#you can pry him laughing and being happy from my dead cold hands

[kanene-yaaay]

(spoilers from season 2 of tgcf, rip all of us)

Yeah, yeah, I know.

But what if, instead of capturing and immobilizing Lang Qianqiu that time in the forest, Rouye decided to tickle him? What if there wasn't so much ressentment and lies and fear in that scene and was instead a cute, silly moment between the young crown prince and his old mentor? What if Xie Lian scolded him about being impulsive and thoughtless and how he could've died for this while Lang Qianqiu is giggling and laughing on the floor? What if he starts quizzing him about clever and safer ways that he could've go on about his threat and suddenly Lang Qianqiu feels like he is 15 again, doing his best to impress his teacher and he tries to actually think about his questions but immediately falls back to squealing and kicking, trying to squirm away but being unable to escape the soft silk wrapped around him that kept poking and pordding and vibrating and tickling at his sides and neck and ribs and absolutely everywhere?

What if - since this is now a CUTE AND SILLY moment with no ressentment - Hua Cheng decided to tease and provoke him since it's the second time he acts like that and ends up losing and being captured by them and, come on, it's really that your best? It's almost as if you like this. And LQQ squeaks in absolute protest and feels like his face is going to melt?

What if he had discovered the truth long time ago and had time to grief and come to terms with it, and now, when he discovers that Xie Lian is his old mentor, wants to challenge him to a fight so he can show him just how much better he got since the last time they saw each other and how he definitely can win a spar against him now. And now in the end it's all just a very cute tickle story huh? What then?

Anyway you can blame the very own Ruoye for this hc because how can a piece of fabric be SO SMUG about capturing somone like COME ON IT LITERALLY STOPPED, LOOKED AT LANG QIANQIU WITH A :] FACE AND THEN CAPTURED HIM, PLEASE!!!!!! P L E A S E. AND XIE LIAN BEING ALL SO :]c AFTERWARDS TOO LIKE !!!! SHAKING THEM BY THEIR SHOULDERS!!!!

I 100% headcanon Lang Qianqiu having a super squeaky and loud laughter, even if he is not actually that ticklish, and just BABBLING the most utter nonsense while being tickled. Xie Lian discovered about it because he caught the prince and his friend (the boy w no name <3) in he middle of a tickle fight once and, even though he never actually tickled him besides one or two sneaky pokes to wake him up during lessons, Rouye never forgot and now rip him.

Also since I am already here, in this reality Xie Lian was not punished and so Hua Cheng only think that boy as the Annoying Kid that Xie Lian once teached and now that appeared centuries later to cause an unecessary ruckus in his city so he is Getting Revenge.

[butchreg]

caregiver ! vi headcanons !!

requested by @themoondropcollective . spinning around because i LAUV vi , he's one of my own fictional cgs (>/////< " ) . butch cg for eensy butch !! i refer to vi with he / him pronouns .. you can pry tmasc butch vi from my cold dead hands . it brings me comfort as a fellow trans butch to see someone like me :3 .. if you'd prefer other pronouns let me know but i default to he for him . that being said my vi is not a binary man pronouns do not equal gender :L .

vi is the silliest caregiver ever !! more like an older sibling in the sense that he doesn't have lots of rules && can't help but giggle when you get into mischief . he calls you lots of silly nicknames like nugget , bug , && squirt !! he teases you by calling you tiny sometimes as a nickname too but it always comes with a chuckle && a hair tousle .

while its my truth that vi is transmasculine he loves being called "mama" by his littles . you also call him "bubba" but he always melts when someone calls him "mama" or just "ma" . he does Not like being called mommy though . he's also okay with more masculine names like "papa" or "dada" as well && responds better to daddy than mommy though it's not preferred .

always telling you stories !! some of them are made up but a lot of them are about his life . he often gets lost in his tales but you hang onto his every last word .

loves to teach you new things . these little lessons often come with a little story of his own !! he notices you giggling && bites back a laugh of his own . " mama's silly , huh squirt." teaches you how to throw a punch but also about little everyday things like tying your shoes .

SOOOO protective .. literally your guard dog , he will not hesitate to throw a punch or clap back verbally if someone poses a threat to you . king of glares too , he scares away aaallll the meanies . always holding your hand && proudly calling you his little one . he often has his hand on your shoulder as a way to reassure you he's there for back up .

always including your stuffies in everything , he's so playful with them !! if you're sad he'll have them talk to you in silly voices to cheer you up && he has little conversations with them to make you giggle . sometimes he can't help but crack up himself .

he lets you play with his hair && put little clips in it . you love his hair soo much , the color is so AWESOME !! when his hair is longer he lets you style it however you like .

on the topic of hair he loves washing yours . it's super soothing for him && makes him feel closer to you . it's something so intimate that he treasures , running his hands through your hair , doing his best to learn all he can about how to take care of it if you have more kinky hair so he can meet all of your needs .

he's super good at braiding from always doing powder's braids && it's something that calms him down . if you have longer hair he's always happy to braid it — he can do all of the fancy braids !! he tries to teach you but your fingers are a bit clumsy what with you being so little .

even though he himself doesn't always practice safe binding he makes sure that you do . if you whine about it trying to point out that he doesn't he sheepishly says something like , "well you shouldn't do everything daddy does ."

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

Cold nights, red Flannel

Joel Miller X Afab!Fem!Reader

Summary: when the power goes out in your building Joel is more than happy to let you have his bed, but when his already sore back flares up in the middle of the night he’s given no choice but to share with you. Things play out differently than expected when he wakes up in the morning tangled up with you in between the sheets.

Warnings: SMUT (MDI) 18+ only, slow burn, dead child, dead people and the fire pit, cussing, age gap (reader is in their thirties), alcohol, Joel gets a ✨massage✨ thigh riding, teasing Joel, Dom!Joel, fingering, multiple orgasms, over stimulation, Joel is… big, slight breeding kink, raw p in v (wrap it before you tap it), dirty talk.

Joel Miller Master List

Word Count: you’ve read my other stories right? This is long, buckle up butter cup.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The worst jobs earn the most money, it was something you were quick to pick up on, and if you wanted to live the best, you had to do the worst.

The burn pit was busier than usual, truck after truck with what seemed like no end in sight. Everything from your hands to your feet ached, clothes covered in the grey ash irritating your lungs, and the smell was unforgiving. You’ve already added your second bandanna, the lack of clean air nearly suffocating.

“You’re slowin’ down.” The man beside you notes, Texan accent laces his words as he crosses his arms over his chest, voice gruff from being here as long as you have.

“Coming from the man who has taken a water break every thirty minutes.” You snip back, lighthearted in your accusation, looking over to find your ‘coworker’, Joel Miller, tilting his head, brown eyes glaring under salt and pepper eyebrows. He points to the truck behind you, silently telling you to get moving.

You smile even though he can’t see it and turn on your heel, heading for the last body, but your cheeky attitude slips away. You swallow thickly, eyes scanning over the hooded and bound body. They are small in stature, an old cartoon character printed on the back of their white, clean shirt. They look so out of place on the blood and mud stained truck bed.

Only a child.

Joel is quick to notice your sudden hesitation, his own small smile falling as he follows your gaze.

“I’ll get ‘em.”

“No, it’s fine.” You stomp down your emotions, scooping the kid up, to light and frail, and walk them over to the fire. You whisper a prayer, like you’ve done with every child before and toss him over the wall. Soot blows up into the air, orange and red embers dancing among the cloud and you’re forced to pry your gaze away as the flame swallows their body.

“Last one!” A driver yells, the screeching of the reverse alarm cutting through the air. Relief washes over you, closing your eyes momentarily, the day was almost done.

“Son of a bitch.” You turn then, Joel’s looking at the truck in disbelief and when your attention lands on the man in the bed your jaw physically drops open.

The man before you is a literal beast, his height alone impressive but the muscle on him makes you thankful you never ran into him when he was alive.

Had to of been some kind of enforcer.

“Hey, yo, can we like get a horse or something? This guys fucking huge!” You call out to the truck driver who only sneers before disappearing back into the cab.

“It’s fine, I’ve got it.” Joel shushes you, steeping up and dragging the guy by his thighs closer to the edge of the bed, huffing and grunting looking for the best leverage point.

You laugh slightly, steeping back. “Sure, whatever you say cowboy, he’s all yours.” You cross your arms, excited to see how this pans out as Joel tries to position the hulk. To your surprise he’s able to lift the guy onto his shoulder with a strained groan. “Oooo okay, you’ve been working out.” You let out a sharp whistle, his eyes glancing to yours as he stumbles for the fire, giving you a playful wink.

The banter is cut short with his next step though when he cries out in pain, nearly crumbling under the weight as something in his back spasms. You rush forward, grabbing onto the body, helping carry him the rest of the way and over the wall.

“Fuck!” Joel barks, face pinched as he hunches over, hand pressing into his back.

“What happened?”

“My back… I’m fine. “ He grits out between clenched teeth, sucking in a few breaths before trying to straighten up.

Someone blows a whistle, signaling the end of the day and people start to rush past you both for the pay out line, ignoring Joel’s insistent cussing.

You offer your shoulder for him to lean on but he waves away your concern, telling you he just needs a minute to collect himself before you both make your way to get your ration cards.

Instead of signing up for another shift you decide to give yourself the next two days off, hoping to sleep as much as you can before hitting the next work period hard. You walk off to the side, waiting patiently for Joel out of habit as he goes down the list, rubbing at his spine.

Being this far from the fire you realize how cold it is, the setting sun the only indication that it’s about to get colder, and you know spring is still a few months away.

You glance to Joel as he haggles with the enforcer, probably over the shortened pay. Over the last five years you and Joel have worked together on numerous jobs, and he’s never shy to insist the right pay for the services you both provide. Though at first never coordinated, you both realized how effortlessly you worked with the other, always fast and to the point with whatever resources given, both searching for the most money.

You recall noticing him when you arrived at your first job at this QZ, his hair a little less grey back then but eyes just as intense. It wasn’t until your fifth job did you say something to him after catching him watching you for the first hour of your shift at the pit.

With whatever confidence you had, you’d walked right up to him, hands on your hips and chin tilted up with a sarcastic smile. “Does my stalker have a name?”

The notion had been so wildly outlandish that after he stared at you for a minute, mouth open and eyebrows raise, he barked out a laugh. A true belly laugh that had everyone turning their heads in shock and confusion.

It was the talk of the job.

Some new girl got the old grump to laugh.

From that moment on Joel decided to stick close by, your fiery attitude attracting him just as much as your smarts. He taught you how to play the system, which officers were more lenient than others, and when he grew to trust you he began taking you on contraband runs. You picked up on the trade quickly, surprising him when you started going out on your own and Joel knew he’d chosen well.

Joel now limps over, pulling you from your thoughts. “Ya know I have this stuff that can help with that.” You state, turning and walking with him towards your apartments.

“Got some icy hot, I’ll be fine.”

“20 year old icyhot? Yeah that most definitely will do the trick.” Your sarcasm isn’t lost on him as he glares done at you. You raise your hands in surrender, walking the rest of the way in silence as the street bustles with life around you.

Parting ways at your building you watch for a moment as Joel limps along, shaking his head back and forth, a clear sign he’s talking to himself. You snort, grabbing for the door handle only to have it ripped away, your next door neighbor nearly knocking into you as she storms from the building.

“Woah, Joanne, maybe next time you can just run me over and we will call it a day.” You snap, glaring as she turns at the sound of your voice, she’s the buildings ‘manager’, a lose term for someone who takes your money and doesn’t fix a damn thing unless it involves her apartment directly.

Not much has changed since the end of the world.

“The entire building is out! I’m trying to get someone to fix it!” Her wrinkled face is red with anger, greying hair disheveled like she’d been pulling at the roots all day.

“Wait what?”

She rolls her eyes, exasperation clipping her words. “There was construction going on next door and they clipped a line or something. No lights, no heat, no fucking water to the entire building.” She turns on her heel, not bothering for what you have to say next and stomps down the road.

You throw your hands up in frustration, groaning at the sky, mentally cursing whatever was out there when a thought comes to mind. You bite your lip, weighing out your options before you are rushing down the street in search of Joel.

Luck seems to finally be on your side as you round the street corner, finding him leaning against a light post, talking to a man you recognize but can’t place with a name.

Jogging over the shaggy haired man’s eyes flicker to you, his posture becoming rigid before he quickly dismissing himself. Joel turns, expecting an officer or worse, and his expression softens as you slow to a stop beside him. “Heya Sunshine.”

When Joel decided to take you in, he made it very clear to others that ran around in the same under ground circles that you were not to be fucked with, being one of the few in his inner circle gave you a type of immunity not so sparingly given out.

“Hey… shit… my power is out.”

“Did ya forget to pay?” He’s mocking you only slightly, concern still underlining his tone.

“No, it’s the whole building, Joanne said someone must have cut a wire or something… I was wondering if maybe… we’ll I’m still covered in all this…” You hesitate, hoping he will fill in the gap as you gesture to yourself but he only stares. Joel always made you use your words. “I was wondering if I could borrow your shower, I’ll be super quick, I swear.”

Joel nods, looking down the road towards his building. “Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem, give me about an hour to soak my back first and then you can come over.” You’re washed with relief, throwing your arms around his neck in a tight hug, catching him by surprise.

“Thank you, thank you so much!” Before he can reply you’re sprinting down the street and around the corner, he stares after you blinking slowly before looking around, a blush staining his cheeks.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Having only been to Joel's apartment a handful of times, it took you longer than you would of liked to admit to find his door, and there may have been the help of an elderly man along the way.

This time though, as the door opens, Joel is on the other side. His greying hair slicked back and still damp, he’s dressed in a long sleeve shirt with matching black sweats. “Well, don’t you clean up nice.” You make a point to look him over as you step into his apartment, breathing in the warm air.

Joel only snorts. “Yeah, sure. Bathrooms that way, should still be plenty of hot water, I rigged my heater a few months back.”

You smile at that, “What a naughty boy you are, Joel Miller.” You wink following his direction, closing yourself in the bathroom.

Joel leans against his front door for a moment, appreciating this side of you that is rare to see, as much back and forth as you two give each other at work you personality blossoms when it’s just you and him. And damn was it flirtatious. Some way or another you’ve kept a spark of life through the last 20 years that has Joel hooked like an addict, even if he could never bring himself to say so.

In the bathroom you’re pulling out your bath products, setting them next to his and the contrast of them makes you laugh a little. Pinks and purples next to dull grays and blues. You have the fleeting thought to look for something special just for Joel on your next run as you twist the shower nob. The pipes groan before sputtering to life, you wait until the waters just a little to hot before undressing and stepping in. You hiss involuntarily, skin blushing under the heat before you relax.

This was the hottest shower you’d had in years and you might just have to start lying about your power being out to get more of this. You allow yourself to relax for a moment longer before you begin to wash away the day.

*~*~*~*~*~*

You emerge thirty minutes later, steam following behind you, you’re dressed in your better winter clothes, but even that’s a stretch. Your sweater hangs on your frame, three sizes to big and moth eaten, your sweatpants in much the same condition.

Joel glances up at you from his rickety table, two mix match glasses and a bottle in front of him. “Is one of those for me?” He simply pours you a shot, sliding the glass across the table as you take your seat, curling your legs up under yourself. You lift the amber liquid in cheers, Joel mimicking your actions as you down the shot. It burns your taste buds, dropping into your stomach like a lead weight.

