#you get to see my brain explode intensely

[fairyyybread]

Mmm the obsession is real (This is just gonna be me obsessing over the framing of everything- It's gonna be a lot to read. Sorry not sorry).

Even if they don't fully realize it I am obsessed with the composition of the scenes. In the first scene we are panned into Grian's room from a distance, but since we're starting in the room with warm lighting looking at him asleep, it gives a sense of a peaceful morning. It's such a simple thing but it conveys the story in the way it needs to be shown. We aren't viewing from the outside where Jimmy would be standing, we aren't looking in through his window, we aren't peering through a doorway of any sorts. We are simply seeing Mr. Princess man resting early in the morning. It's the perfect amount of distance and lighting to convey the right mood, before it's quickly disrupted by Jimmy knocking at the door. Moving on, the scene where we DO get to see Grian from outside the window. When he sits down in the chair and we see the black substance crawl up outside. The placement of this scene is so AAA! The framing is perfect for the buildup of suspense. We had a lighthearted moment of everyone having their costumes showed off with Grian finally sitting to rest. If this frame was shown any sooner or later it would've given a different vibe. Idk how to describe it. It's just perfectly placed. It helps switch into the more serious issue later on in the chapter. It's eerie, it's concerning. It makes you go, "What's gonna happen to Grian? Why is there a black substance crawling up to him?" And that's EXACTLY the goal I think this frame is trying to have. It's the build-up to quickly switch to the main plot of this arc.

Scar in the light hallway as he hears a noise, asking someone to come with him to check. We don't know what's in there, we're following Scar with as much confusion and worry as he does. Peering into the room to see Elle on the floor. The only light is from the outside of that hallway, giving the perfect amount of shock as the characters panic and try to make Elle wake up. Like a kid scared of the dark, peering into their bedroom and asking their parent to check under the bed for a monster. Despite Scar being positioned in his wheelchair, we're still looking down at them in the dark at the end of page 11, the shadows giving a sense of serious dramatics. Everything is serious now. There is no light anymore. The hues of the last few pages are all dark. People are passing out, there's confusion and panic and fear. Scar pulls the fire alarm in a tilted panel. It's such a simple thing to do but SO effective. Everything quickly delved into chaos. People NEEDED to get out of the school. Students running away in panic. By this point, the only light we see in the comic for the rest of the part is Tango's hair. Everything is dark, eerie, worrying. Despite how much Tango is anxious about his appearance, he's also the only true light that can help guide them out of the building while holding Ren and Bdubs. Ren's distressed yet soft expression as he's passed out on Scar is also just really well drawn. The final page where we see Scar call Cub, where the lighting of Tango's hair adds that dramatic flare to the scene that elevates the anxiousness they are clearly feeling and we are feeling alongside them. How the final text bubble is simply "Cub, we have a problem." It's a good cliffhanger and a good way to make suspense. Maybe I'm just reading far too into things but god I LOVEEE analyzing the scenes in this comic so much and getting to deep dive into the way the characters are characterized through writing too. This is a lot but it's not even all of what I have in my mind.

MOTHER SPORE

Part I

I know it's almost new year but I don't care, it's Halloween again people (this part was supposed to be posed in October but things happen)

Once again thank you @xmaruu11 not only for being the co-writer of the comic but also for doing the flat colors

[alastorss]

brother i still have no idea how tumblr works and this is my first request and it might not even be in the right place but—

why does NO ONE talk about the fact that “Allie” would be such a silly nickname for Alastor? i would love to see some headcanons/a lil story about how he would react to the reader calling him that. maybe completely detests it at first but secretly likes it?

a/n: hello lovely, you've come to the right place 🫶 yes yes yes!!! i'm obsessed with this idea <3 i'm adding to this: he would think you're mad at him when you finally call him normally again ^ ^

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

"What did you say?"

"Huh?" You hum, attention devoted to fixing Alastor's bowtie.

"That thing you just said. Repeat it."

You finally blink at him, using your palms to smooth out the front of his jacket before stepping out of his bubble. "I said your tie was undone."

"No, dear, before that."

The Radio Demon can feel his eye twitching in irritation. You look at him again dumbly, trying to retrace your steps.

"Oh!" You flash him a little smile and he thinks his brain is going to explode. "Allie?"

He just gawks at you, surprised by the sheer audacity you have. And it doesn't help that he's so fond of you that he doesn't even want to strike you down.

Had it been someone else calling him so endearingly, he might have done something violent. But how could he do that to you, his darling companion, when you look so sweet calling him such a ridiculous name?

"My apologies but... where did that come from?"

"Isn't it cute?" You grin, completely dodging his question.

No, he wants to say. Absolutely not. However, your smile is ever-growing and he can't very well deny you this pleasure. So he sucks it up, draws in a deep inhale to compose himself, and nods.

"Of course, cher."

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Weeks pass and the rest of your friends in the hotel begin to raise a brow at how casually you address such a powerful Overlord. And more than that, he doesn't seem to want to correct you.

It becomes his name reserved exclusively for you. Angel had tried, once, to purr out Allie in a seductive way that made Alastor's skin crawl. Never again.

He gets used to it. Even likes the idea that there is something shared between you that no one else can have. That is, until you're pushing around your breakfast on a plate one morning.

"Can you pass the salt, Alastor?"

He looks up from his mug of coffee in confusion, brain taking a moment to buffer before it catches up with his already moving mouth.

"Alastor?" He repeats his own name, staring at you intensely and most definitely not passing the salt over the table.

You look back up at him blankly. "That's your name, don't wear it out."

He scoffs at your lame joke before sliding the salt shaker over the table. There's something unsettling him and he can't quite place it.

Setting down his newspaper, he watches you as you eat. His gaze is so fiery that you look up from your food almost instantly.

"What's wrong?"

"Are you alright? Have I done something to upset you?"

Your brows scrunch. "No, why?"

"Why did you not call me Allie?"

Complete and utter silence settles over the dining table until he feels like he can't breathe. Your spoonful of food hovers just in front of your open mouth as you stare.

Then, laughter. Laughter fills the room and his ears so heartily that he feels it in his own chest. You double over the table in your fit, spoon clinking onto the plate as you drop it.

"What?" He grumbles.

"Of course I'm not mad at you!" You howl, using a finger to wipe up the tears gathering in your eyes. "'Sides, I thought you hated that name?"

His jaw grows taut. "Hate is a powerful word."

"So you like it?"

"Absolutely not!"

"Liar, you do!"

Alastor is never one to get flustered, but here he is for the first time in his afterlife, teetering on the edge of bursting out in flames. "You are terrible, you know that?"

You snicker, leg getting trapped between his under the table. "Yeah, Allie, I know."

Yet the way his smile softens says it all.

~

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc (send an ask to be added!)

[monstersholygrail]

what about monster bf that it's so excited that he finishes without even touching himself

Virgin!Monster Roommate whimpers as he bolts from your room and scurries off into his own. A heady mix of humiliation and arousal burn in his belly and he can’t stand it. The image of you touching yourself like that is burned in his brain and it’s doing funny things to his body. He aches and tingles all over and he doesn’t know what to do.

He dives face first into his bed, stuffing his face in his pillow and releasing a monstrous groan. Of pain or pleasure he isn’t sure. A beat of silence settles and it only embarrassed the poor monster further. Then his door creaks open ever so slowly as you walk in.

“Heyyyy buddy,” you say tentatively, looking over his form to assess the damage.

Your Virgin Monster Roommate groans in response, rapidly shaking his head. He pushes his pillow against his ears as if that’ll block your voice from his hyper-hearing. Even then the smell of your sweat and the lust dripping from your pores has his cock throbbing in his pants.

“You saw a lot of intense stuff back there, didn’t you? Remember that talk we had about knocking—“

Virgin Monster Roommate bolts up, not wanting to hear you finish that sentence. You yelp quietly as he suddenly sits up in bed. Turing to face you with his bright blushing face without any shame.

“What was all that? W-what were you doing with all those things?” Your roommate spits out, memories flashing in his head. Various sized objects splayed all across your bed. Now it’s your turn to slightly blush, nervous laughter bubbling up from your throat.

“You mean the toys? Well, I use them on all my sensitive parts to make me feel so nice and good. To bring me more pleasure than I can stand till I explode,” you explain, voice turning husky as you walk closer to your inexperienced monster roommate.

His throb bobs, imagining all the ways you could use those toys on your pretty plush body to make you feel just as warm and tingly as he feels right now. His body burns impossibly hotter, precum spilling out of him and soaking his boxers.

“A-and why were you tied up?”

You laugh again, no longer nervous or embarrassed. Biting your lip you continue to walk closer to him. Your clothes that were hastily thrown on were a mess and your hair almost as wild as him.

“I did that to myself. I like to see myself on full display. Or maybe… I was just waiting for you to barge into my room like you do every night right on the dot,” your purr seductively, leaning in closer as you finally reach him.

Virgin Monster Roommate sucks in a harsh breath as you lean in. His body feeling so many things he’s never really felt before. He’s aware of his rock hard cock. The thing gets hard every day since he’s lived with you, he knows what it means to be so dizzyingly turned on. But everything else? No idea. The pressure pulsing in his lower abdomen, the sparks coursing through his body, the way he feels himself ache the more he holds back something he can’t explain.

But the moment you gently lower yourself, kneeling on the ground between his spread legs, and your hands ever so gently brush against his thighs, your monster roommate snaps. An anguished grunt falls past his lips, hips jerking and bucking up toward you as if begging for you. Then a warm rush of liquid erupts and fills his boxers full of his cum.

Sweat beads at his forehead as spurt after spurt of cum spills out of him till there’s a wet spot on his pants. Your teasing absolutely draining him before you could even really touch him. He pants heavily, blushing even harder as he realizes what must’ve just happened. His eyes hesitantly flicker over to your shocked face.

“Did-did you just cum untouched?” You ask, trying to wrap your head around it. Even as your own body floods with arousal. So desperately eager to play with him just as you’d play with your toys.

“Y-yes, hah! Yes, I did,” he moans, his cock twitching and straining against his pants. Already so desperate for more. A wicked smile spreads across your lips and your hands slide all the way up his thighs and right where he needs you most. Virgin Monster Roommate sucks in a harsh breath as he feels himself start to harden.

“Such a good boy. Can you do it again?”

And you’re both certain, without a doubt, that by the end of tonight Virgin!Monster Roommate won’t be a virgin any longer.

[rose24207]

Interrupted Stream

Summary: Lando is streaming and the chat seems to like his girlfriend more than him.

TW: None!

Genre: fluff, humor

A/N: English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

Lando was in the middle of an intense game, his eyes glued to the screen. His chat was alive with their usual chaotic energy, commenting on everything from his questionable aim to his random screams whenever he got ambushed.

“Alright, chat,” he muttered, leaning closer to his mic. “This is it. Big brain plays only. I’m clutching this—wait, WHAT?!”

A sniper shot from across the map ended his game, and he threw his hands up in disbelief. “That’s so unfair! How did he even see me?”

The chat erupted with laughter:

“Lan, you’re blind.”

“Bro, he was RIGHT THERE.”

“Classic Lando meltdown.”

He sighed dramatically, leaning back in his chair. “Chat, you’re supposed to be on my side. You’re supposed to support me. Where’s the loyalty?”

As he rambled on, the door to his office opened, and you walked in holding a mug. “Lando, do you—oh. Are you live?”

He spun around in his chair, a grin spreading across his face. “I am, indeed, live. And now so are you.”

You froze for a second, glancing at the camera. “Oh no,” you said, setting the mug on his desk. “This is why I avoid this room when you’re streaming.”

The chat immediately exploded:

“Y/N REVEAL!”

“WE’VE BEEN BLESSED!”

“OH SHE’S HERE!”

Lando leaned back, hands clasped behind his head. “Chat, look who decided to join us. Everyone say hi to my very lovely girlfriend.”

“Hi, chat,” you said reluctantly, waving. Then you turned to Lando with a suspicious look. “Wait. Why do you look so smug? What did I walk into?”

“I was just showing chat how amazing I am at this game,” he said innocently, gesturing at the screen.

You raised an eyebrow. “Amazing? Didn’t I just hear you screaming about getting sniped?”

The chat went wild again:

“SHE KNOWS!”

“Y/N CALLS HIM OUT!”

“WE LOVE HER ALREADY.”

Lando groaned, putting his head in his hands. “Why are you always on their side?”

“Because they’re right,” you teased, sitting on the arm of his chair. “Let me guess. You ran straight into the open without looking, didn’t you?”

“Excuse me,” he said, pointing at you. “I’m a tactical genius. They just got lucky.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, babe. Tactical genius. That’s why you once threw a grenade at your own teammate.”

The chat was losing it:

“EXPOSED.”

“LAN, SHE’S TOO GOOD.”

“PLEASE LET HER STREAM INSTEAD.”

Lando groaned, covering his face. “This is cyberbullying. From my own girlfriend.”

“Call it tough love,” you said, smirking. “Besides, you’re the one who left your socks on the kitchen counter this morning, so you deserve it.”

“What does that have to do with anything?!” Lando exclaimed, his cheeks turning red as he glanced at the camera.

“Everything,” you said, standing up. “Alright, I’ll leave you and chat to... whatever this is. Try not to embarrass yourself too much, yeah?”

Lando turned to the camera with a dramatic pout. “Chat, she’s so mean to me. Don’t you feel bad for me?”

The responses were immediate:

“NOPE.”

“WE STAN Y/N.”

“JUST ACCEPT YOUR FATE, LAN.”

