

Three sharp knocks at the door. “We’re on in fifteen minutes, brother.”

Lyney’s whole body scrunches up, a cold disappointment stealing over his face. He looks to you desperately, but you can only shrug. “Answer your sister.”

He droops like a wilting flower. “I… I’ll be right out, Lynette.”

There’s a pause, a deeply disappointed sigh, and you hear her heels clicking neatly back down the corridor. Lyney scrubs a hand down his face and awkwardly gets down from the desk, fumbling to right his clothes. His whole body shivers as he does his bodysuit back up, having to readjust it several times in wake of his hardness. He looks down unhappily at the result.

As he goes to leave, he pauses, hand on the doorknob. “You’ll stay for the show?”

You see the question for what it is, and smile. “Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll wait for you after, too.”

Lyney tucks his head away, but you fancy you can see his giddy smile anyways. “I’ll try not to make you wait too long,” he murmurs; one hand reaches down, adjusts the cuff of his shorts just so you get the briefest flash of red-pink. And then he’s gone, out the door and down the corridor to the stage.

You lean against the table, heave a sigh. Start picking up the spilled complimentaries from the basket. You have a feeling, later tonight, that you’re both going to need the sustenance. 

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I haven't seen the London special—and I don't want to—but I've read the plot and something just occurred to me.

Why did Bunnyx need Ladybug's help? Why couldn't Bunnyx have figured things out and fixed the timeline herself? I know only the 14-year-old Bunnyx was left, but that gives her ample time to do SOMETHING.

According to Marinette, she believes that the Rabbit Miraculous is actually the most powerful of all the miraculouses. That means a whole lot of responsibility, which she gave to Alix when she let her keep the Rabbit Miraculous PERMANENTLY.

So, why didn't Alix just fix the timelines herself? She was the Present Alix, which means nothing has happened to her at the moment. She could've brainstormed her way into figuring out what happened, who it is, and stopped them herself.

I don't know. Maybe it's just me, but I feel like if you give someone a miraculous that YOU YOURSELF BELIEVE IS THE MOST POWERFUL MIRACULOUS, YOU'D GIVE IT TO SOMEONE WHO CAN ACTUALLY WORK BY THEMSELVES???

And it's not like I'm saying Alix can't ask for help, but it just feels like her first thought was: "I gotta get Ladybug!" And not "Oh my God, the timelines are changing, I have to figure out who it is!"

If Alix is going to run to Ladybug every time the timeline changes, why give her the responsibility of making sure nothing happens to the timeline in the first place??? If it's going to be like that, Ladybug might as well have just kept the Rabbit Miraculous herself, since it seems like she'll be the one shouldering the job anyway.

The show's obsession with making Marinette do everything herself has created massive flaws in the narrative and makes a ton of characters look bad - or at least poorly suited to their hero role - because they generally default to only doing what Marinette tells them to do. The show will even go out of its way to punish characters when they take initiative. If your name isn't Marinette, then initiative is always, always punished. And if your name is Marinette? Then it depends on the writers' mercurial whims and not anything even remotely resembling logic.

Alya suffers the the initiative = bad curse all the time like in Optigami where she decides to take the turtle to the day's fight even though she was only told to take the fox and the bee:

Rena Rouge: Mirage! (an illusion of Ladybug is created) And voila! A cool little Ladybug illusion to keep Style Queen busy while I'll… (Rena Rouge looks at the Turtle Miraculous container on the Miracle Box and takes the Miraculous) Longg: Did the guardian ask you to do that? Rena Rouge: Just a precaution.

This should have been Alya's moment to shine. A moment where she took initiative and it paid off, showing Marinette that she could trust others to make their own calls. Instead, this choice is painted as Alya being blinded by her love for Nino and leads to Shadow Moth almost getting the turtle because he just so happened to make a perfect clone of Nino and Alya unknowingly gave the clone the turtle. (Why does this show love evil twins so much? This is basically a the same plot as the season four final. Get a new gimmick! This one is just dumb.)

Even more annoyingly, the one who unmasks sentiNino isn't his girlfriend, it's Ladybug even though the thing that exposes sentiNino is something unique to Nino and Alya:

Ladybug: I guess it was only here to help repair everything. (looks confused when she sees her compact mirror) (Sentinino gives Alya a simple hi-five) (Ladybug remembers Alya and Nino's special hi-five in a flashback) Ladybug: (looks at both of them with curious look) We're gonna have to be a lot more careful now. Shadow Moth knows the identities of some of the people I have given a miraculous and apparently he's decided to use this information. (looks at Sentinino) Isn't that right, Shadow Moth? (Alya becomes shocked, and Sentinino panicks as he got exposed) Ladybug: I'm sorry Alya, you better move away from him. This isn't Nino, it's a Sentimonster. Alya: Huh? (gasps)

It's Alya and Nino's special handshake!!! Alya should be the one to figure it out, not Ladybug!!! Writers, stop this! Let Marinette have competent allies! She's not suddenly less cool if other people are useful! Also, stop making love a bad thing! Alya and Marinette both suffer every time they're open with their love interest and I hate it. Whatever happened to romantic love being a good thing?