Coughing you turn the glass over, face scrunched in disgust making Joel laugh as he pours himself another. “Can’t handle your liquor?”

“Was never much of a drinker before all of this, haven’t acquired the taste just yet.” You manage to wheeze out, rubbing at your chest where it still burns. “Thank you again, it would have really sucked to of gone to bed still covered in that shit.”

Joel stands, chair scrapping across the floorboards. “Don’t mention it. Seriously. Don’t need the whole building knowing I’m giving out free showers.” He gathers the glasses and takes them to the small sink, before opening his fridge, “How do you plan on staying warm tonight?”

“Um, probably throw on a extra layer and pray I wake up with all my toes.” You drum a rhythm on the table, watching him as he pulls a container from the fridge, grabbing two forks and walking over to you.

You attentions stays on the container as he drags his chair closer, setting it on the table. Inside is beef and rice and your stomach grumbles at the sight of it. Your eyes jump to Joel and he give you a smile, handing you a fork. “Eat.”

You know not to look a gifted horse in the mouth, splitting the container down the middle and enjoying the cold food as much as you enjoy the comfortable silence.

Joel suddenly lifts his head, sniffing the air before turning his gaze on you, stopping you mid bite to stare back.

“What?”

“Do I smell… cookies?”

Your face lights up with a grin. “Oh yeah, I was baking in the bathroom.” He doesn’t look amused and it adds to your enjoyment. “Sugar cookies, specifically. You have your contraband, and I have mine.”

Contraband consisting of feminine products you’ve scored over the last few years, keeping nearly 70 other women fairly stocked and your pockets lined.

“Where ya hiding them? Under this?” He plucks at your shirt, distaste written across his face making you laugh, a sound Joel likes a little to much.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Miller.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively earning an eye-roll, his foot nudging your chair.

He slides you the rest of his food as he stands. “You can sleep here for tonight, I’ll take the couch.” He’s talking over his shoulder as he walks into his joined bedroom, leaving you to shovel the rest of the food into your mouth.

“Wait… your back, you should really sleep in your own bed Joel.” You can hear drawers opening and closing before a soft grunt of satisfaction as Joel finds whatever it is he is looking for. “I really don’t want to inconvenience you any further.”

“It ain’t an inconvenience, and my backs fine, the icy hot did the trick, just like I said it would.” He comes back into view carrying a very large red button down flannel, tossing to you. It’s thick, the fabric soft to the touch and smells clean with an underlying musk that’s unmistakably Joel. “That’ll keep you warm, a lot better than what you’ve got on now.”

“Really? Are you-.”

“Don’t argue with me. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to. Okay?”

A light blush tints your cheeks, glancing up at him through your lashes with a sweet smile that has his stomach tightening. “Thank you Joel.”

“You’re welcome.” He rejoins you at the table, watching you pick at a loose thread on the shirt.

Maybe it’s the fact you don’t know much about Joel, or maybe it’s the fact that this is the very first time you’ve been alone with him, no one else in the room, no traders. Curiosity sparks and it’s a hard flame to put out.

“Do you… are there things you miss about before?”

He glanced at you, your eyes still trained on the garment. “What do you mean?”

“Well like… I use to do kickboxing, I miss that a lot… I miss going on coffee dates with my girlfriends… things like that.” You shrug, refusing to meet his gaze incase he thought this was silly, ridiculous even. You were never good at small talk.

Joel is silent for a moment longer, biting at his lip. “I miss football with my brother.”

You smile. “Tommy right? My daddy loved football, he wasn’t going anywhere on Sunday night.” You laugh softly, resting your chin on your knee. “I miss mall Chinese food, they always loaded up so much on those plates and I could never finish it.”

“That was about the only thing I liked at the mall, we didn’t go there much though. I miss my guitar, I don’t even know if I could play it now if I remembered any songs…” Joel chuckles, “I loved the SNL show, tv in general I loved to stay up at night with…” His voice fades off, fist clenched slightly out of your peripherals and though you don’t know much you know at some point during the start of everything he had lost a child.

Clearing your throat you jump to change topics. “Do you like wine?” You lock eyes with him then, his expression a little more retreated.

“I haven’t found one I’m a huge fan of, but I never turn down a glass.”

Your smile does that thing to his stomach again and he can’t stop his gaze falling to your lips for the briefest of seconds. “Well good, there’s this lady I trade with in my building and she makes wine. I’ll have to bring you a bottle one night.”

The corner of his mouth twitches up, “trying to wine and dine me, Sunshine?” A blush creeps up your cheeks turning your smile sheepish.

“Maybe, only if you pay for dinner.”

Joel scoffs, the ease returning to his features as he tilts his head to the side. Your heart hammers a little faster under his gaze. “What a cheap date you are.” He mumbles softly, resting his elbows on the table leaning his head against interlocked hands.

“The cheapest.” You breath back, mirroring his posture. He smiles warmly butterfly’s erupting under your skin giving you that giddy school girl feeling that takes your breath away and turns your brain too mush..

“I’ll look forward to it then.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

You’d only been asleep a few hours when your name reaches your ears, startling you awake. You sit up mattress squeaking under your weight as you peer into the darkness.

“J-Joel?”

His sleep riddled voice bounces back to you. “I need help.” Instantly your scrambling out of bed, flipping on a light as you round the wall to find Joel looking up at you from where he lay on the couch, red faced and defeated.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t get up… I gotta take a piss.” Joel hasn’t felt this level of embarrassment since throwing his back out working with his brother and had to be carried down to the hospital. The feeling only digging deeper as he watches your face fall padding over to him, extending your hands.

“I told you to sleep in your own bed, Joel.” You abolish gently, pulling him to his feet. His grip tightens on your arms, hissing as his back straightens out, taking the moment to get his bearings before he releases you, grumbling something under his breath and limping to the restroom.

You sigh, going to your duffle bag and rummaging through its contents before you finally come across a small bottle of chamomile and lavender.

Joel comes out a few minutes later, eyes trained on the floor. “Sorry.”

“Hey it’s okay, I tore my shoulder apart when I was in highschool and could hardly use it for a year. Had to have people help me all the time.” You try to sympathize with his situation, your expression soft and warm as his eyes find yours. “But, luck for you, I think you only pulled a muscle. And I have something to help with that.” You lift the little bottle shaking its contents.

Joel eyes it suspiciously, crossing his arms over his chest, “I ain’t taken that.”

You scoff, grabbing his bicep, pulling him towards his bed. “You don’t take it, now lay down and lift up your shirt.”

Joel turns on you, looking horrified like you’ve grown two heads all of a sudden. “Excuse me?”

“Just trust me.” You pull him again, squeezing his arm, Joel hesitates, glancing from the bed then down at himself. “I use to be a message therapist. I’ve seen a thousand naked backs, yours isn’t going to be any different.” You encourage, smiling at him as he glances your way.

Sighing Joel relents, kneels onto the bed, pulling his shirt over his head and laying down, folding his arms under his head.

Okay.

Maybe you were wrong.

Joel’s back is defined, scars littering in various stages of time, some more purple compared to others. Shaking your head you swallow your sudden nerves, kneeling beside him. You open the bottle, the smell instantly filling the room and dump it into the palm of your hand, the oil slipping between your fingers, soaking your sweats and you curse silently, setting the bottle onto the night stand.

“Tell me where it hurts the most.” You instruct, rubbing your hands together to warm the oil before placing them on Joel’s lower back, his hips twitching slightly at the sudden contact.

“A little to the right.” His skin is warm and he hums softly under your touch, shifting his shoulders and head, wishing he could see your face. “There.” You set to work, finding the knot in his muscle and kneading the area, digging your thumbs and palms into his flesh.

Joel groans, long and drawn out and a thrill works it’s way down your spine at the sound, “To much?” Your voice is softer than you initially intended it to be, much to sensual sounding.

It’s just a back rub. Nothing more, be more professional.

He shakes his head, his body relaxing fully. “You weren’t lying.” He’s muffled slightly by the pillow but you can hear his smile.

“Yeah I went to school and everything. It’s like riding a bike, you just never forget.”

“Get an A from me darlin’.” Your heart swells with his praise, staying quiet as you continue messaging his back, traveling up to his shoulders and back down to his hips, the silence interrupted occasionally by a soft grunt or groan coming from Joel.

It’s only when he goes quiet, his breath turning even and deep do you stop, whispering his name. When he doesn’t reply you ease away and into the restroom, washing your hands and shedding your oil soaked pants.

Joel’s soft snores are all that can be heard as you stand at the foot of the bed, chewing on your lower lip trying to decide what to do from here. The couch is now free, but there is only one blanket, which is now trapped under Joel. There are enough pillows to maybe set one between you both, make a little barrier of sorts…

Would Joel be mad if he woke up in the same bed as you? You shift your weight from one foot to the other, mind racing with every possible reason as to why he would be mad, before you finally take a deep breath and tiptoe to the other side.

Without giving yourself time to talk yourself out of it you climb under the covers, setting a pillow in between you, praying that Joel won’t be upset in the morning as you drift off.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Joel wakes up slowly, conciseness coming to him little by little with the early morning sun lighting the room. He’s warm, body heavy and mind sluggish from what has possibly been his best sleep in years. Selfishly he wants to hold onto it a little longer, screw whatever he thought he needed to get done today and bury himself back into his dreamless sleep.

It’s only when he shifts, his chin bumping something firm, does he feel the weight on him. Blinking slowly he lifts his head, looking down to find himself tangled up with you. Your head is resting on his shoulder, leg slung over his hip while his own is slotted between your thighs, and you’ve seemed to have lost your pants; Joel being granted a perfect view of your black panties that hide little to the imagination.

And all of the sudden he’s overly aware of you, of how soft your waist is under his callused palm, of how you still smell of sugar cookies and lavender, of the little puffs of air leaving you full lips ghosting across his neck. Then there is how his flannel has morphed to your curves, twisted around your body showing the pudge of your stomach and his blood is rushing somewhere… South.

All he can think about is how damn good you look wearing only his clothing. Joel’s heart rate picks up, his fingers drifting to your hair on their own, carding themselves through the soft strands, “Sunshine.”

You hum in your sleep, grip tightening around him as you nuzzle closer, lips brushing the column of his throat making him hold his breath as you settle again.

I’m going to hell.

It’s all he can think, his body so readily responding to you and you’re not even aware of it. You’re in your thirty’s for fucks sakes he shouldn’t even be considering this… but…

Tentatively, his grip tightens on your hair, pulling your head back so he can finally see your face. You look so peaceful, your features soft and delicate in your sleep he almost hates to ruin it. Almost.

“Honey … sweet girl wake up.” Joel’s voice is firmer, cutting into your sleep, rousing you with a small grumble.

“What…” You voice is horse, rolling your head to the side as you yawn, sleep holding on tight.

“It’s just me.” He can’t stop himself, seeing the length of your neck exposed like that, he leans down, gently kissing the delicate skin and you gasp, body tensing slightly. “Just me.” His thigh shifts up, pressing between your own and he can feel the heat radiating off of you through his sweatpants and it makes him feral.

“W-Ah… what are you doing?” You whimper, eyes pinching shut, fingers digging into his ribs as he finds that soft spot just under your ear earning another small gasp.

“Repaying you… For last night.” His grip on your hair disappears, finding your hip and rolling you onto your back. Your eyes snap open, breath trapped in your throat at the intense look of lust etched into Joel’s face. Now that you can fully see him your stomach tightens, need zipping down your spine as your eyes drink him in.

Just like his back his chest is defined, shoulders broad with a light dusting of hair that runs down to his stomach, and just past the waistband of his sweats where you can clearly see the outline of his…

You swallow audible, causing Joel to snort. Your eyes dart back to his and you swear you can feel your body melting with the fire in his gaze. He dips his face closer, bumping his nose against yours and smiles as you nervously squirm, thighs clenching around his where it still rests pressed against your mound.

“This okay?” As he speaks his lips just barely touch your own and you already feel your thoughts emptying out one by one as you nod slowly, eyes never leaving his own. “Tell me, need to hear your sweet voice.”

“Th-this is okay.”

With that he’s on you, restraint snapping as he finally kisses you, rough and hungry and desperate. Teeth, tongue and spit, forcing a moan from your throat with the intensity of it all, that Joel is all too happy to swallow up. His thigh presses in closer, your hips bucking involuntarily, dragging a moan from low in his chest.

Your hands slide up to his shoulders, gripping anything you can find for leverage as he sinks you into the mattress, drowning you in the covers, the pillows, and him.

Arousal consumes you, sparking in your stomach and traveling through your veins making you light headed, having not felt this type of high in many, many years. You grind yourself up against his thigh, your slick wetting your panties and soon creating a darker spot on his sweats.

You moan as he pulls away, attacking your neck again and pulling at your shirt, trying to expose whatever skin he can. “J-Joel… m… what’s.. what’s gotten into you?” Your losing your breath, the hand he isn’t propping himself up with traveling over your body, down your thigh, up your side, fingers sliding along the other side of your throat making goosebumps raise the hairs on your skin.

“Just want you, been wanting you since I laid eyes on you.” He admits, your face flushing with heat. “D’ya know how many times I’ve fucked my hand thinking about you? All laid out and pretty on my cock.” A filthy moan leaves your lips, grinding against his thigh to relieve the ache building between your legs.

Joel sits back, both hands finding your hips, encouraging your movements. “That’s right sweet girl, just like that.” You whine into the air, hands dropping to the bed gripping the sheets. He stares down at you, lust darkening his brown eyes as you grind against him. “Make all those pretty sounds for me, it’s just us.”

You nod, chasing after your building pleasure, breathy moans falling from your lips. Joel ruts against the back of your thigh, hands bruising your hips in the most delicious way. “J-Joel… need more… please…” Your clit throbs painfully, the angle you’re at restricting you from rubbing it how you want against his thigh.

“So greedy, go ahead play with yourself baby, wanna see you cum on my thigh before I fuck you, senseless.” Your fingers find your clit and rub harsh circles through the damp fabric of your panties, flying to that familiar peak, teetering right on the edge as you moan his name, hips frantic, but you need more, you want more.

Joel coos softly, enjoying your struggle. The pinched look, the wobble of your lips, as you search for that last little something. “I know you can do it baby, cum for me. Show me how good you can be and soak my thigh.” His words are your tipping point, sending you spiraling into that void of dark bliss as your orgasm rips through you.

The noises that leave your delicate throat consume Joel, and he’s whispering soft praises that you don’t hear, watching your legs tremble and hand still. “There it is, did so good for me baby.” You go limp underneath him, chest heaving with each shuddering breath, eyes shut and mind to far gone.

“Let me get this off of you.” He takes his time, slowing down to let you ride your bliss, undoing each button of the flannel. “Sit up.” You hardly have to, just lifting your shoulders and head before he throws the flannel across the room and you’re sunk back into the pillows.

Your panties and his sweats follow shortly after. His lips back on you, kissing between your breasts his beard scratching your skin in the most delirious way. “Joel…”

But his fingers are finding your slick heat, a groan reverberating through his chest and into yours. “So fucking wet, you liked that baby? Like getting yourself off on my thigh?” Warm embarrassment fills your belly, reigniting that fire. You nod slowly, keeping your eyes shut to avoid his intense gaze. “You getting shy on me now? Just a second ago you were fucking my leg.” He smiles against your skin watching the red tinting your cheeks grow darker, turning your away from him.

“J-Joel don’t… Don’t be mean.”