Before you could leave, Lando grabbed your hand. “Wait, wait! Before you go, answer one thing.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “What?”

He turned back to the chat with a grin. “Alright, chat, here’s the question: Who’s better at Mario Kart—me or Y/N?”

You snorted. “Oh, that’s not even a question. I destroy you every time.”

The chat erupted again:

“Y/N SUPREMACY.”

“GET HER ON STREAM!”

“LAN IS FINISHED.”

Lando shook his head, laughing. “Unbelievable. I’m outnumbered in my own stream. You’re supposed to be on my team!”

“I am,” you said with a smile. “But only when you’re actually good at something.”

The mock gasp Lando let out was so over-the-top that you couldn’t help but laugh. You kissed the top of his head. “Good luck, babe. Don’t lose again.”

As you walked out, Lando turned back to the camera, shaking his head. “Chat, this is my life. Constantly roasted, no support, but hey... I think I kinda like it.”

The chat spammed hearts and laughing emojis as Lando launched into his next game, grinning from ear to ear.

Thank your for reading!

[childrenofcain-if]

That one scenario where C and MC have a kid has my heart completely 😭 Can we get a follow up for that? How are things going on in the joint household? I'm also very curious to see what C would name their kid 🤭

the hershey’s kisses glinted in the late afternoon sun, crinkled foil catching the golden light that streamed in through the window. aster sat cross-legged on the sofa, a small island of contentment in the messy sprawl of school bags and discarded socks she’d left in her wake.

she was humming under her breath as she unwrapped another piece of chocolate, oblivious to the way her shoes lay in two opposite corners of the room and how her lunchbox sat precariously balanced on the edge of the coffee table.

you leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping coffee and watching her with the detached amusement of a parent who knows they’ll have to clean up the mess but hasn’t yet summoned the energy to do so.

C was in the armchair, one foot propped on the edge of the ottoman, clicking through their macbook with half an eye on aster. it was domesticity in its sweetest form, the kind you don’t think about when you’re young and idealistic, imagining love and family like perfect polaroids on a wall.

“did you give her those?” C asked suddenly, their voice louder than the hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen.

you blinked and set your coffee down, moving closer to inspect the crumpled foil wrappers littered around aster.

“nope,” you said after a beat. “not exactly either of our flavor. that’s… what is that, cherry? we don’t have those in the house.”

C arched a brow, and without missing a beat, turned their full attention to your daughter.

“aster,” they said, voice soft but with a worried edge, “where did you get the chocolates?”

aster’s head snapped up, her chalcedony green eyes lighting up with excitement.

“felix gave them to me!” she said, her grin wide enough to show the little gap where her front tooth had fallen out last week.

C froze, their hand tightening slightly on the edge of their macbook. you, on the other hand, were far more amused.

“felix, huh?” you said, crouching slightly to meet aster’s eye level. “and who’s felix again?”

her grin grew impossibly wider as she happily declared: “my boyfriend!”

you chuckled, leaning against the arm of the sofa. “oh, really? you have a boyfriend now, kleine ster? when did this happen?”

“this morning actually!” aster exclaimed, bouncing a little on the cushions. “he gave me the chocolates at recess and said he liked me, and i said i liked him too, and now we’re boyfriend and girlfriend!”

C’s eye twitched, a muscle jumping just beneath the surface. they sat up straighter, their attention now fully honed on your seven-year-old’s revelation.

“did he now?” they said, their voice tight. “and what else did this... felix boy say?”

aster frowned, confused by the sudden shift in tone. “uh… he said i could have the last red crayon in art class.”

“generous of him,” they muttered darkly, looking distinctly unimpressed.

“C,” you said warningly, but they ignored you, leaning forward with the intense focus of someone about to conduct an interrogation.

“and does this felix… hold your hand?” they asked, their tone too casual to be actually genuine.

“sometimes,” aster admitted, her brows knitting together.

C’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “does he share his lunch with you?”

“yeah, today he gave me his oreos!”

C’s jaw twitched. you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“C,” you said again, a little louder this time. “let it go, darling. they’re just kids.”

but they were too far gone now, leaning forward as though proximity might grant them any sort of control over the situation.

“aster,” they said with all the solemnity of someone at a funeral, “you can’t have a boyfriend. you’re too young. your brain isn’t fully developed. you’ll... you’ll explode! you’ll leave your parents all alone then and it’ll make us very sad.”

aster blinked at them, unwrapping another hershey’s kiss with deliberate slowness.

“i will explode?” she asked, clearly confused by this turn of events.

you rolled your eyes. “no, you wo—”

“yes, you will,” C insisted, cutting you off. “and anyway, you’re not allowed to date anyone until you’re like 30 and paying taxes. it’s a rule.”

“that’s not a rule,” aster said with the stubborn certainty of someone who knew she was right. she really was her parents’ daughter. “and felix is a good boy.”

“‘good,’” C muttered under their breath, glaring at the imaginary felix as though he was lurking in the shadows, waiting to hand their precious little star another chocolate. “i’m going to fight this seven-year-old.”

“C!” you snapped, stepping between them and placing a hand on C’s shoulder. “calm down, my love. it’s harmless.”

C leaned back reluctantly, their gaze flicking between you and aster, who was now watching them like they’d sprouted a second head.

“fine,” they grumbled, crossing their arms over their chest.

***

after dinner, aster sat cross-legged in the middle of the living room, her brow furrowed in concentration as she examined a tiny instruction manual for building LEGOs with the intensity of someone decoding the human genome. her fingers, small but deft, picked up pieces and slotted them into place, her movements sure and deliberate.

C sat beside her, their long legs folded awkwardly beneath them, one hand bracing their bad knee. their fingers worked slower than hers, more hesitantly. the gap between them—her bright enthusiasm, their cautious quiet—was almost laughable. but C didn’t laugh.

they watched her instead.

aster had inherited their stubbornness, the precision of their thoughts, the way they spoke with certainty even when they were wrong, the hard-headed refusal to back down in the face of a challenge. but she’d also inherited your warmth, your easy charisma, the way people seemed to orbit around you like you were some kind of gravitational force.

she was both of you, but neither of you. something wholly her own. and she shone so brilliantly.

“non,” aster said suddenly, shaking her head. she spoke in a tone that was equal parts exasperated and amused, the way one might speak to a child who couldn’t quite grasp a simple concept. “that piece goes here. look.” she leaned over, plucking a flat blue brick from the pile and snapping it into place on the half-constructed spaceship.

“ah,” C said, their lips quirking into a faint smile. “of course, petite étoile. how foolish of me.”

she beamed proudly, her confidence growing with each small victory.

“it’s okay. you’re still learning,” she said magnanimously, patting their arm. honestly, it amused C greatly to see her reflect you back when you both argued everyday like your life depended on it.

C snorted, shaking their head. “merci, mademoiselle.”

“pas de problème,” she replied breezily, her accent and pronunciation impeccably like a parisian native.

C felt a pang of pride so sharp it was almost painful. french had been one of their gifts to her, a piece of their heritage they had handed down like an heirloom. and she had taken to it effortlessly, as if it had always been hers.

she slipped between languages with a grace that left C in awe, her young mind absorbing everything like a sponge.

“wat is dit?” she asked suddenly, holding up a strange piece they hadn’t encountered yet.

“hmm,” you said from where you were sprawled on the couch, your legs stretched out and a book resting on your chest. you barely looked up as you answered her in dutch, explaining what the piece was and where it might fit.

aster nodded thoughtfully, her small fingers turning the piece over as she considered its possibilities. C watched her, their heart swelling with a mixture of love and disbelief.

how could someone so small hold so much brilliance? how could she be so much more than they had ever dared to imagine for themself?

“do you think felix likes LEGOs?” aster asked suddenly, breaking their reverie. she was staring at them now, her eyes—C’s eyes, pale green and perceptive—narrowed in thought.

C felt their jaw tighten at the mention of the boy, the ghost of their earlier irritation flickering to life.

“i have no idea,” they said evenly, focusing on the spaceship.

aster tilted her head, clearly unconvinced by their tone.

“he’s nice,” she said firmly, as though this simple fact should erase all of C’s doubts.

“i’m sure he is,” C said, their tone carefully neutral.

you glanced up from your book, smirking slightly as you watched the exchange. let it go, your eyes seemed to say.

but it wasn’t that simple.

it wasn’t about this felix boy, not really. it was about aster, about the inexorable passage of time, about the impossibility of holding on to something as fragile and fleeting as childhood. she was growing up, and there was nothing C could do to stop it.

C reached for another LEGO brick, their fingers brushing against aster’s. she looked up at them, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“tu vas bien?” she asked, her voice soft and earnest.

the question caught them off guard. for a moment, they didn’t know how to respond. how could they explain the tangled mess of emotions that had been simmering inside them all day? how could they tell her that the thought of her growing up terrified them in a way they couldn’t quite articulate?

“i’m fine, petite étoile,” they said eventually, forcing a smile. “just tired.”

she seemed to accept this, turning her attention back to the spaceship. but C couldn’t help noticing the small furrow in her brow, the way her hands moved more slowly now, as if she was trying to puzzle something out.

they watched her in silence, their heart aching with a strange, bittersweet kind of love.

***

later, when the spaceship was complete and aster had been tucked into bed, C found themself sitting on the edge of your shared bed, their head in their hands.

“okay,” you said, sitting beside them. “do you want to talk about what exactly is bothering you, my love?”

they sighed, looking up at you now.

“it’s just… strange,” they said, their voice low and tired. “she’s growing up so fast. too fast. i feel like i blinked, and suddenly she’s not my little girl anymore.”

you stayed quiet, letting them find the words.

“i still remember holding her in my arms for the first time,” they continued, their voice thick with emotion. “i remember her first steps, her first word, the first time she looked at me and called out for me. and now… now she’s talking about boyfriends and whatnot.”

they let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through their hair. “i didn’t have this. a proper childhood. a father who cared. i don’t know what i’m doing half the time. i just… i look at her, and i love her so much it terrifies me. so much so that i still don’t understand how my father could—”

“hey,” you interrupted gently, placing a hand on their arm. “you’re nothing like him. you’re such a wonderful parent, C. she loves you so much. you can see it every time she looks at you. and yeah, it’s hard watching her grow up. but that’s the deal. you love them, and you let them go, little by little, so they can become who they’re meant to be.”

C nodded slowly, their eyes softening as they looked at you. “i know you’re right.”

you leaned in, pressing a kiss to their temple. “of course i’m right, i always am.”

they rolled their eyes, but a small, tired smile tugged at the corners of their mouth.

“do you think…” they hesitated, the tips of their ears turning adorably red. “do you think we should have another one?”

“another what?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

they scowled, burying their face in your neck.

“you know what i mean,” they mumbled, their voice muffled. “don’t make me say it out loud.”

you laughed, stroking their hair. “we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

but you already knew the answer.

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil.

I know you are flooded with asks and this somehow became extremely long. Too long. “Why am I suddenly telling this poor man my life story?” too long. “I think I’d rather he work on the GO3 script than read this wild beast” too long. “He’s going to think you’re criminally dangerously insane” too long. If you never get to it, I’m good with never seeing a response from you. Maybe it’s better that way? Maybe an anon would have been nice here. But, it’s 2024, so I say “we ball.” It’s a privilege to be able to send this to you at all. You get a lot to this effect and I hope they give you good feels, so maybe what’s the harm, yeah? Because this is not an ask. This is a thank you letter.

First, thanks for reblogging my therapist post, I hope it amused you. I nearly sent you ��How am i supposed to explain this to my therapist?!” But refrained. At that time.

So, therapy. What is therapy really? Well…

Things have been really rotten for as long as I can remember. Bad health, bad doctors, bad relationships, bad coping mechanisms, bad all kinds of things. (Yeah, bad is a weak and unhelpful word, my therapist reminds me, but we’re doing this.)

Well, things got even more really really rotten and BAD these last few years. Health declined further, coping mechanisms declined further and more intensely, packed up my life, applied for disability, moved back in with my parents across the country.

Then 4 years ago last week I watched my fiance die of a sudden heart attack. I was 29. Two years later my best friend died. Then last summer I sauntered vaguely into a cancer scare. Not long before an operation my cat who has been my companion through so much garbage died as well. I’m not entirely in the clear on the cancer scare front. All my attempts at going back to work, volunteering, going to grad school - they collapsed on me because I couldn’t get through this STUFF.

(Sometimes when I talk about this, when I tell people, I think “they are going to think you are a raging pathological liar.” Because I’m not sure I would believe someone if they told me all of this happened to them. In such a short time period. All before they were 35. And hell if that hasn’t been isolating. You know how it sounds? Lonely. And it is.)

I did the hypervigilant and sensation/experience chasing stage of PTSD. It got me in a lot of trouble in all kinds of ways. I had to do a lot of medical and psych advocating because things kept getting worse. That was exhausting. Then that peaked. I went into the thick of the “I feel absolutely nothing” stage for a long time. I didn’t feel fatigue or hunger or thirst. Not people, feelings, a reason. Not hope.

But of course, like seems be for a lot of us, I somehow found Good Omens at just the right time. I was a very “I’m so cool and intellectual I mostly consume non-fiction media” person for too long. Like, what? How is that even a real thing? And it wasn’t real. It was just part of this curated autism mask that I don’t think anyone really bought anyway.

I think I got to a point where I’d just had too much reality. I needed fantasy. I didn’t realize I always needed it. But I denied myself for too many odd and painful reasons. Maybe I thought it was an escape I didn’t deserve.

But as it turns out, it wasn’t an escape. I watched both seasons last fall, and then this light came on. I watched it again and again.