Anyway, all of the Optigami nonsense leads to an ending that makes zero sense:

Alya: Shadow Moth almost unmasked you because of me. I should have never taken the Turtle Miraculous. Marinette: It's true, you did make a mistake, and that's why I'm gonna have to make a difficult decision. The most important thing is to learn from our mistakes. And today, I learned that I need an ally who can replace me in case something happens to me one day. (hands Alya the Fox Miraculous) From now on, you will keep the Miraculous of the Fox with you, and I'm gonna tell you everything I know.

This ending does not fit the episode in the slightest. Why does Alya's failure make her promotion material? How was the turtle even a failure when it would have been fine if that was really Nino? How was anyone supposed to tell that wasn't Nino when the peacock is so stupidly overpowered? It's so dumb!

This episode should have been Alya earning her promotion by being awesome, taking initiative, and noticing things Marinette didn't. What is the point of having a reporter who never notices things? Why does Marinette decide to give Alya secret knowledge and a full-time miraculous in an episode that was all about Shadow Moth almost winning because he knows the temp heroes' identities? Why does nothing about this show make sense? Writers, what are you doing???

The saddest thing about this Marinette-first approach is that it's not even making Marinette look good. This goes beyond the asinine "Marinette must always be wrong" rule. The problem here is that the narrative has made many of the secondary characters feel incredibly important. As a result, the audience naturally expects those characters to have important roles. When those character are then denied the roles that they should have, the audience gets angry and the anger usually gets directed at Marinette. For many viewers, it feels like she's hogging the spotlight and denying herself help even thought those things are poorly thought-out choices made by the writers and not intentional flaws that are meant to be part of Marinette's character.

I know one person whose favorite character is Alix, Alya is one of mine, and a huge portion of the fandom loves Adrien. All characters who should have been allowed to shine, but who got shoved to the side in favor of Marinette. The casual watcher is not going to blame the writing for that. They're going to get mad at Marinette because she's basically the avatar of the bad writing, forced to do the most asinine things so that she maintains the spotlight even if it's slowly killing her character while making every other character look pathetic and/or ineffectual.

[madamvoila]

cute red envelope ideas 😛😛

imma be the coolest one at the family reunion

[phantasmicfish]

Long ranty list of stuff that majorly Sucked in s4 of tua:

- number one thing I loathe is the convenient way tua got their powers back. We get this brief vignette of them without their powers in episode 1, and then by the end of the episode they conveniently find the marigold and *voila* have powers. Where were the stakes? The consequences? Show me TUA struggling to adjust to powerless life. Five annoyed that he has to use the stairs to climb a four story building. Diego failing to chop expertly w knives. Luther struggling to open jars idk give me something. Don’t just do a six year time skip and ignore the mundane!

- Adding onto ^ that I feel like it would make more sense to me if we saw TUA without their powers for maybe 3 eps in s4, and they go through a mini Journey to get them back. Instead it’s like the entire hook of the s3 finale is immediately resolved in episode 1, it annoys me to no end

- Five working for the CIA I sorta get… cuz it’s sorta what he did with The Commission. So now unmoored and powerless he’d probably go back to that lifestyle. But Five, paranoid violent genius in the room Five, not noticing the completely obvious umbrella tattoo on his boss’ wrist?

- Jennifer being introduced, immediately shrugging off the fact that her entire town was murdered/a Truman Show sham, and joining Ben with basically zero questions

- Jennifer getting no character arc beyond she was born in a squid and she loves Ben

- Getting zero recognition that Reginald is an alien. Like. Hello?? You just found out your pos father is AN ALIEN! Are the siblings seriously not going to talk about this

- Also what year is s4 set in. Why do they always dial rotary phones but mention cryptocurrency? What is this universe where everybody knows Reginald and he’s colloquially referred to as “the elite?” Are Reginald and Abigail the… President and Vice President? King and Queen? Just some people who started a massive corporation and got rich?

