#wowee this is a long one

[thelovers-2001]

Call me lover, I'll take you for a drink or two!

Few days ago, I got into Finding Frankie, came out with two things : A new interest and a new f/o.

Some stuff about my Finding Frankie s/i under the Read More ↓↓↓

Her name's Maisy Magnetic!

She's one of cast of Frankie's cartoon, introduced as a side character but slowly becomes part of the main cast as more episodes came out.

Described as humble, creative yet shy. She's a character lovingly inspired by Bob Ross; though instead of painting mighty landscapes, she makes all sorts of things.

Former cartoonist for the newspapers, she became a host of her own little tv show. Where she paints and crafts, showing endless possiblities of creativity.

Her relationship with Henry Hotline developed from friendship to crushing on each other. Maisy's often the one flirted by and gets flustered by Henry.

[whereissmajor]

Today Scott is in Hatsune Miku: Colorful Stage, also known as Project Sekai!!

he's talking to MMJ ^-^

[wholesome-gf-appreciation-blog]

Haven't posted in who KNOWS how long, but its the twins birthday again so I doodled smthn for em!

[edward-snowdenhands]

Oh jeeze smoke room is ending

[what-the-floofin]

So how do baby taurs work for the equitaurs and cervitaurs in your stuff?

Oh that's a good one actually - lots to talk about! Too much for one post, but gotta start somewhere. Enjoy some messy micro scribbles peppered throughout. They were originally very very tiny so, pardon blurriness.

I've got my Taurs running overall pretty similar to equine cycles and gestations - meaning they are what you call 'long-day triggered' by the spring and summer seasons.

(Though they do cycle throughout the year, just at slower rates and less consistently over cooler seasons)

This goes for the cervitaurs too - rather than using the shorter gestation of their deer alikes - as they and their foals are a bit bigger and more complex to deal with. Which also goes to suggest that twins/multiples are not a frequent occurrence for cervitaurs in comparison to actual deer, and inherently poses as much danger as it does for equines instead. Possible, but high risk and incredibly demanding.

So, you're looking at an 11 month gestation on average, and typically starting in a mid-spring to late-summer window. Which places most taurs at being born early-spring to mid-summer. It's most uncommon to be winter born, but not weird tbh.

Foals are super awkward, there's no getting around that, and in the first year they have a ridiculous growth rate when compared to other sentient creatures of similar lifespans.

These things are weeds - the difference from one day old to three months old is phenomenal alone. They are, however, cooked a little further along than what you'd be comparing to for a newborn human. They're able to support themselves enough to avoid outright injury (think like a 3-4 month old baby), but gaining actual control of all those limbs takes a bit more time. The equine half however would be a touch undercooked for a horse. Just physically, in size. No worries about comparative internal developments, that's all good and ready to go.

So they're typically gonna spend shy of their first month feeding and sleeping, practicing rolling up, sitting and limb coordination to build strength for self-standing. If mama has places to be, that baby is getting carried.

I also absolutely subscribe to the idea of arms being naturally held close to torso prior to having balance and coordination. It would support them a lot! Then it becomes a self-soothing gesture seen in the anxious, and an instinctive positional response when badly startled. Tuck in!

By three months you can expect them to be racing on their little stilt legs - albeit still with the occasional wobble and spill. And wowee did that happen fast when you think about it.

While the zoomies are a lot, they're balanced out by the fact that so much oncoming growth means foals crash nap very frequently. These buggers sleep a lot. It's go hard and sleep hard on endless rotation. Play, snack, nap, rinse and repeat.

This accelerated growth races away throughout their first year, and then drops right back into something a bit more reasonable - at least when you're considering it from the human perspective!

Yet in comparison to how they first started out, it's practically snail paced.

I'm meaning, you look at the size of a 3 month old horse foal, and that's the closest comparison to a 2 year old taur foal in body. Every 'horse foal month' thereafter starts guiding the next 'taur foal year' visual until you hit that yearling horse look for a taur when they're 10-11 years old. Then by that point, they've reached most of their full leg length, and the next 10 years is focused on finishing the bulking out of their frame.

(click to enlarge I hope) - Featuring my lass Thalo here haha

By rule of thumb I just have both equid and humanoid aspects grow in relative balance to each other, lanky stages and all. From the human perspective, the humanoid half grows crazy fast at first and then becomes comparatively similar. From the horse perspective, the equine half is crazy slow and always is. It would also give credit to having a higher physical durability than their animal counterparts. More time was spent growing!

It's worth noting that a lot of perceived 'weirdness' only comes from trying to compare them purely 1 to 1 with either horse, deer or human kids. Taurs are their own thing though! And nature's most consistent attitude is to Find What Works and Do it. No matter how wack, if it works it's used.

So, a rapid starting growth tapered into a much slower rate once they're stabilised and running was just the path that worked best for this Taur survival. Keep it simple!

There's always more to cover, but this is chunky enough for now. Whew!

[hypewinter]

Hal bent down as the little girl approached him. Even then, he still managed to tower over her with how small she was.

"Hey there little lady," he said. "Anything I can help you with this fine evening?"

The little girl looked at him anxiously, fiddling with her hands. Ok so not a nervous fan. Hal immediately switched to serious mode, scanning the crowd for anyone who could be her parents. He didn't see anyone running up to the two of them or even so much as keeping a watchful eye from a distance.

"Is something the matter?" Hal questioned, making sure to keep his voice even and calm.

The girl continued fidgeting, her big blue eyes scanning from side to side. Finally she spoke. "You wiff da space po-eece yes? Not da am-ear-ree-ca one?"

Hal smiled at the girl. "Yes, I'm with the space police." Honestly that was oversimplifying the Corps a little but he had long since gotten to citizens calling him a space cop.

The girl offered up a small nervous smile of her own. "So you won't tell da gov-ment what I tell you wight?"

Hal was on high alert now. Just what was this little girl trying to tell him? "I won't tell. I promise," he said after a second.

The girl broke into a big smile at this. "Really? Dis way den." She started tugging Hal along and he began to follow.

"Where exactly are we going?" he asked.

"You see," was all she replied.

Hal was led down a couple different alleyways and was beginning to think he was walking into a trap when they reached an abandoned building. The girl dashed in and up the old rusted stairs, with Hal following closely behind her.

If this really is a trap, I'll never hear the end of it from Batman, he thought morbidly as he cleared the last step. Instead of finding himself facing an ambush however, he saw a boy curled up on an old mattress. The girl was already by his side as Hal approached.

"Don wowee Danny, I got help. Like I said I would," he caught the little girl whispering as he knelt down next to the boy. He had to have been older than the girl. Three years older maybe? Yet he was still so small. Hal took sight of his condition. He was in pain. That much was certain by his little face scrunched up in agony and his quiet moans. He was also sweating profusely. His raven black hair sticking to his forehead. Fever maybe?

Hal continued his observations as he scanned down the boy's body until he got to his stomach. The boy was clutching it and Hal could make out blood bleeding through from underneath. Oh no.

He quickly yet carefully removed the boy's arm to get a better look at the wound. The kid let out a groan as his arm was peeled away. Hal couldn't help but thank Oa for all his training that helped prevent him from letting out a gasp.

The boy's chest was covered in blood. Dark red mixed with flecks of green soaked through his shirt and there were bandages that had been amateurishly tied around the wound.

"How did this happen?" Hal asked, turning back to the girl. He did his best to keep his tone as gentle as possible.

Her smile was gone now, and her eyes welled up with tears. "He pwotected me," she said. "Dey wanted to huwrt us. Dey shot at us. Danny pwotected me."

Anger boiled within Hal. Who would shoot at these children? They were only little kids. If what the girl had said earlier was anything to go off of, the answer had something to do with the government. He would have to take care of that later though. For now, this boy needed medical attention.

"Let's get Danny to a hospital," Hal said resolutely, as he got up.

"No!" the little girl screeched. "No has-pee-tail. Too dan-er-us!"

"But he needs-" Hal started but then he met the girl's eyes. There was abject fear in them. As if going to the hospital would be a death sentence for both children. Where else were they supposed to go though? The boy- Danny needed medical attention stat. That much was certain.

Hal paused. There was one place. He sighed. Batman was going to kill him for this.

"Okay okay. No hospital. But what about space?"

"Space?" the girl repeated.

Hal nodded.

The little girl smiled. "Danny lobes space!"

"Well then. That's perfect."

Hal constructed a new bed for the boy, carefully easing him onto it before putting a protective dome around both children. The little girl giggled as he lifted them up. He then turned to the wall where he created a giant hammer to knock it down. Then they were off. Flying higher and higher, towards the atmosphere. As the Watchtower got closer in sight, Hal couldn't help but groan. Taking civilians to the Watchtower? Oh yeah, Batman was definitely going to kill him.

[artficlly]

smog & spirits: lucky's choppery (series)

Marvel 1920s Gangster/Peaky Blinders Inspired Fantasy AU

mob!bucky x witch!reader

Bucky Barnes, the leader of Sootstone's Smog Boys, needs a favour. A nasty curse has been cast on him, and he needs a witch to help him break it.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, fem reader, vague smut, implied blowjob, mention of abortion (not to reader), mad scientist tony stark, laboratory, mentions of gambling, alcohol, smoking, vague mentions of physical violence, angst, some fluff (?), criminals & crime, 1920s street gangs, witchcraft, vaguely british setting??, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: wowee, i wrote this so fast (i already had the dialogue and some writing ready for like 80% of this chapter, so it was pretty easy to fill in the rest). hoping to at least get one more chapter out but no promises, beginning to feel a bit burnt out and my birthday is on sunday yippe. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

taglist: @nash-dara @sebastians-love @calwitch permanent taglist: @globetrotter28

main masterlist | series masterlist

The crowded sea of workers flooding out of the factories for the evening parted like a tide before Bucky, his strides purposeful, shoulders squared. The setting sun cast the Smokestack District in a haze of burning amber and ashen grey, the air thick with soot and the sharp tang of metal. Even here, in the industrial veins of Sootstone, men instinctively stepped aside lest they be trampled underfoot.

This Stark friend of his was apparently buried deep within the district, tucked away in whatever workshop or lair he called home. Even if their fathers had once been in business together, Stark seemed to have chosen a different path that didn’t dance as closely with the violence that pulsed beneath the city’s surface. You had no doubt that his work, whatever it was, still dipped into the murky waters of illegality. The Smog Boys and their associates rarely kept company with anyone clean.

You let your mind wander, dissecting the possibilities, if only to drown out the roar in your thoughts. For once, Bucky Barnes and his uninvited quests were a welcome distraction.

But no matter how much you tried to shove it aside, Becca’s revelation clung to you like a thorn buried deep beneath your skin. Her words would haunt you long into the night. You knew they would. You’d toss and turn, picking them apart, unravelling them until they unravelled you.

Your father—the man who had half-heartedly raised you, the man who had buried himself in drink and violence, the man who had driven your mother into an early grave—was not your father. Not the man you had thought him to be at all.

The realisation felt like a gaping wound in your chest. The years you had wasted on him, the countless excuses, the hesitant forgiveness. It was all for nothing. You had bent yourself backwards trying to make sense of him, trying to make peace with how he had broken you repeatedly. And yet, he was just another name to add to an already endless list of cruel men.

And your mother—gods, your mother. You had resented her for the life she had chosen, for trapping you in the Warrens, for binding you to poverty and suffering. You had never understood why she stayed, why she had chosen him, why she hadn’t run far from Blackstone and disappeared into the countryside. But now, it all slotted into place like the final piece of a puzzle you hadn’t realised was incomplete.

A sickness curled in your gut. You had hated her.

Your lip was raw from how hard you had been chewing it, and you forced yourself to focus on the roll of Bucky’s shoulders as he marched ahead, unphased, a cigarette hanging from his lips. You hated yourself for ever blaming your mother when she had endured atrocities. She had shown remarkable strength in escaping, in carving out a life of her own in the shadows of Sootstone. She had run from that wretched place, hidden in plain sight. Marrying your father…it must have been a last resort. Perhaps the only man who would take in a woman in her condition.

And she had never told you. Neither of them had. Did your father—no, the man you had believed to be your father—even know the truth? He had never spoken of the Church of Light beyond vague, half-drunken warnings, letting the weight of it gather dust in your memories. A ghost of something unspoken.

But you had never forgotten.

There was a plan forming in your mind—a quiet, insidious thing. A plan to destroy the Church of Light, to repay them for the cruelties they had stained your bloodline with. That day with Michael—gods, Michael— it had given you confidence, perhaps even delusion. You had power. Power strong enough to tear them apart, to bring them to their knees. But beyond any misplaced ideas of grandeur, you knew a truth. You couldn’t act alone. Not in such an obvious way. The Church was vast—multiple temples, hundreds of members. A massacre would not go unnoticed, and the coppers wouldn’t hesitate to drag you to the gallows. It had been a miracle you had escaped them as a teenager.

And every power, every body in this realm, had limits. 

You’d never had the full opportunity to explore the depths of this cursed power you’d been gifted, this death that clung to your very being. You couldn’t know if you had what it took to destroy them all in one fell swoop without destroying yourself in the process.

Your gaze flickered back to Bucky. His expression was guarded, jaw tight, eyes locked ahead as smoke curled from the cigarette between his lips. Even now, with his muscles still taut from anger, he exuded a dangerous calm. A readiness to act, to strike.

You could use him.

You could use him, use the Smog Boys to rip the Church of Light apart. If it became a gang war, the coppers wouldn’t so much as bat an eye. They’d let the criminals handle their own if Bucky's name was attached.

And you would be protected—so long as you could keep his attention.

The thought twisted something deep inside you. Was it wrong to think this way?

Then again… had he not used you, too? Had he not sought you out for your power, for what you could do for him? Yes, he had paid you, but at what cost? There was no permanency in this. You were just another indulgence, another fleeting pleasure. He had told you himself—he didn’t think himself a man capable of love.

Maybe you could have loved him. But him loving you?

It would be foolish to think so. Foolish to believe he could care for you beyond lust, beyond the pull of your body against his.

Your thoughts twisted in on themselves, tangling like a mess of threads in your mind, squeezing, choking, refusing to come undone.

The streets of the Smokestack District grew narrower as you followed Bucky deeper into its labyrinthine alleys, the industrial skyline choking out what little remained of the evening light. Buildings leaned into one another like drunks in an embrace, their brick faces blackened with soot, their windows murky with grime. The air stank of coal smoke, damp rot, and something metallic—oil, or maybe blood.

At the end of a particularly filthy lane, past a crumbling row of tenements, you finally stopped in front of what appeared to be an unassuming butcher’s shop. A weathered wooden sign, its red paint peeling, hung above the entrance: Lucky’s Choppery. The display window was lined with thick cuts of beef and strings of sausages, though the glass was so smeared with grease it barely reflected the gaslights flickering in the street.

You eyed the butcher’s block just inside, where a cleaver had been buried deep into a slab of meat, its blade glinting under the weak glow of an overhead lamp. The floor, lined with well-worn tiles, bore the dark stains of years of blood and brine. 

Bucky shoved open the door without hesitation, the bell overhead giving a feeble jingle. A lanky kid behind the counter—maybe eighteen at most—jerked up from where he’d been counting money, his dark eyes widening.

You glanced around, taking in the place. “Your friend Stark… is a butcher?”

Bucky huffed, crunching his cigarette beneath his boot. “It’s a front, doll.”

“Good to know…” You exhaled slowly, shifting your weight as the kid behind the counter fumbled with the till.

Bucky stepped forward, tapping the counter with two fingers. “Parker. Here to see Stark.”

The boy—Parker—flinched, his expression tightening. “Stark—you’re supposed to say Lucky—”

Bucky’s brow creased. “Who the fuck is Lucky?”

“It’s the codeword—” Parker sucked in a sharp breath, pressing his lips together like he was already regretting this conversation. “Mr. Stark is busy, I’m afraid Mr. Barnes…”

Bucky gave him a flat look. “Kid, I’m sure he is. But do you think he’s gonna be pleased if he finds out you turned me away?”

Parker swallowed hard. His shoulders sagged, and with a sigh, he jerked his head toward the back. “Alright… come on through.”

You followed Parker behind the counter and through a heavy wooden door into the backroom. The temperature dropped immediately. The air was thick with the lingering scent of salt and raw flesh. Rows of bloodless animal carcasses hung from iron hooks, swaying slightly from the draft that slithered through the room. You stepped carefully as Parker led you toward a door set into the far wall. The door's surface was scratched and worn, but the metal handle was polished from years of use.

Parker pushed it open, ushering you both in. You winced as you were blinded by the buzz of lightbulbs hanging overhead, illuminating the space. 

A laboratory. 

It was a chaotic masterpiece of metal and magic, stitched together in an unholy fusion of science and the occult. Copper pipes ran along the walls like veins, some hissing with steam, others crackling faintly with unnatural energy. The exposed brick was scrawled over with chalked equations, half-translated runes wedged between calculations that looked like they belonged to some deranged engineer’s fever dream.

Workbenches sagged under the weight of strange devices—bronzed contraptions with whirring gears, delicate instruments of glass and silver, and something that looked suspiciously like a heart pulsing inside a vat of thick, viscous liquid. Along the far wall, a large metal figure loomed, wires and arcane sigils wrapping around it in a spidery embrace. A dull red glow pulsed from within.

And at the centre of it all, hunched over a mess of gears and copper wiring, was the man himself.

Stark.

He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His dark hair was a mess of careless waves, tousled as if he’d run his fingers through it a hundred times while deep in thought. A faint shadow of stubble darkened his sharp jaw. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, exposing forearms slathered with grease and soot. His vest, once fine, was smudged with oil and singed at the edges, and his half-buttoned shirt carried the distinct stains of burnt metal and something vaguely alchemical.

Perched on his nose was a pair of brass-framed goggles, their lenses thick and dusted with soot, the left one cracked down the middle. A tiny, flickering spark of blue danced across the metal frame as if whatever enchantment he’d woven into them was barely holding together. He had the look of a man who was equal parts genius and disaster, the kind of bastard who could build something to change the world but would probably set his own lab on fire in the process.

And, of course, he didn’t even look up as the door swung open.

“Who's this? A present for me?” His voice was rough. He finally glanced up, gaze narrowing as he studied you. “I see magic about her—”

“She ain’t for one of your experiments, Tony,” Bucky interrupted, stepping between you and the mad scientist. “She’s with me.”

“Huh.” Stark exhaled, leaning back against his worktable with an air of disappointment. “Shame. And touchy, too… I take it this is your infamous spirit-raiser?”

“What?” you muttered, stiffening.

“He experiments with magic and technology,” Bucky explained dryly. “Thinks he can… power metal with magic.”

“That’s possible?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

Stark’s expression turned downright wolfish. “Oh, it’s possible. Just needs the right conduit.” He stepped forward, his fingers twitching like he was already picturing carving something out of you to power one of his creations. “I mean… if I could just experiment with a drop of your magic, it doesn’t hurt, I promise… just a prick, bit of bleeding, long-term possibilities can include sudden death buuut—”

Your expression melted into something of horror.

“Oi, that’s not why we’re ‘ere, Tony,” Bucky cut in sharply. “I’m hostin’ a party. You’re invited.”

With a flick of his wrist, he produced a pristine envelope from inside his suit jacket, the deep red wax seal still unbroken. The contrast was almost comical—elegant, refined, and utterly out of place. You doubted Bucky had penned the invitations himself; the script was too precise and delicate. No, he’d likely had some poor girl painstakingly scrawl each one by hand while he barked orders from the corner of a smoky room.