“Not bein’ mean.” Two thick fingers are suddenly sinking into you, a shrill cry retching itself from your throat. “Just given ya what ya want.” Your brain turns to mush with each pump of his fingers, hands scrambling to find any perches, a set of nails digging into his shoulder, the other tugging at the sheets. “Fuck… you’re so tight, gotta get you ready for me.”

His thumb finds your clit, working the bundle of nerves making moans echo through the room. Those thick fingers press against that gummy spot inside you that makes your hips stutter, your moans a little louder and he smiles in triumph, teeth nipping your breast watching the skin bloom with red marks. “S’that the spot?”

“Mmhmm…” it takes everything you have just to hum out an answer, mouth hanging open, thighs trembling as you’re brought back to orgasm, again. Climbing that mountain, no running it, to your tipping point.

“Can feel you squeezing my fingers baby, you gonna cum again so soon?” Joel doesn’t need your reply, even if you could give him one, your hips rocking to meet the rhythm he’s set. He doesn’t ease up, watching you come undone below him with a few more expert swipes of his thumb across your throbbing clit.

You make him feel young again, his body thrumming with pure, carnal lust. Something he hasn’t felt in years as he draws his slick coated fingers to his mouth, tasting you for what, hopefully, will be the first time of many. “Mmm… So sweet baby, I could spend hours just eating you.”

You whine pathetically, shaking your head back and forth, hair clinging to your face with sweat. “C-can’t…” Joel shakes his head, laughing darkly before tapping your cheek with the pads of his fingers.

“Look at me, Sunshine.” The timber in his voice makes you obey instinctively, finding his steady gaze. He grips your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks making your lips pout comically. “I know you’ve got one more in ya, I need to feel your cunt squeeze my cock. Think you can do that for me? Hmm?”

Joel shifts closer as he speaks, settling himself between your shaking thighs. His cock brushes against your puffy lips drawing a small whine from the back of your throat. You nod, Joel letting go of your checks as arousal washes through you once more, almost painfully so, as he rocks forward, the underside of his cock slipping easily through your damp folds, coating himself in your cream.

He hunkers over you, forcing your legs wider and rests on one elbow as he guides his cock to your opening, nudging in. “Relax darlin’, don’t wanna hurt you.”

Before you can even comprehend what is being said Joel thrusts forward, sinking in a few inches with a grovel moan. Your toes curl, eyes squeezing shut with a whine, the stretch hurting in a way you never want to stop.

“F-fuck Joel… s-so big.” A hand slips into his hair, tugging harshly causing him to gasp, a wicked smile pulling at his lips.

“You haven’t seen nothin yet, little girl.” He pins you to the mattress with his weight, thrusting until he’s fully seated inside you, heavy balls pressed to your ass. Your pussy squeezes him tightly, pain mixing with the pleasure intoxicatingly. He’s big, bigger than any man you’d been with in years, and as he pulls out only to thrust back in, the head of his cock kisses your cervix.

“Oooooh fuuuck!” You cling to his shoulders, his neck, his back, legs locking around his middle; anywhere to pull him closer as his pace evens out, fucking into you roughly. The old bed squeaks, headboard tapping the wall and above it all are the sounds leaving your lips to mix with his.

“Feel so good baby… been dreaming about this pussy.” Joel huffs out between thrusts, pressing his forehead to yours. The farther he slips into his arousal the thicker his accent gets, words dripping onto your nerves like honey.

“Wanted you to… so long Joel .” You pant, rocking your hips to match what he’s giving you. That glorious pressure building again in your body, cunt fluttering around his cock. “Don’t stop… oh fuck please don’t stop.” You can feel every ridge and vein rubbing along your walls in just the right way, his mushroom head bullying that sweet spot making your eyes roll.

“Not gonna stop, baby. Not gonna stop.” Joel groans, one hand gripping your waist to steady himself as he bullies his cock into you.

Your fingers slip between your bodies, finding your clit with a soft moan, rubbing tight circles. “I’m… im gonna cum…” you whine against his lips, noses bumping, breathing each others air.

“Come on then… cum on my cock baby, let me feel it.” Joel knows he won’t last much longer his thrust starting to turn sloppy. “Fuck… wanna fuck you full of me, watch it drip out. You’d like that wouldn’t you? Let everyone know who fucked you so good huh?” You thighs squeeze his hips in response to far gone to acknowledge him as you topple over the edge, crying his name as the pleasure blinds you momentarily.

Joel cusses burying his face in the side of your neck, your cunt sucking him in . “Fuck baby, fuck baby, fuck!” He pulls back, cock twitching and jets of cum landing on your stomach and abused lips. He fists himself, grunting against your shoulder as he comes down, body relaxing and dopamine flowing through him.

“J-Joel…” You breath, feeling his weight more and more.

“M’ Sorry…” He whispers, rolling himself onto his back, your stiff legs dropping to the mattress. You’re both panting wildly, chests heaving and sweat coating your skin.

You blink at the ceiling slowly, the neurons in your brain starting to fire again. “Well…” A small laugh bubbles out of you, Joel lazily looking over at you confused. “I’ve never been woken up like that before.”

Joel scoffs loudly and your giggle turns into a full laugh, lifting your head to look down at yourself. “Do I at least get a rag?”

“Better, ya can come get in the shower with me.” Joel groans as he sits up, giving you his hand. “Gonna need another one of those messages after that.”

[forzaferraris]

NOTHING MATTERS — op81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! engineering intern! reader

summary: the best way to get over someone who broke your heart is to get under someone else and (unintentionally) break theirs. / inspired by nothing matters by the last dinner party, listen on spotify here !

style: primarily written with a single smau element at the end.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, smut, unprotected sex ((p in v) please wrap it before you tap it)), oral (m! receiving) finger sucking, sub/don undertones but nothing serious, i swear on my life oscar piastri is a grunt and groaner but simultaneously considerably vocal during sex (i will die on that rock), afab! reader, readers kinda uncaring about who she hurts because she’s hurt, reader is referred to as she/her, miscommunication trope, oscar piastri has been in love with reader since the beginning of the season and just assumed one-sided pining. authors refusal to write with capitals, you can pry them out of her cold dead hands.

faceclaim: sofia dirado, although feel free to imagine reader as anyone else.

word count: 4.1k +

YOU WERE NO STRANGER TO HEARTACHE.

you fear it followed you around more often than not, like a dark cloud that covered your entire existence in this bubble of heartbreak that nothing ever felt good to you, nothing was ever worth it. from your parents divorcing after years of suffering in a loveless marriage to every single relationship you’d ever been in never making past the first time you sleep together — you’ve genuinely felt about giving up on life, going so far as to consider a life as a celibate nun or maybe not, perhaps just the life of a girl who burns through multiple packs of AA batteries using her rose toy.

however, when you’d met levi, your first year of finally being allowed to leave the mclaren technology centre to shadow tom stalland during the 2023 f1 season. you genuinely thought this man had reshaped your entire perspective of love, he made love easy, made loving him feel less like a sport and more like a hobby you could never get sick of, being with hom felt like you’d been going through all the “firsts” all over again, like a cheesy romance movie monologue.

and yet, here you are, sat in your hotel room after the japan gp, suzuka has always been your favourite gp to watch and unfortunately for some reason, instead of standing in the mclaren garage doing your job, you’re sat clad in your team clothes (a stark contrast to the white bed linen) and sobbing over a text message paragraph explicitly telling you that levi has decided to break up with you after he fell in love with someone else during the summer break, someone who “rewired his brain chemistry in a ways you could never do.” you want to get angry, you wish you were an angry person, instead when you got angry you cried, when you got too happy or even just laughed too hard you cried, you were a crier.

your heart is heavy, as you scroll through the other woman’s posts, she’s gorgeous, and that’s where you begin your myriad of self deprecating comparisons of you to her. you doom scroll for what feels like forever until you spiral even further down the heartbreak rabbit hole, your attention drawn to the fact that levi had both unfollowed and removed you as a follower at some point between when he said goodnight and then broke up with you the next day. you watch as stories of their summer break spent together is shared and your jealousy sends you into a blind rage that you block the both of them; because ultimately you knew that he will hold her life he used to hold you — for levi was boring, a one trick pony you’re only just now coming to terms with.

your disheveled appearance and self imposed seclusion from the events of the day were not left unnoticed, you’d resigned yourself to just stand on the outskirts, occasionally moving to sit down and watch the screens as the friday practice begun, you’re uninterested, unmotivated and trying your dandiest to not cry, for the sole reason of simultaneously not wanting to draw unwanted attention to yourself and the fact that the mascara you’re bought at the duty free at the airport was most definitely not waterproof.

the good thing was that you’d be in japan for the rest of the weekend, the worse thing was you knew not s language lick of the language — sure you could probably call someone an idiot in japanese thanks to the sheer amount of one piece you’d watched eith levi during days he didn’t want to do anything you had planned or suggested; however, the single knowledge of know the word idiot in japanese will not get her very far. you’re almost too zoned out to notice the first free practice had finished, oscar’s team engineer tom standall dismisses you, tells you that whatever happened before you came to track is to be sorted out before it potentially jeopardises a race and without a word or argument against hai decision you shuffle out of the garage and into the paddock.

“name, hey wait — wait up” a voice you’ve only heard considerable muffled by a racing helmet and through large oversized noise cancelling team gear headphones when you got to play pretend engineer whenever it was during his practice laps and his qualifying laps, it sends a shiver up your spine, always has and you’re unknowing if it always will.

“oscar? hey! you did so good today, from what i say, p3 is so awesome how are you not more elated about that!” you’d found yourself smiling, wide across your face and sinking into the gentle rhythm of the conversation with oscar. the smile he returns is equally as wide as if his whole face were smiling, you want to punch him — the cuteness aggression playing devil on your shoulder.

“oh nah, i am actually it just hasn’t like kicked in gully yet, i’m waiting for the full body visceral reaction i’m about to have,” he pauses for a brief moment, hands itchy to fiddling with something snd find solitude in dragging one hand after the other through his tangled and sweaty hair. “like just, honestly, jesus christ and in japan of all places fuckin’ hell” he seems both simultaneously out of breath and ready to compete in a marathon.

had it not been a considerably formal setting you swore you can picture him jumping up and down on the spot whilst trying to contain all of his excitement, you allow him to be excited not wanting your own mood and misery to overshadow his complete and utter elation at his podium win. it’s the first time in the few days you’d been moping about that the smile you give off reaches your eyes and oscar’s always paying attention to these things, unbeknownst to you of course.

“your excitement is infectious, surely the team have planned something celebratory for you! you’ve gotta celebrate this i’m sure lando is!” you can’t help but practically beam, you’re mesmerised by the excitement the unashamed amount of happiness this boy is oozing and the bitter feeling in your stomach over it all is just barely going by unnoticed.

oscar shakes his head, overs a tiny shrugs and barely gets another word into the conversation you teo ate having before he’s whisked away by the team to be dragged off towards the podium, you watch as he shakes the bottle of champagne onto lando and max. any and all brief untouched moments of happiness are immediately replaced when your phones buzzes, a notification alert from your ring door bell and the video supplied of your now ex boyfriend grabbing whatever stuff he’d left at your apartment. the situation just breaks your heart even further than when with the whole of the mclaren team being called upon for s group shot with both the boys and their podium wins you ignore it and decided you’d had enough of it all.

the hotel’s quiet as you tap your keycard against the inside of your hand waiting for the elevator to come back down, the traffic from the track back to the designated hotel meant you’d wound up leaving just as all the other drivers had and whilst you weren’t in the mood to face anymore interactions you were lucky to bypass the small group of fans loitering in the hotel lobby. the elevator itself is slow, like most and the way your stomach drops at the incline is almost akin to how you felt when you’d first received that break up text at the start of the week.

if there was one thing you were thankful for, it was the fact the hotel had a bar just off the lobby, which is where you’d found yourself, skirt a little too short, shoes a little too high and too the perfect amount of booby that you won’t get in too much trouble but also attract someone willing to take away the ache in your chest for the night.

you’d been sat at the bar for just under an hour, occasionally chatting to some of the other patrons but mostly the bartender herself; the paper straw mushy and impossible to drink out of sits on a napkin as you sip on the glass uncaring or the lipstick mark on the rim or the smudging it does to your own lipstick — in fact you’re hoping something else smudges the lipstick further if the night doesn’t continue to progress as slowly as it is.

“can i get a beer, whatever you’ve got in the bottle and another one of what she’s drinking” there it is again, the chill on your spine and the heightened sense of the hand that brushes past your ear to give the bartender a bank card. every single nerve ending in your body is on fire when the stool beside you in moved and a body now begins to occupy it, perhaps you’re a bit drunk, you’d already had two of these and what if the different alcohol consumption laws you’re unsure how much alcohol is actually in the fruity little cocktail you’d ordered.

“oscar piastri, i thought i told you to go celebrate your podium with lando, why are you still at the hotel?” there is is, a tone you’d never thought you’d use with someone who wass essentially your bosses boss, which therefore makes him your boss, and yet here you are — sultry tone and lips loosened by the alcohol in your system, shamelessly flirting with him.

“well, you see, i’m more of a pub person than i am someone who prefers nightclubs and being touched and bumped into by random strangers, i fear that’s more of a lando thing than my own” oscar laughs, the way he’s relaxed and carefree shows signs he did however, get roped into pregaming with lando beforehand, the neck of the beer bottle sits between his index and middle fingers, a comfortable position one you're sure would feel weird if you so much as tried to mimic.

you fear you're done for when it comes to watching the way his throat bobs as he takes a swig of the larger, it's a japanese brand one you've never heard of nor tried and you can tell oscar hasn't by the way his nose scrunches at the taste, he still continues to drink it though. time seems to float by, growing continually more comfortable with one another to the point you'd sauntered away from the bar stools and are sat perhaps not even an inch apart in a booth in the corner.