- No mention of Grace is criminal. It would have made waaaaay more sense if the lady who played Abigail was actually played by Grace. And it would add some heart to Reginald as a character too. Otherwise, instead of secretly loving Grace his alien wife, Grace is just some woman who was alive in the 60s and Reginald made a replica robot mom of her in 2019. For some reason. Idk I feel like the puzzle pieces were all laid out and for some reason TUA writers did not assemble them

- No mention of Pogo or Ray is also incredibly disappointing. Allison betrayed her siblings in order to be with Claire AND with Ray in one universe, but he’s not even in s4. Why even include him in the end of s3 then

- Okay maybe I’m pulling a blank but who tf is Quinn? How does he know Klaus? Why does he hate Klaus so much?

- Why does Claire know Klaus is immortal? Why is she all of sudden cool w her mom having eye glowy powers? You have no questions about that Claire huh…

- It also made sense to me that Lila and Diego would hate domestic life… and to me it seemed like even introducing their kids (not one, but three) was sort of silly. We only really saw Grace at the birthday party and then it seemed like Lila and Diego would forget and then remember their kids existed at weird parts

- Five and Lila giving up searching for a way out of the subway stations six years in seemed sus. Yes, take a break/eat strawberries but why would you stop searching for a way back? You’re supposed to be the best agents in the commission so like… where did that grit/determination go

- Ben dying and being mutated with zero understanding of what was happening to him… just sucked

[chalkscrub]

chalkrub stuns in new oc-tober prompts

it's a text-heavy update...i love rambling

day 11: symbolism/themes/visual metaphor i.e my favourite things in the world - eng lit nerds make some noise!!!!!

goin back to day 11 with my favourite thing in the world: an unfinished sketchy concept. and also SYMBOLISM and themes and metaphor…and also dark green

so mika and heidi's story is haunted by one time they happened upon a drowned fox and pheasant in a disused canal, something which came at a weird time in their lives and which heidi made weirder by making cryptic suggestions about the whole thing, especially playing on mika’s (former) religious beliefs about spirit connections. Over time, it’s infected mika with budding paranoia in the form of nightmares, hallucinations and latent aquaphobia, all of which she begins seeing as premonitory

shan’t overexplain the symbolism even though my brain wants me to, but this was all inspired by seeing literally the exact same thing on a walk with my great aunt when I was like 6 or 7. the canal water was all covered in algae/pondweed so i’m guessing the fox chased the pheasant, they both mistook the canal for grass, then fell in and drowned together. even as a little kid I was like wrow this is so poignant and tragic and heavy with the potential for on-the-nose symbolism….. or alternatively it just looked cool as hell and felt kind of rare and special. either way, like 15 years later I was developing a new direction for a couple of initially completely unrelated ocs, i.e mika and heidi, and at some point in their story development, I was like now wait a second….this is just like that one time I saw those animals who chased each other into an early shared fate and drowned together…… and it fit them really well and also made everything click into place for the main story, it was kind of uncanny. Thank you nature for showing me cool things every day, and rip to the fox and pheasant you live in my mind forever and always

day 12: future

BEAS!!! beas i love you beas. initial beasley flavour on the left and future flavour on the right. his whole deal is he wants to start a cult, so he ventures to The Big City to make a name for himself. then he realises imps like him are a dime a dozen in the city and nobody cares about him, so he has to scrape by working a minimum wage job as a cashier in a tiny corner shop. he’s from a comic I (partially) made for uni, idk how his story goes exactly but I guess it probably ends with the typical sappy message of being yourself for yourself and not for fame or fortune or whatever. he gets up to hijincks, feels sad and depressed, and goes through the torment of living with his own mediocrity in a world that demands greatness. imps grow with power, not with age, so at the start of the story, even though he’s an adult, he’s still as small as when he was born/summoned/spawned/whatever. he’s got some shapeshifting prowess, so his future form is more an example of the kinds of feats he can pull off when his powers stabilise, and also his cool badass flaming eyes.

day 14: inspiration.

here's a convoluted block of text explaining the heretic's main inspiration, which isn't very apparent in the design at ALL but nevertheless: they’re kind of inspired by the concept of a closet costume. like how you can throw a bedsheet over yourself and cut out some eyeballs and voila. You’re a ghost. Or put a big furry coat and a mask on and you’re a werewolf now. almost all of their design links back to this in a roundabout way: the fur is meant to look like a rug/coat/furry thing draped over something. I used to have a sheepskin rug when I was a kid and I’d always hide under it and crawl about and pretend to be a monster lmao…this is what i looked like in my head maybe. The normal shoes poking out are the human element – like how halloween costumes will sometimes be mostly themed but the shoes are just practical, or you see shoes poking out beneath one of those two-man horse costumes. The face is meant to look mask-like – the glassy unfocused eyes, the fixed toothy grin, the simple cone shape. The black eyelids are meant to be like those Halloween masks that have eyeholes above/below the eyes, covered with that black fabric to make it less obvious there's eyeholes. And the ears are floppy to be like socks or something; they have those two black lines because they remind me of loose stitching. Also just some animal influences thrown in – possums, goats and bulls…..none of the closet costume stuff is meant to be noticeable or apparent in the design, so why did I put so much thought into it? who know… but this thing is one of my favourite designs I’ve made so maybe it was all worth it