Bucky’s expression remained flat, but his tone had an unmistakable edge when he added, “Preferably, you’ll keep your hands off my bird while you’re at it.”

You had to fight the urge to snap your head toward him in shock. His bird? Had one week tangled in your sheets left that much of a mark on him? The man hadn’t even taken you on a proper date—unless you counted brutalising a handful of Iron Rats as a romantic outing.

Stark paused, his keen gaze flicking between the two of you like he was dissecting a particularly interesting experiment. The glint in his eye was pure mischief. “Your bird, aye? Didn’t realise things were so… serious.”

Bucky scowled, jaw tightening. “Shut ya fuckin’ gob and take the invitation.” He flicked the pristine envelope onto Stark’s cluttered workbench, where it landed atop a mess of copper wiring, scattered blueprints, and a wrench smeared with something that definitely wasn’t just grease.

Stark picked it up, popping open the seal with ease. “Alright, alright.” His expression shifted slightly as he skimmed the contents. “This ain’t got anything to do with that Smokin’ Jacks business?”

Bucky smirked. “Somethin’ like that.”

Even with the vague way they spoke, you had heard rumours.

The Smokin’ Jacks were a gang of gamblers—slick bastards who ran their operations like clockwork, their fortunes made not through brute force but by sleight of hand. They had gambling dens throughout Blackstone, and their debts were written in blood.

The Smog Boys and the Smokin’ Jacks had long held a hesitant truce—so long as the Jacks didn’t turn their tricks on the poor bastards in the Warrens, there was no need for bloodshed. Their scams and schemes were reserved for the rich and reckless of the Flower District, the men who never knew the weight of a real loss.

But lately, there had been whispers. The Jacks weren’t keeping their word. Their debt collectors had started crossing into Smog Boy territory, leaning on the desperate and the weak, pressing them for coin they didn’t have.

Bucky didn’t take kindly to broken deals.

Stark folded the invitation with an almost exaggerated neatness, tucking it into the inner pocket of his grease-streaked waistcoat. His eyes gleamed, sharp and knowing, the kind of look that suggested he saw a game unfolding that only he knew the rules to.

“Guess I’ll be there, then.”

Bucky gave a short nod as if he had expected no less. He reached into his coat pocket, retrieving his cigarette case with a flick of his wrist. But before he could light one, you stepped forward, words spilling from your lips before you could stop them.

“You just wrapped up that business with the Iron Rats, and now you’re goin’ after the Smokin’ Jacks? Can you be any more reckless—”

Bucky turned his head toward you, exhaling slowly through his nose, cigarette forgotten. “Don’t make me remind you whose fault that Iron Rats business was.”

Your jaw clenched. “You’re the one who escalated it—”

“Yeah, well, you sure were into it, weren’t you?” His voice dropped, low and taunting, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Sure fucked me afterwards like you did—”

Heat shot up your spine, equal parts fury and disbelief, and before you even realised what you were doing, your hand was fisted in the sleeve of his coat, yanking him toward you. He barely moved, only grinning down at you with that infuriating glint in his eye, like he was daring you to do something about it.

Behind you, Stark let out a low whistle, then a chuckle, clearly enjoying the show. “Well, well. You two are a real pair, aren’t ya?” He leaned back against his workbench, arms crossed, amusement dancing across his features. 

Bucky rolled his eyes and wrenched his arm free, though not before squeezing your wrist briefly—just enough to remind you who was stronger. “We’re leavin’,” he muttered, turning toward the door.

“Try not to start a war before the party, Barnes,” Stark called after him. “But if you do—” he grinned, “—make sure I get front-row seats.”

You cast one last glance at the chaos of the lab, the scattered notes, and the eerie hum of machinery before following Bucky out. You didn’t need Stark to tell you that. A war was already brewing.

—

Your front door creaked as you pushed it open, the familiar scent of candle wax and herbs greeting you as you stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, the only real light coming from the amber glow of the streetlamps outside, their hazy beams spilling through the lace curtains. You shrugged off your coat, glancing over your shoulder as Bucky followed you in.

Only, he didn’t move the way he usually did.

Gone was the effortless swagger, the quiet, calculated control he carried himself with. Instead, he lingered near the door as if he wasn’t sure whether to stay or turn and leave. The sight unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

“You stayin’ the night?” You asked, tone casual despite the tension between you. “Or are you gonna go over to keep an eye on Becca?”

Bucky exhaled, rubbing at his jaw before answering. “No. I’ll have Nat watch over Becca. Think I’m the last person she wants to see right about now.”

There was something distant in his voice. You had noticed a shift in him during your quiet walk back from Stark’s lab. You turned, leaning against the edge of the table as you studied him. His shoulders were taut beneath his coat as if he were bracing for something.

“Are you angry with her?” you asked carefully. “For what she said to me?”

His lips pressed into a firm line. He took a moment before answering. “Can’t say I’m not a bit upset, doll.”

You sighed. “I wouldn’t take it out on her. She was just tryin’ to protect you.”

His head tilted slightly, expression unreadable. “I can make my own choices.”

“Bucky… I just—” You began but you cut yourself off as the gangster finally spoke.

“I’m…” He hesitated.

You blinked. That alone was enough to unnerve you.

You had never seen Bucky hesitate, not like this. He always had something to say—sharp, sure, commanding. But now, something unfamiliar wove itself into his voice. Vulnerability.

“…Grateful.”

The word came quietly like he almost couldn’t bring himself to say it, and when you looked at him, really looked at him, you saw it—the slight furrow of his brow, the way his hands flexed as though he didn’t know what to do with them.

“For what you did for Becca today,” he finished.

You swallowed hard.

“Well,” you sigh, “I couldn’t have just left her there—”

“I’m serious.”

His voice was firm now, but there was a softness beneath it. He shifted his weight slightly, jaw working as he forced himself to continue. “I know she is cruel, but she is my blood. My responsibility.”

You let his words sink in, picking them apart in your head.

“I don’t think she’s cruel,” you murmured. “I think she’s a woman who’s built her walls so high to protect herself. Now she can’t tell a friend from a threat.”

Bucky huffed a quiet breath, barely a sound at all.

“I can tell you why she’s like that,” he said. “And I’m afraid I’m on that list.”

Your brows pulled together. “I wouldn’t blame yourself—”

“Sometimes I worry, doll.”

Something in his voice… a weight settled in your ribcage. It was lower now, rougher like the words were being dragged from some part of him he never let anyone see. His fingers twitched at his side, clenching once before flexing open again. His jaw went tight, and when he finally spoke again, the words came slowly, carefully.

“I worry that I am becoming my father.”

Silence stretched between you. You didn’t think. You just reached out, fingers brushing over his hand, grounding him, offering something—anything—before he could retreat behind the walls you could already see rising.

But it was too late.

His body went rigid, tension snapping through him like a wire pulled too tight. His hand twitched under yours as if instinct told him to grip, to hold on, but then…He pulled away. The moment his expression hardened, you knew. Whatever softness had been there was gone in an instant, buried beneath cold calculation and the armour he had worn for so long. “I should go,” he muttered, voice clipped.

“Bucky—”

But he was already turning, already stepping away.

The door swung open, and before you could say another word, he was gone, the night swallowing him whole.

You stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty space where he had been, his presence lingering like a ghost you couldn’t quite banish. 

—

Three days later, you made the—likely foolish—decision to deliver a care package to Becca. You knew you’d probably receive a tongue-lashing for it, but a small, wicked part of you wanted to be the better person. You had sourced some gin from the Flower Districts, strong, quality stuff that the upper-class women drank. A classier alternative to the harsh whiskey that the Smog Boys brewed and likely already lined Becca’s shelves.

The alley was dark and damp, the scent of piss and rotting wood lingering in the narrow space. Your breath curled in the cold air as you hesitated in front of her door, fingers tightening around the woven basket in your hands.

Maybe your presence wasn’t the best idea, given what she was recovering from. Perhaps it was best to leave the package and disappear into the night unseen. The message would be there, but you’d be spared the inevitable onslaught of curses she would toss your way. You imagined whore would be right at the top.

With a quiet huff, you bent to place the basket on the doorstep. Inside, nestled together, was the bottle of gin, a fresh loaf of bread, butter, and some cold-cut meats you had hunted down at the Sunday market. You knew Bucky and Nat were caring for her, but you wanted to be sure.

The door creaked open just as you straightened up.

Bucky.

He stepped out, locking up behind him, keys dangling from his fingers with an idle sort of ease. He was dressed in his usual suit—dark, well-fitted, with the coat buttoned up against the cold. The brass glint of his pocket watch chain caught the dim light as he turned to you.

For a moment, you thought you saw something flicker across his face. Surprise, maybe. Or recognition. But it passed too quickly to catch.

“You just can’t help yourself, huh?” His voice was low, edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

Your mouth opened before your mind could catch up, fumbling for an excuse. I was just making sure she’s alright. I was worried. I care. But instead, you settled for, “Sorry, I was just… ah. Care package. For Becca. Thought she’d need it.”

Maybe it wasn’t best to admit to your convoluted, backward scheme of making the woman feel bad through kindness. 

His gaze dropped to the basket at your feet, scanning its contents with a slow, deliberate look before exhaling through his nose. Without a word, he bent and picked it up, turning it slightly in his hands.

“She’s out with that Brackett kid,” he muttered, shifting the basket to his other hand.

You hesitated. “That’s… good?”

Bucky arched a brow as he pulled out the bottle of gin, tilting it slightly to read the label.

“Still gonna kill him,” he said flatly, setting the bottle back down.

You bit back a smirk. “Of course you are.”

He didn’t smile, but something about his posture loosened—just a fraction. The last time you had seen him, he had stormed out of your flat. You couldn’t tell if he was still feeling stand-offish, or if the sharpness in his tone was just habit. The keys clinked softly as he turned them over in his palm, watching you with that same brooding expression.

He placed the basket on the hallway table, pulling shut the door and locking it with practised ease. 

“Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” he murmured, voice measured, almost lazy. But there was something deliberate in it, like he was waiting to see how you’d respond.

You hesitated, shifting on your heels. “Didn’t think you’d want to.”

Something flickered in his gaze, just for a second, before he looked away.

“Yeah, well,” he said, slipping the keys into his pocket. “You keep showing up, don’t you?”

You exhaled a short laugh, though your pulse was a little unsteady. “Guess I do.”

Bucky made a noise in his throat, something between amusement and resignation. Then, with a tilt of his head toward the street, he stepped past you.

“Walk with me,” he said, not looking back.

It wasn’t a question. And, despite yourself, you followed.

The night air bit at your skin as you fell into step beside him. The streets of the Warrens were quieter in this part of town, though the distant hum of nightlife still clung to the air—rowdy laughter spilling from taverns, the occasional shout of a drunk stumbling home.

Bucky’s flat was deeper in the district, past the noisier streets, tucked above an old tailor’s shop. He didn’t say a word as he led you up the narrow stairwell, the scent of dust and mothballs lingering in the close space. At the top, he flicked the key between his fingers before unlocking the door, pushing it open without much ceremony.

Inside, it was… surprisingly nice. Not lavish like Becca’s, but well-kept—orderly. The furnishings were simple: a sturdy wooden table, a leather armchair that looked well-worn but hardly used, a small bar cart against the wall with only a handful of bottles. Unlike Becca’s place, which was decorated with velvet drapes, gilded mirrors, and delicate trinkets, Bucky’s was bare. Functional. You got the sense that he didn’t spend much time here.

He didn’t look at you as he shrugged off his coat, draping it over the chair. Instead, he reached for the bar cart, grabbing a bottle and two glasses. “Drink?”

“Sure.”

He poured the amber liquid out and slid one of the glasses toward you across the wooden table, his own drink resting loosely in his grip. You hesitated for only a second before taking the offered glass, the cool weight of it grounding you. The scent was rich and smoky, promising a slow, lingering burn.

Silence stretched between you for a long moment, the soft clink of glass against wood filling the space. Finally, you exhaled, rolling the whiskey between your fingers before speaking. “Are we going to talk about it?”

Bucky lifted a brow. “About what?”

“You storming out of my flat the other day?” You sighed, leaning back against the edge of the table. “Look, I didn’t expect a thank you if that’s what’s got you all wound up.”

His gaze flickered to yours, sharp and searching, something unreadable in the depths of his blue eyes. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips. “I’m not wound up.”

You scoffed. “You’re impossible.”

That pulled a smirk from him—slow, teasing. “Did you want me to stay?” There was a beat of pause before he huffed a quiet laugh, swirling the whiskey in his glass. When he finally looked at you again, amusement curled at the edges of his lips. “Did you miss me?” he drawled. 

“Maybe.”

Bucky’s smirk deepened, but there was something else beneath it—something you couldn’t quite name. His gaze flickered over your face, searching, considering.

“Careful, doll,” he murmured, tilting his glass toward you in a slow, deliberate toast. “That almost sounds like an invitation.”

He watched you as you lifted the glass to your lips. The first sip hit hard, burning its way down your throat and curling warm in your stomach. You coughed, barely suppressing a wince as the heat spread through your chest. Bucky smirked, tilting his own glass to his lips with far more ease.

“Shit, is this Smog Boys stuff?” You rasped, blinking away the sting.

“Off the market, yeah.” He hummed, stretching back as he pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sank into it with a sigh. “Some of it, we brew strong. Just for us boys.”

Your gaze flickered to his hands, the way his fingers idly traced the rim of his glass. He had settled into his seat with the ease, legs spread wide, confidence dripping from every lazy shift of his body. The sight of him like that, whiskey warming his blood, watching you with quiet interest—it sent a pulse of heat low in your stomach.

You tipped back the rest of your drink, hissing at the burn, then shrugged off your coat. The heavy fabric slipped from your shoulders and crumpled to the floor between his feet. Bucky’s gaze sharpened. You lowered yourself onto the discarded coat, knees pressing into the worn wood through the fabric, your hands smoothing up the inside of his thighs.

His body reacted before his words did. His legs spread a little wider, welcoming you in, his breath hitching just slightly. You nuzzled against the rough fabric of his trousers, blinking up at him through your lashes.

“What’re you…” He trailed off as your nails ghosted over the buckle of his belt.

His hand caught your wrist, and you smirked at him, tilting your head. “I wanna taste you.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, his fingers tightening on your skin for just a moment. Then, with a quiet curse under his breath, he tossed back the rest of his drink and set the empty glass down with a heavy clink.

“Shit, doll,” he muttered, his voice rougher now, lower, as his free hand went to his belt. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

From where you knelt, you could see the way his breath had quickened, the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers hesitated—just for a fraction of a second—before undoing his belt.

Your pulse thrummed in anticipation, thighs squeezing together beneath your skirts. Bucky exhaled sharply as you leaned in, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss against the fabric covering his length. His head tipped back, a quiet groan slipping from his lips, one hand smoothing through your hair.

He was always so controlled, always so composed—but now, beneath your touch, you could feel him unravel. And gods, you wanted to watch him fall apart.

[kujiba]

★MAY THE LAND CONCEAL YOU, DEAR GRACE

୨୧ — ꒰ gn!reader | they/them prounouns | Sagau | cultish behavior

୨୧ — ꒰ wowee, thanks alot for 100+ likes on part one! Hope you enjoy part two :]

[PART ONE

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

-YOU DIDNT NEED TO BE A GENIUS to get an idea of what was happening. Your lower body brushed against the soft yet sharp grass, it felt all too real. Your (e/c) eyes narrowed its way to a tree. An ordinary tree with many ripe fruits; one of it being able to take your attention.

Your hand circled on one of the fruits bottom and plucked it carefully, it matched exactly as your expectation. A plump fruit that seemed to be full of its juice and taste, an appearance that resembled a beautiful like sunset furthermore having a sweet and gentle aroma that is able to energize an individual.

Your lips slowly made its way near the side of the familiar fruit, the texture and feeling were soft yet hard. The aroma itself made your mouth faintly water, you swallowed your saliva having a high expectation out of this. After all, you always wanted to see what it really tasted like after collecting so many.

"Thank you for the meal." You lastly said and took a bite.

Your eyes widened a bit, this was far more than what you expected. The flavor was sweet but not too much to be like a candy. It was juicy enough to make you feel more hydrated than ever. It didn't take you long to start devouring the whole fruit at once

"Better than i had thought." Your back laid against the tree, all of its fruits gone for it was rapidly consumed by someone (you).

You wiped off the fluid on the side of your face. A small smile looming over your lips "I feel more.. Refreshed than ever." Your tone consisted of slight suprise and satisfaction "Still, i cant seem to get my head wrapped around whats happening.." You mumbled quietly to yourself, having your fair share of the internet you were well aware on the many fanfictions and AU the game GENSHIN IMPACT had, but it having to actually become a real life situation is something too impossible to even happen.

Your feelings felt too mixed and unorganized. Half of what you felt was being thankful, because out of all the things you were gonna reincarnate in. The gods or whoever did it brought you into a more PG game; sure it had killing.. And some questionable things but as long as you live like an NPC things will go in the right track!.

With a goal set in mind you dusted off your hands following with walking down the dirt path that led to the gates of the iconic town MONDSTADT. you could remember it like it was just yesterday when you first played genshin. A feeling crept up to you, something similar - that you've walked down this path for millions of times and that muscle memory just took in. Deja vu didn't leave your mind until you were met with two guards infront of you.

"Halt. Who are you and what is your business here in mondstat" One of the guards spoke up, eyeing you up and down incase you were bringing any dangerous or threatening items to the city.

The guards other companion putted his hand on top of his friends shoulder "Wait, ___. They look familiar dont they?" His tone filled with suspicion, he couldn't shake it off as just a normal coincidence.

"What? What are you even saying ____. I believe you're making a far stretch in this one, i clearly remember that they have (opposite color) hair." The guards companion replied back with confidence in his answer. And it soon didn't take long for it to turn to a long and repeating argument on what was the appearance of the person they were arguing about.

"Jeez, who even is the person their saying. They must seem complicated" You thought to yourself while at the same time, was rubbing the back of your head - all you wanted was to slip into the city of Mondstadt but it seems to be much harder than you had thought in mind.

During the time the two guards were still rambling about the appearance of a certain someone. a silhouette of a girl with long silky brown hair, complimenting her appearance with a bright crimson bow that anybody could see from a mile away.

"Huh? I wonder whats going on over there.. Better go check it out!" The mysterious girl exclaimed, swiftly jumping down the soaring cliff. The moment her feet left the ground, wing like designs appeared behind her back which helped her safely land on the ground yet again.

"Whats going on here?" The mysterious girl walked between the two guards to stop their argument. Both her hands placed on her waist as she looked at the two with confusion.

"Oh- Outrider amber. Good to see you today" The guard greeted the named girl, AMBER. Amber exchanged the guards greeting with a smile "Good to see you today too. Now, will anyone care to explain what's going on?" She questioned, her hazel eyes glancing at the three people infront of her; You noticed how her gaze seemed too be longer on yours - as if she had something on her mind.

"I'll explain"

"Let me explain"

"So basically.."

You and the other two guards were caught off guard by the sudden synchronization. "Uhm, I can explain the situation" You spoke up while (e/c) eyes looked at the two.

"No, I've got a more grip and understanding standing on the situation, allow me" One of the guards replied back, his other companion raised a brow on what the other had just said.

"Please. I remember the details on the situation more clearly, I'll be telling you what happened Outrider Amber." His companion argued back to the other

"I'm doing you a favor so allow me."