I came to tumblr because I needed more. I found this fandom. I stepped into this beautiful world of fanart and fanfiction and brain flexing meta writing and a sense of community and wonder that you and Terry created - that everyone involved in the show inflated - exploded in the right way - like fireworks if fireworks were some kind of autocatalytic reaction - a self perpetuating force.

It’s not a “saved my life” feeling. Not a “getting my life back” feeling. It’s been a “maybe it’s time for you to have the life you’ve always been denied - that you’ve denied yourself” feeling.

I’m creating. I’m not “great” yet. Not terribly “good” at all. Maybe “behind” as far as the “proper” timeline for starting. I know there isn’t one, not really, but boy does that society machine make ya feel like there is. And sure, I started and stopped a lot in the past. But the second it got hard I always gave up. I felt like if I didn’t get it “right” to begin with, then I just didn’t have it in me at all. But for once I’m really in it. I’m writing and trying to draw things that look less like fever dream five year old drawings. (Not that there’s anything wrong with those, is there? 🙃) I’m eating better. I’m sleeping better. I reach out to old friends more. I’ve made new friends who share this love of Good Omens.

My therapist has been floored by the change in me. After that first funny mini flop, he has been so encouraging about it. I saw him this week and I said “Maybe this is helping me get prepared to start living again. Maybe it’s a springboard.” And he honest to god said “But You ARE living. This is YOU LIVING. Why does it have to be a springboard? Why do you have to turn this into ‘work?’ Just let yourself have this for once in your life.”

But there were two more added elements that made it all work. And I can’t help but think this whole brainrot thing wouldn’t have happened without them. So many things just happened all at just the right time - a proper coincidence.

In all of the madness of the last few years I finally got the memo that I'm autistic. i figured I was for a while. But it finally sunk in for me and my docs and my people. So I’d been working on unpacking that. Grieving the life that could have been entirely different, shedding the mask. I let myself hyperfixate openly instead of hiding it and hating myself for “spiralling” or “obsessing” like others -!like ‘I’ always punished myself for before we knew that it was a trait and not a personality flaw.

Then over the last few months my therapist and I started trying this new exercise. One session he stopped me and said “in the last 20 minutes you have responded to what I’ve said with 9 ‘I knows.’” My response to that? “Ugh, I know.” So we started this “I know” swear jar type situation. Really, I’ve been afraid of not knowing. I couldn’t let myself “not know.” Because it meant I was “dumb.” I was just drowning for so long in guilt and self loathing for the “I knew better and screwed up anyway.” Or “I should’ve known better - I should know that by now.”

As it turns out, there’s a lot of things I don’t know. That I didn’t know. Things I will never know. And refusing to admit all of that kept me from learning a damn thing. Kept me from asking questions. Kept me from trying new things because it was scary to do something new - something unknown - and I "knew" how it would all turn out anyway. Kept me from connecting with people because it was painful or embarrassing when they knew things I didn’t and it seemed like I already should have. Kept me from getting better at making art, music, writing. Kept me from forgiving myself. Kept me from growing. And kept me from moving forward. Maybe not on. I don’t know if we ever “move on” from things. But we can move forward as we carry them. And as we do, the weight gets less. We’re able to carry it better. But only if we can admit that we don’t know how. Only if we don’t treat ourselves like this is something we do know or should know and we’re just failing because we’re less than. Not good enough. Not strong enough. Not deserving. We have to be able to say “I don’t know how to do this.” And then we can start looking for the answers. We can ask. We can learn.

I thought about the apple. Being able to tell the difference between good and evil. Aziraphale’s years and years of watching what he “knows” to be true be proven wrong. Crowley’s need to ask questions…

The simple and enormous gift of “Knowledge.” The “Knowledge” of the difference between Good and Evil. The “Knowledge” that can only be gained by realizing, accepting, admitting that there are things we don’t know. Asking the questions. Sometimes we get answers we don’t like. Sometimes the consequences of asking hurt us. And unless you want to stay in that painful place that painful knowledge got you, well, you’ve got to let yourself learn how to get out.

So all of this good? I never expected this. I never thought I deserved it. Joy and belonging and this sense that “Yeah, maybe things can get better. Maybe things can be good.” Because I said those things, not truly believing them, to the people I thought needed to hear it. But it couldn’t save them. It was hollow. The proof for us wasn’t really in our orbit or on our radar at the time. And now they’re gone.

People always say “it’s never too late.”

One of the people I lost said “it’s later than you think.”

I jokingly would respond “it’s already too late.”

It was for him in the end. For them. For some people I guess it really is. But maybe a lot of the “too late” people are there because they think “they know” that things will never be good for them. So they stop looking, they stop asking, stop finding. And eventually they just stop.

Then there came Crowley’s “It’s always too late.” The first time I heard it I thought “For sure, Crowley-cakes, I KNOW.”

But then…I just needed to rewatch the whole thing. And lines like that…familiar things…familiar themes…I was suddenly identifying with these characters. I suddenly saw myself. And the realization hit - I connected with something! Something new. And I FELT THAT. And that tiny little crack that made in the wall was just enough to start breaking it down. Yeah, when you start letting yourself feel after not feeling for so long, opening up to the good feelings means opening up to feelings and then the bad ones come out too. But when there IS good … it helps you balance. You can deal with the bad a little better because you’ve got the good thing to lean against when it gets too much. And now you’ve got feelings. You’ve got good and bad. You’ve got sticky foggy grey. You’ve got life.

Whew.

So, TLDR, thank you. From the bottom of my slowly healing heart, thank you.

And to sign off with some shits and giggles… I couldn’t find this in existence as a sticker so I had to custom order. Perhaps this will spread misery and panic among the humans of my city - or at least a malignant and creepy sense of unease.

Or maybe they’ll say “wtf” and go home and google it and they’ll fall into the Good Omens hole they never knew they needed too.

Thank you for this. I never quite know what to say to messages like this apart from I am really glad that it helps. (It becomes the weird extra piece that I worry about when writing season 3 -- hoping that it will be that thing again. Not just a story, but something that helps people feel and helps with healing and helps with love.)

[emptyjunior]

It looks like with the movies taking off, everyone is on the Dune train now!! Which is very exciting, I’m glad a bunch of new people are discovering this media and reading the books, but can I recommend you the David Lynch, Dune (1984) movie.

First of all, if you are invested in the lore of the books and the deeper messaging of the story, you’re going to need to turn that part of your brain Off. If you love kick ass shit and are willing to be slightly tipsy while you watch and have a great goddamn afternoon, this is the flick for you.

Now first fun fact I’m going to share with you. David Lynch (twin peaks, eraserhead director, celebrated surrealist) turned down the opportunity to direct Return of the Jedi for this film. A film that was devastatingly slow to make, changed hands multiple times, had a pricy VFX budget of $40 million and then made barely $31 million, David Lynch turned down Star Wars to work on it. And he did this when he had never read the novel, and did not even like or engage with sci fi media. THAT’S how you know we’re really in for something.

Now this film has some big names in it! We’ve got a young Kyle MacLachlan who is rocking some Devastating outfits:

We’ve got Sir Patrick Stewert as our Gurney and Sting, lead singer of the police, playing the 15 year old Feyd Rautha! If you wanted to see a grown man, sprayed orange, basically naked playing a free wheeling maniac you are in for a treat! And another fun fact, David Lynch also did not know who these actors were, he made a mistake and thought Patrick Stewert was someone else and when Sting said he was in the police he assumed he was in an organization of lawmen.

Now these characters are familiar to you, but let me get into the unfamiliar. Lynch made some directorial executive decisions throughout this film, for I suppose the ease of the viewer? I mean an adaptation is supposed to adapt so he went let me change some stuff up👏👏👏.

Those who paid attention to Jessica’s backstory may know about the Weirding Way. This is a martial arts style created by the Bene Gesserit, and practiced by Paul. It is more than just a fighting style but also an important philosophical concept, like Aikido or how Kung Fu has foundations in Buddhism.

You may also be familiar with the quote “My name is a killing word.” This inner monologue of Paul’s refers to how his title Muad’dub will be used to spur a holy war. A simple name is what people will die and bleed for, it will be what they scream as they cut down enemies.

Dark! Intense! That’s Dune, anyways in the novel it’s easy to take your time exploring these concepts. Introducing the audience to the religious ramifications of a simple name and fighting practice and how these things can have rippling repercussions upon a society like the Freman.

Now David Lynch didn’t have time for that! He had the belief (that may be right🤷‍♂️!) That watching a bunch of people kick each other on top of a sand dune would be Lame😭😭

So he made the choice for his film that “My name is a killing word” was to be taken Absolutely Literally and invented a device where if the freman said the name Muad-dib, shit would explode.

If they said Paul’s name, they could Explode Stuff. Let it sink in how rad that is. Hell yeah man, hell yeah. Imagine me interpreting religious text that way, imagine if I made a bible movie and the moral I took from a parable is that when Jesus asked for food and everyone donated fish, I concluded that Jesus was a mutant who had fish powers and could immediately conjure fish with magic and gave him fish death rays that shot out of his hands.

So that’s what you can expect from this interpretation, the weirding way now means everyone has Lasers its rad as hell.

Some other incredible choices made! This is a spoiler, but in the novels and the new films you can see the Freman collecting every scrap of water they can. Dr Liet-Kynes, the planetologist, reveals to us it’s because they have a long, multiple generation spanding plan to fix the planet. By introducing this water back they hope to reset the ecosystem over centuries of work. The reason they have been unable to do this is because a green planet would obviously not have worms and sand who produce spice, the most coveted drug in the empire, so imperial and harkonnen forces have been stopping this from ever happening. They want to be free from oppression so that they can start to work on slowly fixing their world, a project that plays out in Paul’s adult life and has its own dramas and complexities.

In Dune 1984??? The moment, the Moment Paul lays out his cousin and throws the final punch, it begins to rain in Arrakis. As if they were all under a magical curse and were just waiting for a teenager to come fight another teenager and then the water will come back. It’s so good, it’s so funny.

Also Pugs! House Atreides official Pugs! Paul has pugs in his lap!!

This is honestly an adaptation choice that I really really like! Paul is the result of centuries of selective breeding, this practice is an artform to the Bene Gesserit and a skill that they monitor closely. It produces bizarre and sometimes terrifying results and is the reason for Paul’s existence.

I think having an animal that was also created through selective breeding, was engineered from a wolf into an animal that can hardly breathe is an incredible metaphor! A smart and identifiable symbol for the audience, I think it’s a slam dunk and the new movies should have done it to.

Anyways can not recommend this film enough.

-The body suits the bad guys wear are made out of real body bags, that actually had been used.

-David Lynch to this day hates it.

-The original cut was four hours.

-The cast and crew were sick the Entire shoot with something they called Montezuma's Revenge, which was probably just food poisoning, side effects from the constant smog because they shot the whole thing on backup generators, illness from the cockroach infestation and terrible morale.

-Frank Herbert saw it multiple times and said he absolutely loved it.

-When they ride the worms, sick rock jams play.

If you love electric guitar, lasers, worms and will forgive me for not including all the trigger warnings cause Yes this film will gross you out, then go watch this movie.

[solxamber]

On my hands and knees sobbing throwing up combusting into dust signs my soul away to you THAT WAS SO SO SOOOOO CUTEEEEEE GUAYAYYAYYUUUUUAUAGAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! Poor Rollo thinks hes just being nice meanwhile poor yuu is so used to people digging underneath the bar that he's literally prince charming incarnate. Rollo clearly needs to adjust their standards and do what the villains could not by kissing yuu softly while they take a nap. And also threaten crowley to give them money for food. ANYWAYS!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FEEDING ME AND THE 5 OTHER ROLLO FANS THAT SURVIVED THE FAMINE (/j) I OWE YOU MY LIFE!!!!! This message is getting so long, but you deserve to know how awesome your writing is and that I look forward to whatever you post for real. I slide over a crisp 5 maddol and ask for when you feel like it (and if you even want to ofc!!) A part 3 where maybe they're deeper in the relationship and are doing heinous things like m*king out and grimm thinks they should be executed for making him walk into this horror. (He didn't knock. Bc he's grimm. He claimed to be scarred for life until Rollo busted out the premium tuna suddenly we should get married asap) . ANYWAYS SORRY FOR THE LONG RAMBLE. IM BARKING AND CRYING AND EXPLODING AND PROPOSING TO YOU. Signed with love, rollo anon 💗💝💖

Rollo Flamme x reader

i just saw this and this almost made me cry 🫶 also sorry for the very long wait

Part 1 ; Part 2

Rollo was nothing if not diligent. Whether it was reorganizing the shelves at the library, fixing the perpetually squeaky door in Ramshackle, or chastising Grim for yet another snack-induced fire hazard, he was always helping in his quietly intense way. It wasn’t just duty—he genuinely seemed to enjoy making your life easier, which both baffled and warmed you to your core.

You, of course, did what you could to return the favor. Helping him clean up after unruly magic festival events, proofreading his endless notes about anti-magic policies, and gently reminding him to relax when he got that telltale furrow in his brow.

And you were in love.

Like, grossly in love. The kind of love where you found his huffy rants about magical irresponsibility charming and he tolerated Grim's chaos just to spend more time with you. It was a weird, wonderful balance you’d somehow managed to strike.

Which led to this particular evening: you and Rollo, tangled on the old, creaky couch in your room at Ramshackle.