[tonystarkfucksaround]

So I'm pretty sure it's been mentioned before, but I guess I've never really paid it any mind until it suddenly struck me — that scene where Charles makes an illusion of Erik wearing a blue dress and a wig? Blue sequin dress and red wig, specifically?

It's funny and dorky in and of itself, and it sure brings out a couple of questions (did Charles ever see Erik in a dress to know precisely how he'd look in one? Did he fantasize about it? Oh Charles, all you ever had to do was ask), but it also made me wonder if it really was just a coincidence that he kind of... made Erik look like Raven? You know, with the sequin resembling her scales and a matching red wig?

I think it could've been somewhat unintentional on his part, really. It's just that he was so used to Raven being the only other mutant he knew, and to them being together (Charles and Raven against the world and all that). Of course he's excited to meet the others, and he sure as hell enjoys their mutant gay road trip with Erik, but he's known Raven the longest, and he probably still has a knee-jerk reaction every now and then thinking that she's somewhere nearby. And him making Erik look (a little) like Raven? Probably his mind's compromise about having his sister with him.

I also think that it has something to do with the nature of his powers and the way others might react to it (let's be honest — it's probably not always a good way). Maybe Angel wasn't their first recruit, only the first one who agreed to go with them, and maybe there was someone before her who didn't take kindly to Charles showing off his powers by going into their mind; it's mostly Erik who demonstrates his abilities — makes sense, since it's much more tangible — so when Charles has to show what he can do, he must come up with the ways that wouldn't be perceived as scary or invasive.

And his first thought? "What would Raven do", or "Raven would've made it so much easier" (cue to their first meeting with the CIA, where Charles only made everyone panic up until Raven stood up and promptly turned into Stryker).

Now consider that he's also buzzing with excitement about the whole ordeal, probably at least a little tipsy from the drinks (and perhaps not so little from the buzz of drunk minds all around them at the club), and most likely more than a little attracted to Erik sitting so close to him, and voila — his mind practically composes an illusion for him based on these subconscious clues.

(Contrary to a lot of headcanons and fics out there, I really think that Charles absolutely refused to tell or show Erik just what the illusion had been when he sobered up and realized just what he'd done. Angel, though, gleefully did, and Erik absolutely made use of that knowledge at some point)

[the-pessimist-and-his-cat]

Alright. Thoughts on this stupid vroom vroom alpha bl show that will consume my mind for nearly three months! (I haven't read the books, but apparently Charlie gets memory loss?)

Kim.... you are the real winner. I always love it when people speak their minds instead of letting it fester (I hope he stays that way).

Babe... really? Starting with you being grumpy and a sex scene! Classic Babe behavior, but I don't fault him. After all, being a hot dude with an appetite, do be like that sometimes :)

Willy.... he's gonna be an A-hole but seeing Babe and Willy's first interaction being all hostile, it's gonna go one of the two ways: [I] Babe is going to use Willy to rile Charlie up (he wants Charlie to be the one who defeats Willy or he wants angry sex). [II] he wants to know Willy's motive and finds him suspicious or wants to find his weakness, so he acts like a 'Playboy' <but of course, none of these will go well because I'll explain in the end>

North and Sonic..... sorry for those of you who ship these two, but I never understood their dynamic, and they aren't interesting to me, but if the show does expand on their characters by going beyond "forever BFFs who secretly like each other". then you got my interest.

Chris.... now do I like to see actors coming back to the show as another character.... nope. My reasoning? Do it, but at least have the doppelganger/twin sibling/clone to be shocked! If I were Chris (even if I knew who Way was and I was a secret spy), I would totally lose my goddamn mind! Someone who looks like me?! What are the chances! But I do hope he doesn't break Pete's heart.

Pete..... since when you snatched the DILF title from Alan? But I hope you don't give your heart too easily to Chris and maybe check his background throughly??? Because what are the goddamn chances!

Alan.... I have no words other than look out for your boyfriend, and please be respectful when Kim snatches victory from Babe. That boy acted professional, so should you. (Also, you look good as always and when you and Jeff are gonna have kids i-)

Jeff.... why did they name you that? From the first season till now... whenever I hear your name, I hear that meme, "My name is Jeff," but alas, nothing can be done about it. Now, will this season toy with Jeff's life because the visions take a toll on him? (And maybe the skill-erasing machine will be his salvation? We gonna find out!)