"You're gonna leave out some parts so just let me do it"

"I'll do it"

"No, I'll do it"

"Guys.."

"So.. What you're all saying is that this person just wanted to get inside mondstadt?" Amber questioned;it took a long while till you just decided to explain to amber what really happened. Still, you couldn't shake off the feeling how intensely she was staring at you for - it creeped you out badly but you tried not to make it too obvious.

"Thats basically what happened" You confirmed giving her a small nod. Amber's expression seemed to be in deep thought for some moments till she gave you a smile in return.

"Seems like theres no problem then! You don't seem to pose as a threat, uhm.." Amber trailed off not really having to get your name yet. "Oh! It's (Name), pleasure to meet you" You kindly greeted her

You expected a positive greeting back but instead, your body jolted slightly. Seeing her shocked expression staring at you deeply for a moment and soon returned to normal.

Amber's expression calmed down and she gave you a apologetic smile "Oh sorry bout that... Just go right ahead" She offered, her fingertips gently wrapping around the back of her neck as her gaze were on the floor. You questioned her abnormal behavior earlier but the thought of going inside THE city of Mondstadt that you've dreamed ever since you first played made you ecstatic. Not to mention that you just met with one of the main side characters (amber) made you forget her strange activity just a few seconds ago.

You gave her a nod "Alright. Thank you!" And without hesitating you quickly walked inside the city of Mondstadt. The aroma of dandelions waved through the surroundings as people were joyful and free; something that you've craved since your 'previous' life.

Today is a brand new page in a book, where you're the one holding the pen and get to be able to write whatever you desire! WELCOME TO MONDSTADT

Two pairs of hazel colored eyes followed your body whilst you gleefully strolled from shop to shop. Her gaze not leaving you for even a second, for fear shrouded over her. Fear that you again would leave her sight.

".. They can't be..."

"You've felt it too huh?"

"... Get the others.

"We can't let them get away"

[A/N: HOPE YALL ENJOY PART 2. SORRY IT SEEMED SHORT, I'LL TRY TO MAKE PART 3 LONGER. ANYWAYS PROLOUGE IS DONE, MONDSTADT ARC WILL START NOW

[heavenlyvision]

Just Friends

Word count: 13.7k

Pairing: Johnny Cage x F!Reader

A/N: Wowee, I am pretty proud of this one ngl! I hope you all enjoy it!!! This idea has been rotating in my brain for a couple weeks now, so I’m pretty stoked to have finished it <33

Summary: When your one-year anniversary raises red flags about your boyfriend you missed, Johnny helps you deal with the fall out in a delicious way, and then he ghosts you. When you find out why, you think his reason sucks but he makes it up to you… kind of.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, angst (only little bit), virgin!Reader, age gap, reader is in her 20s, fingering, grinding, cum eating, spit swallowing (once), stalking (not by Johnny or reader), minor violence, name calling (not by Johnny or reader), no use of y/n

This isn’t where you would ideally be spending your time, in general you don’t club often but especially not for special occasions, which you classify this as one. You’re meant to be celebrating your one-year anniversary with your boyfriend, he had promised you a romantic evening but instead he surprised you with clubbing. Which, naturally you had no idea was happening, so not only are you not dressed for clubbing but you also are not in the mood to be here.

He's gone off to the dance floor and you’re just sat here by the bar watching him dance and get drunk. It’s uncomfortable for you, you’re dressed up in a nicer dress than what this place warrants and it’s getting the attention of the men around you, attention you really don’t want.

Unfortunately, it looks like your boyfriend is enjoying the attention of the other girls around him, he’s just now engaged in a bump and grind with a girl you both don’t know. This is ridiculous, he knows you can see him right? You’re getting huffy, but when he leans down and whispers in her ear is when you get pissed.

Getting up, you stomp over to him and grab him to get his attention, when he looks at you, he’s none too pleased. Like you weren’t the one watching him flirt with another girl on your one-year anniversary. A whole year with this man and he can’t give you the courtesy of paying you attention and not flirting with other girls. Ridiculous.

Your expression is twisted in anger, “What the hell are you doing?”

“What’s your problem?” He asks, his own expression irritated.

Your eyes become large, shaking your head at him, “My problem is you; you’re flirting with other girls right in front of me! On our anniversary!”

He blows you off and deflects the blame back on you, “Like you care, you have that weird relationship with that old actor dude!”

Of course, he brings up Johnny right now, you roll your eyes at him, “Johnny is just a friend! You know that.”

And he does, you’ve known Johnny for years, or at least your family has, you got closer to him a few years ago when you moved to California. He’s been really kind to you and was the only friend you had here for a while, even though he’s all famous and busy.

He gets in your face and yells at you, “Yeah right, you’re probably fucking him! You won’t fuck me but you’ll fuck him! Is that it?! GOD you are such a whore!” You can smell the alcohol on his breath with how close he is.

This is the first time he’s explicitly said what he’s been implying for months, he’s been so weird about this for a long time, you haven’t had sex with him, or anyone for that matter. And it upsets you when he implies otherwise. His blunt accusation has your eyes welling up with tears.

His shoulders drop and his eyes roll, groaning as he says, “Oh, don’t start that! You are such a gaslighter!”

“We are over, don’t call me, don’t come to my apartment, we are broken up,” you spit it out with as much venom as you can muster.

Turning from him, you get out of there as quickly as possible, hearing him continue to berate you faintly as you leave. The tears from earlier start to fall down your cheeks as you hail a cab, tonight is not what you wanted it to be at all.

This has been an awful experience, and if you were honest with yourself, you’d recognise your relationship had red flags the whole time. You had mostly overlooked it because you wanted it to work so badly but he was mean, pushy, didn’t respect you or your boundaries, he was even prone to violent outbursts, he never hit you but you have a sizable hole in your bedroom wall from the one time he got especially annoyed at you.

These are all things you had kept from Johnny and even then, Johnny had expressed concerns about your now ex-boyfriend, he never overstepped but he very gently told you that he thought he was a freak.

You won’t deny that you like Johnny, you’re attracted to him but it’s not like it’s something you could actively pursue or have even thought about pursuing. He’s older than you and probably wouldn’t look at you the same way you look at him. And even if he did, you can’t think of anything worse than a cheater, you would never want to be cheated on, so you would never cheat on someone. Even if they suck.

Sitting in the cab, you’re forced to reflect on all of this. You wish you’d had a few drinks; a buzz would probably make it easier to sleep tonight. The shock of it all has you most upset because when you search deep down you aren’t even sad about losing him, you’re sad about all the time you wasted on him. All the time you spent trying to make it work with a man who, frankly, didn’t and doesn’t deserve you.  

When you get back home, you’re immediately showering the club off of your skin and crawling into bed. What you want most right now is for this awful night to be over, so you curl up in a little ball and hug your pillow to your chest for comfort.

✰ ✰ ✰

A heavy-handed banging at your door frightens you awake; you shoot up in your spot. It’s your ex banging on your door and yelling at you, grabbing your phone you quickly look at the time. It’s currently nine in the morning, he cannot be sober yet.

You walk through your apartment and drop your phone on your kitchen counter before tentatively walking towards the door. His loud banging stops and he knocks again gently, calling your name softly. You don’t want to open the door but you’re worried about your neighbours, one thing about him is that he is as stubborn as a mule.

Opening the door only a bit, you ask him, “What do you want?”

“Fucking finally, let me in,” his voice is angry and he’s pushing the door open more.

You try to keep him back, “You can’t come in.”

He keeps pushing at the door, eventually swinging it open the whole way, “I can do what I want,” his voice raises.

He goes to move inside your apartment and you push him back, his eyes glower at you, he’s scaring you.

“We are broken up, and I don’t want you in my house,” you say, standing your ground.

“We are not broken up; I didn’t agree to that!” he argues, voice getting louder in his anger.

His demeanour is scaring you, the last time he looked like this was when he punched that hole in your wall.

But you are not caving on this, “That isn’t how it works, we are over!”

He puts his hands on you and his grip digs into your skin, hurting you, but you move automatically and punch him square in the nose. His head flies back, he’s groaning out in pain and grabbing his nose. You take advantage of his balance being thrown off and push him out of the threshold of your apartment, he stumbles back and you’re slamming the door shut, locking it again.

“What the fuck! You stupid bitch! Let ME IN!!” His banging gets more forceful, it sounds like he might be kicking the door too.

You’re shaking at what just happened, you’ve never had to punch someone before. Sadly, it didn’t do enough damage to have him leaving, he’s still there and you have a feeling he isn’t going away.

There’s a sudden ringing from behind you, it makes you jump on the spot. Your heart racing as you realise it’s just your phone from the kitchen, you walk over to it, behind you the banging has slowed a bit but you can tell he’s still out there.

Checking your phone screen, you see it’s Johnny is calling, just your luck. If you don’t pick up now, he’ll just keep calling you. He knows you were meant to go on your date last night and you didn’t message him when you got home. He’s always checking in on you, making sure you’re safe but you don’t really want him hearing what’s happening, so you walk into the hallway and answer. Thankful for the moment of quiet outside your door.

“Hello?” You ask.

“Good morning, doll,” he sounds chipper.

“…Good morning,” your voice is wavering despite your efforts to sound normal.

You can practically feel his frown through the phone, “Are you okay?”

“Yup,” you’re trying to keep your answers short.

The banging on your door picks up again, he’s getting louder and yelling, because of course he is.

“What is that?” Johnny questions.

“…Nothing?”

He pauses, you imagine listening to the background noises, “It sounds like someone’s trying to break in.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you deny.

The banging continues at your door, your exes voice yelling, “Let me the fuck in!! God you’re such a fucking bit–”

“–I’m coming over.” He states, hanging up hastily, leaving no room for arguments.

Great, now you have to face the embarrassment of telling Johnny how awful your ex is and is apparently unwilling to let go of you even though he was flirting with and grinding into another girl right in front of you. You’d rather deal with the cops. Sighing, you grab your bat by the front door and crouch next to it, waiting for Johnny to get here. At least your ex will go away when he gets here.

It doesn’t take Johnny long to arrive at all, which is suspicious, he probably sped. You only know he’s here because you can hear the way your ex gets angry at him.

“Cage, Of course she called you,” he says to Johnny, disdain clear in his voice.

It’s the last thing you hear clearly, whatever Johnny says to him is low but apparently threatening enough to have your ex leaving, not before he yells at you one last time though.

“THIS ISNT OVER!” He yells out for you to hear.

“Yes it is, get the fuck outta here,” you hear Johnny clearer this time, he’d raised his voice at him slightly.

Johnny doesn’t knock, instead using the key you gave him to unlock your door. When he walks inside, he looks around quickly for you, not seeing you until he turns around to lock the door. His eyes widen at your small, crouched form in the corner by the front door, holding a bat with a sock on it.

“Jesus, sugar, what are you doing there?” His hand lands on his chest in mild shock.

“In case he got the door down,” you murmur at him.

He locks the door properly before giving you his hand, helping you up.

His brow raises, “What’s the sock for?”

“In case he tried grabbing it, he’d pull the sock off and I’d still have a bat,” you move the sock up and down the bat, demonstrating the slide.

He reaches out and you hand the bat to him, “Sit over there.” He points at your breakfast barstools.

You do as he says and shuffle over to the stool, sitting down on it. He puts the bat in your umbrella stand by the front door. Walking back over to you, he stands between your legs and holds either side of your face, checking you over.

“You okay?” He asks very softly; concern clear on his face.

You nod at him, “Yeah, Mm okay.”

His eyes are still looking you over, “I saw his nose was bleeding, you hit him?”

You nod again and he smiles at you, “Nice, you square your shoulders?”

“I think so,” you’re not sure, it happened pretty quick, the reaction more of a survival thing than a planned attack.

He hums and looks to your upper arms, “He grabbed you?” His hands gently run down your arms.

“Yeah, then I hit him,” you tell him, looking at your arms where he was looking. The skin where your ex had grabbed is irritated, it might bruise.

Johnny’s face is pulled into a scowl, “I should’ve hit him too, fucken dick.”

You shake your head at him, “I just wanted him gone.”

“I never liked him,” he continues.

“I know.”

“If he shows up again, I am hitting him,” his face still scowling.

You shake your head at him again, “Don’t do that.”

“Why not?” He looks into your eyes again; his hands leave you.

“Johnny, you’re not just some guy, you’re famous, if it got out that you hit someone it’d be a whole thing. It could ruin your reputation.”

He rolls his eyes at your concern, “Don’t really care about all that, doll.”

Your expression is doubtful, “Yes you do.”

“It’d be worth it, that guy sucks,” he maintains.

“Johnny?”

He hums at you in response.

“Can you… stay for a bit?” You ask softly, cringing at how pathetic you sound.

“Of course, you aren’t getting rid of me that quickly,” his smile is soft and you give him your own in return.

Getting up off the stool, you walk around into the kitchen, grabbing two mugs out for some coffee.

“You can go sit on the couch while I make some coffee,” you tell him with your back facing him.

He hums a little mindlessly before wandering over to your living room and getting comfortable.

After the coffee is made, you carefully walk to him, you’re watching the mugs and your feet as you walk. Carrying full cups has always stressed you out, you always manage to spill and you’d really rather not have to clean up a mess right now.

Thankfully, you successfully make it to Johnny without spilling anything, “Here you go,” you smile and hand him his mug.

“Thanks, sugar,” he takes it from you, sips at it and places it on the coffee table in front of him.

You sit beside him and silently sip at your coffee, enjoying the warmth of it, the flavour. You think a good cup of coffee could fix just about anything for you.

Johnny watches you sip at your mug, “What exactly happened, doll and why didn’t you call me?”

Yeah, you were expecting him to ask sooner or later, you were just hoping it’d be later.

Sighing, you place your mug next to his, “I didn’t call you because it’s embarrassing, you were right about him and I wanted to handle it on my own, I don’t need everything fixed for me.” You don’t look at him as you speak.

“I know that, you’re an adult but this was an angry, grown man, trying to beat down your door. And sometimes you might not need my help but you can always have me next to you, if it makes it easier.” His words are spoken soothingly, he’s always so gentle with you.

You can’t lie, you did have a crush on him for a long time, but then you met your ex and you didn’t let those feelings cloud your mind, you pushed them away. But just like how you push them away, Johnny’s actions and words push them back. He’s a difficult man to dislike.

“Thank you,” you mumble.

He asks again, “What exactly happened, it was supposed to be your anniversary wasn’t it?”

“He ‘surprised’ me by taking me out clubbing, which was already bad but I was uncomfortable and left at the bar alone while he danced and flirted with other girls.” You recount.

“What the fuck?” His voice is filled with displeasure.

“Mhm and then he was whispering to this one girl and I got annoyed, so I went over to confront him but he brought up y– … he said some mean things to me and about me… he – he made me cry and I broke up with him on the spot.” You leave out what he brought up about Johnny, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“How’d you get home?” He asks.

“Took a cab.” You state simply.

“And he just let you? Let you leave and get in a cab, crying, by yourself, in the middle of the night?” He clarifies.

You nod your head at him.

Groaning as he says, “I really should’ve hit him.” He pauses, “Why didn’t you call me?”

You look back to him again, “It was late and I didn’t want to bother you, or explain what happened, I just wanted to get home and get into bed.”

“You never bother me, sugar,” his eyes are compassionate as he looks at you.

Looking at him is intense for you, like if you look at him for too long, you’ll get hypnotised by him. So, you look away, back to your mug on the table.

He moves closer to you and puts a hand on your cheek, pulling your face to look at him, “If anything happens to upset you, and I mean anything, call me, okay?” He stresses on the anything, making sure you understand.

You avert his gaze, “I will call you, if something bad happens.”

He moves his face so he can catch your eyes with his, making you look at him again, “Say again.”

“I will call you, next time.” You reconfirm.

“Very good,” his praise does things to you that you wish it didn’t.

He still holds your face, looking at you, his thumb strokes your cheekbone softly. As his hand slips away from your face, his thumb pulls your lip down with it, before he pulls his hand away completely. His eyes locked onto your lips, gaze seemingly far away.

“Johnny?”

He hums, coming back to himself and looking you in the eyes, “Your pjs are very cute.” He changes the topic.

You grow bashful, you’re wearing a matching set, they’re frilly and have bows, and you like them because not only are they really cute, they’re also comfy. Johnny mentioning them throws you off, you completely forgot you were wearing pyjamas.

His smile is cheeky as he watches you grow shy, “What’s wrong?” He asks, taunting.

“You know what you did,” you pout.

He enjoys flirting with you because of how nervous it makes you. He finds it endearing but you find it annoying, which is another reason as to why he keeps doing it.

He hums happily, pleased with himself, “Cute.” It’s all he says in response.

You scowl at him.

He pinches your cheek, pulling at it.

You slap his hand away, “Stop it, that hurts.”

He smiles innocently at you; he goes to say something but his phone rings in his pocket. He pulls it out and looks at it, and then he rolls his eyes, he doesn’t pick it up though.

“Aren’t you gonna answer?” You ask.

“Nah, gonna let it ring out, I do have to go though, I’m late,” his reply nonchalant.

Expression concerned you say, “Johnny! Leave if you’re late, you didn’t need to be wasting time here.”

“I didn’t waste my time, you’re important.” His face firm as he speaks.

You huff at him, “Get out, right now.” Your tone is urgent.

“You’re pretty when you’re bossy,” he teases.

Eyes widening at him, “Johnny!” You exasperate.

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” he placates.

You walk him over to the door. Both of you standing there, you’re waiting for him to open it and leave but he turns around to look at you and pulls you in for a hug. You return it, appreciating the familiarity of him, you nuzzle your face into the fabric of his shirt and he holds you firmly.

His mouth rests against the crown of your head and speaks into your hair, “If he comes back, call me, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumble into his chest.

He pulls you away by your shoulders and then he leans down to kiss your cheek affectionately. The action makes your skin warm; he doesn’t pull away though, lips skating across your face and ghosting your lips, the minimal contact makes you gasp and your heart skip a beat.

He pulls away suddenly, “I’ll talk to you later.” He says hurriedly, opening your door.

“Have a good day,” you manage to say, almost normally.

He hums a noise of agreeance and then he’s gone.

After he leaves, you lock the door, and then your fingers skate over your lips, thinking about how he almost kissed you. The thought makes your heartbeat faster, he’s never showed interest in you before, at least, you don’t think he has.

Why did he do that? Did it mean anything? Was it an accident? You have so many questions that will undoubtably linger in the back of your head for the whole day, if not life.

✰ ✰ ✰

The rest of your day is spent cleaning up your messes made during the week, tomorrow you have a shift at work so today is really the only day you have to be able to pick up after yourself properly. It feels so incredibly mundane compared to what you went through last night and this morning. The fear of you ex coming back loiters in the back of your head the whole time you’re shuffling around your apartment.

It's earlier in the evening when you finally get to sit down, having completed your list of chores, along with showering and eating dinner. You feel quite proud of yourself for doing so much, you didn’t go grocery shopping like you had planned but you think for now, what you have done is more than enough. Leaving your apartment right now is a scary thought, he could be waiting for you outside the building, or around the street corner. You’re overthinking it but it is also very possible, he was terrifying this morning. It shocks you thinking about how he was in your life for so long and you hadn’t noticed anything bad enough to break up with him sooner.

A knock on your door brings you back from your thoughts, you’re apprehensive about answering the door, you aren’t expecting anyone. The person knocks again and your stomach drops, it’s him.