It had started innocently enough. You’d been reviewing a new book he'd brought for you—something philosophical, of course, but he’d chosen it specifically because he thought you’d enjoy it. You were teasing him about his insistence on leaving a handwritten note inside the front cover (“Who even does this, Rollo? It’s adorable, but—seriously?”), and he had flushed in that way that made you want to pinch his cheeks.

Then one thing led to another.

Now, his lips were on yours, one hand cradling your face with the kind of reverence that made your heart twist. His other arm was around your waist, anchoring you against him. Rollo might not have been an experienced romantic, but he made up for it in sheer, focused intensity. When he kissed you, it felt like you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him.

“You’re—mmph—very distracting,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and tinged with amusement.

You grinned, tugging him closer. “Says the guy who started this.”

His only response was to kiss you again, deeper this time, until your brain was reduced to a pleasant, fizzy blur. The world outside the room ceased to exist. It was just you, him, and the creak of the couch as you shifted closer—

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY?! MY EYES! THEY’RE RUINED!”

Grim’s shrill scream shattered the moment like glass.

You froze, pulling back to see Grim standing in the doorway, paws dramatically covering his eyes. “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? ON MY COUCH?”

“Grim, it’s my couch,” you said, face burning.

“You’re the henchhuman; it’s ours by default!” Grim wailed. “And now it’s a place of SIN!”

Rollo, to his credit, had already straightened up, his expression transitioning from flustered to composed in record time. “Grim,” he said, voice calm yet firm, “surely you’ve barged in enough times to anticipate that privacy should be respected.”

“Oh, I respected it,” Grim sniffed. “But my henchhuman clearly has no shame. And you!” He pointed an accusatory paw at Rollo. “I thought you were better than this! But no, you’re—”

Rollo, completely unbothered by the tirade, reached into his bag and produced a can of… premium tuna?

Grim’s rant ground to a halt. His ears perked up as he sniffed the air. “Wait. Is that—?”

“Indeed,” Rollo said smoothly, holding it up like a peace offering. “A gift I intended to give later, but it seems circumstances call for a different approach.”

Grim’s eyes lit up with unrestrained glee. “You know what? I’ve never doubted you for a second, Rollo!” He scurried forward, practically salivating as he swiped the can. “You’re clearly the best thing that’s ever happened to my henchhuman. You two should get married. Tomorrow. I’ll get a priest. I’m sure Crowley owes me a favor.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as Grim popped the can open with zero regard for decorum. “Grim, you are the worst.”

“Correction: I’m the best,” Grim said, already devouring the tuna with gusto. Between bites, he added, “This guy’s a keeper. Don’t mess it up, henchhuman.”

Rollo’s lips twitched, a hint of amusement breaking through his otherwise composed demeanor. He leaned closer, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “Shall we take his advice?”

You gave him a playful shove, laughing despite yourself. “Not helping, Rollo.”

But deep down, as Grim devoured his bribe and Rollo sat beside you with that quietly pleased look, you couldn’t deny that the idea didn’t sound all that bad.

The exhaustion of the day had finally caught up to you, and you’d collapsed onto your bed with a sigh of relief. “Wake me up for class, okay?” you mumbled to Rollo, who was sitting at your desk, meticulously organizing the scattered notes you’d left behind.

“I’ll make sure you’re on time,” he replied, his voice carrying that steady assurance you found oddly comforting.

You barely managed a hum of acknowledgment before sleep claimed you, leaving the world behind in a haze of warm, peaceful quiet.

When you stirred again, it wasn’t the sound of your alarm or the creak of the floorboards that woke you. It was something far gentler.

A warm, featherlight pressure on your forehead.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, and the first thing you saw was Rollo leaning over you, his expression soft in a way that made your heart do an Olympic-level somersault. He was close enough that you could see the slight flush on his cheeks, though his composure never wavered.

“Good morning,” he said softly, his voice a gentle murmur. “It’s time to get ready for class.”

You blinked at him, your still-sleepy brain struggling to process what had just happened. “Did you… just kiss me awake?”

His blush deepened, but he stood his ground, meeting your gaze with quiet confidence. “You looked so peaceful. I thought it would be a more pleasant way to wake you than simply shaking your shoulder.”

Your heart melted on the spot. If there was a scale for romantic gestures, this one had just broken it.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, though your voice betrayed how utterly smitten you were.

“Perhaps,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But you didn’t seem to mind.”

You didn’t bother arguing because he was absolutely right. Instead, you reached out, tugging him down for a proper kiss this time.

When you finally pulled away, you smirked at his flustered expression. “If you keep this up, I’m going to start napping more often.”

He chuckled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “If that’s the case, I’ll have to be even more diligent about ensuring you don’t oversleep.”

You laughed, warmth blooming in your chest as you sat up and stretched. “Thanks for waking me, Rollo. Really.”

“Of course,” he said, his tone earnest as ever. “It’s the least I can do.”

The man was going to ruin you with how thoughtful he was. And as you got ready for class with a lingering smile on your face, you couldn’t help but think that waking up like this every day wouldn’t be so bad.

It started with something simple. You were both sitting in the courtyard of the chapel, enjoying a quiet moment together. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over everything, and Rollo was, as usual, the picture of composure. He was reading a book—some historical text you’d never have the patience for—but his attention drifted when he noticed you staring at the horizon, lost in thought.

“Are you cold?” he asked, setting his book aside and leaning slightly closer.

You blinked out of your reverie, shaking your head with a soft smile. “No, I’m fine.”

He studied you for a moment, then pulled his scarf from around his neck and gently draped it over your shoulders anyway. “Just in case,” he murmured.

It wasn’t anything extraordinary—just a scarf—but the gesture made your heart swell. The scarf smelled faintly of lavender, and the warmth of it felt like an extension of Rollo himself.

“Thanks, Rollo,” you said, voice soft.

He nodded, but when he saw the way your smile lingered, something shifted in his expression. His usual composed demeanor softened into something… almost reverent.

“You deserve this,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically tender.

“Huh?” You tilted your head at him, confused.

“You deserve to be cared for,” he clarified, meeting your gaze with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “You give so much of yourself to others. It’s only natural that someone should do the same for you.”

You stared at him, heart racing. “Rollo, I… That’s really sweet.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, though not at you. “It’s concerning that such basic decency stands out to you,” he muttered, almost to himself. “What kind of environment is this school fostering?”

The thought of Rollo, grimacing at the thought of NRC’s questionable population, made you burst into laughter. “I mean, you’ve met Grim, right? The standards here are subterranean.”

Rollo’s expression softened again when he saw how amused you were. “Even so,” he said, taking your hands in his with surprising gentleness, “you should never feel as though you’re asking for too much when you expect kindness or respect. It’s what you’re owed.”

Your heart did a little somersault, and you couldn’t help but giggle, ridiculously touched. “Stop, you’re going to make me cry,” you teased, though the slight quiver in your voice betrayed how close you were to actually tearing up.

He smiled faintly, leaning closer until his forehead nearly touched yours. “If you cry, I’ll simply have to dry your tears,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “Though I’d rather see you smiling.”

You let out another helpless laugh, pulling your hands free so you could lightly swat at his arm. “Stop being so romantic! I can’t handle this!”

Rollo chuckled softly, pleased with your reaction. “If it makes you happy, then I’ll consider it a worthwhile effort.”

And he meant it. He was genuinely, utterly content to see you so touched, so happy. Yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, a quiet but fierce determination grew. The villains and miscreants of NRC may not have treated you with the respect you deserved, but he would make it his mission to ensure you never doubted your worth again.

Masterlist

[sluttyangy]

Hey there, I hope you’re having a beautiful day/night! I’m not sure how many requests you have at the moment; if you’ve got too many please feel free to ignore this! Before getting into the request I just want to say I absolutely adore your blog theme and writing! ❤️ As for the request, I too am a bit of a Shidou whore >~< so I was wondering if you’d feel comfortable with maybe writing something about his turn-ons? It doesn’t have to be anything explicit if you don’t want it to be — maybe just some things his s/o does that would be attractive/stimulating to him? Of course you could also include other characters if you’d like! Again, if you aren’t interested or if you’re too busy then please feel free to ignore ❤️ thanks in advance either way! You’re doing great! ❤️🙌🏻

⟢ Synopsis : Shidou’s turn-ons ! ♡ (sfw and nsfw)

⟢ Notes : Hiii anon !! tysm for your request, I’m very glad to know that my theme and writing is liked ! ♡ I hope you are doing very good ! My requests are indeed open and even very welcomed <3 There will be a sfw part, and a nsfw part, so if you aren’t into nsfw stuff, feel free to ignore this part ! Thank you so much to everyone for the support, and I hope i can continue to bring y’all the delulu we all need ♡

⟢ Sfw :

Shidou is absolutely in love with everything about you. But, there's still some little things that make him go wild. He loves whenever you just call for his name, even calling around the house, calling in the changing rooms at the stadium. It brings him so much satisfaction to hear his name from your pretty mouth, and sometimes will even act like he didn't hear you, just so you would repeat that heavenly word to his ears.

Ryusei also has a thing for your hair, whether it be long or short. He just loves to run his hands through it, and he can never help but imagine himself tugging and pulling it.

Shidou is absolutely in love with your waist, he always needs to be touching it, holding it, squeezing it underneath his fingers. It turns him on to imagine just how much positions he could put you in just by holding your waist.

Finally, the horny demon feels his heart explode whenever you walk around the house wearing his clothes. It makes him feel like you totally belong to him, that there's a piece of him on you, showing that you are his. Same for outside, he could die on place when he sees you wearing his jersey, out in town or to his matches. Being really possessive, that allows him to show to everyone that this pretty girl is his girlfriend.

⟢ Nsfw :

During the more sensual and intimate moments, Shidou has a lot more turn-ons. Basically everything about you turn him on, from your body to the look in your eyes, to the way you lick your lips.

But once again, some things turned him on more than the others. Shidou's favorite thing is seeing you totally fucked out, totally cockdrunk. That man goes on for many rounds, more than your pretty little brain can handle. This leads you to only being able to think about the man holding you, only feeling his touch and the intense stimulation he gives you. Ryusei could cum just by watching the dazed look in your eyes, the drool dripping down your chin.

He loves your shudders, the way your body react to his relentless assault. He loves when he feels your goosebumps under his fingertips when he bites and suck at your skin. He proudly wears the scratches on his back, on his waist, and on his arms. Ryusei adores that you just try to have the most physical contact possible with him, and he gladly gives in.

Shidou also has more simple things that turn him on sexually, like those little booty shorts that shows the underside of your ass, or those tank tops that'll reveal your cleavage. He will always grope at it, touch it in some ways. Want to send him to heaven ? Wear those and stuff his cock between your breasts, giving him that innocent doe eyes.

[adventuringblind]

Make Me Yours

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Genre: chaotic smut (I'm a slut for this man)

Summary: Daniel mentions something to Oscar and he takes a shot in the dark.

Warnings: KNIFE PLAY, blood, intensive aftercare, Max and Daniel being big brothers, Oscar is a dork and we love him for it, enemies to lovers if you squint, soft dom Oscar, Reader is a mess for Oscar and he loves it.

Notes: This was an anonymous request! I hope you like it!! Please remember to communicate and take care of yourselves if you engage in a kink like this!! Reader is a Redbull rookie which I know is ridiculous but it's fiction.

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

She wouldn't say her sex life is vanilla. Definitely the opposite, actually. Most people would look at Oscar and assume he is the most boring human on the planet.

They are all wrong.

Most the drivers, including herself, teased him about how he knows two positions maximum. He'd gotten fed up with it and showed her exactly why everyone is wrong.

Turns out pent up tension from being rivals from F3 and F2 leads to these situations. The situation being mind-blowing sex with the one guy who you didn't want to admit feelings for.

Formula 1 is an unforgiving world. She didn't need feelings getting in the way. Until Oscar came along and ruined it all.

Until that night, at least. Now they are stuck together like glue. It drives Max and Daniel insane with how much he's around the Redbul garage.

She tried to use the 'best friends' excuse until Daniel caught them in her driver's room.

"It's always the rookies."

That being said, her problem isn't the sex, or Oscar, or her relationship at all. The problem is how to bring up something she would like to try.

Both of them like trying new things and have been very clear on boundaries and keep open communication about the subject. He's never judged her for anything she's brought up. So why can't she just ask him?

"Something on your mind?" Daniel appears from thin air, and she slams her phone down out of view. She prays he didn't see the pictures of the silver blades and thinks she a psycho.

"Nope," she squeaks. A terrible recovery on her end.

"Watching porn? Looking at Mr. Piartri's nudes? Come one, you can tell me!"

Max pokes his head out from around the corner. "Are we talking about sex?" Here she thought the secluded space would be far away enough for them to come bother her. Then again, Daniel could help her out. He's good at talking to people.

"Pretty sure you and Charles talked about it last night." She quips without looking at him.

She's blushing and embarrassed. Her brain is yelling at her to run as far away as possible before she does something stupid-

"Hey Daniel, you know about sex stuff right?" Wow, that doesn't sound awkward at all.

"Yes?" He quirks his eyebrow at her. "But if you're looking for a threesome I'm going to have to decline. For now, at least," he winks.

She chokes at the notion. She's going to explode at this rate. Time to bail out. "Never mind, it's not that, but it's dumb."

Max appears fully in her line of sight. "You can't leave us hanging now! Oscar not performing well anymore?" His expression suddenly goes dark. "Or if he hurt you, I won't hesitate to send him into the barriers."

"No! no, it's not him it's me. I don't know how to ask him about something."

Both the males soften. It eases the anxiety a tiny bit, but she'd still rather not be here.

"Hmm, can I ask what it is?"