"favourite race destination, so far?" "monaco. most definitely, melbournes a close second, but that's just because of a personal bias" "personal bias?" "yeah. . . you."

you'd never thought to combine the flavours of japanese beer and strawberry liqueur, and yet here you were, back-pressed and arched up against the wall beside a hotel room that not yours, the elevator ride was one stop too long to have it be that you'd gone back to your hotel room, hands, not your own, are roaming places never thought to be touched, the bluntness of their nails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs has your separating from the kiss to lean your head back and full indulge in the simple pleasures received in this moment. arousal builds when soft lips find the pulse point in your neck, your choice signature scent perfume the most aromatic in that area brings a subconscious reaction from oscar, the thigh between your legs juts up and you also convulse right then and there, your own hands ove from holding the back of his neck to drag through his soft, product-free hair, tugging on the last few strands that slip through your fingers.

the beep of the room door unlocking pulls you to your senses, and a hand tight around your waist drags you inside, you cling onto him in the worst way possible, you can see the smudges of lipstick on the corners of his mouth and god, does he look beautiful. you're unsure for a moment, even if the alcohol had loosened you up a little, you still didn't know how to react around oscar, he's looking at you in a way you can't describe, it makes your stomach flip and you're eager, thighs clenching to distribute the friction of your building arousal. you want his lips on yours again, there's zero space between you, you're simply sharing each other's breath.

his hand finds the back of your neck, tangled in your darkened locks and pulls you back in for a kis, is soft, he must moisturise your brain supplies before it fizzes out, the kiss is messy, all teeth, tongues and spit. you whimper into the kiss, knees buckling, your own hands are on a mission sliding under the hem of his shirt to perfectly feel the warmth that radiates off his skin against your cold hands, you can feel the exact moment your cold touch makes him hiss into the kiss and it finally ignites the fire in your stomach. this is what you want.

you two remain lip-locked until your chest hurts and you've traded the same breath back and forth that it's completely died, when you pull away, you finally take notice of the blown-out pupils staring down at you. his a look entirely of lust, desire, arousal and it shows, especially with the bulge in his pants. your bottom lip finds sanctuary in between your teeth when you raise an eyebrow and one of your hands slips out from under his shirt to palm him through the cargo shorts he'd donned to wear.

if oscar's voice sent a shiver down your spine, the way he groaned at your touch against his bulge chilled you from the inside out, the noise rough and gravelly like he'd not uttered a word in weeks, it's deep and low in his chest that you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't practically flush against him. your hand continues to palm him, making riskier moves as your other hand moves to dip your fingers into the waistband of his pants, you don't wait, you don't even need to ask for permission when his own hands are practically shucking off his own clothes for you.

he looks so gorgeous standing right in front of you, the wet patch you can only assume of precum on the front of his boxers has you licking your lips involuntarily, you try to ignore the voices, fight the urgers but you're but a simple girl, eager to please, that you're flicking your gaze up at him as your sink to your knees, the carpet is soft enough against you but you know better and are already seeing the red marks you'll have the next morning.

oscar looks confused for you in the briefest of moments, your nails dragging along his thighs, soft blonde hairs tickle your finger tips and you bite back the sweet giggle you want to let out as you're finally tugging his underwear down. a moment of shock halts your movement, eyes flicking up and down between oscar's gaze and his cock, tip pink, throbbing and leaking — it's a sight to be seen and you're the one who gets to gaze upon it.

your hand wraps around him, fingers barely meeting at the girth and you moan, can feel the saliva pooling in your mouth, your oral fixation working into overdrive, a single flick of your wrist has a louder groan rolling out of oscar's mouth, a quick "fuck" followed after it that as you once again clenching your thighs. your hand sets an easy rhythm, tried and true, one that allows for long strokes at a steady pace and your thumb to swipe between the slit on his tip that has his stomach clenching. his own hand grabs at your hair, both for something to hold onto and to keep it out of our face when you inch closer and allow your tongue to tease his tip with small kitten licks.

"fuck, fuck, name, fuck suck my cock"

the verbalised plea is all you need to finally wrap your lips around the swollen head, the saltiness of his precum mixing with your spit as you moan around him, your tongue swirls around his tip every time you pull back, only to resume bobbing your head and matching the movement of your hand to the pace you set as you take more of him in your mouth, your mouth feels so full and you can practically feel his dick pulse against your tongue when your other hand moves to squeeze his balls.

"holy shit — where did you learn that, fucking hell"

you smile when you pull away, uncaring of the drool that rolls down your chin, oscar seems not to mind either when he's pulling you back up to kiss him, your hand still stroking him slowly. he can taste his pre cum still on your tongue and as someone who'd assumed he wouldn't be fond of the idea, seems more or less enjoying it solely because it's coming from your mouth. his tongue overpowers your own and he's licking in your mouth with such severity that you can feel your own wetness pooling in your panties, had you been horny before you were now basically unbearably horny at this point.

your clothes feel bothersome, and your top and bra come off rather quick once your legs meet the edge of the bed you'd been pushed back against. the cool air of the hotel room meets your nipples and you gasp out once oscar's hot mouth chooses to settle on one and his hand favours the other. it's magic, that's what you can choose to blame it on, with the way oscar's fingers tug and twist one nipple all whilst his mouth and suck away on the other, your back arches up against him when his teeth graze the sensitive bud and you swear you could achieve your first orgasm of the night just from that alone.

his mouth switches to give the same treatment to the other nipple and yours that tug and pull on his hair only urge him on more, whining and desperate and what you want to happen is not happening. you need him, you crave him, you desire him.

"please oscar, fuck me"

there is it, the words oscar had been waiting to hear since you'd kissed him, and who would oscar be if not someone who listened when he was asked to do something. he sits up on his knees, jerks himself a couple of times as he watches you, skirt rugged up to your hips, a perfect picture, a sight for sore eyes, so beautiful, all for him to bare witness too. you back arches, your eager and needy and positively soaked you don't even need to touch yourself to know, your panties are finally pulled off and you hiss at the air that hits your center. you're clenching around nothing, sticky and sweet, eager, he looks up as your and you nods a final confirmation before you supply a weak "please" before his tip is aligning with your entrance and he's sliding in.

the stretch is everything to you, he is perfect, your hand stretching splayed out against the pillow as the tiniest whine falls from your lips, oscar grunts, face and chest flushed, you can hear exactly how we you are just from the squelch when he finally bottoms out and you moan loud enough that if anyone had been walking past the room they would have heard. oscar doesn't move, allowing for your pussy to stretch and get comfortable around him before you nod, rolling your hips to signal him to move and move he does.

"you're so tight, holy shit."

his hips rock back and forth into you, it's slow and sensual something you hadn't expected, your legs shift and wrap around his hips and your body rocks back against his thrusts willing him to move faster. unlike past partners, oscar seems to get the hint almost instantly as he pulls out and shifts slightly, hand holding onto your hips before he's sheathed himself back into you entirely in a singular thrust.

you moan out, toes curling and your legs wrapping around him so tight as if you'd practically become some sex-fueled boa constrictor. you swear his muscles are working overtime as his abdomen flexes with every deep thrust inside you, your body abuzz with electricity, the fire in your stomach scorching as a particular thrust has him hitting your g-spot and your back arching receptively.

in a world where you'd thought this was ever possible, all imaginations and scenarios have proven wrong already as oscar's thumb finds solace on drawing circles on your clit, causing your pussy to clench around him and a hiss to drag itself from his lips. to oscar you feel amazing and the flush on your face perfect evidence of his inability to be shy about telling you so and all you can do is ooh and ahh in return. something pulls in your stomach when he bottoms out in you again, your leg twitches and you're hyperaware that you'd just orgasmed around him, vocalising how it feels and your back arching however, his hips remain relentless only to come to a halt as he pulls out; your words are stopped as you're flipped over with a gentle tap against your thigh.

arms stretched out in front of you and your back arched, give oscar the perfect view to just take a moment to stare at your fluttering pussy, clenching around nothing as you suffer through a partially stunted orgasm. fingers drag through your folds and your body jerks at the sensitivity, the dip between them, pumping in and out similar to the rhythm he kept previous, his middle finger hooks and your face is thrown forward into the pillow as it hits the spongey feel of your g-spot, you gasp out hand white-knuckling the pillow as he focusses his fingers on that one particular spot

"fuck osc – fuck want you back inside me"

you don't bother with caring much about how whiney and desperate you'd begun to sound, throat dry from the gasping and the continuous noises he pulls from you, your tempting him, ass swaying as he chuckles, pulling his fingers out, he coo's at you as you whine to mourn the loss of the feeling, teases you as he slips the tip of his dick through your flushed red folds and bottom out with a quick hard thrust. you scream out, the pleasure perfectly combining with the sudden stretch to make the sweetest mixture of pain and pleasure you'd ever felt and to silence you, the fingers he'd just fucked you with had found the way into your mouth and if there was one thing you were, it was a good girl.

the sounds reverberating around the walls of the hotel room are borderline pornographic, the new pace oscar has set, deep and hard, skin slapping against skin as he practically bounces off you, his free holding your hip steady as your own knees buckle and you can feel the way his dick pulses inside you, the way his movements become sloppy yet still hitting your pleasure spot every time. the fingers in your mouth licked clean of your own arousal now replaced to be covered in your own drool. oscar grunts, his hips snapping against you in a final thurst as he slumps forward to press the most delicate of kisses to the nape of your neck as he feels you up and you cum around him for a second time.

it's messy, whatever hadn't spilt inside you now jerked off onto your back as your knees give out and you slump against the bed. worn out and woozy you're hardly paying attention to oscar cleaning up, the warm washcloth drags along your hot, sticky and sweaty skin in a way that twists your brain and brings out the regret that seeps into your stomach, had your legs not been feeling like they weren't attached to your body you would have scrambled to get dressed and done the walk of shame back to your own hotel room; however, you stay, regretfully.

you don't cuddle, oscar tries not to act hurt about it as you roll over and away from him when he finally climbs in himself. to you this didn't matter, you fucked him, like nothing matters. come the morning you'll be gone before he wakes. because this didn't mean a thing. to you as least.

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oscarpiastri oh.

authors note: please excuse my smut skills, i'm rusty a lil ngl. i love a bittersweet ambiguous ending. if this gets enough recognition and asks, i'll definitely more than likely make a part two or even multiple parts. reminder, if you weren't tagged it means i couldn't find your account.

add yourself to the taglist here !

taglist: @iluminaya @therealcap @marshmummy @@im-an-overthinker @a1leexxa @chasing-liberosis @marauderssworld @nesssywrites @valntynebaby @larastark3107 @justtprachisblog

[unclewaynemunson]

Water was wet. Nights were dark. And Steve Harrington was straight. Those were all facts. Sure, Steve could see what made a man attractive, but that merely meant he wasn't blind, not that he wasn't straight. He loved girls. He loved holding delicate hands, he loved feeling soft curves underneath his fingers, he loved the taste of lipgloss on his lips, legs sticking out of skirts, the sound of high-pitched giggling, elegant feet in high heels...

So yeah, even if he saw what made a man attractive, he was still straight. Even if he could, hypothetically, see himself being attracted to some abstract man in some abstract scenario, he was still straight. He loved girls, so who cared if every now and then, he would turn his head to stare at a strong pair of male arms or a particularly well-shaped male bum? Who cared if, by high exception, he could lose himself in some fantasies of doing certain things with a guy instead of a girl? He loved girls. He would fall in love with a girl, and she with him, and they would get married and have kids, and he would be perfectly happy with that. So he was straight. It was a fact.

Or, well, it was a fact until it wasn't. Until the most mundane afternoon possible happened. Until he was sitting on the steps in front of the Munsons' trailer, with Eddie beside him and a sixpack placed between the two of them. It was one of those early spring days, when birds chirped louder and the sun made all the colors pop out just a little bit more and life was good.

Their beer wasn't cooled properly. Their snacks were very mediocre. They weren't talking about anything remarkable. And yet, they were only one moment away from Steve's whole sense of identity changing irrevocably. They were headed right towards a moment he would remember for the rest of his life.

Maybe deep down, he knew that he had been falling for a while, but he was an expert at ignoring inconvenient things. He had been able to call it friendship, or fascination, or even annoyance when he needed to get creative. So later, whenever someone would ask him when he fell in love with Eddie, he would always go back to this particular moment.

Eddie laughed about some lame joke Steve made and took another sip of his beer. And Steve's senses zeroed in on him like he had just unlocked some higher plane of existence. He noticed everything like he had never done before. The movement of his adam's apple when he swallowed, the curve of his neck, the way his curls cascaded over his shoulders looking as soft as sheep's wool... And, when he tilted his head back and looked at Steve again, the color of his eyes when the sun hit them just right: brown as rosewood and dark chocolate and acorns. As a small piece of autumn undefeated by this early spring day.

He felt an overwhelming urge to clash his lips against Eddie's right there, to feel stubble instead of lipgloss and wrap his arms around someone who was made of sharp edges instead of soft curves, to hold a big hand adorned with rings that were anything but delicate, to hear deep laughter instead of high-pitched giggles, maybe even a low moan against his ear...

It was in that moment that he understood what it really meant to be straight – and that it wasn't what he was.

He understood that it didn't matter how much he loved girls. It didn't exempt him from loving boys, and he couldn't choose who he'd fall in love with like he thought he could. He loved this boy right in front of him, the one who was currently talking a mile a minute and didn't notice a thing about the current drastic renovation of Steve's entire brain chemistry. And if he allowed himself to keep falling, he might just end up loving boys just as much as he loved girls.

---

(idc how overdone the eddie-being-steve's-bi-revelation trope is, you can pry it from my cold dead hands. Here's yet another version of it and yes i will project my own experience on steve, no one can stop me)

[the-californicationist]

Hey🐻❤ Can i say something ? Yeah ? Sooo

Price and Reader have sex in an abandoned parking lot after going to a bar🍻

That's all I had to say 🙇‍♀️❤

omg hot!!! hope this is kinda what you were looking for. im so sorry for the wait. thank you for being patient with me!

The After Party

The MacTavish wedding was the party of the century, and you were feeling the effects of their pricey Brut champagne. Your husband, John, had stolen a bottle for you, and you were nearly half-done with it, carefully pulling it up to your lips and letting the tiny bubbles pop on your tongue. 

Even though it was almost dawn, the party was still raging inside the bar Johnny had rented out. John had taken you aside and whispered into your ear,

“C’mon. Have a smoke with me, missus.”

While the newlyweds were distracted by their guests, so you and the captain had made a break for it, sneaking out of the reception undetected. You smiled, following him out back into the parking lot, admiring his ass in those silky black slacks. He always looked so fit when he got dressed up, even if he hated every minute of it.

John headed to his truck, popping open the door and digging around for another cigar. You leaned against the tailgate, trying to find some relief for your aching feet. John noticed your discomfort,

“Those heels botherin’ you, love?”

“Yeah,” you sighed.

“Here,” he helped you up onto his tailgate, sitting you on the cold metal, “Let’s sit for a while. Give me a chance to enjoy this.” He wiggled the fat cigar in his hands, smiling at you. 

“Aren’t they gonna miss us?” You nodded to the bar, listening to the sound of muffled dance music coming from its bright, glowing windows. 

“Ah, I’m sure the happy couple is plenty distracted.”

John hopped up on the tailgate with you, puffing on his cigar, making sure the tip was evenly lit. When he was happy with it, he offered it to you. You took it, sucking the smoke into your mouth and tasting its sweet tobacco and vanilla notes. It was a huge cigar, so too much of it and you’d really be wasted. The champagne was already enough to make your cheeks hot. 

You closed your eyes, trying to sober up a bit. John’s hand rubbed your bare back, fiddling with the straps of your low-cut dress as he fussed over you. 

“Is my girl a little bevied up tonight? Maybe I should take that bottle back,” he laughed at you, teasing you good-naturedly. 

“No,” you clutched the bottle like a prize, playing with him, “Pry it out of my cold, dead hands, mister.”

He held his hands up in mock-surrender, 

“Alright, alright. Just don’t blame me when you get into trouble.”

“What trouble?” You took his cigar from him again and purposefully took a long drag, challenging him, trying to goad him into flirting with you. 

He fell into your trap, chuckling as he took one of his fingers and traced his way from your sparkling gold necklace all the way down into the cleavage of your dress, making you gasp, 

“You know what trouble,” he leaned in for a smoky kiss, stealing his stick back, “My woman, dressed like that, gettin’ sloshed on champagne… I know where this path leads.”

“Oh?” You giggled, running your palm across his heavy thigh, feeling his muscles through the expensive cloth, “Where’s that?”

“I’ll show you.” He raised his eyebrows, getting a little smart with you, and hopped off of the tailgate. He stood in front of you, cigar bitten in his mouth, and used both of his hands to pull you closer to him, forcing your legs apart to accommodate his wide body. 

You giggled, letting yourself be man-handled, enjoying every moment of it. 

Then, he reached both of his warm hands up under the glittering hem of your dress, tracing up your legs, feeling their shaved smoothness, until he found your hips. John smiled, balancing the cigar expertly on his lips, enjoying the surprised look on your face. His fingers twirled around the straps of your thong, and he pulled it off of you, guiding it over your knees and past your strappy heels, admiring the gold lace that filled his palm. 