“Go away,” you call out.

“Just let me in, Jesus – talk to me,” your ex is irritable.

You get up and move closer to the door before saying, “You lost your right to talk to me last night.”

“You’re being such a bitch,” he says.

“I’ll call Johnny,” you try threatening.

“Oooo, I’m so scared of some old guy,” he feigns fear, but you know better, he is scared of Johnny.

You walk into the lounge room and pick up your phone, calling him.

His phone only rings a couple times before he picks up, “Hey, doll. You okay?”

From the door you can hear your ex call out to you, “Are you actually calling him?”

Johnny hears him too, “Is he back already?”

“Yeah… Sorry,” you feel bad calling him again so soon.

“Don’t apologise, I told you to call if he came back, you did good by calling me,” he says, his praise making you feel some type of way.

“I’ll be there soon, don’t talk to him,” he directs.

“I’ll see you soon,” you tell him before hanging up.

You grab your bat and hang out in the kitchen, hiding below the counters and watching the front door. Your ex doesn’t speak again, he doesn’t even knock and you briefly wonder if he left.

The wait doesn’t take long, and you know it’s Johnny when you hear the key turn in the lock. He enters the apartment and you pop up from behind the kitchen counters, still holding your bat. He shakes his head at you, amused at the sight of you appearing from nowhere.

Turning around he makes sure to lock the door and walks to you in the kitchen, “You okay, sugar?”

“You’re always asking me that,” you comment.

“I always want you to be okay,” he retorts.

You smile at him, “I’m okay.”

“Good,” he nods his head to the door, “He wasn’t out there.”

“I thought so, I think he heard me on the phone to you.” Your ex must’ve been too scared to face Johnny again, whatever threat he gave working, for now.

“Pussy,” Johnny insults him, it has you laughing lightly. “He really doesn’t like me, do you know why, doll? He ever tell you?” He’s curious.

You hum and look away from him, “No idea.”

“You’re lying.”

“How insulting, I have never lied to you,” you’re looking back at him, trying your best to look innocent.

Both his brows raise at you, “Not from lack of trying.”

You squint your eyes at him, “I am a good girl, I don’t lie, smoke, drink, party… so on and so forth,” you’re being facetious.

“Yes, you are a very good girl, so tell me the truth, mmm?” He practically purrs at you, with the way he spoke to you and how he’s looking at you right now, you’d tell him anything he wanted to know.

“Okay, so maybe I do know why he dislikes you,” you cave but can you be blamed?

He raises a single brow at you, encouraging you to continue.

Fiddling with your hands, you’re hesitant to tell him, “Mmm, so maybe he thinks that we’ve been… hooking up.”

“What?” His eyes are wide.

“He accused me of sleeping with you… which I assured him was not the case and that we’re just friends… but he didn’t believe me, and maybe he called me a whore for sleeping with you and not him…” you can’t look him in the eyes right now.

“I don’t even know where to start,” his expression is confused. “I want to injure him… badly, for calling you a whore,” he starts, his eyes burning.

“I just want him to leave me alone,” you murmur.

“If I break his legs he’ll have to leave you alone for three… to six months, depending on where I break him,” he remarks.

You shake your head at him, sighing.

He continues, “He’s a dumbass for accusing you of sleeping with me,” he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Are you done?” You ask.

“I have one more question, and since you’re such a good girl, you’re going to answer it without tip toeing around it,” his tone only a little bit teasing.

You look sceptical, trying to save face you say, “Maybe.”

“Why would he think you’re sleeping with me and not him,” he asks.

You avert his gaze quickly, “Well… you see, that’s a bit more complicated.”

“How?” He’s direct.

“So…” You trail off.

“No, don’t do that, don’t skirt around your answer… and look at me,” his tone absolute.

You look back to him, your eyes worried, “I’ve not slept with him… or anyone for that matter… as for why he thinks I’m sleeping with you, probably insecurity,” you shrug your shoulders at him.

Johnny looks surprised by your confession, whatever he was expecting you to say, it wasn’t that.

“You’re a virgin?” He clarifies.

You nod your head at him, “Yes…”

“Well shit, sugar, I didn’t mean to make you tell me something that private.” He feels bad.

“It’s not private, I’m not ashamed or anything, I just haven’t wanted to sleep with the men I’ve dated.” Which is true, you’ve been attracted to them, you just haven’t desired them enough to let them have you completely.

“I just feel like whoever I do sleep with, I should crave their touch, and I haven’t… felt that way about the men I’ve dated,” you’ve only wanted one person that way and he’s standing in front of you. Much to your dismay.

“So, your idiot little ex, has somehow got it in his head that you want me?” He asks, big smile on his face.

Frowning, you say, “Don’t look so proud of yourself.”

“Sorry doll, trying not to be but it’s a bit of an ego boost,” he chuckles.

“Like you need one,” you quip. Undeniably though, his confidence is something that makes you feel hot and bothered.

He smiles at you devilishly, going to say something before there’s a knock on your door.

Johnny groans, “Does he not give up or what?”

Another, harsher knock.

“That’s it, I’m kicking his ass,” he starts walking to the front door.

You jog to get in front of him, “No, Johnny, you can’t.”

“I’m fairly certain I can,” he huffs but he stops walking.

You give him a pointed look, “your career?”

“Didn’t I tell you earlier today that I don’t care?”

“I care,” you give him your softest eyes, begging with him not to resort to violence.

He groans in annoyance at how well it works on him, “Arghh, fine.”

“Thank–”

“–But, you should moan so he thinks we’re fucking,” he says, smiling like he’s come up with some master plan.

It’s embarrassing to admit to him but, “I don’t… know what I’d sound like.”

“Never even touched yourself, doll?” His question makes your face feel hot. His bluntness a lot for you, it makes you feel fuzzy.

“I have… I just never really made any noises,” you answer him hesitantly.

Looking at Johnny, he has a very serious look on his face, eyes dark. You only see it for a second before he’s smiling sweetly at you, “Bet you make the cutest sounds,” he teases.

He stalks towards you and you walk backwards, you end up with your back against the wall by the door. Johnny has caged you in against it, one of his hands resting on the wall beside your head.

His voice is low, “Wanna find out?”

You look up at him, “Find out what?”

More loud knocking comes out from beside you, your ex still there, still refusing to leave, “I am not going anywhere!” He calls out.

You turn your head to look at the door, but Johnny’s hand pulls your face back to his, “Keep your eyes on me and answer my question, sugar.”

“What was your question?” You don’t remember.

His fingers play with the strap of your pyjama shirt, “Wanna find out how you sound?”

“What?”

He tuts, “Simple yes or no, sweetness.”

The skin of his fingers brushing against your shoulder has a shudder threatening to run down your spine, he’s arousing you and you don’t feel sure in a lot of things but you feel pretty damn sure in yourself as you say.

“Yes.”

He grins, pleased with your answer, “Can’t hold back, gotta let yourself make noise, okay?”

Nodding your head, you agree.

“Perfect.”

His hand that was playing with your shirt slips down to your hip, holding you there before asking, “Are you wet?”

Your thighs involuntarily clench at his question, “Yeah.”

“What from,” he presses you for more answers.

His hand slips under your sleep shorts but not into your panties, his two middle fingers massage your pussy over your underwear, he can feel the wet patch on the front of them that had formed. Your mind drifts, losing yourself in his light touch.

“Gotta answer, sugar.” He reminds you.

You bring your focus back to his words, “From you…”

“What about me?” His pointer and ring fingers spread your folds through your panties, wet noises resulting from the action, “Fffuck, listen to how wet you are.”

You want to shrink in on yourself, his brazen words embarrassingly hot. His middle finger pets at your clit gently, the stimulation makes you gasp and one of your hands grabs at the wrist of the hand he has on the wall beside your head, the other resting flat against the wall.

“C’mon doll, pay attention,” he chastises.

“The way you – ngh – talk to me,” you confess maybe a little too easily.

“What specifically?” He’s too curious for someone touching you in a way that makes it difficult for coherent thought.

His middle finger is still gently grazing your clit, never straying, the stimulation making you so wet. Your panties no doubt ruined under his ministrations.

“Your voice, your praise, nicknames – hah, jus like the way you talk to me,” you feel breathless.

“Mmm, like being praised? Told what to do?” He asks in a mocking manner.

You’re lacking any critical thinking skills right now though, because you normally wouldn’t feed his ego so much, “By you, yes.”

“Fuck sugar,” he curses, your honesty getting to him.

His finger still stroking you over your underwear, your hips twitching in response to it. He hums at you, enjoying how much you’re squirming below him.

“Johnny,” you call to him, his name coming out whiny.

His response is far away, “Mmm?” he doesn’t look up to you, instead he pulls your shorts all the way down, wanting to watch the way he plays with your clit over your panties.

He adds more pressure to the finger stroking you, the feeling making you gasp, an almost moan slipping from you. Without realising, you hold it back and it comes out strangled.

“Not supposed to hold back, doll.” He reminds you quickly.

But you’re still conscious of your ex lingering in your hallway, something that Johnny is also aware of, which is why he wants you to be louder. He decides to pulls your panties down, removing his fingers from your pussy to do so.

The loss of contact has a whimper exiting you and Johnny chuckles at the sound.

“Needy aren’t ya?” He hums at you, amused.

You huff at him, not really appreciating the teasing.

His fingers move back to your pussy, sliding through your very wet cunt, spreading your slick around, his chest rumbling with a growl at how wet you are. Your thighs are wet and your whole lower half is slippery. The teasing he’s put you through too much, you’re beyond horny and you really just need him to touch you.

You look up at him, eyes big and wet, pleading with him to touch you properly without asking aloud.

The hand by your head moves to cup the side of your face, his smile is large as he looks at you. Enjoying the way you’re falling apart in the palm of his hand. He shows you pity though, and his finger slips to your pussy hole, gently pushing into you. Your cunt spasms lightly around it and he sighs a groan at the feeling.   

“Damn sugar, you’re… fucken soaked,” he comments.

You don’t reply to him, you can’t, too lost in the feeling of his large finger carefully pushing into you. The hand he has on your face still holding you, making you look at him. His thumb pulls your bottom lip down, his eyes mesmerised by your expression. You have a soft and needy look on your face, eyelids low, your breaths whiny. He’s enamoured by you, getting lost for a moment.

But he remembers himself and removes his hand from your face, instead holding your hip, your back arching off the wall slightly. He pushes his finger in the rest of the way, stroking against your walls, his thumb rubbing circles into your clit.

Your breaths turn into whimpers and as he pulls his finger in and out, you moan in response, the feeling overwhelming. Your hips are writhing in his grip, and your head is thrown back on the wall, moans growing louder.

He holds your hips steady, gaze flicking between the way your cunt is sucking his finger in and the fucked-out expression you’re wearing on your face. Your chest rising and falling quickly with your breaths.

For the first time in a while, he’s lost for words, he doesn’t even want to say anything. Just wants to push you over the edge, have you moaning and writhing against the wall for him. He’s painfully hard and ignoring it, but his dick twitches every time your cunt tightens or moans get louder.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Your ex pounds on the door, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

You had forgotten about him, too lost in your own pleasure. You squeak at his yelling and bite your lip.

“Don’t you fucken dare, need you to keep making those noises, sugar,” Johnny’s thumb tugs your lip free of your teeth.

The pounding beside your head gets louder, your ex yelling belligerently at the two of you, cursing Johnny out.

“She has the tightest little cunt!” Johnny calls out to your ex, just to piss him off further.

“Johnny,” you try admonishing him but his name borders on a whimper. The feeling of his finger moving in and out of you affecting you. Your moans are barely contained.

Your ex smacks the door harshly once before yelling at the two of you, “I FUCKING KNEW IT!”

He murmurs curses, calling you names and yelling about how he was right the whole time, before you hear his stomping feet walk away. Seemingly leaving.

Briefly you wonder if Johnny will stop touching you now that your ex has left but if anything, his pace increases, his finger fucking into you quickly, thumb circling your clit firmly. Your moans spill from you, breaking off into whimpers. Johnny has a feral look on his face as he watches his finger fuck into you.

The wet sounds of your pussy getting louder with his increase in speed. His hand on your hip again, keeping you still. His forehead leans forward and rests against yours, you can’t help but watch his lips, wanting him to kiss you.

He’s busy watching your cunt, “Fuck, sugar, really do have the tightest pussy.” You shudder at his words and he continues talking, “Fucken, messy too.”

Your hands claw at the wall behind you, trying to brace yourself against something sturdy.

“Can I add another?” He asks, wanting to stuff you full of his fingers.

“Please,” it’s a desperate sound that escapes you.

His middle finger pulls out to add his ring finger alongside it, both pressing into you gently, not getting far with how tight you are. The width of them stretching you open, burning slightly. His thumb keeps rubbing at your clit, trying to ease the stretch.

“Relax, doll,” he directs.

Taking a deep breath in, you relax slightly and Johnny takes advantage of it, slipping his fingers into you completely.

A keening whine pulls from you at being full of his large fingers.

“Thas it, such a good girl for me,” he groans out at you.

Your pussy clenches down on his fingers at his praise and a soft moan escapes from him, his composure slipping for a moment. If you had your wits about you, you’d notice how his own eyes look a little fucked out, that he’s worked himself up so much just from finger fucking you.

His hand on your hip grips you tighter, grounding himself. Both his fingers fucking into you in earnest, determined to have you cumming on them. His pace picking up to what it was previously, your walls clinging to him desperately. His own breathing is coming quick.

You’re teetering on the edge of something beautiful, “Feels like too much,” you whine at him.

“It’s meant to feel like that,” he coos at you, pity in his voice.

His fingers are persistent and so big and your cunt is fluttering around him with how close you are. Your eyes close, eyebrows knitting together against the pleasure. You feel something brush against your lips, so softly, that you think you imagine it.

Johnny removes his hand on your hip, grabbing your face again. Thumb coming up to your mouth and pushing inside it, you take it, wrapping your lips around it and sucking. He groans at the sight and feel of your warm, wet mouth. He pushes his thumb down onto your tongue, you’re salivating against it, drooling slightly.

The pleasure he’s giving you is so much, from never being touched by someone like this to being touched by someone whose touch feels like he’s attempting to pull you apart from the very depths of your being, is an insane jump. His presence alone crushes you; this is a completely new experience.

Your cunt pulses around his fingers, your moans muffled around his thumb. Johnny’s eyes drop from your face and look down between you both, watching your pussy, again. Infatuated with how you’re taking his fingers.

“C’mon doll, can feel you, you’re so fucken close,” his voice is strained as he talks.

But his voice is devastating to you, the gruffness of it sends you over the edge, your hands paw at his chest, needing something to hold onto. His thumb removes itself from your mouth, grabbing one of your hands instead and interlocking fingers with you.

Your hips grind down into his hand, riding out your high, moans tumbling from your lips as you throw your head back, his name mixed in with your moans. Distantly, you can hear Johnny moan at your orgasm, delighted by the state of you. Your breathing is harsh, chest moving quickly, you feel far away from your body. Hearing poor with how the blood is rushing through your head.

Johnny pulls his fingers from you carefully, you’re watching him through dazed eyes, slumped against the wall. His own eyes looking at his fingers and the way they’re soaked in your slick and cum. He shocks you when he licks them clean before putting them in his mouth, sucking you off them. He hums around his own fingers at the taste of you.

The display is obscene and has a small whimper being pulled from your chest. He pulls his fingers out of his mouth, keeping eye contact with you. His heated look making you squirm a bit.

He shoots you a charming smile, “I was right, you do make cute sounds.”

You cover your face with your hands, wanting to escape his penetrating gaze.

Johnny locates your shorts and helps put them back on you, he kisses the top of your head, “I got carried away, doll. I’m sorry.”

Pulling your hands away, you look at him. He’s wearing a troubled expression, disappointed in himself, seemingly, out of nowhere.

“It’s okay.” You assure him.

He shakes his head, “No it’s not, I should’ve known better, I’m older than you. Shouldn’t have done this.”

You’re getting a bit annoyed, you’re an adult and you told him yes when he asked, “Johnny, I agreed.” You try reminding him.

“Doesn’t matter, should’ve controlled myself.” He’s getting hung up on his morals, frustrated in his actions tonight.

“I could’ve stopped you if I didn’t want it,” you push.

He looks at you dubiously, something telling you that his internal struggle is deeper than what he’s sharing with you.

“I should go, doll. I am so sorry.” He apologises again, but there isn’t anything he needs to apologise for.

He doesn’t touch you as he leaves, he looks like he wants to, but he doesn’t. Instead, he rushes out the door, not letting you argue with him any further. You hear him lock the door with his key as he leaves.

You’re left leaning against the wall, shell shocked as to what the hell just happened. He gave you your first and best orgasm and then left suddenly. Acting like he’s committed some kind of crime.

Calling him doesn’t work, he won’t pick up and he hasn’t replied to any of your texts. You don’t think he realises that he hadn’t fucked up before but he certainly has now, because what the fuck???

✰ ✰ ✰

By the next morning, Johnny still hasn’t replied and you have to go to work. You’re extra cautious as you leave your apartment, anxious about your ex possibly approaching you. Luckily he isn’t anywhere to be seen and you make it to work with no issues. Though, you did feel like somebody was watching you for a bit, you chalk it up to your nerves. The past few days not really doing great things for your psyche.

Your shift is a long one, gruelling. The whole day you’re thinking about your ex harassing you all day yesterday and when you finally think about something else, it’s about how Johnny is ghosting you.

On your break you try messaging him again, telling him it’s fine and if he regrets it that much to just forget about it. You aren’t going to be clingy and make him marry you or something now, if you knew how this would end, you wouldn’t have said yes. You don’t regret what happened but you will if you lose him as a friend over it. You want to convey that to him but you aren’t the best at communicating your feelings, things come out wrong and weird in your desperation to explain your thoughts.

So, you settle for sending him a text that boils down to ‘if you regret it, we can just forget it. I’m not mad at you’. Though, you feel like that might bite you in the ass later.

When your shift is finally over, you don’t want to go home. A bad feeling consuming your whole body, worried about what you might come face to face with. Worried you might run into your ex on the way back. You’d appreciate having one of your work friends walk you back but you don’t know any of them well enough to ask, and you don’t wanna call Johnny right now, not that he’d pick up anyways.  

The walk back is tense, you’re on edge and when you get to your apartment, you realise you were right to be so. Your apartment door has a hole in it where it’s been kicked in, picking up your phone, you call Johnny but of course he’s still avoiding you. So, you leave a message for him and instead call the cops.

You wait for them to arrive; it doesn’t take them long but they weren’t quick about it either. They check it out for you, making sure it’s empty and when they confirm that it is, they tell you so. You walk into your apartment and they ask you a few questions.

You tell them, “I know who did it, it was my ex, he harassed me all day yesterday.”

“Did you report him?” One of them asks.

“Not at the time, but I didn’t think he’d do this,” you raise your hands, gesturing to your ransacked apartment.

“We can’t do much without actual proof, next time you’ll just have to hope to catch him in the act.” The other says.

“We will keep record of this, but yeah, unless you get actual evidence, we can’t do anything about him,” The first one adds.

You could definitely question him, you think.

This is why you didn’t want to deal with the cops in the first place, they never give a shit about things like this until someone is dead.

“Yeah thanks, I’ll be sure to prioritise that next time,” you tone is facetious but you can’t help it, your home has been broken into and possibly robbed and they couldn’t give less of a fuck.