"A kink," she whispers away from him.

Daniel hears it anyway. "Yours or his?"

"Mine."

Daniel, now seeing he's not going to get anywhere like this, tries a new approach. "Look, this is a no judgment zone, right? Max talks about Charles and their sex life any chance he gets. I am an open book. No laughing or cringing, okay?"

It still feels weird having this conversation. But Daniel isn't going to let it sit now. Curse her impulsive mouth. "Knives. I want him to use a knife on me."

~~~~~

Oscar is sitting in wait around the Redbull motorhome. His girlfriend had said she'd meet him out here and he hasn't seen her all day, so he came early.

Media days are usually difficult for her. The journalists manage to find some new sexist thing to point out every race weekend. It drives all the drivers insane. They can't just let it go and move on to something new.

"Hiya mate!" Daniel appears around the corner and Oscar manages (just barely) to not jump out of his skin. "You waiting for your girl?"

"Yeah, I'm early though. Do I need to go?"

"Nah, you're fine." Daniel throws him a grin. "I'm curious how you keep the marks on her hidden. Been wondering for a while now."

Oscar blinks. His brain is trying to process the last Statement. "You mean... like a hickey?"

"No! The scars." Daniel looks like he's just said the most obvious thing. Oscar is still trying to remain neutral in what is definitely an odd conversation.

Scars? What scars is he talking about? "I-"

"Don't tell me you don't see it! That girl totally has some kind of knife kink."

Knife kink?! Where is this coming from? He tries to think back to any hint of it on her end. It's not like he's opposed to trying new things and he wouldn't be shocked if she felt weird about bringing it up.

"I'd ask her about it mate." Daniel winks and disappears into the crowd of people.

Oscar tries not to think too hard on it. It's just a weird comment made by Daniel in passing.

At least, that's what it started as.

Oscar then finds himself doing research on it. A deep rabbit hole that now occupies far too much space in his brain.

The idea of her permanently some kind of mark he puts there drives him wild. Which is odd, because it hasn't before. A visible hickey every now and then does the trick. Satisfies him when they go out places.

After the first 'I don't see your boyfriend,' he started putting one on her collar bone. Not visible unless she deems it so amd fresh enough to ward off any suspicious characters.

Curse Daniel for giving him this stupid idea. Something more permanent than a hickey sounds appealing.

If it were up to him, he'd keep her in his pocket. It's funny, really, how she thought he didn't know about her feelings. Oscar had played the game for two years. Then he couldn't take it anymore and he snapped.

Yes, she's snarky and moody, and as picky as Lando, until you get past the hard exterior and see she's all soft and squishy. Most of the time, anyway.

He asks her about it after Silverstone. He's coming down off his high and drunk on the adrenaline paired with a shot of success. The confidence boost is really what he needs to put the idea out there. As outrageous as it seems, Daniel might have a point.

"I was thinking about something." He starts off with. She flops onto her bed. Not his since Lando manages to get into his room at the worst times.

"Something good I hope?"

"Depends." Oscar adjusts their position so he can cradle her. The way she snuggles into him like an affectionate cat makes him melt. "It's kinky."

"The best kind of thoughts to have!" She taps his nose with her index finger to accentuate each word.

Oscar steels himself for the possible outcomes. "What if we tried knives."

There is an unmatched look of pure shock on her face. Oscar is prepared to reassure that she doesn't have to, until he notices the glint.

"Yes! I mean - yeah, we should give it a try."

Huh, so Daniel was right. Oscar will have to thank him later for the tip. "We need to talk about it first. I'm thinking either talk now and do it or we save it for a later date."

"How about we talk now, then see?"

"Sounds lovely."

~~~~~

The more Oscar talks, the more she wants it. It's ridiculous what he does to her with merely his voice. Or maybe it's the constant regard for her wants, needs, and safety.

Yeah, it's true what they say: consent really is sexy.

"Love? Did you hear what I was saying?" His voice has they soft mellowness about it that calms the raging see of her emotions.

"No..."

"Stay with me, yeah? I'll put this off if you aren't coherent enough to truly consent to anything." Yep, sexy. No doubt about it.

"I'm here, promise! Just got distracting... thinking."

"About?"

She waits a beat to see if he's willing g to drop it. He makes no indication he'll be moving on, however, making her forced to answer. "Your voice..."

She is going to combust at this rate. It's embarrassing how wrecked she is already. Oscar hasn't even touched her, but the sight of him with the glinting silver blade in his hands has her going feral. The crazy eyed, drooling kind that makes her seem like she should be locked up.

The fact Oscar spent over two hours in discussion and has research to back up every point her makes drivers her wild. She would happily spend the rest of her life with him even after a measly two years together.

He's ruined her. Oscar has made it so she will never be able to leave. So what if she's dramatic? Can you really blame her when she has Oscar Piastri standing in front of her looking ready to devour her?

Oscar takes his time. It's slow and gentle kisses, nimble fingers finding their way around the canvas he knows so well. "Fucking hell you're gorgeous."

She takes a mental note of the way she's in no clothes and he's got all his own. It's unfair and she tugs at his sleeve to signal she wants it off. Oscar complies and pulls the fabric off.

He goes back to licking his way around the inside of her mouth. Her hands relax around his body, taking comfort in the warmth and closeness of the skin-on-skin contact.

His fingers slip through her folds and like muscle memory locate her clit. It's pathetic the sounds he's getting her to make. Specifically, while holding the pocketknife, unopened, in his free hand.

"So pretty for me love. I would cut you up and put you in my pocket if I could. Carry your cute ass around with me like a good luck charm."

She's so far down the rabbit hole of her favorite headspace. Oscar's words are just swimming around her, until the sound of the black clicking open pulls her back into reality.

He presses the flat part of the blade against her arm. The cold of the metal sends a shiver running down her spine.

Oscar is looking deep in the eyes, mapping out every emotion and physical reaction she's having to the sensation. "Color?"

"Green, very green, the brightest of greens-" Oscar shuts her up with a kiss to her temple. It's gentle and meaningful. Enough to turn her right into a blushing mess.

Oscar checks in frequently every time the blade moves. The masochist is jumping for joy when the tip barely rests against her shoulder blade. "Are you ready? Want me to mark you? Shall I make you bleed for me?"

"Please," She whines.

"Keep your eyes on me yeah? You say red and I stop."

She signals that she understands and would like to continue. Oscar traces the line he wants to make.

She hisses when the knife presses downwards. Oscar panics, but he watches her eyes roll back and knows to continue. "Eyes on me, love. I want to see how pretty you look."

The cold stinging sensation makes her whimper in pain and moan in ecstasy all at the same time. He's still talking to her. Voice still calm and gentle. He's watching her intently, tracking every shift until he's done.

He keeps a hand on her to let her know he's still present as he tucks the, now closed knife, safely onto the bedside table. Despite looking so composed to everyone else, she notices the small thing about Oscar's shift in demeanor. Like how his pupils are staring at her, just the slightest bit tinged with the desire tor take her in the next ten seconds.

He resists and makes sure she is ready for that first. "Color?"

She slurs through an ungodly number of praises and words resembling 'green'. Oscar basks in it. He sits and caresses her skin as he watches the cut to make sure he really did go light enough.

Small beads of red appear at the surface, but not enough that he's concerned with first aid at the Moment. He breathes a sigh of relief.

"Osc? Are you still green?"

Oscar softens again. "Yeah, I'm green, just taking in the sight and - happy I didn't stab you." He's breathless and panting. His jeans straining and her hands aching to get her hands on him.

There is so much love and kindness leading up to him finally getting inside of her. The towel underneath her shoulder catches the run-off red. It falls away with every thrust of his hips and rock of her body.

They hit the edge to quickly. Falling over it in white hot pleasure and moans of joy.

"You're such a good girl for me. You did such a good job." Oscar whispers in her ear as he wipes the cut with disinfectant.

Oscar carries her blissed out body to the bathroom and lets her look at the wound before bandaging it. A perfect heart now rests on the peak of her shoulder. Not massive, but enough to be seen without looking to close.

"I love it."

"Yeah? You ready to bandage it?"

"Do we have to?"

She doesn't get her way. Oscar bandages the heart and gets them cleaned up. Then it's water and snacks in bed.

"I never thought you'd be into it."

"I wasn't until Daniel brought it up."

Her entire being stills. Maybe even goes pale and Oscar looks at her in confused worry.

"I might have asked him for advice on how to ask you... about this."

Once again, his face softens. "You know you never have to be afraid of asking me." A gentle smile appears on his face. "I do think we'll have to thank him for this later."

"You're just going to inflate his ego."

"Maybe it's worth it if he keeps giving me advice." Oscar winks at her and smirks.