He brought the panties to his nose and dodged your half-hearted kick as you admonished him, 

“John!” 

“What?” He was incredulous, “I know this smell.”

He had the audacity to sniff them again, and you smacked him on his chest, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him react. John smiled, recoiling, teasing you, 

“Smells like sloshed, horny wife, so it does. Mmm.”

“Oh, my God! What if someone saw you?” You hissed, laughing in pure shock at your husband’s actions. 

“And?” He put on a serious face for you then, pocketing your panties, spreading your legs, and tucking his body between them again, getting right up in your face and taking a long pull from his cigar, letting the smoke linger between you, cascading down his full lip. He snarled, “Who’s gonna stop me? Did you see any bloke in there bigger than me? Stronger, hm?”

You shook your head, feeling your heart race with excitement at his sudden dominance. Even if you knew he was just trying to get you riled up, it was working. 

“Did you see anyone who would have the bollocks to stop me from touching my woman…” His hands were wandering, rubbing your smooth thigh up and down, pulling on the tight muscle of your calf, “Whenever, or wherever I want?”

You shook your head again, biting your lip, leaning back into the bed of the truck, letting your breasts lift towards his face, taunting him with your skin. 

He took one of your shoulder straps and pulled it down, letting it dangle across your arm. As it did, the top of its delicate fabric triangle folded, lower and lower, until the top of your breast was exposed, falling almost as low as your nipple. 

His eyes narrowed, giving you a hard stare,

“Give me your hand, missus.”

You held out your hand, palm up, submitting to his whim. 

He took it in his and pulled you forward, lowering your arm until your fingers felt the rigid marble cock he was concealing behind his zipper. John pressed your palm on him, flexing his muscle for you, letting you feel his desire.

You were leaning so far over that his face was right by your ear, and he whispered to you, menacingly, 

“If I wanted to, I’d have taken you in that bar, and there’s not a fuckin’ man alive who could stop me.”

“So,” you said, staring him down, showing him your fearless hunger, “Take me, then.”

It was his turn to wear a mask of surprise on his face, but it quickly turned to joy. He hopped up into the truck bed with you and pulled you inside, lifting the tailgate closed with a loud slam. 

John kept a thick blanket in the truck bed for emergencies, and he folded it up, laying you down on it, making sure you were comfortable. He kissed your neck, but he wasted no time in peeling down the top of your dress, exposing your nipples to the night air. You took the cigar from him so he could suckle on your flesh, leaving little hickies where he wanted to, something for you to admire later. 

You smoked his cigar, letting it get you high as your husband fondled you. His mouth was hot and greedy, and you realized John was a little more worked up than you had previously assumed. You could feel him thrusting against you absentmindedly, not realizing he was doing it, rubbing himself against your beaded gown.

You caught his furry jaw in your hands, pulling him away from his delicious work, dragging him up to kiss your mouth. You shared his smoke between you, letting it fill your senses. You’d take a drag in, share it with him, letting it fall into his lips, and then kiss him through it, tasting each other among the warm notes. 

“John,” you whispered between his wet kisses, “I need you.”

“Need to work up to it, love. Don’t wanna hurt you,” he whispered, rucking up your dress. 

You smiled, knowing he would realize the truth in just a moment. Indeed, as soon as you felt his fingertips dip into your pussy, his eyes shot up in shock and wonder. He breathed in a gasp, dipping his finger into you again, not believing what he was feeling, 

“You are so wet for me. Naughty girl. So ready for your man’s cock, hm?”

“I told you,” you kissed him, feeling his finger sink deeper inside of you, drowning in you, “I’m ready for you, John. Don’t make me wait.”

He brought his hand to his mouth and sucked you off of his skin. Then, he went back for seconds, dipping his forefinger into you like you were the batter of a cake, sugary sweet and forbidden. 

Then, once he had his fill of your taste, he fumbled with his slacks, raking his black leather belt off in one long pull, letting it clatter somewhere in the metal bed of the truck. His fingers pried open his button and yanked down his zipper, freeing his fat rod and jerking it with his hand. 

Unceremoniously, and in a bit of a rush, he mounted you, rucking up your dress even further. You spread yourself for him, wrapping your legs around his strong glutes, feeling them squeeze together to help him thrust into your hungry core. 

It was a tight fit, as usual. John was always so heavy and thick; you had a hard time working up to his size. But, you took a deep breath and let your wetness glide him in. His ragged sigh of relief was intoxicating. 

“Oh, bloody hell, missus.” He furrowed his brow as if in pain.

“You alright, John?” You tried to relax, but you could feel your body responding without you, pulsing around him with a warm, eagerness. 

“You’re warm, baby. Just what I needed. So fuckin’ good to me.”

He ducked his head into the crook of your neck and began to thrust into you, deeper and deeper until he found his end. In the back of your mind, as you gazed up at the sparkling stars, you hoped no one could hear you, but your husband’s earlier dominance made you care a little less. And as he built you up to a frothing orgasm, you found yourself caring not at all. 

Suddenly, the music from the bar got louder, and you heard the door slam closed to the bar. John stilled above you, covering you with his body, watching over his shoulder for someone to come by. Your heart was beating hard in your chest, and you gave his cock a squeeze from inside of you, pulling at his shaft with your muscle. He looked down at you, smiling, and gave you a quick pulse in return, teasing you. Both of you were clearly excited about the prospect of being caught. 

Footsteps made their way through the gravel lot, the loud jingle of keys, a door opening and slamming shut. Then, their engine revved and they pulled away, leaving you alone again. 

“Filthy little thing,” John whispered, picking up his pace again, “Squeezin’ me like that. You tryin’ to get caught, missus?”

“Just wanna make you feel good, John. Want to feel you come in me.”

“Christ,” he lamented, clenching his teeth and fucking you faster, obviously heated by your words and your wet, sticky desire, “Squeeze me again, then. Yeah… ungh… just like that. Keep doin’ that, pretty girl. You’ll get your wish.”

When he thrust into you, you tried to relax, letting his cock slip inside. Then, when he tried to leave, you twisted your muscles against him, pulling him in, trying to milk his come from his swollen head. It was driving him wild. His eyes fluttered, rolling back into his head as he thrust into you, harder and harder, chasing down your orgasm with a vengeance. 

He put his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself, growling at you through clenched teeth, 

“Suck.”

You grabbed his hand with both of yours, feeling your tits bouncing as he fucked you, holding his fingers in your mouth, and you began to suckle on them dutifully. You could smell and taste your scent, and it was making you feral. You let your tongue loll between his fingers, sucking hard on his sensitive tips, watching his face as his jaw fell slack. 

Then, he pulled them away from you and used them to rub against your clit, one finger on either side, making tight circles and teasing you until your legs began to shake. 

“Holy fuck,” he said, watching you fall apart, “Such a good girl for me, aren’t ya? Gonna come on me, baby?”

You nodded, plucking at your nipples, squeezing your breasts as they shook from his thrusting. 

“Good girl. Come on me. Let me feel it.”

You felt your body go rigid as the bright, flashing pleasure coiled its way into your belly, and you couldn’t help but let out a deep moan. Quick as a flash, John kissed you, letting you moan into his mouth instead of into the night air, quieting you as you exploded underneath him, shamelessly bucking against his hard length as you rode out your pleasure. 

He kept kissing you, sucking at your tongue and bottom lip, talking to you through your bliss, 

“That’s it. Just what I needed, pretty girl. Love this fuckin’ pussy.”

“I love you, John,” you said, suddenly overwhelmed with your emotions and the deep sensations he was giving you. 

It caught him off-guard, and he smiled from it, 

“I love you too, baby. You ready for me, hm?”

You nodded, whispering a yes into his neck. He looked at you with a pleading expression, 

“Tell me.”

“I need your come, John. Come in me. Fill me up, please. I want you to come in my pussy.  I want it running down my legs.”

“Oh, fuck!” He raised his voice just for a moment, but you didn’t care.

As you watched him tumble into his orgasm, shuddering between your legs, nothing would distract you from that gorgeous scene. His face twisted and then relaxed, exhausted from his efforts, a half-smile painted on his lips.

He looked down at you in surprise, breathing heavy and recovering. He slid himself out of you, leaving you with a terrible emptiness. You felt his cream drip from your body, and he wiped his cock on your thigh before he tucked himself back into his dress pants. 

John collapsed next to you in the truck bed, staring up at the stars for the first time, resting his head on your breast. 

You were wrecked, and you pet his hair, softly soothing yourself with him. 

He looked up at you, that playfulness returning to his eyes, 

“Runnin’ down your legs, hm?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes, 

“Yeah, so? You seemed to like the idea, mister.”

“I do,” he kissed your breast and took your nipple into his mouth, watching you squirm from being overstimulated, “In fact, I think it’s a good idea.”

“You’re not serious,” you gasped. 

“C’mon. No one’ll notice.”

He sat up, checked the surroundings to make sure the coast was clear and then helped you up. He lowered the tailgate and helped you stand. Your feet still ached in your shoes, and you had to catch yourself on his strong arm. He steadied you, making sure you were alright before he grabbed your hand and led you back inside. 

“I can’t believe we’re doing this, John,” you felt your cheeks blush bright red. 

“Be brave, missus. I’ll make it worth your while later.”

His face suggested more of his dirty fun, and you nodded, crossing your fingers no one looked at you too closely. 

Luckily, no one had noticed your absence. John helped you into a booth and ordered two more glasses of champagne, sliding into the seat beside you. All night, through the slit of your gown, he rubbed your leg, getting little drops of his come and playing with it on your skin, working you up and teasing you in front of all of your friends, secretly smearing his gift into your thigh. 

All night, and during the drive home, you couldn’t keep his hands off of your legs. He kept playing with you, getting bolder and bolder by the minute. When you got into the house, he stripped you, leaving your gown abandoned on the kitchen floor, carrying you straight into the den and laying you on the couch, not even bothering to make it to the bedroom.

He had a burning look in his eye as he commanded you, taking off his clothes as he barked his orders, 

“Spread your legs, missus. Let me see you. Wider.”

You did as you were told, your mind reeling from his threatening tone, eager to submit to him again. 

“Mm. You are fuckin’ gorgeous covered in my come. It’s everywhere,” he stared at your pussy and your inner thighs with wonder, using his hands to feel the shining fluids coating your skin. 

Then, to your shock, he bent to lick you clean, sucking on your folds and lapping at your wet hole, wriggling his tongue deeper and deeper, trying to eat himself out of you. 

“John!” You gasped, “What are you — ungh, fuck!”

His fingers fucked you as he ate from you, swallowing what your body gave him, licking up his mess from your legs and lips like a hungry dog, ignoring your cries of protest. 

“You want me to stop, missus?”

You shook your head, petting his scalp and scratching your fingers through it.

“Aye,” he grinned, “Didn’t think so. Hope you’re ready for round two.”

If you enjoyed this story, please consider a reblog! Thank you!!

AO3 Link

[wordy-little-witch]

I am now hip deep in the Edge of Midnight campaign from legends of avantris and lemme tell you some shit -

1) I would lay down my life for Jericho Sticks without any hesitation. Torbek and Jericho are my sons now, no takesies backsies.

2) Lethica and Marius are so perfectly aligned to be end game lovers but I personally adore the idea of them being queerplatonic if only bc it's funny to watch people be confused and I think Lethica would adore that.

3) you can pry the concept of Briggsy having a some kind of magical fantasy cellphone equivalent from my cold dead hands - sending stone or smth idfk - and he's been keeping his buddy/boyfriend Torbek updated on all this like "Becky you would not BELIEVE what happened today-" ((listen I know the flirting bit between them in the yuletide one-shot was a feycurse but leave me alone it's funny as fuck))

4) briggsy @ jericho in ep 24 appropos nothing: Jerry, maybe we have to kiss ((sad, silly twinks with Literal Darksides are his type /j))

5) I have a friend-crush on Nikkie and I will never recover

6) I have an unyielding NEED to have Jericho get a final hit on a boss and yell yeehaw

7) I know stylistically Jericho doesn't have "skin" but I personally hc that his clothes aren't effectively his skin, he has a burlap body - and he has "tattoos" in the form of embroidery. It started when he had to stitch up his own cuts and stuff and he just kept it up.

8) Only Yorgrim has any constant sense of cooking in an actual kitchen-like setting. Farryn, Marius, and Briggsy can do journey or on-the-road cooking, but it's never.... great. Lethica burns everything somehow or gets the bright idea to 'experiment', and it's never good - she's fine if she's got clear end goals. Jericho is understandably skittish around fire due to his body and straw, but he is the closest to being able to cook well and do so semi regularly.

9) Virgil is a weird mix of a hater and lowkey overprotective. He does hate being imprisoned, but also he's kinda bound here so he HAS to keep this disaster of a bard safe. He refuses to admit he might have a soft spot. He is Stressed.

10) Farryn doesn't get the appeal of Girls Nights, but Jericho does!!! They join Lethica for some fun relaxation. Briggsy once asked why Jericho was allowed since he's also a dude, and Lethica just responded "he's allowed to be there - on account of him being a scarecrow and not a literal man after all." It's an inside joke which later has to be explained - Jericho is nonbinary but doesn't rightly care about stuff like that.

11) Yorgrim is the group dad, no I will not explain.

12) sometimes after a battle, Lethica and Marius will help stitch up some of Jericho's tears. Farryn may also add in random flowers she finds around because it makes him happy.

13) Briggsy is small but mighty. The only person he has yet to pick up and carry is Yorgrim - he swears that one day that tombstone will be gone and he'll be able to do it. It's all the rock's fault, he's sure of it.

Spoilers under the cut (caught up to present)

OKAY so I am caught up completely and have decided that Canon is not important leave me alone

• Yorgrim did not die - he got wounded heavily but survived.

• Farryn almost got taken but they got to her in time. She is mute for a time due to injuries and trauma - idk if she ever talks again bc we could use more sign language in the world. Maybe it comes and goes, fuck if I know, idk and idc

ONWARDS TO SILLIES

• Lethica strong armed her way into giving Jericho The Talk after he revealed he had no idea what a penis was. Scarecrows cannot blush, but apparently his fiendish glow can ebb and flow and he glows much MUCH brighter when he's embarrassed - she tries so hard not to laugh.

• Adella and Jericho btw are simply besties. His "crush" on her is a friend crush and Phillip just finds it painfully cute. ((Also -> Jericho has mommy issues and Adella always wanted a son/nephew/little brother. Peaceful alignment))

• Dark Mode Marius is a colossal flirt but still a giant dweeb. He's cool and suave until someone flirts back - then he's a mess.

• Briggsy is very happy with his Kannon & makes "shooting my shot" jokes at every and any opportunity

• Yorgrim, with his reward, manages to finally lay many souls tonrest but he still carries the tombstone on journeys - just not constantly now. He still believes he must pay penance, but it's a little easier to share the burden.

• Farryn, with her own reward, has not chosen to activate it yet. Something tells her to wait, to bide her time and remain. She does, however, get a little more at ease with the others. She and Jericho have come to an understanding, too - that being they they are a package deal, no takesies backsies, and they refer to each other as twin, much to the confusion of many, many, many people. WLW and NBLM solidarity.

• Jericho is pining HARD for Marius, but he's absolutely terrified of damaging the friendship so everyone is watching two oblivious dummies look longingly into each other.