They ignore your attitude, “If you find that some of your items are missing, report it, we’ve got another call to go on, stay safe.” And then they’re both leaving you there, in your messed up apartment.

The place you’re meant to feel safe has been broken into by someone you had dated for a year, someone you used to trust and now you’re just left here. Knowing that he’s still out there and could come back whenever he wants, they didn’t even ask for his name. What are you meant to do? Where are you meant to go? Cause there is no way in hell that you’re staying here.

You’ll have to look for hotels in the area, you’ve only made a few friends here and most of them are campus living. Also, you’d prefer people didn’t know about this. You’re feeling incredibly vulnerable and alone at the moment.

Looking around the room, you see that heaps of your breakables have been chucked around, he broke your tv, some of your favourite mugs, a framed picture of you and Johnny. He’s made holes in some of the walls and flipped over furniture.

Sighing, you go to check your room, and sadly, it didn’t fare any better, it looks like he cut open your mattress and tore up some of your clothes. A lamp broken and on the floor. Right after you just cleaned up the day before too, ironic.

You hear the sound of shuffling in the entryway, stuff being walked into, it makes you freeze in your spot. The footsteps become frantic, walking quickly around your apartment before heading towards where you are at the end of the hall in your bedroom. There isn’t anything you can grab as self-defence, but it’s okay because you see when he enters the room that it’s just Johnny. He was the one stomping around quickly, worried about you.

“Oh my God, why didn’t you pick up the phone, been calling you.” He stresses as he walks up to you, pulling you into his embrace.

You don’t hug him back, annoyed at him, but he doesn’t stop hugging you anyways.

“I put my phone down in the lounge room, didn’t think you were gonna call.” You weren’t expecting him to come, you weren’t even expecting him to check his texts from you, let alone a voicemail.

He huffs, agitated with himself, because yeah this is on him, “I’m sorry, I’ll always come when you call.”

“I called you first,” your voice shakes, tears threatening to fall.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

A tear slips down your cheek, “Don’t want you to be sorry, wanted you to be here.”

“I know, doll, I–” You think he was going to apologise again but cuts himself off, “What happened?” He still hasn’t let you go, and you still won’t hug him back.

“Came home from work, saw my door had been kicked in so I called you, you didn’t answer, so I called the cops.” You detail.

He asks, “What did they say?”

“They can’t do anything to him without proof,” you’re crying now, remembering just how unhelpful they were.

He pulls back to look at you, his thumb wiping away your tears, his hands holding your face gently, “What do you mean?”

“That’s what they said, they can’t do anything without evidence. This will be kept on record but because I have no proof, they can’t do anything about him.” You sigh out.

Johnny looks unbelievably pissed.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do, he broke so many of my things, I don’t know where to go,” you’re almost sobbing now, working yourself up.

“Calm down,” he shushes you, “You’ll be staying with me.” Your expression is doubtful, “What’s that look for?” He questions.

“You literally just ghosted me out of nowhere, over an imaginary problem that you created,” you remind him.

His hands let go of your face and land on your shoulders, “That was me being stupid about me being stupid, I fucked up, but I am here for you and you will stay with me.” He cements, not really leaving you any room to disagree.

Tears are still falling down your cheeks, you wipe at them with the back of your hand, “Okay.”

“Good, now pack a bag,” he lets go of your shoulders.

Locating one of your suitcases, you pack as many clothes as you think you’ll need, as quickly as you need, not wanting to stay here any longer than necessary. You also grab some of your basic necessities and memorabilia.

On your way to the front door Johnny carries your bag, “Wait a sec,” you call out to him.

He stops where he is and you walk over to the lounge room, picking through the glass on the floor.

“Be careful,” he warns.

Humming at him in response, mostly ignoring him, you fish out the photo of the two of you. It’s one of your favourites and you’d hate to lose it.

Johnny’s expression is curious, “What is it?”

“Us,” you turn the photo around to show him, “It’s my favourite.”

He smiles at the photo before he frowns, “What a freak, real insecure guy,” he says in reference to your ex.

You smile a bit, because yeah your ex is very insecure and a huge freak but, “You literally fingered me within earshot of him.”

Johnny pouts and looks away, “Still…”

“Let’s leave,” you save him from whatever he was going to say in protest.

He nods at you, “Sounds good, sugar.”

✰ ✰ ✰

Walking through the lobby of Johnny’s apartment is always a bit of a shock, his apartment is nicer and has actual front desk security. You can already tell that you’ll feel safer here, even if you were left alone. You can’t help but feel a little bad for him though, he loved his mansion and he had to sell it.

The ride up the elevator is quiet, which you’re thankful for right now, you’re not really in a conversational mood. Just wanting to shower and get out of your work clothes, wash off the day in general.

Inside his apartment, he shows you to the guest room and drops your bag onto the bed.

Turning to him, you ask, “Can I have a shower?”

“I dunno, can you?”

You scowl at him, “May I have a shower?”

“You may,” he smiles cheekily.

He shows you to the bathroom, you’ve been here before but he’s a thorough man, double checking that you’re comfortable and know where everything is. When you affirm that you will be okay and have everything under control, he’s leaving you to your own devices, wandering off into the living area.

Grabbing your toiletries first before you’re immediately getting inside the shower. All too ready for the comfort the warm water will give you. You let the water run over you, allowing yourself a moment to lose your composure, letting yourself cry under the water. Things could be worse but they could also be better and in this private moment in the shower, you let yourself feel like the world is ending.

After you’ve finished in the shower, you towel yourself off quickly, walking to the guest room with the towel wrapped around you, having left your clothes in there. But as you shuffle the clothes around in your suitcase, you notice you’ve not packed any pyjamas, and now you want to cry again. Because how are you so stupid as to forget pyjamas.

Stopping yourself from spiralling, you take a few deep breaths and go looking for Johnny, you’ll just have to borrow a shirt of his. You find him in the kitchen, sipping on a drink.

“Johnny?” You call out to him; his back is facing you.

He hums as he turns around, eyes growing wide as he realises you’re only wearing a towel.

“What’s up, sugar?” He’s straining himself to keep looking into your eyes and not anywhere else.

Rocking on the balls of your feet a bit, you tell him, “I forgot pjs, do you have a shirt I can borrow or something?”

His gaze is distant for a second, you walk closer to him and wave a hand in front of his face. He catches you by the wrist, “Sure I do, gimmie a sec,” he smiles at you, his eye twitching the slightest bit as he talks.

He wanders away for a few moments, when he reappears, he’s holding a shirt of his. It’s long sleeved and has different coloured sleeves to the rest of the shirt, you gratefully accept it.

“Thank you,” you say, walking away hastily to change.

You hear him hum out a response to you as you waddle away quickly.

When you slip it over your head, you first note how soft and warm it is, and second you note how large it is on you. It covers your lower half fairly well, but you didn’t ask for bottoms and he didn’t give you any so you pick out a pair of boy short underwear, they aren’t anything special but they do have little stars all over them.

Anyways, they’ll do as more conservative bottoms for the night, you’ll go to get some of your pyjamas tomorrow. For now, these will pass as shorts, kind of, it’s unlikely they’ll even be seen anyways. Are you overthinking this? You feel like you’re overthinking this.

Exiting the room, you go back to the kitchen and notice that Johnny isn’t there anymore, nor is he in the lounge room. Shuffling around his kitchen, you look at his ingredients, wanting to cook him something as a thank you for taking you in temporarily.

He hasn’t got heaps but you can make a carbonara, he has the basics for it, pasta, cream, bacon, etc. You think this will do nicely, though mostly you’ve just talked yourself into wanting pasta.

When Johnny comes back into the kitchen, you’re standing by the stove making the cream. Quickly glancing to him, you realise he’s also showered. He looks good, domestic. In a casual t shirt and sweatpants, your eyes linger for a bit longer than what’s appropriate. Swiftly snapping your head back to the stove when you notice you’re staring for too long.

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’,” he sing songs to you, coming up to stand by your side.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him, “Creamy carbonara.”

“Smells good,” he comments.

“That would be the bacon,” you nod your head to the bacon bits you had previously cooked.

When you look up to him, he’s already looking down at you. His eyes are filled with a kind of affection for you that you’ve never taken any notice of. His eyes flit from your eyes to your lips, his hand coming up and grabbing the side of your face, thumb stroking high on your cheek bone.

You lean into his hand and he’s dipping down to you, “You look good in my shirt,” he whispers to you, lips almost touching.

Just as he’s about to take your lips in his, there’s a bubbling sounds coming from the stove.

“Ah, the pasta!” You move out of his grasp quickly, lowering the heat on the stove. It had almost boiled over in your distraction, “Go away! You’ll make me ruin something!”

“Wanna ruin you,” he mutters as he walks away, though you don’t hear him.

“What?” You ask him as he walks away.

He calls out, “Nothing!”

His restraint is wearing thin around you and he wonders briefly, if having you here is going to end well. He almost folded just from you wearing his shirt and cooking for him, he has to find a grip and hold it.

Seemingly, you are completely unaware of his own internal conflict, happily humming to yourself in his kitchen, cooking a meal for the both of you. Johnny watches you from the breakfast bar, enjoying the sight of you flitting around his kitchen.

“Where are your plates?” You ask him.

“Bottom cupboards, by the stove,” he answers.

Bending down you open the cupboards but there’s only baking trays and other miscellaneous oven trays in here. He watches as you bend over, enjoying the sight of his t shirt riding up, seeing your small ‘shorts’ as it does.

You huff, standing up, “No they aren’t.” You turn around to look at him.

“I know, I lied,” he smiles innocently at you.

Scowling at him you ask, “Why?”

He avoids the question, “Just cause,” he shrugs at you, “they’re actually in the bottom cupboards on the other side.”

You look at him sceptically, walking closer to him and looking in the cupboards again, and this time he told you the truth. Grabbing two plates, you place them on the bench top.

Choosing to ignore him, you continue humming a mindless tune as you dish out the pasta. When you’re finished, you slide the plate over to him. Walking yourself around the counter so you’re next to him, you sit beside him and reach forward, dragging your plate to yourself, ready to feast.

“Thanks, doll,” he says.

“Mmm, thank me when you’ve tried it,” you remark.

You both sit in a comfortable silence whilst you eat, which you are grateful for. You’re hungry and want to eat without having to stop to talk. The food tastes good, probably one of the better ones you’ve made, it’s an easy recipe, one of your go to’s and it never fails to fill a hole in your heart where pasta lives.

After you’ve finished, you get up to clean up but Johnny stops you, “Ah, you cooked, I’ll clean.”

“But I’m the one that made the mess,” you contend.

He looks at you with a brow raised, expression reading as ‘really?’ You sigh and allow him to take your plate. As he bends over your shoulder to take it, he kisses your cheek, “It was very good, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” your face feels hot all of a sudden.

He stands at the sink, rinsing the plates off before putting them in the dishwasher, “What made you cook?”

“A thank you, for letting me stay,” you smile watching him clean up, “I’m being a good house guest.”

“Ah, can I expect a cooked meal every night then?” He teases.

Your face pulls up in a joking scowl, “Absolutely not! You can cook tomorrow… and the day after and the day after.”

“I see, so it was a one-time deal,” he nods in understanding.

“Can’t give it away for free, you gotta want it,” you joke.

A quiet falls over the both of you for a moment, neither of you sure what to say next.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” You ask him.

He’s moved away from the sink and is back at the bench, arms holding himself up on it as he looks at you deviously, “What movie?”

You know what he wants, “Not one of yours.”

“That’s not very nice, doll,” he groans out in complaint.

Arguing with him, you say, “I have already seen all of your films, we are not watching one tonight.”

“Whoever gets the remote picks the movie,” he states quickly before making a run for the lounge room.

You aren’t as quick as him, scrabbling out of your chair to chase after him, “Johnny, not fair!” You don’t even know where his tv remote is.

When you make it into the lounge, he’s already holding the remote, wiggling it back and forth, taunting you. Groaning, you trudge up to him.

“That was not fair,” you complain.

He has a large victorious smile on his face, “Wasn’t trying to be fair, sugar. I was trying to win.”

Trying to be sneaky, you move closer to him, but he holds a hand up as you approach, “Ah ah, stay where you are, I won,” he informs.

“I’m not doing anything,” you shrug.

He keeps moving away from you, you’ve successfully rounded him so that his back is facing the couch now. Moving closer to him, he has no where else to go. It doesn’t bother him though, he squares his posture, holding his ground.

“I wouldn’t recommend whatever you’re about to do, doll.” He warns you.

You repeat again, “I’m not doing anything.”

Standing right up against him now, you go to quickly grab the remote but he moves it up and away hurriedly. You grab onto his forearm and try to pull it down as you jump for it, he’s laughing at you. His evasion of your attempts at grabbing the remote are effortless, you’re still trying to pull his arm down to you but you think he’d sooner be able to hold all your weight on one of his arms, than you bringing it down to you.

This isn’t working, you need a new plan. Pulling back, you look up at him.

“That won’t work on me,” he says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” comes your reply.

“That,” he gestures towards your face, “Looking at me all cute like, won’t work, not tonight.”

You smile sweetly at him, “But another night, it would work?”

He squints at you, unsure of what you’re planning, “Maybe…”

Your plan wasn’t anything along these lines, but it’s fun to know that apparently you could get him to bend to your will in different circumstances with just a sweet look.

Stretching up, you go for the remote again, he steadily holds it out of reach, “C’mon sugar, you know this isn’t working–”

You take the chance while he’s talking to jump up on him, legs wrapping around his hips, your hands making a move for the remote. He’s shocked, his free arm automatically coming to rest under you to hold you steady. The only thing he can think to do, is drop the remote onto the floor and kick it across the room, away from the both of you.

“No!” You protest, moving to unwrap yourself from him and go after the remote.

Johnny holds you to him though, before using his grip on you to chuck you down onto the couch, you’re laughing and struggling against him, still protesting. You don’t stop wiggling, even though he’s straddled you and is holding your wrists down to the couch.

“Stop squirming so much,” he chuckles at you. The shirt you’re wearing has ridden up your hips, exposing your underwear completely to him, “Those are really cute, doll,” he teases you.

“You can’t distract me, we are not watching one of your movies,” your wrists struggle against his grasp.

“I can hold you here all night, sweetness,” his smile devilish.

You scowl at him, “If it means we don’t watch your movie, then go right ahead.”

His threat isn’t much of a threat to you, in this moment you feel yourself growing wet at his harsh hold on you. The way he effortlessly overpowered you making you feel some kind of way, you find yourself wishing he’d fuck you into the couch. You’re working yourself up the longer he holds you here. Your thighs lightly clenching at the thought of being opened up on his cock, the first man you’d ever be with.

“What are you thinking bout, sugar?” He asks, catching the faraway look in your eyes.

You blink once and shake the thoughts out of your head, “thinking about how much I don’t wanna watch your movie,” you retort.

“Aww you’re hurting my feelings here, doll.” His expression faux sadness.

Both of you looking into each other’s eyes, neither of you planning to cave, at least not anytime soon. Johnny has enough of it and decides to play dirty, his hands leaving your wrists and instead come up to tickle at your sides and ribcage.

Laughs fall from your lips, along with pleas trying to ask him to stop. The feeling making it harder to breathe, you’re taking in big breaths in between gasping laughs. Your body tries wiggling away from him, you manage to flip onto your stomach and try to crawl away from him but his thighs keep you locked in place, if anything you’re more immobile now. His tickling is unrelenting and you feel like you might pass out.

Tapping the couch as you say, “Okay, okay! I concede, just please stop!”

He hums and leans down from above you, whispering into your ear, “Good girl.”

You hide your face in the couch, skin hot and pussy aching, he isn’t being very nice to you tonight. Working you up, leaving you high and dry. He hops off you and grabs the remote, lifting your legs and sitting back down, resting them in his lap.

He slaps your leg lightly, “C’mon, you have to watch it now.”

Grumbling to yourself as you move up in a sitting position next to him, expression none too pleased. He’s smiling brilliantly at you though, overjoyed with his victory.

Sighing as you sink back into the couch, “I dislike you right now.”

“Well, I like you a whole lot right now,” He counters.

He flicks the movie on and you get about a third of the way into it when your eyelids start slipping shut, tired from the very difficult last couple days.

Thankfully, your dreams are pleasant, though they are filled with Johnny, mostly memories of last night, when you were stuffed full of his fingers, the sounds he was making, the words he spoke to you.

Your mind conjures images of him fucking you, how he would look above you, grabbing your hips as he rocked his dick in and out of you. The dream is pleasant, the feelings it offers you divine.

Suddenly, you’re being pulled back to your body, you awaken with a jolt.

“You fell asleep! That’s really rude of you, y’know. Hurting my feelings here, doll,” he criticizes you.

Based on the last scene you remember watching and where you are now, he either let you sleep for a while, or didn’t realise you were asleep.

You wipe at your eyes, “Mm sorry,” you mumble, stretching out a little.

He’s got an evil smile on his face when you look him in the eyes, “You were moaning.”

“Was not!” You don’t believe him.

“You definitely were, and I’d know,” his smile large as he teases you, “It was cute, what were you dreaming about, mmm?” he hums in delight.

You wonder for a moment what his end goal is here, he teases you but never follows through, aside from the other night but then he seemingly regretted that right after it happened. You decide to try something outside of your comfort zone.

You look at him, “And if I told you I was dreaming of you?”

He goes to shut you down, “I don’t–”

“–If I told you how wet I am right now, from thinking of you?”

“Don’t.”

“Why not?” You press.

“You know damn well ‘why not’,” He argues, “I’m older than you, and you’re a virgin!” He tells you these things like you don’t already know.

“…I want you, making my panties all wet,” you’re squirming in your seat lightly.

He groans out at your words, “Doll…” his expression is pained.

Feeling insecure you ask, “Do you not want me?”

“Are you kidding?” Dubious expression on his face, “You get me so hard, doll.”

“Then why won’t you even kiss me?”

“I want to, all the time,” he confesses.

You crawl across the couch and straddle his lap, his hands come up to your hips straight away. Grip digging into your skin, restraining his desire, wanting nothing more than to fuck into you how he wants.

“Why don’t you,” you press him for answers.

“Don’t trust myself around you, can’t help but tease you, touch you,” his grip on your hips tightens for a second, “The last thing I wanna do is take advantage of you.”

“I want you to take advantage of me,” the statement is true, you’ve never wanted to be with a man more than you do him.

He’s using every fibre of his being to control himself right now, refusing to do any more than hold you, his hands are holding you away from his lap. Knowing if he feels the warmth of your cunt through your panties, he’s going to lose his mind and all self-control.

Bringing your hands up, you place them on his shoulders, and then you lean forwards. Pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, moving to the other and placing a kiss there, his breaths become laboured. Your lips travel across his cheek, pecking him as you go, kissing the corner of his mouth, and then a light kiss to his full lips, he sighs against you and kisses you back.

It’s quick, because you’re continuing to peck kisses on his face, a kiss to the other corner of his mouth, and his other cheek again. As you travel back, kiss on the corner of his mouth again, and as you kiss him lightly on his lips, he kisses you back harshly, hands coming up and grabbing your face. He angles you and deepens the kiss, his kiss is desperate for you, fuelled by need.

Without his hands on your hips, you can drop to his lap properly, you sigh at the hardness of his dick against you, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into the kiss. You moan against his mouth in response and he groans.