Yeah, maybe Daniel's pestering isn't to bad.

~~~~~

Oscar stands waiting for the drivers parade the next race weekend with all the other drivers. He's waiting patiently for his favorite rookie to come and join him.

Instead, he is once again jumping out of his skin because Danile is grabbing his shoulders from out of nowhere. "Could you not, like, scare me? Please?"

"But this is more fun! Certainly not as much fun as you had, I'm sure. I saw the scar." Daniel wiggles his eyebrows.

Oscar is blushing, he can feel it in his face. The words he wants to say are not coming out like he intends. "yep, I - um... thanks."

"Let me know if you need any other advice." Daniel smirks and claps him on the shoulder, Leaving Oscar a mess.

This is why I get teased; he thinks.

[agentzedbooks]

*Written while high and horny.*

Imagining someone with some magical ability, and they cause my breasts to swell up a cup size. Of course I’m instantly wet, and breathing hard. I ask her for more, and she says no, that I haven’t earned it yet. She says I have to beg for it. This just makes me hotter, and I have to decide if I’m willing to degrade myself just to satisfy my kink. As I appear undecided, she reaches out and gives my chest a light caress, telling me if I just say ‘please,’ she’ll give me a little more. I whimper slightly at her touch, and before I realize it, I say ‘please.’

She snaps her fingers, and I feel that intense pleasure as they swell up again. I almost bark out another ‘please,’ and another snap, another swell, more waves of mindless bliss. I don’t know it, but as my titties grow, my brain is shrinking. I’m now sporting some respectable handfuls, C cups about, and her hands go to my chest again. Her touch turns my knees to jelly, and I am putty in her hands. She smiles and lets out a satisfied chuckle. She asks me if I want to go bigger. I say please! She wags her finger and says, “Please, what?”

“Please make my tits grow,” I moan out. She snaps her fingers, and they swell again. I’m almost on the floor, and her silky touch is sending my brain into blank, empty bliss. She slides her fingers into my mouth, and I’m reflexively sucking on them. She then trails them down my chest, my belly, and stops just above my slit.

“Beg me,” she whispers.

I can’t think, too overwhelmed and lost in a fog of arousal. “P... puh... please... make my titties big!”

“Good girl,” she says, and the swelling begins again, and I’m so close to cumming I want to touch myself, but can’t actually focus enough to do it.

Soon, I am on my knees, as my top is close to ripping open, and I am kissing up and down her legs, begging through gasps and moans for more, to go bigger.

“Good girl,” she says, and my tits balloon up, and the fabric starts to tear. It hurts for a second, then my gorgeous new titties are free! My tits are so huge now, and I look down at them swinging freely in the air, nipples hard and so sensitive I can feel the air moving over them. I try to talk, but only desperate whimpers come out. I’m riding the edge and too far gone from pleasure to think.

“Do you want bigger?”

I grab my giant new tits and the pleasure sends me to a whole new level of blank, blissful arousal. I can only nod to her, and give the weakest of whimpers in the affirmative.

She snaps her fingers again, and I feel the flesh growing in my hands. I’m cumming, but it’s shallow, and only makes me more desperate, aching for a sexual release. She laughs at me.

“What a good little dummy doll,” she says, “Hmmm, let’s see, you need some evening out.”

My tummy cinches and my ass plumps just a little. My hair falls in front of my face and it’s suddenly bright blonde and wavy. It all feels so... right. I coo at the touch of my Mistress, who looks me in the eye and asks me “What are you?”

“I’m a dummy dolly,” I say, and she kisses me, melting what’s left of my brain. My tits swell one more time and my cunt explodes with pleasure. I float on a cloud of pink orgasmic bliss, and yet..l and yet I still need more. I’ll do whatever my Mistress wants to get more. No more icky thoughts, just fuzzy pink brain and tits. Love tits. Love MY tits. Dummy dolly wants to play!

[darth-jess]

GalaxyCon 2024: Meeting Hayden Christensen

I have never been someone who cares about famous people. To clarify: I care about them as human beings, like in a very general sense, the way I'd care about any other person I've never met before. I also don't really care to know much about the personal lives of my favorite famous people. For me, at least, knowing things about them can change the way I look at the characters they play, the music they write, or the art they make. And personally, I like to view these things in my own context, not within someone else's.

Because of this, I have never really become obsessed with any particular famous person. I've become obsessed with their art– their portrayal of a character, their music, their writing, etc… but never with the actual person. Why would I? I've never met them before, I don't know them, I don't know what they're like as real people.

So I never really understood those fangirls who scream or faint or start sobbing when they get to meet the Jonas Brothers or Taylor Swift. I totally did not get it.

Then, I got to meet Hayden Christensen this past weekend at GalaxyCon.

And let me tell you, emotional fangirls, I get it now.

I have never been to a con before, this was my first one ever and honestly I don't think any future con I go to will top this one.

I knew going into it I was going to be a little nervous. After all, even though (as I stated before) I don't really care about the actors who play my favorite characters, I can absolutely appreciate how much their acting affected me, how much the role they played on screen changed my own life, as well as their skill as an artist.

And because Anakin Skywalker has been my favorite character in all fiction since I was 6 years old– and has not changed since then– I was very excited. The only favorite characters I had before Anakin were Darth Vader (when I found out they were the same my 4-year-old brain nearly exploded) and Ariel from The Little Mermaid. I was 3 when The Phantom Menace came out, give me a break.

Anyway.

Waiting in line for the photo op on Saturday gave me so much excited anxiety, I felt light headed and a little sick to my stomach– and the entire time my husband was kind of making fun of me (not in a mean way, mind you, he was making me laugh). I kept telling him, "I'm too nervous, I want to go home!" – which wasn't true, but for some reason I kept saying it.

The photo op was super quick, I remember Hayden saying something nice, like "Nice to meet you" or something like that (or maybe I said that?). I only had time to hand Hayden the Anakin Skywalker replica lightsaber I'd gotten the day before and ask him to hold it! I think he said something else, but I literally don't remember because I sort of blacked out.

I barely remember taking the picture.

Then, later in the day, we waited in line for two hours (it was worth it) to get his autograph and the entire time I was trying to stay calm because I was worried that when we got to him I would just stare at him blankly, unable to say anything.

The line was soooo long, and he was sort of blocked off behind these curtains– I think the curtains are there as much for him as they are for the fans. I imagine if he could've seen how long the line was, he would've wished for Anakin's robotic arm to do all those autographs. I would have, for sure.

When we were ushered through the curtains I could literally feel every single beat of my heart, I could hear it in my brain. I felt lightheaded again, and I turned to my husband and said, "I think my heart is going to explode."

Something I noticed as we got closer was that even though he looked kind of tired, he was still nice to every single person in line and made every interaction special. I have no idea how many autographs he'd already done that day– hundreds at least– and he was still trying to talk to everyone who'd come to see him.

Finally, we got to Hayden and he looked me right in the eyes (and like holy aslkdfj that gaze is intense– NICE, but intense) and he said something like, "How are you today?"

And I said, "I'm good, how are you? It's so nice to meet you!"

I have no idea what he said after that because my heart was beating SO LOUD, but he said something nice in response.

And then I finally remembered what I wanted to tell him, so I said, "Anakin was always my favorite character."

He smiled real big while he was signing our poster, and he said, "Thank you, that means a lot to me!"

I wanted to say more, like:

"How much of yourself do you feel like you put into Anakin's character?" – This is something I'm always curious about, because as a writer I feel like I put so much of myself into my writing.

Or:

"I hope we get to see you in more Star Wars projects!"

Or even just:

"I'm so happy you're getting the recognition you deserve."

But I was honestly lucky I'd been able to speak at all, and at this point, nothing else was coming out. And I was slightly worried that if I spoke again I'd say something weird or not make any sense at all.

So my husband took over, and he held up the photo we'd taken earlier from the photo op and said, "Thanks for making me look like the third wheel!"

And Hayden laughed– he actually laughed– and made some kind of joking reply but I sort of blacked out there too because I was so embarrassed!

Finally, my husband said what I'd really wanted to say, "We're just really happy to see you finally getting the recognition you deserve."

And Hayden smiled and nodded, and said, "Really, thank you guys so much, that means a lot."

And then he shook our hands and said it was nice to meet us, and it was time to go. We walked out, and I had tears in my eyes, my heart was still racing, and my whole body was shaking. I turned to my husband as I held onto his arm and I said, "I literally can't feel my legs."

Moral of the story: Hayden Christensen is literally so nice to his fans, so if you ever get the opportunity to meet him, I highly recommend it. He's not going to remember the interaction, but I guarantee you will for the rest of your life.

Also, don't judge fangirls for getting emotional.

[xogiulianna]

PLAYING DANGEROUS

you want to try something new - so you turn to your best friend, chris, for help.

contains : slapping, choking, masturbation, slight dacryphilia

you're not sure why you were so susceptible to these urges, but they were strong and distracting, occupying your thoughts constantly.

they got so intrusive that it came to a point where you couldn't act normal, not even around one of your closest friends.

you were over at the triplets' house one friday night, per usual, watching a movie with chris.

he had already begun interrupting the film after merely ten minutes of watching, just because he wanted to ramble about his 'bright' idea of having a pillow fight, like how it happens in the cliché movie sleepovers.

eventually, you agreed, just to shut him up.

your fight started out normal, the living room filled with the sound of laughter and pillows thudding against bodies.

after a few strikes, you have a moment of weakness. your arms had already gotten tired from hitting chris constantly, while simultaneously trying to dodge his attacks.

taking advantage of your weariness, chris rips your pillow out of your grasp, tossing it onto the floor, too far away for you to reach.

"not fair!" you exclaim, trying to scramble past chris to retrieve your weapon, but he lightly shoves your shoulder, pushing you down into the corner of the couch.

"got ya," he chuckles, smiling down at you devilishly as he kneels above you, his arm retracting behind him with the pillow clutched in his hand.

not wanting to get hit in the face, you quickly reach out and yank the cushion out of his hand and down into your lap - just as he begins to bring his arm down in the direction of your head.

a crack echoes throughout the room, the noise bouncing off the walls and making your mind spin.

"oh, my god- no, fuck, are you okay?"

your head is knocked to the side, a fiery stinging sensation exploding across your cheek, every nerve ending in your face tingling with raw pain.

"shit.. hey, look at me, i’m so sorry.."

you sit frozen in shock, forcing your eyes open after you wired them shut on impact.

"let me see.."

wincing slightly at the gentle touch of chris’s hand on your face, your eyes shift over to him. his expression is etched with worry as he examines the red blotch blooming across your cheek where his hand had struck you.

"damn it, kid. it was an accident.. only meant for the pillow to hit you, i swear."

a wave of humiliation washes over you when you notice that your eyes have gotten all watery from the sheer impact and intensity of the shock that coursed through your body.

"come on, don't cry." chris murmurs softly, his eyes flitting across your features.

you sniffle, shaking your head and snapping yourself out of the dazed state you were enveloped in.

"no, chris, stop." you say, shoving past him and getting up off the couch. "it's fine."

ignoring his persuasions to come back, you quickly rush down the hall to the bathroom, shutting yourself in. you stare back at your reflection in the mirror, bringing your fingertips up to lightly graze the sensitive mark on your cheek.

in the small room, you feel suffocated. all of the emotions and feelings you’re experiencing at once are weighing down on your shoulders, making your brain feel fuzzy.

you feel hurt, obviously - chris is pretty strong. naturally, your face is still irritated from the blow he landed on your skin.

however - you're sure that chris would never do something like this on purpose, you can tell by the way he was so quick to become completely apologetic, inspecting the damage he’d done.

this.. made you frustrated.

deep down, something’s burning inside you, something filthy, something you want to indulge in.

your gaze is fixated on yourself in the mirror, analyzing your red face and your heaving chest as you inhale shallow, labored breaths.

you try to ignore the heat pooled in your stomach. you didn’t want to like this.

chris is your best friend, and he’s good looking, you knew that, but you’ve never had any sexual feelings towards him. plus, it was an accident.

so why is your body practically trembling with want? with the need for more?

it’s been several days since last friday. you’ve been ignoring chris’ texts and calls. you left him to assume that you were just angry with him for hitting you - and part of you truly was infuriated, because if he hadn’t done that, you’d have been able to focus on anything else except the incident.

you finally gave in after chris started forcing his two brothers to start texting you, checking up on you, asking you to come over.

upon arriving at his house, just seeing his face when he opened the door reminded you of your darkest desires, making you silently curse yourself for having no willpower anymore.

chris notices your demeanor, asks you what’s wrong, and you panic. you immediately usher him into his bedroom, wanting to avoid the lingering presences of nick and matt throughout the house.

"kid- what’re you doin'?" chris grumbles as you shove him through the doorway, closing you two in the room with a slam of the door. "i told you, im real sorry, i didn’t mean to hit you-"

"chris, just shut up for a second," you snap. he’s apologized numerous times, you knew he was sorry, you knew that he felt bad.

but you didn’t want him to feel like that.

you didn’t want him to be apologetic, because the ugly truth is that you liked it. you wanted to experience the sensation again, properly.

chris is just standing and staring at you, face twisted into utter confusion. you’ve never seriously lost your temper with him before.

"i’m not mad at you," you clarify, sighing and walking over to sit yourself down on his bed.

"okay.." chris says carefully, sitting down with you, the edge of the mattress dipping underneath his weight. "then what’s got you acting like this?"

you pinch the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut. you can hardly believe what you’re about to say, but you just can’t keep it a secret.

you and chris don’t lie to each other; however, you don’t normally get serious like this. everything is lighthearted between you two - making this situation all the more stressful.

"promise me.." you speak hesitantly. "if i tell you, that you won’t get weirded out?"

chris quickly shakes his head, his interest piqued even further. "no, i promise. y’can tell me anything."

exhaling another long sigh, you fight an entire war in your mind in the span of a few seconds. heat crawls up your neck, the walls feeling like they’ll close in around you if you don’t speak up. just say it. just tell him.

"i can’t stop thinking about how it felt."

"what?" chris’ brows drop, his eyes scrutinizing you. you look down, trying to hide the red tint spreading across your cheeks. your eyes fixate firmly on your lap as you toy with the hem of your shirt.

"what do you mean?" chris questions. your pulse rings in your ears, each thump of your heart making your torso twitch.

"i mean, it made me.." your breathing becomes shallow, your voice struggling to speak your mind as the words crumble in your mouth.

forcing yourself to look up at him, you make yourself spit the words out.

"i want you to do it again."

chris' lips part, his eyes darkening. "nah, you’re messin' with me. that isn’t funny." he rasps.

you shake your head. "i’m not, chris. i swear."

"that's crazy, i don't.." he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. "you’re killin’ me here, i.. i’m not gonna hit y-"

"please," you whisper, cutting his rejection off. "i just need to feel it one more time."

chris' fingers twitch, his tongue running across the inside of his cheek. he stares blankly at you for a moment, making you want to melt into his bed and disappear forever.

just as you're about to take everything back - tell him to just forget about it and rush out of his room, he reaches out towards you.