• POLYAMORY POLYAMORY POLYAMORY

• Marius grows rather fond of Virgil, and the sentiment is very much NOT reciprocated bc this angry knight vampire is not good enough for his vessel and he's mad about it.

• Yorgrim: I've only had my friends for a few days, but if anything happened to them, I'd kill everyone in Druskenvald and then myself.

• I fully expect for Jericho to somehow befriend an enemy in disguise, not realize, and accidentally fuck up the evil plan with the powers of puns, music and friendship (/j)

• the first time the party sees Jericho presenting more feminine, he's been lended one of Lethica's dresses after his own clothes got torn up and the rest are being washed. Marius has a nosebleed and faints. Briggsy is staring somewhat respectfully. Lethica is trying valiantly not to laugh. Farryn and Yorgrim regret not dying when they had the chance.

• Marius: i cannot have a relationship because I have sworn to follow the duchess of sin

Lillith: whoa hold up, Do Not use me as an excuse to avoid the cutie pie over there. Besides, he has a demon. I'm queen of hell. I can make a small exception.

Marius: shit

• Briggsy Bi Icon: OH if ONLY Jerry here had a DASHING KNIGHT to SAVE THEM from this PERILOUS INCIDENT

Jericho: captain, I'm just getting off of a horse??

Marius: no no Briggsy has a point, no maiden should be unaccompanied or unassisted. Allow me-

Lethica&Farryn: We Know What You Are

• Yorgrim is watching all this inter party flirting and is definitely wondering if he's gonna have to have an aside with everyone about flirting tactics and communication skills. Briggsy is making it worse by enabling everyone.

• Farryn gets some sweet, succulent healing, that is all.

[hanahaki-disease]

Mouth of Infinity

A Percy Jackson x DC crossover

Summary:

“Lying on their stomach on the other side of the roof was a boy his age. Percy knew the kid. He was in fourth grade class, but he didn’t really talk to the others. Preferring to stick by himself and fiddle with the camera he took with him everywhere.”

Tim and Percy are Best Friends and you can pry that from my cold, dead hands

****************************************

Percy grunted, pulling himself up and over the last rung of the ladder. The concrete-asphalt of the roof beneath him dug into his back uncomfortably, but he was just glad that he didn’t have to climb anymore. A light drizzle had begun to fall during his climb, making everything the tiniest bit slippery, but Percy didn’t mind. He liked the rain. It was calming and peaceful and if he was delusional enough, he could pretend it was the ocean. With gentle waves crashing ashore over and over again.

He sat up, eyes trailing over the various shades of white and yellow from the apartments and offices of the buildings around him. With one hand, he traced the imaginary lines that connected them to each other like constellations. One cluster looked like the Pleiades, another a wonky Corvus, there were quite a few rams, and if he squinted and tilted his head almost all the way upside down there was an Orion. But that wasn’t what he was there for.

Lying on their stomach on the other side of the roof was a boy his age. A large hoodie dwarfed his body and the hood was pulled up to hide his head, but the kid size eight Robin inspired sketchers that gave him away. Percy knew the kid. He was in fourth grade class, but he didn’t really talk to the others. Preferring to stick by himself and fiddle with the camera he took with him everywhere.

“Hey Tim, what’cha doing?” Percy laid next to him, peering around his hand to see what was on his camera.

“Ah!” Tim yelped and tucked the device close to his chest. “Percy? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, you know,” He retaliated. “What were you taking pictures of?”

“Batman and Robin.” Tim brought the camera closer to Percy, showing off the amateur shots. They were pretty good if Percy had to say so himself. Some were a bit blurry, but the best one was of Jason sitting next to his favorite gargoyle. Mouth open in a smile as if he was laughing with the stone statue. Another one had Jason with his arms wrapped around Bruce’s neck, little green booties barely touching the ground beneath him.

Percy knew his dad was Batman and that his brother was Robin. Hell, the first time they met Bruce (technically) was when Jason was stealing the tires off the Batmobile. But Percy wasn’t really interested in being a Robin like his brother or like Dick. It just didn’t call to him the same way it did for Jason. And besides, Jason had to worry about Percy ever since Catherine died, he didn’t want his big brother to worry about him jumping around Gotham with a target on his back. And Jason was happy being Robin, Percy didn’t want to take that from him.

That doesn’t mean Percy wasn’t down in the cave with them though. He had a spot next to Alfred on comms and was a pretty good stitch when needed. He trained with Jason when he wanted and helped with cases as best he could—he wasn’t the best detective—and Bruce didn’t seem to mind when Percy put on his cowl and pretend to be him.

“Can you print this one for me?” Percy pointed to the camera. “It looks cool.” It was a simple portrait shot of the dynamic duo. Their backs faced the camera but Jason had turned to face Bruce, a wide smile and his hands in the air, as if he was talking animatedly about something. Bruce was giving him a smile, listening intently at his middle child.

“You sure?” Tim asked hesitantly.

“Yeah! I think it’s cool, do you have more?” Percy smiled and tucked his arms further under him. “How many do you have, I’ve seen you mess with your camera, like, all year, so you gotta have a whole bunch, right?” Tim nodded his head. “Neat! You wanna come over after school? You can bring your pictures over and tell me how you got them because , dude, if you’re climbing buildings every night to get them, you gotta be like, hella ripped.”

“You want me to come over?”

“Heck yeah! You’re a cool dude,” Percy said. “And you seem like you need friends. I don’t have any because no one wants to be with a street rat, they’re all too stuck up and snobby.”

“Especially Marie,” Tim chuckled.

“Don’t even get me started on Marie!” Percy groaned and dragged his hand over his face dramatically, smiling when Tim laughed.

Their conversation flowed naturally after that. Their laughter echoing in the alley below and making the lights of Gotham seem a little brighter. They talked about anything and everything that came to mind, and Tim was the first person besides Jason, Alfred, or Bruce who listened to his marine rants. He seemed genuinely interested with what Percy had to say, which was a relief, and in exchange Percy listened to Tim babble about the various heroes around the world.

They had to say goodbye to each other when the moon was beginning its decent, but they picked up their conversation in the morning as if they hadn’t stopped. It hadn’t seem to stop either, as the days go on, the two seemed joint at the hip. They played some amalgamation of Batman and Robin or Batman and Joker during recess, Percy would show Tim how to skateboard in the long drive way of Wayne Manor, Tim would teach Percy photography.

It wasn’t a rare sight to see them at the manor after school either, or following Jason like ducklings during galas. The few times Dick had been there, he tried to ignore Jason and Percy, but Tim was adamant about seeing him. And Percy knew why. Tim had been there the night the Graysons fell, sure, he was like three, but he was there! He saw them do the quadruple somersault in person before their untimely demise and he really wanted to talk to him about something.

“He doesn’t like us, Tim,” Percy said one gala night. He tugged at the collar of his suit, hating the feeling of it around his throat, but Alfred would get mad if he loosened his tie. Because if Percy did it, then Jason would think it’s okay. And then Bruce would do it too because both his sons were doing it, and he didn’t want to be the odd man out. (Dick wasn’t wearing a tie this time, a way to rebel against Bruce.)”I told you that.”

“I know but I gotta talk to him,” Tim wiped his hands on the napkin. They had a good little pile of hor dourves between them and had been snacking while their parents – Percy’s dad more like since Tim’s parents were still in Barbados – mingled. “It’s important.”

“If it’s important you can tell me,’ Percy turned in his seat. “I can try to tell him after the gala when we go back to the manor.”

Tim seemed to think about this for a second, this eyes darting back and forth between the crowd and Percy. “Okay,” He lent to Percy’s ear, hands cupped to prevent someone from reading his lips and he whispered. “I know Dick is Nightwing.”

Percy pulled back, eyes wide as he stared back at his best friend. He didn’t know exactly when Tim pieced it together that Dick was Nightwing, and he was absolutely positive he hadn’t spilled anything. But Percy knew Tim was a smart kid, one of the smartest in the school, so it shouldn’t be a surprise. But if Tim knew that Dick was Nightwing, did he also know that Bruce was Batman? Or that Jason is Robin?

“H-huh? Wh-what? What do you mean?” Percy stuttered. He was going to be in so much trouble. Bruce was going to think Percy spilled the beans – even though he didn’t – and he was going to be punished – thirty burpees and washing all the vehicles in the vehicle bay for a month – and he was probably not going to be allowed in the cave after that again. “How-how did you figure that?”

“The Graysons are the only ones that can do a perfect quadruple somersault,” Tim stated as if that was a fact, and it was unfortunately. “There’s a video of you-know-who doing one, so it wasn’t hard to connect the dots after that.”

“So you know?” Percy confirmed.

“Did you know?”

“Of course I knew!”

“But you…don’t go with them, how did you know?”

“I live with them, it’d be pretty awkward if I didn’t.”

“Ah, yeah, that makes sense.”

“And besides,” Percy shoved a cracker in his mouth. “The first time Jason and I met him, Bruce was you-know-who.”

“Really?! Wow,” Tim sighed wistfully. “Was it scary?”

“The first time yeah, the second he was just a big softy and took us home.”

“Huh.”Percy grunted, pulling himself up and over the last rung of the ladder. The concrete-asphalt of the roof beneath him dug into his back uncomfortably, but he was just glad that he didn’t have to climb anymore. A light drizzle had begun to fall during his climb, making everything the tiniest bit slippery, but Percy didn’t mind. He liked the rain. It was calming and peaceful and if he was delusional enough, he could pretend it was the ocean. With gentle waves crashing ashore over and over again.

He sat up, eyes trailing over the various shades of white and yellow from the apartments and offices of the buildings around him. With one hand, he traced the imaginary lines that connected them to each other like constellations. One cluster looked like the Pleiades, another a wonky Corvus, there were quite a few rams, and if he squinted and tilted his head almost all the way upside down there was an Orion. But that wasn’t what he was there for.

Lying on their stomach on the other side of the roof was a boy his age. A large hoodie dwarfed his body and the hood was pulled up to hide his head, but the kid size eight Robin inspired sketchers that gave him away. Percy knew the kid. He was in fourth grade class, but he didn’t really talk to the others. Preferring to stick by himself and fiddle with the camera he took with him everywhere.

“Hey Tim, what’cha doing?” Percy laid next to him, peering around his hand to see what was on his camera.

“Ah!” Tim yelped and tucked the device close to his chest. “Percy? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, you know,” He retaliated. “What were you taking pictures of?”

“Batman and Robin.” Tim brought the camera closer to Percy, showing off the amateur shots. They were pretty good if Percy had to say so himself. Some were a bit blurry, but the best one was of Jason sitting next to his favorite gargoyle. Mouth open in a smile as if he was laughing with the stone statue. Another one had Jason with his arms wrapped around Bruce’s neck, little green booties barely touching the ground beneath him.

Percy knew his dad was Batman and that his brother was Robin. Hell, the first time they met Bruce (technically) was when Jason was stealing the tires off the Batmobile. But Percy wasn’t really interested in being a Robin like his brother or like Dick. It just didn’t call to him the same way it did for Jason. And besides, Jason had to worry about Percy ever since Catherine died, he didn’t want his big brother to worry about him jumping around Gotham with a target on his back. And Jason was happy being Robin, Percy didn’t want to take that from him.

That doesn’t mean Percy wasn’t down in the cave with them though. He had a spot next to Alfred on comms and was a pretty good stitch when needed. He trained with Jason when he wanted and helped with cases as best he could—he wasn’t the best detective—and Bruce didn’t seem to mind when Percy put on his cowl and pretend to be him.

“Can you print this one for me?” Percy pointed to the camera. “It looks cool.” It was a simple portrait shot of the dynamic duo. Their backs faced the camera but Jason had turned to face Bruce, a wide smile and his hands in the air, as if he was talking animatedly about something. Bruce was giving him a smile, listening intently at his middle child.

“You sure?” Tim asked hesitantly.

“Yeah! I think it’s cool, do you have more?” Percy smiled and tucked his arms further under him. “How many do you have, I’ve seen you mess with your camera, like, all year, so you gotta have a whole bunch, right?” Tim nodded his head. “Neat! You wanna come over after school? You can bring your pictures over and tell me how you got them because , dude, if you’re climbing buildings every night to get them, you gotta be like, hella ripped.”

“You want me to come over?”

“Heck yeah! You’re a cool dude,” Percy said. “And you seem like you need friends. I don’t have any because no one wants to be with a street rat, they’re all too stuck up and snobby.”

“Especially Marie,” Tim chuckled.

“Don’t even get me started on Marie!” Percy groaned and dragged his hand over his face dramatically, smiling when Tim laughed.

Their conversation flowed naturally after that. Their laughter echoing in the alley below and making the lights of Gotham seem a little brighter. They talked about anything and everything that came to mind, and Tim was the first person besides Jason, Alfred, or Bruce who listened to his marine rants. He seemed genuinely interested with what Percy had to say, which was a relief, and in exchange Percy listened to Tim babble about the various heroes around the world.

They had to say goodbye to each other when the moon was beginning its decent, but they picked up their conversation in the morning as if they hadn’t stopped. It hadn’t seem to stop either, as the days go on, the two seemed joint at the hip. They played some amalgamation of Batman and Robin or Batman and Joker during recess, Percy would show Tim how to skateboard in the long drive way of Wayne Manor, Tim would teach Percy photography.

It wasn’t a rare sight to see them at the manor after school either, or following Jason like ducklings during galas. The few times Dick had been there, he tried to ignore Jason and Percy, but Tim was adamant about seeing him. And Percy knew why. Tim had been there the night the Graysons fell, sure, he was like three, but he was there! He saw them do the quadruple somersault in person before their untimely demise and he really wanted to talk to him about something.

“He doesn’t like us, Tim,” Percy said one gala night. He tugged at the collar of his suit, hating the feeling of it around his throat, but Alfred would get mad if he loosened his tie. Because if Percy did it, then Jason would think it’s okay. And then Bruce would do it too because both his sons were doing it, and he didn’t want to be the odd man out. (Dick wasn’t wearing a tie this time, a way to rebel against Bruce.)”I told you that.”

“I know but I gotta talk to him,” Tim wiped his hands on the napkin. They had a good little pile of hor dourves between them and had been snacking while their parents – Percy’s dad more like since Tim’s parents were still in Barbados – mingled. “It’s important.”

“If it’s important you can tell me,’ Percy turned in his seat. “I can try to tell him after the gala when we go back to the manor.”

Tim seemed to think about this for a second, this eyes darting back and forth between the crowd and Percy. “Okay,” He lent to Percy’s ear, hands cupped to prevent someone from reading his lips and he whispered. “I know Dick is Nightwing.”

Percy pulled back, eyes wide as he stared back at his best friend. He didn’t know exactly when Tim pieced it together that Dick was Nightwing, and he was absolutely positive he hadn’t spilled anything. But Percy knew Tim was a smart kid, one of the smartest in the school, so it shouldn’t be a surprise. But if Tim knew that Dick was Nightwing, did he also know that Bruce was Batman? Or that Jason is Robin?

“H-huh? Wh-what? What do you mean?” Percy stuttered. He was going to be in so much trouble. Bruce was going to think Percy spilled the beans – even though he didn’t – and he was going to be punished – thirty burpees and washing all the vehicles in the vehicle bay for a month – and he was probably not going to be allowed in the cave after that again. “How-how did you figure that?”

“The Graysons are the only ones that can do a perfect quadruple somersault,” Tim stated as if that was a fact, and it was unfortunately. “There’s a video of you-know-who doing one, so it wasn’t hard to connect the dots after that.”