Tentatively, you grind down into him lightly, needing some kind of friction. He distracts himself with kissing you, trying not to lose himself in the feel of your pussy grinding into his very hard dick. You’re so horny and this isn’t nearly enough for you.

Pulling away from his mouth you complain, “Want more.”

“You really are needy, aren’t ya, doll?” He teases.

But you roll your hips into his and he grunts in response, his hands gripping your hips again, without your lips on his, he’s hyper focused on the way you rut into his dick. You pull his sweats down, his cock bare, he’s not wearing anything under his pants and it has you moaning.

You sit down again; your panties are soaked and the feel of the slippery fabric rubbing up and down his cock has Johnny whimpering. You keep grinding into him, groaning in frustration, wanting more.

His hand grabs onto your panties and rips them from you, just straight up tearing them off your body, the display of strength makes you whimper.

“You gotta do this my way, sugar.” He tells you.

You nod your head at him, you’d probably agree to arson right about now.

“God, so fucken eager.” He chuckles at you, sliding you against him again.

The bare contact has you keening, rutting down onto him with more urgency. Wet squelching noises are filling the room as you slide against his cock, you want him inside you so badly. The thought of having him inside you making your cunt drool on his dick.

“You’re so fucken wet, ffffuck,” Johnny is groaning out, his control of the situation hanging on by a thread.

“I want you inside,” you tell him.

“No,” his voice is stern, it’s a line he refuses to cross.

You huff at him, “Johnny please–”

“ – You can plead all you want, Mm not fucking you, your first time isn’t –nghff– going to be on my damn couch,” his voice is strained.

“Want it,” you tell him, eyes teary with how needy you feel.

“And you think I don’t?” He snaps at you. His reaction makes your heart flutter and your pussy throb, “God, you are sooo –ngh– feel so good, sugar.”

His grip is guiding you now, taking control of the pace, of the pressure. He holds you tightly to him, slipping his cock through your slick folds, the head of his cock bumping your clit. Lewd wet sounds are coming from you and if you weren’t so horny you might’ve been embarrassed at how aroused you are.

The head of his cock catches on your pussy hole and you flutter around the very tip of him, a loud grunt coming from Johnny, his chest rumbling with the force of it.

“Please?” You try again, while he’s weak.

He shakes his head at you, his own expression dazed, “No…” he grits out, cock twitching against you.

You push down a bit on him, his eyes shoot to yours, a restrained kind of anger residing inside them, “I said no.” He scolds.

His chastising makes your cunt flutter against him again and his eyes roll back, he pulls you away from him. He manhandles you onto your back so you’re laying against the couch, he pulls off his shirt before spreading your legs open for him, his hips fitting between them.

Resting his cock between your folds again, slipping against you, “You take what I give you, or you get nothing, doll.”

You hum out a moan, letting him do whatever he wants to you. He tugs his shirt up your chest, exposing your upper half to him, mouth immediately going for one of your nipples, sucking and licking at it. The feeling making you whine, chest rising up into him, hips chasing his.

When he pulls away, he nips at you a bit, a shudder running down your spine. As he looks you in your eyes again he says, “Jesus, you have no idea how fucked out you look right now, pretty little girl, so fucken wet, so goddamn needy.”

He grinds down into you, leaning his body against yours, his weight resting on his forearms beside your head. Your hands grip his bare back, his head rests beside your ear, lips whispering filth to you.

“Want me to fuck you so badly hmm? Won’t fuck any of your little boyfriends –ngh– but you’re beggin’ me for my cock,” his words are disrupted by the moans he lets out at the feeling of your slippery cunt.

“Mhmm,” you agree because, yeah pretty much, “I’d let you do almost –hah–  anything to me,” you tell him.

He curses, “Fucken filthy, you’re making me lose my goddamn mind, doll.”

You wrap your legs around his hips, locking them behind him, his movements grow more urgent, desperately humping into you. He pulls his head from your ear to kiss you deeply, tongue exploring your mouth, it has you moaning into him.

Pulling back, he checks, “Let me do anything?”

You nod your head at him in confirmation.

“Open your mouth,” his thumb tugs your lip down.

You open your mouth for him and he spits into your mouth, onto your tongue, the action makes you gasp, face hot.

“Swallow,” he says, eyelids low.

His voice makes you shudder and you swallow his spit down, the sight of it makes him curse. He kisses you again, taking your breath away. Your fingernails dig into his back.

His hips are rutting into you, pace growing quicker, the wet noises sounding slicker, the way he glides over your clit has your eyes crossing behind closed lids. Your moans turn into whimpers, right on the precipice of cumming.

Johnny pulls his lips back, forehead resting against yours, his brows knit together, moans falling from his lips. His tongue flicks over his lip quickly, you’re gasping under him.

“Look so fucken perfect, doll. Should I keep you like this under me? Play with you how I like, mmm?”

His words and deep voice are what send you over the edge, the idea of him teasing you how he pleases has you cumming. You’re sputtering out nonsensical words, whimpers ruining any words you try to create.

Johnny groans at the sight of you cumming, he looks down between the two of you, enamoured by how he’s sliding through your folds. His cock wet and shiny from your slick and cum, it has a shudder running down his spine.

“Wan you to – nghfffuck me nex time, wan – hah – na be fill with you, –mm–  with your – ngh – cum,” you’re babbling to him, barely making sense to yourself, you aren’t even convinced you’re talking right now.

But Johnny knows you are, your words have him cumming violently, dick jerking against your cunt, his cum spilling all over your pussy and lower stomach. His groans turn into moans, and then he’s whimpering as he keeps rutting against you.

He looks at your lower half and the way his cum has gotten all over you, he uses two fingers to scoop it up and shoves them in your mouth. The taste bitter but you suck his fingers clean, swallowing around them. His gaze is captivated by you, groaning at you eating his cum.

Johnny gets up from you and tugs on his sweats, walking away momentarily and coming back not long later with a washcloth, wiping the rest of his cum off of you. When he’s cleaned it off you, he tugs your shirt back down, giving you back some of your modesty. Wandering off again, he disposes of the cloth and comes back with a glass of water.

“Drink this, sweetness,” he instructs, handing the cup to you.

Sitting up on the couch, you accept the cup and drink it down, appreciating the kindness. He sits beside you and strokes his hands up and down your thighs.

He takes the cup from you and places it out of the way, you’re a little dazed still, lost for words at what just happened.

“This can’t happen again,” he tells you gently.

Your expression is confused, “Why not?”

“I won’t be able to control myself next time.”

“I didn’t want you to this time,” you retort.

“Sugar, it’s not just a couple years between us, it’s a decade,” he stresses, “This is inappropriate.”

“Johnny, I appreciate your concern but I am an adult and I can choose who I sleep with.”

“I don’t want to defile you,” he’s terrified of ruining you somehow, of taking advantage.

“If you don’t want to ‘defile’ me, I’ll go fuck someone else and then it won’t be like I lost my virginity to you.” You’re just teasing him.

“Do not fuck someone else,” the look he gives you is even and serious, not even considering the idea of you having sex with someone else. He doesn’t find your comment funny.

You ask him eagerly, “Does that mean you will have sex with me?”

The look on his face is one of a good man trying so hard to stick to his morals. You smile at him sweetly and he practically melts for you, he grabs you and pulls you to him for a hug. Laying back on the couch with you resting on top of him.

He sighs, “Maybe one day.”

You can work with that for now, you smile to yourself, proud of your small win.

✰ ✰ ✰

A/N: Thank you for reading it all!!! I hope you enjoyed it; I wrote a 1k outline for this fic and I wasn’t expecting it to get this long but I’m not mad about it :)) Hopefully you aren’t either! I have a part two planned for this, I’ll probably only write it if people ask for it just cause this one took me a few days to write heheh. As always, requests are open, but don’t hesitate to reach out if you have questions about me, my blog, or specific fics, I love interacting with everyone and answering questions <33 I LITERALLY LOVE YOU ALL

˗ˏˋPart twoˎˊ˗

[cum-a-calla]

Drive

Roman Roy tasks you with keeping him company on an evening errand.

under the cut: stupid banter, fingerfucking, oral sex, a little affection maybe, fuck you i don’t normally do this, leave me alone

“How much, honey?” Roman asks from the rolled down passenger window. He’s ducked down, eyes lidded, lips curled up in his customary smirk. 

“You wish, loser,” you snort, opening the door to slide in. “Driving yourself tonight, huh? Wowee. Big boy shit.”

“Yeah, fuck you. Buckle up. The only reason you’re even here is because you’re the only thing more annoying than this errand. Need you to distract me from my own misery.” Roman fucks with his phone a moment before tucking it back into his suit jacket. “All right. I already know you’re gunna ask, so, the bluetooth’s yours. Do your worst.”

You make a satisfied little sound as he starts driving, peering over at him in time to catch his smile. He makes a show of rolling his eyes. Within seconds, the car is filled with the sounds of cheesy early-2000s top forty, and Roman groans with displeasure, shooting you the most withered expression as he crinkles his nose. 

“Are you fuckin’ serious right now? This is, fuckin’… this is so ‘shitty frat party’. Just a room full of fuckin’ assholes, several racks of warm Pabst and, like, a two-to-one ratio of sweaty college boys to rich girls cosplaying as scene queens.” Roman laughs then. “I bet you were a scene girl, right? Like, remember those?”

“Yeah, Rome, I remember… um - you know. In, like, freshman year… of high school. MySpace and everything. Even had a Xanga, remember that? Or were you too busy being a really cool, spoiled-rich college kid?”

“High schooler? Gross. Turn this shit off, it’s giving me fuckin’ PSTD flashbacks.”

“No, you relinquished control and now you suffer.” You side-glance at him then, smiling sheepishly as you reach into your bag. “Um… however, I guess - I guess speaking of high school… I figured, we’re on this long drive and all, and… so.”

Roman glances over and watches you pull a joint out of your bag, clumsily rolled and hidden in a plastic capsule. 

“Oh, wow. Uh-oh. Somebody call my mommy, I don’t feel safe anymore.” Roman laughs again, his high-pitched, silly little giggle. It’s so endearing that you laugh, too, a lick of heat making your stomach flutter as his grin shows that canine you love so much. “Oh, man. What am I gunna fuckin’ do with you, delinquent. You absolute pain in my ass. Light her up, let’s fuckin go, let’s… make my car smell.”

You vibrate with pleasure, pulling an old Bic out of your pocket and starting the cherry. Roman pulls a face after he exhales, shaking his head as he hands it back.

“You bring me ragweed? What is this shit, something you rolled yourself from a decades-hidden stash somewhere? You dig this out of an old jacket or something?”

“I took it from your mom’s nightstand when I left her in bed this morning. She’s queer now, and I’m going to be your new stepmommy. Surprise!”

“Real nice. Stop trying to confuse my dick.”

After a while of comfortable silence and passing the joint back and forth, Roman’s fingers settle on your leg, just above the knee. He’s warm and heavy there, the pad of his thumb idly rubbing a soft, soothing little circle. It’s not unwelcome; it feels natural as ever, and you sneak another glance at him in your fuzzy little haze. Lights glance over his features with each passing streetlight, each car and building. His profile is so stark and beautiful. The shape of his brow, the long, elegant line of his nose, his lips. The hollows under his cheekbones look severe in the nicest way. His eyes flicker over to you and he gives you a squeeze. 

“Feels nice, huh?” he asks quietly, making it a point to tap his fingers on your leg. “It’s okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s nice.”

He makes a humming sound and settles his hand higher, fingers tickling along your inner thigh. 

“Did you ever play that game in high school, or - or college, or whatever? ‘Are you nervous?’ And, like, you - y’know, run your hand up their leg, or wherever, and the goal is to try not to bitch out. Sounds stupid now that I’m saying it out loud.”

“Mmm, yes, some of the good ol’ fashioned sexual harassment. Nice. Mutual molestation.” Roman smirks out the windshield. “No, I never played grope-my-friends, you little freak. Too busy groping myself, I guess. That and trying not to bring shame to the Roy name à la a lawsuit. I was a good boy.”

“Sure you were.”

“Okay, attitude. Just because you were getting your ass pinched and borderline felt-up all over the goddamn place. Creature.”

“Oh, it wasn’t - fuck off, it wasn’t like that, I was… I didn’t do anything beyond making out for, like, ever. Relatively speaking.”

“Let me guess,” Roman mumbles, hand sliding up further. He scoffs softly when your legs relax just a bit further apart, subtly encouraging him. Too easy. “You got fingerbanged for the first time in… a car.”

“No,” you say softly. Both of you are being so quiet now, voices hushed under the relaxing drone of his car on the freeway. It’s darker out here, the both of you wrapped in the darkness of the night. There’s the soft glow of his stereo, volume turned lower now, the lights of the dash. His hand keeps moving up - the heel of his palm is ridiculously close to the apex of your thighs, the seam of your crotch. His hand is warm, but your body is warmer. 

“Unbutton.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” he says, and his voice is tender and amused, riding on an undercurrent of something deeper. Something a little more demanding. He sounds surprised that you’re asking him to repeat himself, and that does something to you, makes your tummy flip and your heart skip. The both of you looking straight ahead, your face burning pink, you unbutton and unzip your jeans, hesitating again before he gives your leg another squeeze—firmer this time. It’s a little clumsy, but you manage to slip them off your hips, and they pool awkwardly around your legs as you sit back in your underwear, thighs bare to his touch now. He looks at you and says nothing, but his expression says it all. The swallow making his throat jump, his dark, lidded eyes and half-smile. He traces his pinky along the edge of your underwear, where the top of your thigh meets your hip. “Feeling nervous?”

“N-no…”

“If you are, the rule is that you have to tell me, remember?”

You hum in the positive, nodding as you watch his hand, watch him reach over against the fabric and drag a single fingertip up the clothed seam of your cunt. 

“Nervous now, sweetheart?”

“No.”

“Tell me about the first time somebody fingerfucked your pussy.”

You open your mouth to say something sarcastic, to balk at his question, but instead, you sit there with your dumb fucking expression, staring out at the black sky with its stars poking through. The longer you stare out that big window at the big, seemingly empty expanse, the more little dots of light seem to appear. Isn’t that funny. Roman’s patient as ever, silent and minding his business watching the road the entire time he traces his fingertip along your panties. It doesn’t take anybody checking to know for sure - the gusset is slowly getting wet, damp under his attentions. But it’s not all that, is it? There’s something here - something about the dynamic between you two, the back and forth. Something. 

“I… was… in a movie theater,” you say, and then a smile splits your lips. You laugh a little, and a glance Roman’s way reveals his own silly little smile. His finger continues its slow, torturous journey, up, down, up, down. 

“Yeah? Fuck, what did you see?”

“God, I don’t know - don’t remember. It was awful. He had no idea what he was doing, and… neither did I. It was shocking how disappointing it was, because… I just…” Roman adds a second fingertip, and the two of them drag slow circles over your clothed clit. You take a moment, and then there it is - your stupid, breathy laugh, pretending he’s not making it worse. Better? Fuck, who knows. “I… I just remember thinking, this is it? This is terrible. I had no idea.”

“Tragic,” Roman mumbles. “Feeling nervous yet?”

“Umm…” Roman pulls the gusset slowly to the side and dips a single fingertip along your naked slit. “Oh - mmm, no… no.”

“No, you’re not nervous, or no, you don’t want this?”

“I’m not nervous,” you whisper.

“Can’t hear ya, honey.”

“I’m not fucking nervous,” you blurt. Roman laughs, a genuine laugh that makes his fingers pause, makes you smile back despite yourself. There you are, leaning back in your seat and turning to gaze on Roman’s wrinkled eyes and silly fucking grin, his teeth as he cackles in the way only he does. Your hips twitch and you look forward again, unwilling to acknowledge it even as you feel Roman turn to glance at you. 

“Good,” he says gently. “So, where was it, then?”

“What?”

Roman’s single fingertip turns into two, and slowly he pushes them inside. It makes you gasp a little, and you pointedly ignore his pleased grin, regardless of how badly you want to look at it, how hot it makes you to imagine tasting it. 

“Where did you first cum with somebody else fingering you?”

“Mmmm… my parent’s couch. Not the same person. Years later, I was -” Roman curves those fingers and gently teases all that tight flesh inside, rubbing, searching. Taking in your reactions, reading your body. Feeling for those little butterfly pulses in your cunt. “I… I was -”

“Uh huh. Focus. First time somebody made you cum with their fingers.”

“I was… 21. Babysitting. He - oh, fuck… he… had my head in his lap, hand in my pants, we were watching something. Kid was - it was my sister, she was little, and… and holed up in my folks’ room. Fuck. Roman -”

“Wow,” Roman intones, the sound of his smirk coloring his voice. “Mommy and Daddy not home, supposed to be babysitting. Cumming on your boyfriend’s fingers - naughty fuckin’ girl. Did you do him, too?”

Roman’s rhythm becomes more focused, then, as though he’s translating your quiet little breaths, the way you hold in your moans and stare out the window, shy, afraid of him seeing you all vulnerable and fucked up like this. You wait a moment and Roman allows the silence to stretch comfortably on, trying not to let on how eager he is to hear you recount your exploits. 

“No. No, just - he just… did me. That night. Fuck,” you gasp, clenching down on his fingers as he strokes a particularly sensitive spot. He zeroes in on it with firm, steady strokes, turning to watch your eyes flutter shut and your head hang back against the headrest, lips parted. You grasp the edge of the seat and he thinks you look so fucking cute this way, all scrunched up at the nose and concentrated, hips rocking so slightly for him. Roman smiles and lets you have it another few moments before pulling his wet fingers out of your body, opting instead to rub your clit in torturously slow circles. You whine a little, shifting as you exhale. 

“Look at you, being spoiled. Lucky thing,” he teases. “What a fucking gentleman, huh?”

“What do you know about being a gentleman, Roman Roy?” You laugh a little, but it comes out breathy, all the poison softened by the undertone of pleasure. Barely a jab at all, merely a…stroke. 

“Got me there. Never was one for valiant pursuits and shit.”

“Well… I like you that way. This way. Whatever.”

“Aww, look at you, getting all tender and cum-dumb. That’s fuckin’ adorable. Tell me more about what you like about me, sweetheart.”

“Fuck off,” you breathe, and Roman’s fingers move just a little faster. God, you’re wet. There’s a thought in the back of your head - what if he just edges you and doesn’t let you finish? It’s enough to make you moan a little, and Roman’s eyebrows go up when he hears it, a dog perking up. 

“Feeling something over there?”

“No.”

“Sure, sure. Yeah, nothing at all. Tell me about… the first time you sucked cock.”

“Mmm-mh, it was bad. Very unsexy.”

“Tell me or I’ll stop.”

“Oh, fuckin’ -” You huff petulantly, nudging against his fingers when he stills them, showing you he means it. “Stop it! I mean - fucking - don’t stop it, like - okay, fine. Please.”

Roman laughs and moves back into that rhythm you seem to like so goddamned much, drinking in that relieved little sigh you make when he’s rubbing your clit again. 

“You’re so fucking easy.”

“And you’re a fucking asshole.” You take a breath and peer at him sidelong, tracing the shape of his profile. Tattooing it on your brain. Thinking briefly about his nose on your clit, the graceful, gorgeous bridge of it slowly sliding against it, instead, his fingers buried in your cunt. It makes you shudder and there’s another moan. “Okay. It - it was, uh… in this. This fucking… alleyway. Behind a local store. He just kind of… sprang it on me, I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t finish him. It was weird and embarrassing.”