grabbing your chin in one hand, he coaxes you to lean back on his bed, giving your shoulder a gentle push with his other hand. his knee comes to settle between your legs, his body slanted towards yours.

"you're playin' dangerous, you know that?" chris growls, moving his thumb to brush across your cheek, right over the same spot he landed the accidental blow just days ago. "you’re really askin' me to hurt you?"

you only nod in response, staring up at him - seeing your best friend in a completely new light. noticing lust in his eyes for the first time, it made you question everything.

"nah," he smirks, shaking his head. "need you to tell me how bad you want it. lemme hear you."

you were starstuck by his words, his low voice echoing in your mind and bouncing off your bones, sending electric shocks through your body.

"chris, i- we don't have to.." you breathe out, the situation suddenly feeling a little too real.

"mm-mm," he hums teasingly. "you got yourself into this, doll." he trails his hand down to your throat, wrapping his fingers around your throat, but not quite squeezing. "go on, tell me what you want from me."

"i.." you swallow harshly, eyes wildly searching chris' face as your pupils become swallowed in black, giving away your desire immediately. "i want you to.."

"c'mon, you said you’ve been thinkin' about it, so tell me. use your words." he says, his voice dripping with poison.

"want you to hit me," you mutter. "i just.. please, chris?"

"fuckin’ pathetic," chris laughs, rolling his eyes before suddenly lifting his hand, his open palm connecting with your cheek so hard it feels like your brain rattled in your skull.

he grins at your startled reaction, the way you’re looking at him him with such a desperate expression - it only spurs him on. you barely register the pain spreading across your skin, you’re too enamored by this new version of chris.

"this what you wanted?" he asks, his tone unforgiving as his hand tightens around your neck. "want me to rough you up a lil' bit, huh?”

you snag your lip inbetween your teeth, biting down hard as you nod, whining in the back of your throat. your insides feel like they’re on fire, your thighs squeezing together as you anticipate the next hit.

"who knew you were such a slut?" he hisses, striking your face harder the second time - earning a moan out of you.

"oh my god," you whimper, your face colliding with the pillow you’re laying on from the impact of the second hit.

the lower half of your body shifts uncomfortably, the aching between your thighs becoming so intense that it’s clouding your brain. your jaw clenches bitterly.

chris notices how you’re trying to press your legs together, a groan rumbling in his chest. "god.. how fuckin' wet are you right now?" he snarls.

your skin is burning hot with embarrassment, and having to admit how turned on you are only makes it worse. you’re too flustered at this point to actually say anything, so you decide to visually tell him.

with shaky hands, you find the waistband of your sweatpants, lifting up your hips to tug them halfway down your thighs, not even bothering to get them fully off. chris drinks in the sight of you with hunger, his gaze landing on the wet area of your panties where your arousal has soaked through.

"fuck, you really like this." he whispers ardently, slipping his hand between your legs. his touch is feather-light as he brushes his fingertips up your inner thighs and across your clothed pussy. you shudder, a soft whine slipping out of your throat, strangled by chris' film hold on your neck.

"show me." he mutters.

"what?" you choke out, squirming under his piercing stare.

"wanna see just how much you're enjoying it when i hit you." he says, hooking a finger in your underwear. he tugs them down in one harsh motion, eliciting a gasp from you. "touch yourself." he orders, his tone hushed.

tossing aside all your dignity, you skate your fingers down your stomach and to your core, plunging into your slick folds. staring up at chris apprehensively, you rub slow circles on your clit, fingertips soaked by your own juices.

"so eager to listen to me, huh?" he quips, releasing his hold on your neck to cradle your face securely instead. his other hand travels to your hip and obtains a bruising grip on your body, holding you still.

you start to moan while stimulating yourself, but the noise is cut short by another smack. then another, and another - each one making you even more aroused than the last.

"chris," you cry out, your back arching up off the bed. your fingers start aching as you uncontrollably increase your pace, touching yourself with an intense fervor. the right side of your face burns with the building pain of each hit, making your eyes flood with tears.

"too much?" he murmurs, grabbing your face and inspecting the pretty red color blossoming across the area he's been targeting. "you're cryin', kid." he licks his lips, watching as a droplet slips down the side of your face, dripping into your hair.

"no, it's so good- i.." you whisper urgently, your voice shaky and breathless. "keep.. keep going, m'gonna finish already.."

"good," chris purrs, gently stroking your cheek, watching you writhe beneath him for a few moments before giving the same amount of attention to the other side of your face - backhanding your left cheek, his knuckles clashing with your supple skin.

his dick twitches in his boxers at the sight of plump tears gliding down your scarlet cheeks.

"oh, my- fuck!" you mewl, your face screwing up in pure euphoria as the twisted knot in your lower stomach tensing, your abdomen tensing as you start to mentally rip apart at the seams.

"that's it," chris hisses. "cum on your fingers f'me, dirty girl." he hovers over you, threading one hand in your hair as he lands a final hit across your face right as you climax. your body convulses while an animalistic groan is ripped from your throat, turning into a breathy whine. your release leaks out from your entrance, soaking your fingers and dripping down to the bedsheets.

you collapse into a flushed, gasping mess against chris' bed, your eyes pinched shut in euphoria. your pussy throbs, your whole body feeling extra sensitive after your mind-bending orgasm.

once the moment is over, it's like chris reverts back into a friend instead of - whatever role he was just playing.

"uh, shit." he murmurs, pushing himself off the bed, wincing as it finally registers that he has a painful erection that's formed in his pants. "yeah- stay here, um, let me.." he trails off, rushing out of his bedroom.

he wants to get you an icepack - but if his brothers saw him retrieving it, they'd probably question him about it. he settles for a cloth soaked with cold water for your face, and a separate one to clean up the mess you made.

returning to his room, he fights back a groan at the downright goddess-esque state he left you in - half dressed, laying limp on the bed with a thin layer of sweat coating your flushed skin, your hair frizzy and splayed out across his pillows.

"here," he offers the cold cloth to you, swallowing thickly as he sits on the edge of the bed and gently cleans the slick coating your folds and the insides of your thighs. you press the chilly, damp material to your stinging face, sighing shakily at the stark contrasting sensation. you allow chris to take care of you, his movements slow and tender as he pulls your underwear and sweatpants back up to cover yourself.

"thank you," you murmur, silently paying that the uneasiness of this odd situation won't affect your friendship negatively.

"yeah, no problem," chris responds softly, moving himself up the bed to lay down next to you. "next time you wanna try somethin', don't wait so long, 'kay?" he asks, a grin crossing his lips.

"next time?" you question, your brows quirking as you look over at him.

"well," he chuckles. "after seein' you like that.. i don't think i can just let this be a one-time thing."

a/n : this took me forever omg i haven't tried writing anything like this before !! i'm sorry if there's any mistakes or parts that don't really make sense. i hope this is sufficient for the sturniolo fans hahah all their writers on here are so so amazing

xo giulia

[hishumanbelle]

Alastor's rut.

18+

I was sitting on the couch in the hotel lounge when suddenly I felt my heart tighten, my hands sweat, my body tense and my brain go foggy. Oh no, it's that time of year. I put my hands on my chest as I felt my body transform and grow. I stood up from the couch. I could see everything red and haloed. Then, I smelled her. Her perfume. Vanilla and coconut, oh, how delicious. I had to look for her, she was surely close by. "Deborah?", I said with a sigh so as not to scare her. "Alastor?", she asked softly. And there she was, in her room, lying on the bed reading a book. "Darling", I said, "sorry for the unpleasant interruption", I started to growl, the pain and need getting stronger. Breathing was difficult. "Alastor, are you okay?", the concern in her voice. It hurt me to make her worry about me. "Yes… no. I... need you". She put the book away and walked over to me, cupping my face in her hands and looking at me apprehensively. "What's wrong with you, Al?", "it's… that time of the year", I said, growling and sighing. The pain was even worse, my throat kept making strange sounds and my eyes were narrowing until they were blacker and blacker. The static was also starting to get louder, filling the room. "What can I do for you? How can I help you feel better?", "I… want you. Intensely", I said in her ear, biting her earlobe. "Ah, Deborah… please, I need you. Now". With my hands I started to touch her ample breasts that were trying to explode from her white blouse. They were warm, soft. Her nipples instantly hardened at my touch. I put my face in the hollow of her neck and started to lick, kiss, bite. "I want more", I said drooling like a horny dog. I carried her to the bed and put her down. I pulled up her short black skirt and pulled her panties aside, I knelt down in front of her and started licking her pussy. Damn, she was delicious! Her smell… irresistible. My long tongue reached deep inside her and I felt her getting wet beneath me. My hands ran over her soft body until I went down, on her legs, between her thighs and started to finger her with passion. In and out, slowly, while I sucked the soul out of her clit. She was mine. And she was enjoying it, panting. She was calling my name over and over again. Her sounds were music to me, I didn't want her to stop. And I continued to pound her faster with my tongue and fingers, pushing into her g-spot until she came so hard again that she started to cry and squirt on my face. Fuck… I'm so infatuated with her that seeing her like this is the only way I want to see her. I stood up and lay on top of her, ripping the buttons of her shirt with my claws as I slid them down her body and scratched her gently. "I can't resist you", I grabbed her wrists and pulled her to me. I kissed her, sticking my tongue down her throat.

I was so excited, and then, placing my hands on her shoulders, I pushed her down, kneeling on the ground. I unzipped my pants and pulled out my big throbbing cock. Her expression was incredulous at the beast in front of her. "It's so… big", she said as she started to touch it. "Oh, Satan", I sighed. Her hands so graceful on my hard and throbbing cock, it drove me wild. I looked at her. I really wanted to devour her. I no longer knew if it was the heat that was doing this to me or if it was her. "Take it in your mouth", I ordered her, and I grabbed her hair in my hands to bring her closer to my cock. She obeyed, taking it in her mouth slowly. She knew what she was doing and how to drive me crazy. She started with the tip, making small circles near the head and then went down, sucking and licking it all over. Deep. "Fuck…", with my hand I pushed her head faster. Holy shit, I thought, I'm already about to cum, but I didn't warn her. I just watched her and fucked her mouth hard and fast until I came in her throat. "Fuck!!!", I exclaimed, cumming. I left it in her mouth for a while as I continuedI to spasm with pleasure. She, being the good girl she was, swallowed it all. "Good girl", I said, grinning, "but we're not done". I lifted her up and put her on the bed. I took my cock and shoved it in her violently while holding her by her hips and started to move inside her.

"Deborah", "Alastor," she said, panting, "say you're mine. Say you're only mine", "I'm only yours, Alastor", "yes, yes", I repeated, panting too. My thrusts became faster and stronger, but this time I grabbed her by her thick, long hair. The music of her moans was unstoppable but I wanted to hear her scream more, so I increased my power even more. "Fuck", I exclaimed, my thrusts were strong, very strong, violent, she screamed and screamed even louder, she repeated my name and I could have an orgasm just hearing her. "I'm coming Alastor, I'm coming", she said crying and panting. "Me too, I'm about to come too, but I want to look into your eyes. So come, come for me, I can't resist any longer", and she came. Her body vibrated, she trembled, her legs wouldn't stop and her spasms were violent but very delicate. I grabbed her and turned her over, underneath me and slammed it back in. I held her head, her hair with one hand, and her hip with the other. I couldn't hold it in anymore. I gave her the last thrusts before I came all the way inside her. "Damn, I'm marking you as my property, my love", I exploded. She was still looking at me, panting, I could feel her walls tightening and getting wet again. God… this girl is going to be the death of me. I had such a powerful orgasm that I continued to slam it into her even after I came, in post-coital shock. I looked at her, and the more I looked at her the more I fell in love. I didn't want her to stop looking at me. Her eyes had to be only for me. "I love you", I whispered to her, nuzzling her cheek with my nose and making intense static sounds. "I fucking love you", I repeated. Then I took her face in my hands and kissed her again, with all the love I felt. Our tongues danced and twisted, unable to stay away.

[boundbyeclipse]

Okay so I saw your prompt list and I was wondering if you’d be able to write prompt 1 from angst with prompt 4 from smut for Kai?? I would literally DIE if it’s possible + your writing I literally amazing

hi, precious! oh of course I can, you request - I deliver! ps. my heart is happy, thank you so so much, it means a lot to me 🥺 ilysm ♡

tag : jealous!reader, vampire!reader, female!reader, rough!Kai, boyfriend!Kai, mentions of Bonnie

prompts are here.

♠️ 1. “Just go hang out with Person C. You’ve gotten good at that”

⛓️ 4. “If I kiss you right now, I won’t be able to stop”

It wasn’t just a little argument. It wasn’t anything close to a small fight. You actually had rage exploding out of you. You were so fed up with seeing how Kai talks to Bonnie, how he flashes her a smile, how much time he spends with her and how he just cannot stop talking about her in general. It annoyed the hell out of you to the point you grew angry, jealous and wanted to never see him again.

You stood in front of him behind the school building, face to face, no people in sight as it was late at night. It was finally time to show him you were fed up with everything he’s been doing.

“I am so sick and tired of this bullshit, Kai. I’m right. Here. And yet you aren’t listening to me!”

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down. You’re quite literally an ignited match right now, you’re burning with all this anger” he raises his hands in the air, taking a step forward, but you take a step back.

“Yes, yes I am! Tell me, is she better than me? Is she prettier? Does she make you feel alive? What is it, Malachai?”

The name makes him scrunch his nose, but it’s just because you’re both fighting. Under any other condition, he always loves it. And you are the only person he accepts it from. If anyone else says it, he gets irritated and mad.

“What are you even talking about right now? There’s nothing going on, I have no interest in her, my eyes are all on you”

You shook your head in disbelief.

“Just go hang out with Bonnie. You’ve gotten good at that”

Using your vamp-speed you run into the building, getting inside the gym and sitting down on the bottom of the stairs, burying your face in your palms as you tried to calm down. Then you began to regret starting this fight with him. Maybe you’re just overreacting, imagining what isn’t there because you’re so in love with Kai, that the simplest things make you jealous. Like a few weeks ago when he was talking to another girl who he only needed help from to find some sort of a spell. They only spoke, exchanged smiles, that’s it. And you still found yourself grinding your teeth at the sight. Maybe you really are overreacting.

As you stare at the floor while fiddling your fingers, the door opens and closes - Kai has found you.

“Are you really going to throw another tantrum at me?” he asks, walking towards you in quick steps, stopping right in front of you. You couldn’t bear it, so you stood up, bodies so close to each other that you felt one another’s breaths on your faces.

“Kai, I just cannot stand how you act around her. I feel left out, like I’m never here, like I don’t exist sometimes. And yes, maybe it’s my stupid brain that makes me think this way, act this way, maybe it’s too much. So tell me, what the hell is going on so I know. I don’t want to hurt myself or you”

He moves even closer to you, and you didn’t think it was even possible to be this close to him. Not during a fight. A heavy sigh leaves his lips, heartbeat intense as he cannot help but feel the tension between you both. He’s so angry that you’re like this, so angry that he wants to prove to you that all he wants is you.

“You have always trusted me. So why can’t you trust me now when I say there is nothing between me and Bonnie? Why?”

“Maybe because I need you to prove it” your lower lip trembled as you inhaled the scent of his cologne, mixed with the smell of leather of his jacket. It was some sort of a distraction, you could feel lust beginning to wash over your body, and Kai was able to notice. He’s known you long enough to know your body language. He knew when you were sad, when you felt shy, nervous, bothered. Even sexually frustrated. And that was the case right now.