Dean.... did you die? But I swear that in one of the trailers, you and Winner and Kenta were in a van soooo maybe a bullet to the leg or a graze?

Tony.... an A-hole with multiple watch lists to be on, but that hair is still serving and I can't hate that face. I think in the episode 2 preview, he said that he has a spy, so it's either Chris, Willy, or the new mechanic.

Charlie.... the biggest red flag of all the characters... just because that boy is bound to do something stupid and have Babe go on a depression cycle again. Oh, I know what he's gonna do. When he sees Babe with Willy, he's gonna be like "I'll bring back his senses so that Babe wins and we'll be done with Willy", and he goes to the machine, which is STILL experimental and uses it and voila! Memory loss, BUT if the show does do that and then show Charlie being all hot bad boy with side-pieces all over him, then I'll forgive him. He has the potential to be a bad boy, and I WANT to see it. :)

Well, I hope we see Babe's father again.

Manifesting Jeff's pregnancy right this fucking now. Maybe because the visions take a toll on him, he uses the machine, and it backfires and turns him into Omega...... oh my god.... what if there is no omega in this world, and Pete's research has invented a machine that not only turn off Alpha's powers but also turns them into Omega?! A new subtype?!?!? I'm cooking, folks!

7/10 for Ep 1.

Edit: I forgot to mention that I liked it when they introduced Chris in the 1st episode rather than tiptoeing around it.

[miiilowo]

people were wondering how i got my tumblr to look ^^ like this and asked for a mini tutorial so. here is how to get a custom tumblr theme (if youre on desktop) (obviously) [included screenshots of both the old & new layout so you can see how it looks]

go to the firefox (or chrome) store and install this extension. or just look up 'stylus browser extension' and it should show up

once youve got it installed, click the 'find' button in the bottom right. it should just show you tumblr stuff and if u scroll down a bit itll be there. but if it doesnt for whatever reason, look up the custom dashboard palette and install That One specifically

theres a gear icon. click it. you can change a whole bunch of stuff in here (notably, the color palette of basically everything on the site) but for backgrounds specifically theres this

find whatever image you want to use. it'll probably be the most convenient to find an aesthetic picture off tumblr itself. or, if you have a wallpaper you want to use thats downloaded onto your pc, upload it onto your blog or something. for whatever picture you want to use, right click and select 'copy image link' specifically and then paste it into the 'custom background image url' box and hit save. if it has a https in the link, then it should work out just fine

voila. that should do it. and side note if you want the old tumblr dash layout before they twitter-ized it, heres a post about that & the stylus extension for it

[madlori]

Oh, come on, I was going to reblog that. I was turning the science off in my brain for this episode, and then she slammed that "antiviral" into the rat, and I had to remove my brain cells entirely.

LOL sorry! The post I deleted was another "frustrated scientist" post about how viruses don't have antidotes. Antidotes are for poisons and other toxic substances.

But it's not like Hollywood has a great track record of depicting realistic science. I usually assume they won't.

Like the bane of my existence is those endless scenes in various shows and films where the cure for some disease is the MacGuffiny "formula" that the hero has to find (we don't call those "formulas" but that's beside the point). Then when they find the formula they treat it like a recipe? Like you mix together a few bench chemicals and voila, here's your cure?

THAT'S NOT HOW THAT WORKS.

ok you got me going now, i'm off to the races.

So.

A lot of synthetic targets that are bioactive are small molecule inhibitors, especially when we're talking about cancer drugs. Here's an example:

It's a protein kinase inhibitor used to treat acute myeloid leukemia.

This may be a small molecule but synthetically it's fairly complex, and it's also stereogenic (it has distinct 3D structure components that are hard to separate from each other).

This is not something you isolate from tree bark or something. This is something you design and synthesize.

So imagine that if your final step is this molecule, and your first step is "stuff I can buy from the chemical catalog," there will be X number of steps in between.

I haven't seen the total synthetic scheme for midostaurin but if it's less than 30 steps I'd be shocked.

And when you're developing this scheme, each step has to be optimized (meaning tried under various reaction conditions to maximize yields) before you can move on to the next one. And you might find out that one of your proposed steps doesn't work at all, so you have to backtrack.

Each of these 30 steps, you only get a certain percent yield. So you can start with pounds of starting material and wind up with like 5 milligrams, if you're lucky.

This is the work of years, probably. This is what grad students do all day long, optimize steps and repeat them fifty times.

Formula. Bah.