“Behind a fucking - okay, wow. That’s… yeah, that’s pretty fucking bad,” he laughs. “Little fuckin’ exhibitionist over here, giving out blowies behind the fuckin’ Safeway or whatever. Slut.”

“Fuck off, I was… curious, and… and - anyway. It took me a long time to figure it out. And an even longer time to be good at it and enjoy it. So, there you go.”

“And now you’re a pro.”

“And now I’m a pro,” you smile. “First time I went down on a girl was nicer, and more fun. Way better.”

Roman’s fingers pick up speed, his dick throbbing in his slacks. You meet his gaze and fuck, you have this soft, coy little fuck-me smile on your lips. He imagines those lips wrapped around his cock, and he also imagines them kissing some pretty girl’s wet, pink pussy, and he clears his throat. He stares again at the road, stroking you just a little faster, now, a little more urgently. 

“It was at a party. I’d always had a crush on her, and - mmm, we were drunk. She came with her boyfriend. He was being a prick, and I told him I was going to steal her and fuck her,” you laugh. “I was just trying to be a jerk, but… later on we decided to sleep together and we started showing each other, um… our bodies, and - and… I said I’d never had sex with a girl before, but always wanted to. She asked if I wanted to right there, and I did. Fuck. She was pretty, soft, responsive. She grabbed my hair.”

“Fuck,” Roman whispers, palming his cock real quick. He rubs it idly through his pants, imagining it. Picturing you making this girl cum on your tongue. He feels like a fucking teenager again, all excited over something so basic as two hot girls eating each other. He feels warm in the face, and if he listens hard, he swears he can hear how wet you are as he touches you.

“She went down on me, too, but I didn’t need her to. Just wanted to make her cum.”

“Did you?” Roman swallows. “Make her cum?”

You nod, eyes half-closed as you rock against his fingers. Pressure builds and grows between your thighs, that familiar tight feeling becoming more urgent. Roman can feel you getting close in the way your breathing starts changing, the way you’re mindlessly grinding back against his slippery fucking fingers. All those desperate, sharp gasps, humming and moaning. Oh, yeah, he’s gunna make you fucking cum. 

“You gunna give it to me? Yeah? You gunna cum for me?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah,” you whimper, and he watches you close your eyes and arch a little, knowing to keep his rhythm, to keep you focused on the molten-hot, glittering stretch to orgasm, your body growing more and more tense. He can see how wet you are through your panties, steals glances at the way his fingers look outlined in that thin cloth. 

“Good. Good fucking girl,” he coos softly. “You’re so pretty like this, you know that?”

Oh - that’s it. You gasp and it washes over you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath as it rushes up through your body until you’re seeing white behind the eyes, crashing back down to make your cunt spasm and clench and throb, explosion after explosion so that you’re moaning Roman’s name and bucking against his touch. He doesn’t back down, following the way your body moves - it’s enchanting, how agonized you look. All for him. He did this to you, and after the initial explosion of pleasure, he sinks his fingers back inside and thrusts them into that tight little spot you love so much. The broken way you sob a new moan out makes him want to cum right then and there. Fuck. He murmurs little encouragements, there you go, let me have it, honey, good girl, fuck look at you, look at you cum so hard for me. 

As it dies down, Roman pulls his hand gingerly back and sucks his fingers clean, humming at the way you taste. You look spent as you catch your breath, thighs slack in the seat, underwear soaked through. Face the most gorgeous shade of blush as you lean back and recover. You glance over at him and roll your eyes, smiling and covering your face. 

“Stop. Stop staring at me, I’m all… whatever.”

“You’re ‘all whatever’?”

“Yeah!”

“You’re all fuckin’ hot. Making my dick hurt. It’s honestly super fucking rude of you.”

“Poor Romey.”

“Yeah, poor fuckin’ Romey. Exactly.” Roman presses the heel of his palm against his cock again, feeling his pulse everywhere - in his dick, his chest, the tip of his nose. He reaches over and takes your hand, presses it against the twitching bulge along his inner thigh where it’s trapped and neglected. “Feel this shit? This is your fault. What with your fuckin’ moaning and… fuckin’ lesbian sleepover stories. Fuck.”

You run your fingers teasingly along his length, relishing the stupid little sound he makes when you give it a gentle squeeze. You massage it like that for a couple of minutes, watching his brow knit together, his knuckles going white on the steering wheel. You can tell he’s getting worked up and irritated, and it makes it better, somehow. Makes you breathe a little laugh through your nose, the most gentle scoff. 

“Yeah, you’re all fucked up, aren’t you?”

“No shit, what - what gave it away?” he says dryly, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“You asking for a little handy, Rome?” Your eyes glitter in the dark and his breath catches in his throat for a moment as you gaze at him like that, all fucking pink-cheeked and smirking, your hand so excruciatingly slow as it moves over his cock. “Now who’s being a teenager, huh?”

“Oh, I was thinking… you know, you got me so fucking riled up about all that learning you’ve done perfecting your cocksucking technique, yeah?” Roman takes a hand off the wheel to clumsily undo his slacks, maneuvering them to pull his cock free, and god - he’s so hard, leaking at this point. He takes in the way your smirk seems to melt off your face, eyes trained on him, on how it visibly pulses under your heated gaze. “Time to put your money where your mouth is, sweetheart. Why don’t you show Daddy how good you are at giving road head.” 

For a second, he thinks you’re going to shy away, and there’s a fleeting thrill that shoots all the way down to his fucking balls at the thought of you being a little afraid, a little nervous. Just a little.

But no - there you are, tucking your hair behind your ear, and that innocent little gesture makes him groan before you’ve even touched his naked cock yet. He lifts an arm to allow you down toward his lap, and you give the wet head of his dick a little kiss before working those soft lips around it. Roman moans, eyelids fluttering as he focuses on the road, glancing down to try to catch a glimpse - but it’s just your hair, the back of your head. He can’t really see the action, but, oh, he can feel it. 

You take your time. swirling your tongue around his cockhead, all that sensitive velvety flesh. You run your tongue along the delicate knot just underneath, where the gorgeous flare of his tip bows out, just under his slit. It’s an art - working your way slowly deeper, lower, giving him a couple extra deep strokes into the back of your throat so you can drool over him and lubricate better. It always works - you coat him like that, focusing on developing a rhythm for him. All of him, the column of hot, thick jerk-and-pulse, that slightly sweaty taste of his skin. 

“Oh, fuck… fuuuuck,” he whines, thighs taut with tension. He’s not going to last long. It’s been too much teasing, fingering your little cunt and hearing your little stories, and now you’re making good on your word. Worshiping his cock exactly like he needs you to. Sucking, lapping, licking, gagging. God, he loves that, loves the sound of it when it’s just slightly too much, the sweet little moan you make as it vibrates into his body. He stares at the road, but his brain is on autopilot - all he can focus on is the visceral feeling of you drooling on his balls, the obscene sounds of you sucking and slurping his cock. 

“I - I’m not gunna… god, okay, I’m gunna fucking cum soon, so - uh, fuckin’ - giving you a little - oh, sweet fuckin’ Jesus, wh—”

As soon as he starts to try to warn you about how close he’s getting, you start trying to throat him. The speed doesn’t necessarily change, but you take him harder, deeper, more thoroughly, moaning against all that smooth, rippled cockflesh, enjoying the way he wants to thrust up into your face. You imagine him holding your head down and skullfucking you and another moan vibrates against him, traveling deep into his core.

“Oh my fuckin’ god, I’m… I’m gunna f-fucking cum, holy shit —”

The telltale swell and throb of his cock signals you more than anything. You take it just a bit slower, taking your time to flatten and drag your tongue up the shaft of his cock as he pulses his load in spurts, warm and thick, swallowing as you go. His moans are long, whiny, absolutely erotic. You imagine his face, thinking of the way he has to struggle to keep his eyes on the road, the thrill of it making your cunt clench again. Would he swerve just a little? Are you gunna feel the vibrations of the turtle-bumps on the road as he edges from the lane, trying to keep his cool and focus as he empties into your mouth? He rolls his hips helplessly as you milk the last of it from him, already feeling his dick go soft, refusing to let him out of your mouth til he’s twitching and making the most deliciously pathetic sounds, so overstimulated and sensitive. With a lewd pop, you release him, licking your lips. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Roman sighs, glaring at you with no actual malice. “Didn’t have to… fucking… pull out all the stops, there. I get it, you suck dick.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment. Thank you - and you’re welcome,” you say smugly, smiling. You watch with vague interest as Roman struggles to tuck himself back into his slacks and zip up again, squirming to get comfortable, to get everything situated. He rolls his eyes, but his satisfaction is clear. 

“Almost there,” he says quietly. And, true to his word, within minutes he’s pulling into the mostly-empty parking lot of a huge office building, leaving the car on and pointing at you sternly as he unbuckles. 

“Don’t go running away on me,” he says. 

You watch his confident stride as he straightens his jacket, smooths his fingers through his hair, and then he’s inside. Barely ten minutes go by before he’s striding out of the building with a cardboard box, ostensibly full of documents. He sets it into the backseat, gives it a couple slaps on the top, and gets himself back into the driver’s seat to buckle in. 

“Mission accomplished,” he murmurs, gracing you with a very charming grin. You smile back at him, his silly gestures so infectious and endearing that it makes your heart ache. 

“Mhm. You’re cute, Roman Roy.”

Roman has such a warm expression before he rolls his eyes, so fast and unexpected that you may have imagined it. 

“Yeah, fuck off, whatever. Shut up.”

After he gets back on the freeway, the both of you sated and comfortable, the drone of the car and the comfortable silence starts to lull you into a comfortable half-sleep. You recline the seat a little, turn on the seat warmer. Roman’s hand startles you as it settles on your leg, giving you a gentle rub, a squeeze. He chuckles to himself at your irritation, the almost-embarrassment of how you jumped from surprise. 

“Yeah. Who’s cute now,” he mumbles under his breath. “Gunna take a little nap?”

You hum in the positive, eyelids so heavy. It’s so warm, so comfortable and gentle. It feels good to feel his hand. It feels good to hear the rumble of the wheels on the road, the passing cars sounding so distant somehow. It’s just you and Roman under the night, driving in that blanket of quiet. Safe. 

[q-gorgeous]

Why Is Puny Danny Fenton Shielding Me With His Body

ao3

ffn (no ffn link rn cuz it broke trying to upload the doc) ok it works now

word count: 1585

prompt: During a school field trip disaster strikes, and Edward Lancer and three of his students are trapped under a collapsed building. @charcoalhawk

wowee look another dash fill

“Why are we taking a field trip to this nerd museum?” 

Lancer sighed when Dash asked him the question. “It’s to help you and your classmates decide what you want to write your next paper on. It also coincides with another project in your history class. It’s best you take care to look at the exhibits while you’re here, Mr. Baxter.”

Dash grumbled. Why couldn’t he have gotten a different group? He was lucky Kwan was here with him but he got stuck with Lancer as his chaperone. And their last group member was Danny Fenton. Talk about lame. 

They were teenagers. They knew how the buddy system worked. And the buddy system implied two. Not four. 

They were currently in the planetarium area. Fenton was looking at everything with wonder. What did he find so interesting about boring space? There was nothing there. 

Now Danny was looking at some machine thing that said opportunity on it. Dash scoffed. 

“That thing’s got more opportunity in space than you do with your grades, Fenthermal radiation.” 

Danny rolled his eyes. “And your grades are any better? How are they gonna get you into medical science?”

Dash growled at him. Fenton and his stupid little-

Suddenly the building rumbled and cracked. They looked up. The ceiling was breaking apart and was falling toward them.

Dash’s eyes widened and he took a step back. He had to get out of here. Where- 

Danny grabbed Dash and was pulling him towards him. Turning them so puny little Danny Fenton was blocking Dash from the building that was raining down over them. 

Before the rubble could hit them, Danny was pushing Dash down and covering his head with his arms. Without thinking Dash placed his hands on the back of Danny’s head. 

Then the rubble was burying them. It was the loudest sound Dash had ever heard. He tightened his grip on Danny and buried his head into his shoulder. 

The weight of the rubble knocked them over and pushed them closer together. After a few more moments everything settled and grew quiet. That’s when the screams of the other museum goers sounded. 

Dash coughed. There was a lot of dust in the air. It felt like it was all he was breathing in. 

He coughed again and then Danny shifted, groaning. 

“You alive?” Danny croaked out through the dust. 

“Barely.” Dash shifted and winced. “Everything hurts.” 

Danny nodded and he felt Danny’s hand shift in his hair. It sent shivers over his body but also brought a sense of comfort. 

Then his eyes burst open.

Kwan. Where was Kwan? 

Dash started struggling underneath Danny, trying to free his body. To free anything. Even to just grab his phone. He needed to find Kwan, he needed to know he was alright.

“Woah, dude!” Danny’s voice was filled with panic. “If you move too much all this concrete might shift and squash us even more!”

“Kwan! I need to find Kwan.” Dash whispered. Then his voice grew into a yell. Kwan! Are you there? Kwan!” 

The rubble shifted and Danny groaned. He was pressed closer into Dash. Would they even make it out of there? Was Kwan okay? 

“Dash?” Danny forced out. “There might only be one way out of this.”

“I know. We have to wait for the firefighters and rescuers. But what if the rubble doesn’t hold out long enough? What if a piece crushes our head? What if-“

“Dash! Listen to me!”

Dash couldn’t see Danny’s face. Their arms were still wrapped around each other’s heads. They were too close and tangled up to even move to see the others' faces. But Dash could picture the look the other boy was wearing.

“I don’t think we’ll make it out if we stay here. I can feel metal against my back. Either the weight will continue to crush us or a piece of metal will pierce through us.”

Dash gulped. His grip tightened on Danny. 

“I can get us out.” 

A hysterical laugh bubbled its way up Dash’s throat. “What can you do? You’re buried in here with me.”

Danny was silent for a few excruciating seconds. He took a deep breath. 

“You have to promise not to tell anyone. I’m trusting you.”

“What are you-“

Suddenly a flash of light lit up the small space they were crammed in. It momentarily blinded Dash, it was so bright in comparison to the dark they were just in. It hurt his eyes. For a moment he thought somebody had dug him out. That he was seeing sunlight. But it died down and he was left in the dark again. Except for the glow he saw when he opened his eyes.

He wasn’t expecting to see white hair next to his face though.

“What?” Dash whispered.

“We’re gonna be moving.” Dash could feel Danny move a hand to grip onto his letterman jacket. “It might hurt some. Or a lot?”

“How are you gonna move us anywhere?”

Danny didn’t answer his question. Then his fingers were tingling. His whole body felt weird. The next thing he noticed was the rubble falling and shifting. Dash squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the pain to get worse, but nothing happened. 

Then they were moving. Somehow. 

Dash could feel them flying through the rubble. Then they flew up and he could feel the sun on his skin. Danny set him down and pulled away but he left a hand on Dash’s shoulder.

“You’re okay now, Dash.” 

Dash slowly peeked an eye open and he saw grass underneath them. He looked up at Danny. His eyes widened so much he thought they’d pop out of his head.

Phantom was sitting in front of him. 

“Phantom?”

“Are you okay?” Dash never realized how much Phantom sounded like Danny before. They looked so similar too. “Are you like, in shock?”

How had he never noticed before?”

“Dash I need to know you’ll be fine until I get back. I have to find Kwan and Lancer. I have to check and see how many people are stuck under the rubble. Will you be okay?”

He nodded numbly and Phantom- Danny- nodded back at him and flew away. 

One by one Phantom pulled people out of the rubble. It looked like the destruction was mostly in the area of the museum they were in. With every person Danny pulled out, his heart fell more and more. Where was Kwan? 

The next person he pulled out was Lancer. He set him down in the grass next to Dash. Lancer placed a hand against his forehead. He had a cut on it that was bleeding. Then he looked up at Dash. His eyes widened.

“Where’s Danny?” Lancer leaned towards him. “You two were standing next to each other when the roof collapsed. Did Phantom get him out?” 

“Uhh..” Dash watched Danny pull another person out. It still wasn’t Kwan. “Phantom pulled Danny out not too long ago. He set him down somewhere else though.”

Lancer started to stand up. “We should go find him!”

“No!” Dash held his hands out in front of him. “I mean- we don’t know where he is. Or how bad we’re actually hurt. We should wait.”

Lancer sighed and settled back down. “I suppose you’re right.” 

Dash looked back at the collapsed section of the building. Danny had brought another person out but it had been awhile since he set the last person down. Where was he?

Sirens grew closer as Dash waited. The firefighters were almost here. Dash guessed that Danny had gotten everyone out already. Everyone but Kwan. 

Then Phantom bursted through the rubble, Kwan in his arms. Dash could’ve burst into tears. 

Danny flew down to them just as the firetrucks and ambulances got there. He placed Kwan on the ground in front of Dash. Kwan groaned and Dash let out another slightly hysterical laugh.

“Hey, buddy. You’re okay now.” 

“What even happened?” Kwan’s brows scrunched up and he raised his hand to his head. 

“I don’t know yet.” Dash said. “The building just collapsed.” 

“Well, I gotta go.” Danny pointed his thumb over his shoulder. Dash nodded. He flew away.

Lancer sighed. “I guess I should call the other teachers and make a rendezvous point. Keep an eye out for Danny, Mr. Baxter.”

Dash nodded but he knew Danny would be back soon. 

Sure enough, a few moments later Danny could be seen hobbling towards them. Dash didn’t know what effect being dead had on a living body, but Danny sure did look like he took on the brunt of a collapsed building.

“I’m- I’m here.” He panted out. 

“To kill a mockingbird!” Lancer shouted. “You look exhausted!”

“The walk tired me out. I’m fine.” 

He sat on the ground next to Dash. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against Dash’s shoulder. He took a deep breath and let it out. 

“You look dead tired, Fenton.” Kwan breathed out. 

Danny chuckled. “I feel dead tired. Especially the dead part.” 

“Good thing Phantom was here.” Kwan said.

Dash looked down at Danny, he was still resting his forehead against Dash. Dash brought his hand up and placed it on Danny’s shoulder. 

“Yeah. We were pretty lucky. Who could’ve known he was so close by.” 

Danny chuckled. “Yeah. Imagine if he hadn’t been here.” 

Dash didn’t want to think about it. How long would he have been trapped under there if Fenton wasn’t in their group? 

Dash squeezed his shoulder. 

“I’m glad he was.” 

[toxetta]

oh wowee they're finally doing their intro post yaaaaaayyyy :3

hii, you can call me toxetta, or toxy for short💛💛 (or miku if you know me from that)

i am a lifestyle jirai, so tw for discussions of mental illness, sui, sh and weight loss stuff

this blog is my only social media atm. i use it for escapism, amateur shitposting, making friends, engaging in fandom stuff and mild venting

project jirai miku blog is @jiraisekai-miku

pronouns: she/they/it preferably, or whatever's funniest as part of the bit

genderqueer, queer and probably arospec (i swing any way tho)

currently taken by @pennyroyald

some of my fandoms: pokémon, needy streamer overload, persona, yo-kai watch, vocaloid, jojo's bizarre adventure, class of 09, kirby, fire emblem, undertale, my chemical romance, splatoon, guilty gear, ace attorney, panty & stocking

fav music artists: my chemical romance, kairiki bear, paramore, inabakumori, sewerslvt/cynthoni, guchiry, bring me the horizon, kanaria, evanescence, deco*27, mindless self indulgence, maretu, pierce the veil, styxvii, femtanyl, hanabie,

icky mental stuff: autism, general + social anxiety disorder, dyspraxia (diagnosed). avpd, cptsd, osdd (undiagnosed but suspected)

dni: idk as long as you're not a creep, a jerk or a bigot we can hopefully get along ^-^

i'm always open to being mutuals, esp with other jirais, and my dms + asks are available to anyone so don't feel afraid to reach out (plz do i'm hopeless at starting a conversation lol). i'm still a minor tho sort of, so don't be weird or anything

my tags:

[bluedelliquanti]

Before I go on vacation, I present my list of my top books for 2024.