“So you know?” Percy confirmed.

“Did you know?”

“Of course I knew!”

“But you…don’t go with them, how did you know?”

“I live with them, it’d be pretty awkward if I didn’t.”

“Ah, yeah, that makes sense.”

“And besides,” Percy shoved a cracker in his mouth. “The first time Jason and I met him, Bruce was you-know-who.”

“Really?! Wow,” Tim sighed wistfully. “Was it scary?”

“The first time yeah, the second he was just a big softy and took us home.”

“Huh.”

**********************************************

There isn’t much to say besides that these two are menaces and that this is the harbinger of angst and pain for the rest of the series :)

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[sparklingcid3r]

r u a darry/paul shipper like seemingly the rest of the fandom is becoming (good)? what are ur hc for them?

This is long, bear with me 🙏 I def think there was something going on in high school between those two and you can pry that hc from my cold dead hands. But here’s how I think their relationship goes, for better or worse (particularly, worse):

- They’re hardcore pining for each other in high school but never actually do something about it because it’s the 60s and both of them have reputations, albeit two different ones, to maintain. They aren’t exactly about to out themselves to their seemingly hypermasculine crush/best friend, no matter how attracted they are

- Eventually, though, they get drunk enough at some Soc party and Paul happens to have looser lips than Darry, and lets it slip that if Darry were a girl (a risky statement on its own but inhibitions are out the window atp), he would absolutely kiss him. He actually thinks Darry is real pretty and has always wanted to find out what kissing him is like

- Darry, still having somewhat of a head screwed to his shoulders despite the alcohol, drags Paul to the nearest bathroom with a lock and dunks his head under freezing shower water (not a foolproof cure to intoxication but it helps for clarity ig??). He asks Paul to say what he just said again

- Paul starts apologizing, saying he was drunk and doesn’t know what he was talking about

- Darry’s first kiss with a man is in the pearly white bathroom of a Soc he doesn’t even know the name of, surrounded by more Socs, of whom he only knows half the names of

- They go steady in private of course, but neither of them can shake the knowledge that they have the darkest blackmail on each other, even during their most intimate moments. Although simultaneously there is a sick comfort in knowing “If I go down, you’re going down with me.”

- If that’s the foundation, though, you know it starts to seep through. Paul’s always been a Soc, and what he forgets is that even though Darry can clean up real nice, he’s always been a greaser. When Paul’s laughing with their buddies about how some greaser freshman’s got tape around the toes of his converse, Darry’s silence is so heavy it’s tangible. It just brings the mood down

- What they have I think can only slightly be called love. But who else are they supposed to be in love with? That drunken accident was probably the best moment of their lives, finally realizing that they’re not alone. They have each other and no matter what, for better or for worse, they’ll always have each other.

- The dynamic changes when the Curtis parents die. Paul’s got money and suddenly Darry is poorer than dirt. The money came and went with the funerals, the gravestones, the bills. Suddenly Darry’s dipping into his college fund, then he’s draining it for the sake of keeping his brothers together under his roof. There’s no time for Paul anymore

- Darry knew immediately that he was risking not only his life, but Soda and Pony’s lives just by existing. If he got caught, it’s over. So he breaks it off with Paul, because he was never capable of loving anyone more than he loves his brothers

But honestly that’s just my immediate thoughts about them, I can totally imagine them being pretty happy together in some parallel universe. But the way the story portrays them, they fell apart and ended up on opposite sides of the tracks.

If you want some happy hcs hit me up I gotchu🤙 thanks for the ask! Sorry I went overboard, I got excited lmfao. They mean a lot to me🫶

[cyberrose2001]

hnnn I don’t normally ask for requests but my TFP fixation came back swinging, your drabbles have been a great read, and I have a mIGHTY NEEEED.. feel free to ignore this one, though!

Could I possibly request human fem reader that’s usually quiet and laid-back and laughs off their problems, getting caught breaking down because they’ve grown very attached to TFP Optimus (or Ratchet, I’d be happy with either) despite not having a guardian of their own (those two are busy mechs after all😩) and even though they’re ready to fight anyone and anything that threatens the ones they care about they realize they’re too small and weak to help protect them if it came down to it?

TFP Optimus x reader

Hi!! Thank you for requesting! This was very nice to write, I hope that this is something you were looking for… enjoy!! <3

Warnings: SFW/Fluff, very brief description of death, reader has slight crush on OP if you squint hard enough.

Word count: 1046

The problem with happy, go lucky people like yourself is that the highs are high, and the lows are low. Yeah, you’re content with whatever life hurls at you and tend to shake the dust off your shoulders, not bothered by grievances. But sometimes, you wonder what purpose you bring to this surreal life you’ve found yourself cushioned in. It’s a blessing and, unfortunately, a curse.

You met the Autobots about a year ago, another heavy boulder that life had hurled at you, but instead of shattering it into a million pieces just so you could brush it off your back, you found comfort and love in it. Especially Optimus, who of which was the one that suggested you join them after a near miss with Starscream. A robust yet imperturbable mech that you would lay down your life for, a life that is relatively minuscule in comparison to your larger Cybertronian companion.

That’s when your mind tends to drift to your purpose. What was the point of being a part of the Autobots aside from protection? When it comes down to it, there’s really not much you can do to help them significantly. You can’t cock a shotgun and run head-first into a hoard of Decepticons; one wrong step from one of them, and you’d be dead, reduced to smush in the dirt and most likely forgotten.

So you sulk. That’s all you can do. You sulk in one of the many corridors of the silo you’ve tended to call home because there is nothing that you could possibly do to safeguard him or at least return the favour for providing you with sanctuary. The floor is cold, but your tears provide a distracting warmth as they pool onto the arms you’ve buried your head in.

You’ve been sitting here for some time now, and your back is tingly from not moving. You’re entirely focused on crying your heart out that you don’t even notice the rumbling footsteps approaching your pathetic form.

“Y/n? Are you alright?”

Oh shit. It’s Optimus. You can’t face him right now, and you don’t want to. He doesn’t need to see how much you’ve been crying. So, you keep your head in your arms, hoping and praying that he’ll walk away, forget about you like your mind thinks he should.

He doesn’t, which you had expected. Instead, you hear the hydraulics of his pedes in what you’d suspect to be him crouching down and the gentle cold touch of a digit gently prying your arms away from your face.

“Has something happened to you? Why are you upset?” The gentle baritone of his voice is so soothing, yet painful to hear because at least he’s pretending to care about you.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” You croak, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand. It does nothing but smear the salty drops into your hairline. You take the opportunity to glance into his optics, and shit, does he have the most sympathetic look on his face you’ve ever seen from him.

Optimus quirks an optic ridge, then proceeds to sit beside you against the wall with a twang, vibrating the floor beneath you, “I believe I have been around your kind long enough to know that you are hurting,” he turns to face you, “I would not be troubled if you were to indulge me.”

There’s no getting out of this. You need to do what you do best and shrug this off your shoulders.

“I uh,” You sniffle before another barrage of tears flows down your face, “God, Optimus, I’m sorry about this.”

“Do not be,” Optimus reaches down to press a digit to the palm of your hand, an attempt that makes your heart skip a beat, “This is clearly something that is significant to you; take your time and breathe.”

You nod, taking a shaky breath as he orders, “Why do you care so much about me- I mean, us? Why risk your life for a human when you know there’s nothing we can do for you,” Another shaky breath, and you grip his digit, “Why do you do it?”

Optimus’ optics hover over your form, clearly thinking through your words in deep thought. He hums, then turns his helm to the wall before you both, “Tell me, why do you think we protect your kind?”

“Well, we’re pathetic, tiny, primitive meat bags who can’t even-“

“No,” Optimus interrupts you, shaking his helm. A small smile creeps onto his face, “In fact, it is quite the opposite.”

“But how?” You crane your neck to look at him, red, irritated eyes on full display, “How can you say that when we’ve done literally nothing to help your cause?” A pause, and you glance down to the digit that you still cling onto, “I mean- just look. My hand doesn’t even begin to compare to one of your fingers.”

Optimus follows your eyes to his servo, staring at it curiously. He then cups your hand around it, ultimately holding your hand, “It is not the physical differences I am referring to, but the selflessness of providing for us.”

You suck in a breath, blinking away the rest of your tears, “W-What?”

“I do not think you realise your importance to our cause. If not for the valiant efforts to provide us with crucial resources in our battle with the Decepticons, well, we would have no safe place for sanctuary.” Optimus gently squeezes your hand and looks into your reddened windows to your soul, “No place to call home.”

You stare up at him in shock. You never considered that there wouldn’t be a safe place for you to stay if humans hadn't given the Autobots a safe place in the first place. You’re not useless and weak like you think you are. The feeling of relief and disbelief is all too much for you to handle, and you let your tears fall once again, leaning down to rest your head on his servo.

Optimus is unfazed and lets you pour your heart and soul onto him. He closes his optics, basking in your presence as your sobs turn blissful. Content that he can provide you comfort and a safe space, as you have done for him.

[koiturine]

so 👏 in reference to this post...

one idea that i had that's kinda goofy:

the questline would be VERY heavily advertised w the cliche "you're cordially invited to the wedding of ave/n.tu-rine and koi on xyz date"

and it's like an in canon wedding invite that everyone got, they're going to a planet that the ip.c wants to acquire that in reality in its current state is super low value bc of the st/el!la.ron on it

like the leader knows it's there, doesn't know what to do about it, but is doing everything they can to keep everyone happy until the end bc they don't want everyone to freak out (the planet is in MASSIVE debt, but it definitely has the bones to make it back and then some it's kinda like space los angeles/las vegas) honestly it's kind of a mix of "dance until the world ends" and "you can literally pry my payments out of my cold dead hands" bc the leader secretly despises the i.pc so she's going scorched earth

literally everyone that knows avie will just be like "i have no idea who the fuck this guy is" when going to the wedding. there's a lot of ??? abt us aside from everyone genuinely not knowing me, but when they get to know me we appear so painfully incompatible no one could possibly understand what we see in each other

i don't invite any guests, bc the wedding is... actually a sham

like straight up he invited everyone and the as.tral express specifically to indirectly trick them into taking care of the stel.lar-on

a lot of purposefully playing up our affection, going on extremely public dates bc he knows none of y'all believe that we're really in love, and there's a lot of... smoke and mirrors, nothing ever feels quite right about it.

like everyone thinks that avie is seriously being mind controlled, but they manage to pull him aside at some point and realize that his love for me is very real. (but honestly they still think he's being hypnotized) so after that, they pull me aside and i just... it's abundantly clear that i'm not.

if i was mind controlling him, i'd probably be very confident and in high spirits but i have some seriously obvious doubts

express: wdym he loves you sooo much and we've seen you you obviously love him too

me: ...no, of course we love each other, i'm worried about the huge fucking ste\llar0n ruining everything

express: ...oh

since the st!ella.r0n was pretty obviously not bothering anyone, he figured you wouldn't do anything abt it without some kind of incentive and obviously "the i.pc wants it" is nowhere NEAR enough

it's revealed at the end when everything's taken care of that it was really a sham and we're not getting married

...but then after everyone leaves we sit quietly together at the place we had our first dinner date. the first dinner date you saw + the first actual date we had. there's actually a lot of sentimental value to the planet too, since it was where we first met. he went there a few years ago to try for debt collection, and managed to at least get a payment plan out of them.

he came here for a dinner break and saw me eating alone here, made some jokes, we laughed and ended up sharing a whole bottle of wine. neither of us really wanted the night to end.

and here we were again at the same table, quietly exchanging wedding rings with a kiss.

[heard-nsfw-is-back]

you can pry this pairing from my cold dead hands. Also I'm working on some bg3 stuff so that's fun. Never played it but that's never stopped me.

Steve is at work and calls Eddie to check out his music collection. He may not like metal but soft rock is a happy medium right? Anyway Eddie sounds a little breathless when he says yes. Steve tries not to read too much in to it. Cue showing up at his trailer and Eddie is shocked when Steve is like "oh let me see your records" like "Wait you actually wanted to talk about music?" Steve is like uh yeah. Eddie flops on the couch dramatically even if the stretch is uncomfortable on his scars. "I thought you were hitting on me" Steve is immediately apologetic.

"Sorry I know it's a little weird when a gay guy hits on a straight guy. I didn't mean anything by it." Eddie shushes him with a hand in the air. "Sorry. What? Gay? You? Me? Straight? Hello?!" Steve sways from one foot to the other. "Yeah? Well pan I guess. Never really cared about parts, just the vibe." Eddie laughs incredulous. "And you thought. With your beautiful brain. That I was somehow straight?" Steve pouts and puts his hands on his hips. "Well in my defense, I've only ever heard about you and Chrissy." Eddie purses his lips in mock thought. "I guess that works. But no. Unfortunately geeky little jocks are more my type." He winks over at Steve, who just stares blankly. "So do you want to see my records, or would you rather we make our own music?" Eddie wiggles his eyebrows and Steve pretends to gag. "Ugh no not when you say it like that." Eddie gently stands back up, trying not to strain his still aching body. "Well how would you like me to say it?" He crowds Steve against the dining room table. Steve reaches behind Eddie to grab his hanky.

Something something Eddie uses the hanky as a gag because the trailer is NOT soundproof and he's selfish about other people hearing Steve screaming and crying over being fucked to next week.

[1004tyun-archive]

Do you have any thoughts on husband! Txt?😔😔

It could be sfw or nsfw

oooo i love stuff like this!! thank you for the request <3

husband!soobin would be such a sweetheart, i feel like he'd such a good househusband particularly. he'd like to bake something new for you every week and he takes pride in being able to take care of you when you come home from work by having dinner ready or ordering your favorite or having the house clean. i feel like it'd be easy to settle into monotony with soobin only bc he's so content with how things are with you that he doesn't want a single thing to change, but every now and then he'd like to keep things alive by scheduling dates on the weekends :] and dates with him can mean anything, ranging from taking a day trip to trying out a new bakery together it would be so much fun to him just because you're there with him <3

husband!yeonjun would be the most doting husband in the world. the "let me do it for you" kind of husband, the kind who won't let you lift a finger if you're doing anything that looks even a little bit difficult, the kind who travels and brings you gifts from every country or city he visits. he's the type to convince his boss to let him bring you with him on a business trip because he can't stand to be away from you for too long. just like soobin, i feel like he'd want to try new things to keep the relationship feeling fresh but instead of going on a day trip he'd convince you to go skydiving with him even though you know you'd both be scared of doing it. nothing like a little boundary pushing to keep things fun <3

husband!beomgyu would still feel like your boyfriend, even after years of marriage. he'll still go out of his way to mess with you and tease you. he'll spray you with water while washing the dishes and do whatever he can to make you laugh bc there's nothing he loves more than the sound of your laugh but he'd also be really caring. he'd stay up with you if you're working on something that requires you to be up for a long time, get you coffee if you need it, keep you entertained if you need it, but he'll also sit with you quietly. anything he can do to help, he'll do it. he would make your time together so intimate and special and important. i feel like gyu would like really long dates where most of it is just sitting somewhere together, taking in each other's presence and that wouldn't change after marriage. he'll still take you somewhere nice to eat and then you'll take a drive to the beach or a park to feed the ducks and you'd rest your head on his shoulder and take in the world with him. it's always been his favorite parts of dates with you and he's def thankful he gets to do this with you all the time now that you're married

husband!taehyun is the definition of trophy husband, the man can do it all. he's strong, he can cook, clean, smart, like. every now and then you're like "how did i marry such an amazing man"?? the way he holds your hand when you go literally anywhere and is able to always find you in a crowd makes you feel so safe. he would pride himself in being a great husband to you and he would always brag about it too like "oh you took your wife out for lunch last weekend? that's cute i cooked her a seven course meal and then i took her dancing we're not the same" like his competitive nature would drive him to do this but nothing drives him to be the best husband for you like his immense love for you. he doesn't say i love you often, but what he doesn't say he makes up for actions. super clingy behind closed doors (and let's face it, even out in the open. i'll never let go of my "taehyun is a chronic hand holder" headcanon ever you can pry it from my cold, dead hands) and of course he'll want his space but he wants to be by you most of the time he's such a cat like that

husband!kai would be the absolute cutest. he treats everyday with you like it's the first day you've started dating, he's always so happy to be with you. he's so patient and honestly wouldn't mind just sitting around the house doing absolutely nothing if it meant just being by you. you could be cooking or doing anything around the house and he'd stand in the doorway, watch you from a distance, and smile because he's just so giddy, so happy to be with you. i feel like being married to kai would be like having a sleepover that never ends, he's easy to tell all your secrets and gossip to bc he's a good listener and he loves it when you wear his hoodies around the house, to the point where he buys hoodies he knows you're going to steal from him. he's good at making you feel better, giving you space if needed. i just feel like he would really take the time to get to know you as well as he can bc if he's going to spend the rest of his life with you, he's gonna make sure you're both as happy with each other as possible :>

[prosciuttulipa]

Hellooo! Congrats on 500 followers. It’s more than deserved!