Especially the way you kept looking at his lips, even if that lasted for a second.

He knew you wanted to taste him. He knew you wanted him to yourself and yourself only. It was a tad bit too easy to read you. But he wanted to get it out from you, so he did not make any moves.

“You know damn well that I can see it in your eyes - you cannot keep it together. From head to toe you’re shaking with desire, I can tell that my cologne is driving you insane. Your heart is racing a thousand miles per hour,” he teased you with words, his voice husky and inviting, “so go ahead, kiss me. Be jealous. Be overprotective”

You bit your lip, blood boiling as you snapped at him, voice silvery.

“If I kiss you right now, I won’t be able to stop”

Kai grins, leaning closer to your ear to whisper.

“So kiss me”

Your temper is short lived as you grab his face, landing your warm lips on his, not wasting any time to slip your tongue in his mouth. With your vamp-speed you end up in the hall, Kai pressing you against the lockers, his cold fingertips touching your skin under your shirt. A filthy moan escaping from you as he picks you up, his large hands firmly holding the back of your thighs.

In a second, you’re in a classroom, laid on the desk, Kai kissing and sucking your neck, earning small whimpers from you. He pushes your skirt up, all over you as he grinds himself against your heated core. His jeans tighten within seconds, becoming more and more unbearable as he continues to bite your collarbone. His hands squeeze your hips as he groans against your skin as he cannot contain himself no more.

Kai unbuttons his jeans and pushes them down, letting his length spring against his stomach, rock hard and throbbing with need.

“You want me to prove myself to you, hm?” he grabs you by the hips and pulls you closer, your thighs hugging his waist as he lines himself at your clothed entrance.

“Y-yes” you moan eagerly, waiting for his next move.

“I’ll make sure the whole town hears you, and I’ll leave you limping, everyone will be jealous of YOU, sweetheart”

The pads of his fingers ghost over your underwear, suddenly pulling it away as he enters you without a warning. You gasp and grab the sides of the desk, your insides pulsing with each thrust. He’s almost too big for you to take, but you love the way he stretches you out. You buck your hips against him, but Kai presses you down as his hands hold you down by your hip bones, fingers bruising the skin.

“Ma-Malachai” you cry out.

“Don’t you move. You brought this upon yourself. Now take it”

His thrusts become rougher and deeper, one hand reaching for your throat, squeezing the sides as he grunts from above you. The table underneath you shakes, sliding across the floor, all the papers and pencils falling down as Kai buried himself deeply in you. But he couldn’t care less about that. He was focused on you.

Your leg begins to cramp, and you grab his wrist, squeezing it and tapping it.

But Kai wasn’t going to stop. He pulled out, lifting you up and flipping you around, your ass on full display for him. He grabs one leg of yours, lifting it up so he has better access to your dripping folds. In a second he’s back inside of you, now leaning over you as he has his arm around your throat, his low and smoky moans heard in your ear. His other hand is holding your leg, hips slamming against you with no mercy.

Your eyes rolled back from the ecstasy he’s put you in, his name leaving your mouth in loud cries, echoing through the whole building. He feels so good that tears fall from your eyes, legs shaking and torso jolting as his tip hits the right spot. You can sense your high coming, your core pulsing and walls tightening around his length.

“Come on, love, hold on a little longer. You’re not cumming until I do” he warns.

His command makes you choke on your words, voice barely coming out with a little “yes”. Kai smirks at your attempt to reply, finding it hot that you’re so affected by him.

Kai pulls out again, lifting you up and sitting you down on the wooden desk, one hand wrapped around your waist as his other one holds you by the back of your neck. He gifts you a sloppy but passionate kiss, biting your lip in the process. You moan his name again, letting him know that there is no possibility you’ll last any longer. Knowing he’s almost done too, he buries his face in the crook of your neck while his hand reaches to squeeze your breast, kneading the hard nipple.

The classroom is soon filled with both of your moans as you explode, cumming around his length, black dots in your vision, Kai spilling himself inside you. Both of you catch your breaths, hugging for some time before fixing yourselves.

“Have I proven myself?” he asks, throwing on his jacket.

“If you’ll take me home and make me a bath with bubbles, mission will be accomplished”

Kai shakes his head, chuckling at you as he unexpectedly picks you up, throws you over his shoulder and carries you out of the school.

“This woman, tsk tsk tsk” he clicks his tongue and smacks your butt as he holds you tight, not letting you down until you’re finally back at his house.

[ethansespresso]

possessive

johnny knoxville x gn!fem!reader

words: 2333

tags: smut!!!, possessive johnny, jealous johnny, minor degrading, bam is a whore, uhhh aftercare

summery: you’re pretty, johnny’s agitated that everyone’s looking at you.

maybe it's the daisy dukes, maybe it's the bikini top, or maybe it's the way the strings of your swimsuit bottoms fit your hips, but whatever it is, something has johnny red and jittery in his beach chair across the lawn.

his leg is shaking at a rapid pace, his fingers drumming on the arm with his jaw clenched and eyes darkened.

you glance at him, confused and questioning, but he gives no clues as to what's wrong.

you frown, it's almost scary seeing him like this, unknowing of if he might explode, and if so, who will it be directed at? bam? steve? you? you shudder. you know it's just the ptsd, he wouldn't, johnny would never raise his voice with you. even before he knew your past he was gentle with you. still, you can't help but be uneasy around him, and his unrelenting stare. it felt as though he might pounce on you. you wonder if he takes notice of you slipping into the kitchen, away from the heat and noise and his eyes that were seemingly undressing you. you're putting cups in the sink, rinsing out the stickiness from the spiked lemonade; you're on vacation with the crew, and the bonfire still going strong even after the long hours had gone by, though it seems that everyone is still going strong, too. your ice machine begins whirring as the spheres clank into your cup, but you still hear the creak of the back door opening.

you whip around, only to see bam, sopping wet with his swim trunks dipping dangerously low.

"hey," your eyes avert away from his waist, and there's johnny right behind him with the same death glare as he'd been giving you before. "do you have more beer? ryan and i wanna do beer pong together." he grins.

"what's the loser do? kiss the winner?" you snicker, trying to keep your eyes away from johnny watching you with an intense stare. you pour more lemonade into your cup, sipping as the burn runs down into you. shuddering again, you point at the cooler. "there, have at."

he nods thankfully, grabbing a couple of cases and scurrying out.

and then it's just you, and johnny, and your tipsy thoughts. you can't seem to croak anything out, his jaw clenches harder and fear overwhelms you, you can't think properly anymore. the alcohol is taking over your brain inch by inch, and somehow through your fear, you can see the hint of lust in his eyes.

you're pretty sure that glint is being returned.

he's towering over you, and you're positive it's because you glanced at the way bam's trunks went too far down. how his v-line protruded, but it was nothing like the man standing in front of you.

you didn't want him, you remind yourself before the guilt can set in. you were just afraid they'd drop right down on your kitchen floor leaving a soggy mess.

you want johnny. his trunks aren't sagging, but his v-line is much more visible, along with the slight six-pack. the golden skin, the soft happy trail, all sitting right before you, tempting your deepest, darkest desires. your mouth is watering as you get sucked deeper into your focus on him.

"sweetheart," and his voice is soft and gravelly, a sign he'd been drinking too.

you're broken out of your trance as he drawls, "doll, look at me," his fingers touch your chin to lift your gaze up to his. "they've been drooling over you all goddamn day," it's almost a growl when he speaks yet his hand cups your face ever so gently, you can't help but melt into his touch. he licks his lips, "it makes me sick how they stare at you, can't stand the thought of anyone touching you, you know? bam coming in here, his trunks like that, he knew what he was doing. you're so goddamn edible." he gives a little scowl that you can't help but want to kiss away. and as if he reads your mind, he dips down to kiss your lips, "all mine, my pretty little whore."

you nod, your shoulders relax, and seeing his eyes still dark you understand. there's a burning inside you, and you're not quite sure if it's the alcohol, how johnny's hands are touching you, or maybe a bit of both.

you belong to him, it sinks in and it makes heat bubble in your stomach, he's scooping you close and bringing you out, his hand in your back pocket with a firm grip on your ass.

wolf whistles call out from friends, mostly in a joking manner, but it still makes johnny huff in a sharp breath, glaring once again.

"you're so fucking sexy, look at all these vultures staring you down," he mutters to you, and you can't help but shiver at his words when a tingle shoots down to your core. you blush, feeling all eyes on you. it makes you feel insecure, and you need a way for everyone's eyes to get off you, but then johnny sits, pulls you into his lap, and starts kissing under your ear. "mine, all mine." he purrs, a big hand on your thigh, the other on top of your hand with your fingers interlaced with his.

his cock begins to harden beneath you, and your breath catches in your throat. you need him, your thoughts are racing with all the things you want him to do to you. you hope he catches the hint to have a bit more privacy and you purposefully scoot across his cock while getting down. "i'm going into the water, you can come." you offer with a soft smile as you step down the beach into the cool ocean of your rented vacation home. it's an off-white with a wrap-around deck; there's a patio where the cup-pong is getting set up, a pavilion with snacks and drinks, and then there's you and johnny crossing across the soft sand into the warm water. his hands are wrapped around your waist and you rest your head against his chest.

"the sunset is pretty." you relax against him as he nods, bringing you closer to him. your eyes focus on the blurring colors in the sky, relaxing into his tense body. you turn around to face him, your cheeks are pink from the alcohol and the burning sun. his eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint, and you find your mouth parted ever so slightly, staring in awe.

"kiss me," you can barely whisper out, you're so entranced by him you can't think. "please." and his lips are touching yours without the chance for a second thought, you're pressed tightly together in the cool water under darkening skies. everything is muffled around you, the yelling and the catcalls, all gone from both of your minds. it's all focused on each other, the way your mouths are together, the way he tastes and smells and feels. god the way his cock pressed against your stomach, the heat radiating from his body, the way he wouldn't pull away for a single gasp of air, it was bound to make you dizzy. his hand grabbed at your ass, his mouth is leaving yours, and it's trailing down your neck. "johnny," you give out a hushed whine when you feel his cock rut against your thigh. "yes, sweetheart?" you melt at his tone, possessive, owning, and desperate. yet you can't get out what you need, it's only a pathetic plea you hope johnny will understand. "mm," he hums in a satisfied way, his hand moving to the inside of your thigh. "i want you too, honey. let's go back inside, hm?"

you nod eagerly, your body aching for him. your body is burning from the inside out with a desperate desire for the man with his icy hands groping at you. your head spins as your lips connect once more, and you gasp suddenly when his teeth sink into your lip. he presses himself against you even harder, and your body quivers beneath him. the water is getting colder by the second with the moon creeping into the sky, but it doesn't quite register with you and your feverish arousal that the temperature is dropping rapidly. it doesn't feel quick enough, but you're practically running to keep up with his long strides back to the house. you brush against bam, his eyes wide as he looks at you, and then at johnny's stern expression, and he yells something unintelligible to johnny about getting laid. everyone is staring, you can tell that now, and something in your stomach churns into more excitement as you can tell they know exactly where you're going. "i’m gonna be doing the laying, actually." he quips with a sly smirk and a wink to you.

the door of your bedroom is slammed behind you, and then before you can breathe you're pressed against the door with johnny's knee between your legs.

"fuck," you gasp out, grinding down onto him. "need you."

he lets out a quiet growl, feeling your warmth on his thigh, "need you too, princess. c'mon." he lifts you up onto his hipbone, and easily placing you onto the bed like paper he begins to tug at your jean shorts. you're so helpless underneath him; his tall, strong being looming over you. he's staring at you like you're his prey, and he's finally got you in his captivity, even tho he knows he had you all along. he brings his head down to bite your lip again, kissing you in such a romantic way made everything he was doing feel even dirtier. his lips make their way down your neck and down to your abdomen, claiming you as his with love bites wherever his teeth could sink. you whimper under him when his hot breath ghosts over your cold thigh. he places soft kisses along the inside of your thighs up to your bikini bottoms, his other hand gripping onto your hip to keep you still. he kisses up to your clit, making you shudder. he grins mischievously, his thumb caressing your pelvic bone while he kisses up the waistline. sliding them down, he places even more sloppy kisses before flicking along your clit with his tongue.

you let out a quiet whimper as his warmth continues to envelop your most sensitive areas. before you can even begin to catch your breath, his finger is sinking into you, pressing into you harshly. "oh, fuck. oh, god," your voice is raising and you quickly cover your mouth to muffle your desperate moans.

"no, no, honey," and he's grabbing your wrists and pining them above the bed. "let them hear you, i need them to hear you." he demands, and instantly you let out a small whimper as if on command. his fingers quicken at your noise, and his lips are against your ear sending shudders through your body like his breath was electric. "who makes you feel good, doll?"

"you." you're gasping out, eyes rolling back as he presses into your g-spot.

"who, baby? who's touching you, hm? tell them who's making you feel good." he continues, and you can feel your orgasm creeping up.

"johnny-johnny, you do, fuck you make me feel good. please, i'm so close." you cry, getting just to your climax when he pulls out his fingers. "fuck, please, please, please." you're begging with watery eyes and flushed cheeks, and he's pulling down his swim trunks, letting his cock out to press against his stomach leaving a drip of precum.

"are you ready?" he asks softly, his dark eyes sparkling when they meet yours. you nod to him, whispering out a yes as he presses himself into you. every time with him always feels just as special as your first. the way he holds you, the way he encourages and compliments you, the way he stares as if you're a precious jewel. it makes you feel warm and tingly, it makes you teeter closer to reaching your abandoned climax from not so long ago. his thrusts stay rhythmic, rocking his hips against yours at a steady pace. your body rocks with his, his moans sending sparks flying through you.

"please, please i'm so close," you beg for him once more, and his thumb goes down to flick your clit. now you're squeezing around him, all of the feeling overwhelming your senses as he's urging you, "cum, cum for me, baby. let them hear how good you feel. that's it, there you go." and with a sharp cry of his name, you reach a breathless climax. you feel cum dripping out of you, and a hand caressing your stomach. "hi, sweetheart. there you go, good job." he praises, encouraging you to come back down to him. "you did so good, make me feel so good, sweetheart." he continues, and you can feel him cleaning you up, a soft, warm towel wiping at your aching thighs.

"thank you," you whisper, a smile creeping onto the corners of your mouth. he leans in to kiss you softly, his body towering over you and his hands holding your face.

he smiles against your lips, "how 'bout a bath? or shower, hm?"

you can only nod, your throat aching in an unforgiving way. johnny leaves you to turn on the water, leaving the door open only a crack.

your head lays flat against the pillow, and you listen to the muffled voices outside.

“shit, knoxville.”

“yea, precious little thing,” the distinct drawl of your boyfriend, continuing to praise you.

the door creeks open, and johnny’s there coming to scoop you up and into the shower. “come on, princess.”

you peck his lips, laying bridal style in his arms. “i love you,” it’s hushed and soft, even though you wish the world could hear you.

“i love you.”