COMICS:

Roaming by Jillian Tamaki & Mariko Tamaki

Bunt! by Ngozi Ukazu & Mad Rupert

Ukazu and Rupert are a powerhouse team, and as an art school adjunct, this already funny GN is even funnier (albeit in a way that necessitates a skull emoji in the educator groupchat)

Tiffany’s Griffon by Magnolia Porter Siddell & Maddi Gonzalez

Phobos and Deimos by J Dalton

Delicious in Dungeon by Ryoko Kui

It's a tough task to reach a satisfying conclusion to a series that was as strong as Dungeon, but I think Kui accomplished it!

Fool Night by Kasumi Yasuda

King in Limbo by Ai Tanaka

Over the last year I've been drawn towards comic series that work with a retro, fixed-width inking style, and King especially informed some recent experiments of mine.

PROSE:

Twins by Bari Wood & Jack Geasland

When I learned Wood was responsible for the book that became Dead Ringers, I knew I had to try it. This is the one that wins my "Oh, shit! Wow!! Okay!!!" award for the year (distinctions previously awarded to Cyteen and Manhunt).

The Bezzle by Cory Doctorow

DS9: A Stitch in Time by Andrew J. Robinson

Those of you who read my journal comic from last August might recall that I met Robinson at a Trek convention! I'd learned from reading these books that Stitch was considered a white whale among collectors, and now I absolutely understand why. If you're a DS9 fan and you want to try any book from the original run of novels, try this one. By which I mean, try the far easier-to-find audiobook version.

Translation State by Ann Leckie

A Woman of the Iron People by Eleanor Arnason

Fellow SBCF participant Erin Roseberry had shared this title as an inspiration for their comic, The Maker of Grave-Goods, and I was especially interested in trying a book by a Twin Cities author. What a serendipitous find!

Arboreality by Rebecca Campbell

For the third year in a row, a book nominated for the Le Guin Prize makes the list.

Always Coming Home by Ursula K. Le Guin

This is another book I always told myself I'd try someday, and was it ever worth it! I spent some time talking about my experience with this story (and its accompanying materials that fill out the world) in my talk with Evan Dahm on his show.

See you in the new year! I've packed some thick books for a long flight, so I'm starting my 2025 reading pile right away!

Reruns of my previous two lists, 2023, and 2022, below the cut.

2023

COMICS:

Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou by Hitoshi Ashinano

Out of Style by Devi Putri Megwati

Skip and Loafer by Misaki Takamatsu

The Harrowing of Hell by Evan Dahm

The Infinity Particle by Wendy Xu

Esteban by Matthieu Bonhomme

I covered my ShortBox reccs back in October, but since then I also picked up Pearl Hunting by Hana Chatani when it came to itch.io and adored it.

PROSE: 

So yes, maybe I'm cheating by including Moby Dick since I'm not all the way finished, but Whale Weekly really did end up being a great tool for getting me to crack open my gorgeous Evan Dahm-illustrated copy I've had for a while.

My favorite book of the year is Roadside Picnic by Arkady & Boris Strugatsky. I genuinely did read it the first week of January, but after having it recommended to me for years, I'm thrilled it didn't disappoint. Maybe I am someone who likes Russian novels after all???

Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto

Such Nice People by Sandra Scoppettone

Cyteen by C.J. Cherryh (I jokingly placed these three in the "READ 👏 FEMALE 👏 AUTHORS 👏" category because they don't have anything in common other than describing some of the most upsetting/bizarre scenarios I've read this year. Cyteen especially! Wowee!!!)

Brother Alive by Zain Khalid

Glory by Vladimir Nabokov

A Different Trek by David K. Seitz, which I mentioned as my vacation book for the Star Trek convention, but it's given me some great suggestions for more books, both fiction and otherwise. Also, I read... 11 more DS9 books this year. 

2022

COMICS:

Fullmetal Alchemist by Hiromu Arakawa

Vattu by Evan Dahm

The Well by Choo and Jake Wyatt

Wash Day Diaries by Robyn Smith and Jamila Rowser

Some ShortBox Comics Fair entries that are graphic novella length and are really good include Food School by Jade Armstrong and The God of Arepo by Reimena Yee et al.

PROSE:

Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters

The Murders of Molly Southbourne by Tade Thompson

How to Blow Up a Pipeline by Andreas Malm

Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin

Dead Collections by Isaac Fellman

Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov

A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers

The Past is Red by Catherynne M. Valente

edit: oh my god I can't believe I forgot Perfume by Patrick Süskind

Honorable mentions from the pile of DS9 novelizations include Revenant by Alex White (for successfully pulling off a Sara Paretsky-style mystery in space) and Dominion War: Call to Arms by Diane Carey (for absolutely unhinged adjective choices).

[piastree]

Take a Chance with Me | OP81

oscar piastri x reader (fc: huh yunjin)

— Part 1

Next Part

Summary : Y/n's mistakenly takes someone's drink at a party. Despite the initial embarrassment, they engage in light chit-chat and discover a sense of familiarity. Oscar introduces himself, and they exchange greetings, marking the beginning of a new chapter in their story.

Notes: hiii! this is my first writing, if there are any grammatical errors or some other mistakes i wanna apologize in advance. I hope you like it and have fun while reading this<3 lemme know if you like it thankyouuuu

Y/n chuckled when she remembered how embrassed it was when she took the wrong glass and sipped it like nothing was wrong. But she could feel the confused look from someone beside her. "I'm thinking you might have grabbed mine by mistake." She glanced to her side, wondering if the words she had just heard were indeed meant for her.

"Huh?" She finally turned to fully face that man. He chuckled at her puzzled expression, but eventually, with a raised eyebrow, he pointed to the glass she was holding. "Oh my goodness! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to take your drink." Her eyes widened in shock, and her heart raced as embarrassment flooded over her. He held back his laughter. "No worries. I can take another one," as he said, he cracked a grin like a friendly cat. His eyes squinted playfully, giving off a vibe that was both laid-back and amused. "Let me grab you another one." "No need for that, I-" Ignoring him, she sauntered away to fetch a new drink, intending to replace the one she had mistakenly taken from him earlier. It didn't take long for y/n to return. Once she returned, they engaged in light chit-chat, chatting about who invited them to the party. It wasn't until later that she realized the guy she'd been talking to looked kind of familiar. "So, which friend brought you here tonight?" she asked. "Oh, just through some mates, racing circles and all. What about you?" "Just here with a friend. By the way, you seem oddly familiar. Have we met before?" "I get that a lot. Maybe you've seen me on the street or something."

She just laughed, shrugged it off, and took another sip of her drink. At the same time, he shot her a cheeky smile, sneaking a few glances while she checked out the scene around her. After a bit, he decided to break the ice, "I'm Oscar, by the way."

"I'm y/n. Nice to meet you, Oscar."

With a cheerful smile, they exchanged a warm handshake. It marked the beginning of a new chapter in their story.

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, landonorris, mclaren and 365,288 others

oscarpiastri Wowee… that was a cool weekend 🧡

view all 3,637 comments

user just calm down bro, it's your first season💀

user our starboy!! so proud🧡🧡

user what an incredible talent boyyy!

yourusername such a fake rookie

oscarpiastri i like to keep things low-key🤭

yourusername can't wait for another surprise then

user lmaooo

user your pace and overtakes are 1000/10 🔥👏🏻

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, yourbff and 1,288 others

yourusername camera crumbs

view all 101 comments

yourbff MYY GIRLLLL<3

user cutiesssss

oscarpiastri those flowers have nothing compared to u

yourusername lol you're making the flowers jealous, i'll let the garden know it needs an upgrade😂

user what oscar is doing here????

user did i miss something??

user OSCAR?!!?????? FLIRTING TO A GIRL???

yourusername chill guys he likes to joke around😂😂

user new wag alert!!

yourusername added a story

bring it home, boy!

yourbff uhhh i can smell something fishy yourusername care to elaborate, sherlock?

user wow??? what is this now??

landonorris where is the cheer for me??? i thought we were friends yourusername lol we are! yourusername goodluck lando! i'd love to see both of you on the podium<3

yourusername

tagged: oscarpiastri, landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, yourbff and 14,555 others

yourusername P2 and P3, boys!! Enjoy your moments. What a day to remember 🧡

view all 957 comments

user CUTEE OUTFIT Y/N!!

user and now lando also here? who's she

user wow oscar put earmuffs on her??

user at this point i won't believe if they're just friends

landonorris oh now i'm your friend?? cool thanks

oscarpiastri stop overacting💀

yourusername should i post a whole photo dedication for you?😉

landonorris i'm not looking for trouble

user what is that mean landooo?? bcoz someone must be jealous?😂

user look at how oscar defending her lol

oscarpiastri you owe me a drawing of a four-leaf clover on my helmet

yourusername stay tuned for some top-notch artistry<3

user oscar indirectly said that y/n was his lucky charm!!

"Can't you stay for one more night?" Oscar asked. He walks over to y/n who is arranging her luggage a little hurriedly.

Y/n smiled before saying, "work can't wait. But I promise I'll come another day."

"Okay, i'll counting the days until you return."

She laughs, then stands up and pulls Oscar into her arms. "You're doing a good job. Keep going!"

"I'll miss you." He hugs her tighter, as if he's not willing to let her go.

"Me too."

They fall into a moment of silence, soaking in each other's warmth before having to go back to being apart for a period of time they don't know how long.

She never expect the party that night to lead her into a complicated situation, where she has to love someone who is out of her reach. Remembering how stupid she was that night for not recognizing Oscar right away when his face looked so familiar, and how Oscar didn't say anything until she finally realized.

"Oh! I have something for you."

She opens her bag and takes something out. A bracelet with a four-leaf clover. "I don't have the skill to draw, and I wouldn't risk making your helmet look ugly."

Oscar takes the bracelet and immediately puts it on. "I can't agree more. But it's more than enough," he replies mischievously while laughing. He is so happy to see the bracelet now neatly wrapped around his wrist. "Thank you."

"Your lucky charm when I'm not around."

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, yourbff and 16,581 others

yourusername life lately😴

view all 1004 comments

user syntax error babe my brain stopped working when i saw u 

user i just can’t get enough of this hair omg

user me too! so gorgeous😭

yourbff red y/n is too legendary

comment liked by oscarpiastri

yourusername is this genuinely a compliment or a subtle jab?

yourbff lmaoo babe😭

oscarpiastri wish u were here

yourusername me too</3

user oh you are not with oscar rn :(

user man is so clingy what should i DO

user was it a chat with oscar?? bcoz YES SHE IS ON FIREEE

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc and 221,681 others

oscarpiastri A second reason to smile 😁🏆

view all 2564 comments

mclaren what a weekend!

user this man’s gonna be world champion one day🙌

comment liked by yourusername

user i refuse to believe you’re a rookie man

yourusername me too

user y/n camping on oscar's comment section

yourusername my driver of the day!❤️

oscarpiastri ❤️

user what's with the red heart???

user is it the soft launch? OMGGG

yourusername also congrats to lando!! proud of both of you🔥👏

landonorris thankyou, y/n! btw come to the race, someone is missing you

user man is so wHIPPED

yourusername p.s hope oscar recovered well after lying on the floor

comment liked by oscarpiastri

yourusername added a story

someone is smiling ear to ear @/oscarpiastri

yourbff lmaooo he looks so happy yourbff he's completely in love with you yourusername grateful is an understatement<3

landonorris his eyes speak love lol yourusername shut upp lando landonorris glad both of you finally opened up about your feelings yourusername thankyou 2 u❤️

user his emotions are written all over his face

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, logansargent, landonorris and 540,188 others

oscarpiastri thanks for mistakenly grabbing my drink. Grateful for every twist of fate that brought you into my life🍻❤️

view all 5555 comments

user spill the tea we want to know more about the storyy!!

user my oscar and yn cutie<3

user hope for your happiness, oscar and y/n!❤️

landonorris how long did it take you, mate?

yourusername felt like forever

oscarpiastri you have no idea

yourusername but it was worth the wait

user awww y/n🥺

oscarpiastri ❤️

yourusername thankyou for never telling me you are oscar piastri the mclaren driver of formula 1😒

user NOOOO SHE MUST BE SO CLUELESS

logansargent he is the worst

oscarpiastri u know i didn't mean to keep it a secret, babe

user THEY ARE SO CUTEEEE

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, georgerussell63 and 85,128 others

yourusername love you always, Oz! May the four-leaf clovers always on us🍀❤️

view all 6514 comments

oscarpiastri love you too, always🍀❤️

comment liked by yourusername

thankyou for reading! don't hesitate to give me a feedback❤️

[preeningpisces]

Geto NSFW Headcanons

Im gonna try not to be biased because this is my main bitch right here 🖤

Lemme know if you want me to elaborate or write about any of these headcanons

(literally any ask about Geto will make me do somersaults—backflips, even)

18+ content below the cut, mdni, implied chubby f!reader

Pre-Incident

꩜ Geto is interesting because before he snaps and after he snaps feel like two different vibes in regards to sex

꩜ Doting, almost like a service-dom. He likes taking care of you, but he also prefers to have control. Though not so controlling that he can’t ever be submissive

꩜ Major smooth-talker, like Gojo said, he has a silver tongue. Likes a mixture of praise and degradation. The degradation is usually teasing, and doesn’t extend past the usual slut, whore, etc. range…usually

꩜ Sometimes it comes out corny tho lmfao pls roast him when it does

꩜ Good at making you feel sexy. The type that will kiss you all over, giving extra affection to areas you aren’t as fond of. It’s difficult at first, but with time you become more comfortable

꩜ Very sensual, and intimate. He has good self-control, & is very patient so he can draw things out & drive you crazy. Like he can spend all-too-long just toying with your mouth, denying you the kiss you so desperately want. Barely brushing your lips and teeth with his thumb, before pinching your tongue between fingers. Wowee

꩜ Refuses to kiss you after absorbing curses. Even though no one else can taste them, the thought of tasting like that is enough for for him to refuse; he doesn’t want you to go through it too. Also, tasting shit-vomit in your mouth doesn’t exactly get the schlong schlinging, yknow

꩜ I suspect absorbing curses gives him an immediate surge of negative emotions, so he usually needs space. Sometimes he just wants to hold you, or be held, in silence

꩜ Can be surprisingly playful in bed

꩜ Really likes fucking you from below. Smooshing your soft breasts and stomach against him, and feeling your weight on top of him. Holding you still so he can rail you while whispering sappy, dirty shit in your ear. I’m passing out someone help

꩜ I’ve been poisoned by the perv!geto fics on here, and can’t see him as not being a secret pervert. Just slightly. It takes a while for him to reveal that side to you, since he tries to appear refined and respectable

꩜ Definitely the type that likes music in the background; I see him as someone who cares about music a lot in general. You know he likes you if he’s sharing song recs

꩜ Lots of playlists, and even has a few sex playlists with different moods. Usually prefers things that are chill, but has a few harder-hitting songs—this is why he needs the playlists, lol. He doesn’t like when the vibe changes too much

꩜ One time you sneak Cbat onto his playlist & make him laugh so much he loses his boner. At that point did you really win? Hmm?

꩜ Tbh he’s got game & is aware of it. You gotta humble him occasionally or else he becomes insufferable

Post-Incident

꩜ This Geto is a lot more self-centered, aggressive, and sadistic in bed. I wouldn’t say he’s a tyrant tho

꩜ Will legit punish you when you disobey, no funishments here. Big into humiliation

꩜ My heart is telling me shibari, especially the kind that can be hidden beneath clothes. Particular about the color, and will pick ones that flatter your skin tone. Obsessed with the way the ropes pinch and dig into your soft body. He’ll bite and squeeze the parts that spill over the ropes

꩜ One punishment would be walking around secretly tied up, but the style where one of the ropes rubs against your pussy as you walk. It sounds nice at first, but that bitch is gonna chafe for sure

꩜ He’s more selfish than before, yes, but he still maintains a proclivity for doting—we all see how he spoils his daughters! It’s like, he gets his turn first, and when it’s your turn, it's your turn. Multiple orgasm king. He’ll do it until you’re sobbing tho, so pray for your pussy

꩜ Loves making you choke on his cock—gets kind of intense with the bjs. Mfer needs to chill (and buy you some throat lozenges)

꩜ Doggystyle is his favorite without a doubt, he just wants to pin your face to the bed and watch your ass bounce

꩜ A lot of the previous stuff is still applicable to some degree, but I think he has a lot less patience at this point, and is waaaay more into degradation & domination

꩜ He gets legitimately mean sometimes lmfao it’s like you gotta have 2 safewords: one for physical intensity level, and the other for bullying level 😭

꩜ Would he sleep with a non-sorcerer? Honestly, I can’t decide. If he did tho, he would be SO FUCKING MEAN I don’t even want to think about it !!!

꩜ Does he use monkey in bed unironically?? Chat pls advise

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Sea Bat (again)

Debut: Donkey Kong Jungle Beat

It has been quite a long time since our old post on Sea Bat, so long that it was known as Sea Bakky back then! How long was it? Uh it was SIX YEARS? NEARLY SEVEN YEARS AGO??? My word. Well I think we've earned the right to mention this funny slug for the second time in over six years. We can indulge.

I want to talk about Sea Bat because it is so awesome! It's so cool! This is genuinely one of the coolest things ever. We just had a whole year of Shadow the Hedgehog, but sorry! He's only the SECOND coolest character. Number one is Sea Bat, babey! This thing hells yeah! (that's my new way of saying something is really cool. No one else says it but you could start if you want)

It's really a shame that DK Jungle Beat is so slept on, not only because it is genuinely a very fun game, but because Sea Bat is such an incredible design. As the name implies, it is a variant of the typical bat enemy, but as great as bats are, you cannot expect me to give a hoot about a regular ol' bat when one of them is actually a SLUG!

Not just any slug, but a clione, a sea angel, whatever you like to call them! I like to call them Fairy Slugs, but nobody else does. They are really some of the most magical creatures in the world, fluttering about in the void of the sea... and to think that such a magical creature is a SLUG! What a wonderful planet this is!

Jungle Beat dared to ask the question: what if a clione was goth? It would go hard, is what would happen! And it did, and it does. Sea Bat is not JUST a clione with bat wings, not JUST a clione with a bit of a spooky face. It's a FLATWOODS MONSTER clione! That head-and-face-shape combo is unmistakable! Representation WIN: this marine mollusc is from West Virginia!

Just... this thing is so cool. I know I've said that before but it's so cool. And it's criminal that barely anyone knows about it! This design deserves more than to be beaten up by Donkey Kong in an out-of-character spree of violence against innocent wildlife. It should... be on a skateboard, maybe? Nothing preventing anyone from painting it onto a skateboard! Hell Yeah!

And to think, they made this sea angel monster so cool and spooky, and didn't even need to include the real thing's Nightmare Face Tentacle Eruption form. Wowee! Swimming snails can rest easy tonight!