I’m a self-indulgent hoe and would love a match-up if I make it 🙏

I’d like a text convooo please they’re so cute

Details:

JJK, please!

Gender Pref: male

Personality: ENFP, Leo, ambivert. I’m very talkative, and tend to think out loud which gets me into trouble most of the time. Court Jester, and I kind of enjoy it when people pick on/roast me. Major oversharer. A bit of a pervert. Terrible liar, but prone to fibbing anyway. Intense and bold. I’m sensitive and a bit moody. Sweet to people I care about, but not good at pretending I like people when I don’t. Chronically late (rip). Spontaneous, impulsive. Daydreamer. Youngest sibling, so I’m lowkey kind of an annoying brat lol. Self-indulgent—to be cringe is to be free. Big attention hoe!

Likes: Inside jokes. Memes. Winning!! I’m so competitive it’s kind of embarrassing. Discussing books/tv/games/etc. Astrology. YouTube. Being a bad influence

Dislikes: driving oh my god. Time limits. Working. Confrontation. BOARD GAMES. Hemorrhoids

Hobbies: drawing, reading, writing, jewelry-making, hiking, dnd, playing/modding video games, makeup

Love Language: what makes me feel loved: gift-giving | how I express love: words of affirmation

Green Flag: attentiveness, engages in convo/cares about my interests (and thinks I’m the coolest person in the world 💕)

Deal Breaker: Clingy, gatekeeper, afraid of the cringe because I’m radioactive levels of cringe

Somewhat tall, curvy, a few piercings, teal hair & pointy snaggle teeth

Again, congrats & thanks for doing such a fun event! :3

This was kind of a jumbled mess & I probably wrote too much. I’m so sorry

Congratulations! You have been matched with...

Geto Suguru

Suguru is the quiet to your loud, the organised to your impulsive, and the early to your late (which he factors in, don't worry). On the surface, there's enough of a yin-yang dynamic for people to understand how things might work between you two, but they're often baffled as to how your relationship is actually sustained.

The truth is, Suguru is just as cringe as you are, ugly laughing at the memes you send him, and cracking jokes that only you two will understand. The only difference is that he's much better at hiding it (aka his past emo lifestyle—he was a scene kid and you can pry that headcanon out of my cold dead hands). He's not one to shy from competition, and will happily butt heads, but at the end of the day, he always steps away when things are starting to verge on an actual confrontation. Sometimes hard conversations are inevitable, but with small things like this, he would rather lose to someone he loves, than lose someone he loves to win.

He's always happy to listen to you run your mouth. He can gather all sorts of information on you, which makes it easy to get you gifts. For example, he'll pay attention to the drawing materials you like, and will surprise you with them out of the blue, placing them on your desk as if they've been there all along. He's definitely up for you doing his makeup (like I said, ex-scene kid), only for you to quickly take it off because you realise he is way too pretty with it on—you can't let people go around getting ideas! He's too gorgeous for his own good!

Dates with him would often involve you two reading and/or discussing your respective books, or playing video games together. He'd also happily join a DnD campaign if you rope him into it! But overall, any time is a good time, as long as he can spend it with you.

The Matchmaker's Gift:

[moonlitmeeks]

regulus black dating a male reader !

type; headcanons

warnings; swearing

request; can you do more male!reader x regulus black?😅 - anon

a/n; hi! i'd love to - thank u so much for requesting and please feel free to send in more requests for male!readers! you guys deserve content <3 i hope you enjoy these, have a great day/night!

okay okay okay. first thing i feel i'm desperate to talk about is nicknames.

- you'd think reggie isn't really one for nicknames, but he is. just certain and specific ones.

- he's quite likes some classic petnames; handsome, love, the like

- but because this boy is a show off, french nicknames are where his heart lies. you can pry the french speaking regulus headcanon from my cold, dead hands, okay.

- things like mon amour, mon cher, mon ange, the list goes on. he likes it best when you don't understand what they mean.

- in terms of himself, you can call him whatever. he might not like if you go too far with the mushy, soft stuff, but if it makes you happy, so be it

- simplicity is his thing when it comes to nicknames for him; reggie, reg, love, babe, all that jazz

you've heard the saying that in a relationship, what's mine is yours. this definitely applies to yours and regulus's relationship

- you two basically have one large combined wardrobe at this point. what clothes belong to who doesn't matter anymore, if you want to wear it, you will.

- it's very fun to try on all of the overly fancy dress clothes his parents buy him for balls and dinner parties

- "reg, i really don't know why you don't wear this more often." "ugh, stop making fun of me mon ange."

- sharing books, quills, textbooks, and the like

- if you're a reader, he will leave little notes in the margins of your favourite books, sorry

waking up with him is always an experience

- regulus is not a morning person, okay. he will not wake up. no matter what.

- you will have to shake him vigorously whilst shouting at him to get up or he'll be late

- he will try to pull you back into his arms, his chest warm against your back

- but if you aren't a morning person either? good luck

- you'll need to set so many alarms

he loves subtly flirting with you in public

- look i know i said before he isn't one for pda

- but little winks and smirks across rooms?

- compliments bordering on flirty

- getting just a little too close when you're sitting next to each other, your knees brushing against each other

- he sees it as a fun game

sirius lives for teasing you two

- calling you both loverboys 24/7

- teasing regulus when he shows a little more affection than normal

- loves pointing out when you borrow one of his shirts, or when regulus steals your trousers

- "oh? and what's going on here?" "piss off sirius"

- but its fine. you get your revenge by making fun of him and remus

lets talk height differences

- if you're taller? he loves burying his face into the crook of your neck, or just rubbing his face against your jaw (if you've seen the gifs of timmy chalamet, you know what i mean)

- standing on his tiptoes constantly to 'prove' he's taller

- if you're shorter? he'll rest his chin on top of your head at all times, pressing sporadic kisses to your forehead and temples

- doesn't matter if you're only an inch shorter, he will tease you, so long as it isn't an insecurity of yours

also feel like finishing this with a few random things

- always being able to find each other at parties. it's a talent at this point. you'll be wondering where he is, then next thing you know he's right by your side

- a lot of inside jokes. he'll just whisper them into your ear at random times to see you dissolve into laughter, leaving everyone around you like??? why is he laughing so hard??? what did regulus say to him??

- play with his hair. right now. do it.

- also play with his rings. he loves it. "hm? d'you wanna borrow one, mon cher?"

this is all i can think of for now, so i hope these were okay!!! thank you so so much for the request!!!

regulus black taglist; @thesilverskull @lilgayn00dle @apocketfullofstorms @bazpitchs-violin @neilfuckingperrydeservedbetter @pagetpagetpagetpaget @adoreachilles @wlfstxr @cozyballofanxiety @matte-moony @d22malfoys @ms-heartbreak-queen @anderperrysupremacy @teen-years-suck

marauders era masterlist !

[dilfwaynes]

summary: after a fight between damian and talia, your name gets mentioned in a gist of her not deserving you leaves talia insecure and thinking. luckily you’re there to reassure her.

⚢ pairings ; talia al ghul x fem!reader

genre ; smut, fluff.

✗ warnings oral ( talia  receiving ), damian and talia arguing, smut, ooc!damian for the sake of the plot

a/n ; finally decided to write this after wanting to since months in honor of national girlfriend day !!

navigation | masterlist

“AT LEAST FATHER’S THERE FOR ME!” you look between talia and damian as the once calm conversation has extended between the two arabians

“i came back to this filthy ungodly city just for you damian,” talia is much more calmer than damian  appearance wise, but you can see the clouding in her eyes and the anger in her jaw,”to withhold this? your father’s doing has made you lose your respect and manners.”

you stay silent and continue to watch them go back and forth with each other, damian is clear set to say anything to get talia to lose her composure, which is clear to be in vein until he finally looks at you.

talia follows his gaze and her eyes automatically harden, tilting her head as a silent warning to her son.”hold your tongue damian.”

he scowls, tightening his stance,”what was that mother? about coming to gotham for me? but your time is always with your beloved.”

“stop reflecting the problem onto anything else, i taught you better. she’s not involved in your issue.” you could almost laugh at how  identical they look in this moment, their faces both scrunched up lightly with anger, eyes bright with determination to win the argument

damian’s frown just furthers with silent rage and ticking at anything to actually hit a nerve or two with talia.

“you taught me nothing mother, you being in my life offers me nothing,” he says casually and seeming to miss the slight hurt in talia’s eyes, but you manage to catch it for a mere second.”y/n deserves more than some cold blooded killer, you continue to just hold her back from true happiness.”

“damian!” you snap, eyes widen and mouth open lightly. you didn’t wanna get involved between a mother and son’s fight but in his moment of anger damian doesn’t seem to realize what he’s saying, and you know he’ll regret it later on.

he turns to you with a redden tint to his bronze cheeks, anger seem settled into him. you pry your eyes from him to talia, her eyes dead set onto her son and you already know she’s replaying the words of his, inside her head. her glare continues with her jaw somehow more clenched than before.

you know by her stiffen body language and no response to damian that what he said ended up getting to her

you sigh and grab your keys while waiting for damian to gather his bags that he brought for his stay to take him back with him to the manor.

“he didn’t mean those things talia, he’s just hurt and upset.” you tell her quietly, squeezing her hand but her mind seems elsewhere.

you turn once you hear the bedroom door open and damian’s quiet footsteps appearing in the living room, his back turned.”i’m ready.”

after sending one last worried glance at your girlfriend you nod and sit up, walking out of talia’s penthouse and to your car

damian’s overnight bag at his feet, angrily pouting and looking out the window. the 15 year old truly looked like both his mother and father so much, but in times like thede he’s all talia

“you really hurt your mom y’know, even if she won’t admit it,” you begin to say but you’re quickly cut off with a quiet mutter of ”i don’t care.”

you sigh and side glance him, he’s too stubborn to admit it but you know he’s already feeling bad about what he said, and therefore means he’s mostly likely denying and reasoning with himself and making his emotions more complex

“she loves you, you know that right?”

“why doesn’t she show it? you show it more and you’re not even my mother,” taking your eyes off the road you send him a sympathetic smile”besides, she shows her love for you with no difficulty.”

you stay quiet until you’re in the peak of the wayne manor, pulling in and stopping damian from rushing out.”your mom has some trouble showing emotions dami, it might seem she gives me more love and attention but believe me, you truly own her heart. if there’s anything she loves most in this world its you, babe.”

you grab his hand and squeeze it, tugging him forward to give him a hug. truth be told you do see damian as family and in a way your son, you know he can be a hard ass and hothead but he’s a good kid with a big heart that scares him because he has no idea how to show it.

you’re surprised when he greets you back, his arms awkwardly wrapped around you to return the hug

“bye dami.” you whisper as he opens the door and steps onto the ground,”goodnight y/n.”

you huff out a good amount of air before starting up the bmw and driving back to your girlfriend, getting ready for the conversation

when you enter the penthouse you spot her sitting on the chair by the window, glass of red wine and her legs crossed

you know theres no possible way she didnt hear you come in, her ear practically trained for any sort of noise

tossing off your coat and placing the keys on the   counter you turn to face talia, surprised to find her already intense stare on you.

“did damian’s claims spark any verity for you?” your eyebrows shoot up at the question, you knew what damian said bugged her but you didn’t think she’ll actually believe it.

the growing silence of the question bawls self doubt and insecurity in her, the feeling of anxiety nagging at her

the fear of damian being right, for the longest she thought you deserved better than her. even though she never out right and said it, she said some small things that had you put two and two together

you successfully managed to make her realize she’s everything you want and need, and how it was you who didn’t deserve her

but as of today events she’s rethinking

“you can’t be seriously asking that question talia,” she continues looking at you, and you know she won’t respond until she gets a reply. rolling your eyes,” of course not talia.”

“could someone else fulfill your true happiness.”

“talia YOU make me happy,” you make your way towards her and placing your petite frame onto her lap. she looks up at you with her eyes, it sends an ache seeing her so vulnerable and insecure.”how could you ever think otherwise?”

you bring her lips to yours by the back of her neck, her hand holding you by your hips so you won’t slide off her lap.”let me show you how much you fulfill me talia.”

without a second thought you get on your knees and peeling off her pants, and the mere sight has her throbbing.”oh, beloved.” she moans and it goes right to your core

you tug down her lace underwear and near your face her core, licking your dry lips before wrapping your lips around her clit.

shutting your eyes at the flutter of talia’s moans and taste, basking all of hers. your tongue moving to her slit .”fuck, you’re so beautiful talia.”you gasp out with her hand flying to your head, pulling at your roots.

your eyes lift up to look at her while she grinds herself against your face and you can cum from the sight just alone with the moonlight hitting at her rich brown skin, her nipples peeping out from the satin shirt and her lips parted. at feeling watched her eyes open and stare down at you pretty on your knees for her.

and she moans at it, part of it easing up her self doubting.

“you like that lia? me on my knees for you.” you ask muffled, looking up at her innocently and batting your eyelashes

she nods her head,”so much habib, so pretty you are beloved.”

you don’t reply back being hell bent on making her feel good and to reach her orgasm, pressing a finger inside her to get her there faster.

she lets out a deep moan before you feel her cumming on your face, pulling you closer between her legs and wrapping them around your head

she releases you from her toned thighs after she calms down from her orgasm. licking your lips and  relishing the taste of talia.

sweetly your lips attach to her warm skin to litter kisses across her thighs and up to her stomach, making your way to her hipbone and to the white dubbed scar that sits there angrily from some battle before

she watches the gesture filled of intimacy and passion with pure adoration and love.

she tugs you up gently by grabbing your chin between her fingers and kisses you, drowning all her emotions into it

“i hate that scar.” she announces quietly with her forehead pressed to yours.

“i don’t, anything that belongs to you i love.”you reply back to her, she smiles lightly

“let us take this to my bedroom, i believe a favor is set in return to you beloved.”