#1k drabble

[lapetitepatisserie]

cod × fem!reader ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩

The familiar sound of keys in the door alerted you to your husband’s return.

“My love?” he called, looking for you, boots making heavy footsteps as he made his way towards you and your child. His eyes soften once they land on you and your baby girl.

“How’s my princess?” he drawls, voice deep with exhaustion from work.

You look down at the child sitting in your lap, occupied with trying to fit a chubby foot into her mouth. A steady finger reaches underneath your chin, lifting it to meet his warm, intense gaze.

“I’m talking about this one.”

[pixxlotl]

Going with the "Grian is the one who designed this game as opposed to the others" headcanon, it makes you think about the superpowers he gave his friends, how they were all laughing and having fun in the beginning, and that was intentional. It goes to show that even when forced to design the death game his friends are put through (a punishment for trying to usurp the Watchers time and time again), he still cares. They all know he's the one who designed this game, and he hopes they realize the little mercies he's giving them.

He gives Cleo the power to bring people back from the dead, just so he can have a chance to see his best friend again.

He gives Pearl the power to fly, and hopes she appreciates having her wings back, if only for a short time.

Jimmy gets to go invisible because Grian knows the Watchers aren't happy with the curse being broken. He wants to protect him.

As for Martyn? Grian doesn't really know a lot about what's going on with him and the Listeners, but he might as well try to strengthen that connection in the little ways he can without arising suspicion.

He says it himself in the beginning, "let's not forget this is a PVP series," but it sounds hollow even to his own ears. It's pandering to the watching eyes, making them think the lighthearted fun is all unintentional.

He falls out of the sky with the wings he gave to Pearl, and he wonders if the Watchers are starting to catch on.

[hanasnx]

SQUIRTING — s.reid

“ i love how you touch, how you feel, how you breathe / baby, how you do it so good? ” 🪽

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ ✉️ | criminal minds. NOTES. never seen one single episode of criminal minds but i did miss my mutual @ddejavvu’s bday last october and wanted to make up for it. WARNINGS. fem reader ノ established relationship ノ potentially ooc spencer ノ fem squirting ノ pussy eating & orgasm mentions ノ vaginal fingering ノ explicit sexual content ノ praise kink (f receiving) ノ squirt obsessed spencer ノ lowkey unedited.

Don’t be fooled by SPENCER REID’s calm demeanor and harmless facade. Don’t get caught up in that little smile he does when he has nothing further to say, or the way his fluffy hair flops over his forehead when he inclines down to lend you an ear to hear you better. Don’t let your guard down when he info dumps his latest fascination, having traversed the rabbit hole of complex animal mating cycles or the latest scientific observation of quarks. Dr. Reid is no one to be underestimated.

You should’ve known better than to think of him as disarming and therefore “harmless.” It’s the first time in a long time that you’ve been so wrapped up in a guy, coming up for air rarely while you’re practically living at his place. Your clothes are strewn about his apartment, your favorite shampoo is in his shower, he bought you your own toothbrush to keep on your shelf in his medicine cabinet. Oh, it’s bad. There’s no turning back now. You’re completely and utterly helpless. If you could go back in time to warn your past self of the madness you’re about to endure…

“C’mon, baby, one more. Can’t you do one more?” it’s a plea devoid of any doubt, he can feel the way you’re pulsing around his fingers. It’s the familiar rev that quakes just before a big release, and his knuckles know the tremor intimately. That brain isn’t just used for his job, it’s memorized every part of you—even the parts you thought you weren’t ready to share.

You writhe, desperately nuzzling the back of your head into the mattress, heating up from the friction. Gritting your teeth, your body feels like it’s on fire, and the build in your gut is like something’s being taken from you. It’s a merciless pace completed by three of the longest fingers you’ve ever had inside of you, bullying your insides relentlessly prodding that spongy spot to chase a most coveted reaction. Your muscles contract and stretch, lifting your pelvis from the pillow he set it on like it’s demanding more. It’s a primal instinct, involuntarily rocking into his ramming in tandem. Your eyes squeeze shut from the pain of it, and yet you can’t stop.

“I can’t do it- I can’t do it, Spenc—ah!” you interrupt your own rebuke, your nails clawing into the purchase of the sheets as your spine goes limp. He doesn’t miss a beat, following you down to keep battering your soft tissue in just the right curl. Your tailbone has collapsed back onto the puddle of wetness, it’s cold to the touch, but you can’t even focus on how jarring the difference in temperature is right now.

You breathe like you’re readying for something, you pant like you’re in danger. Your chest rises and falls with rapid puffs of air, a sheen of sweat coating your skin—you can’t take this anymore.

Mesmerized, Spencer watches your poor pussy swallow his hand up. The wet squelching of leftover cream spatters out with every visceral plug, and his tongue forms over his upper lip to keep it busy. Your little clit calls out to him, he can feel it between his lips already. All soft and gooey, puffy and overstimulated, running between his spit-soaked lips as you scream from the two forces working together to make you cum. Not this time, he thinks, it’s not that kind of thing this time. His other hand grasps his cramping wrist, using it to cram into you faster, those three fingers forming a cone inside you to stroke the tips against the roof of you, and you cry out.

You reach for him, you try to grip anything you can, anything to get him to let up—to get him to stop. Mercy, you want. “You can, sweetheart, you can. I know it.” Sweat beads his forehead as he consoles you, letting you howl it out until he’s satisfied.

Miraculously, you manage to focus your efforts on one task. You lift your head, the prettiest and most pitiful upturn in your brows silently beckons him. It’s a silent request regardless of the noises whimpering out of your nose, you sound like a whining puppy while you make grabby hands at him. He knows what you want. Carefully, he adjusts so as to not upset the angle of his entry, but honoring your wish. Ignoring the burn of effort in his shoulder, he lays his head on your chest, and your legs suspended on either side of him bob from how hard he’s still fingering you. Your arms encase him, holding him close, clutching on for dear life as he finally tips you over that edge. There’s a change, the subtlest of tenses in your abdomen, like the tickle of pepper under a nose to attract a sneeze. You seize up, your cunt clenches down like a vice, and it idles. It’s the suspense at the top of a roller coaster.

“Oh, yeah… Oh, yeah, baby. That’s it. That’s it, uh-huh.” It’s a babble you can barely hear over the roaring in your ears, finally gushing out a hot spray. Your pussy becomes a fountain, squirting a mile high like you’ve been holding it in this whole time. It comes from deep within you, a secret stream only he can lovingly coax out. You had no idea there was anything even left in you, and yet Spencer’s patience can simply outlive your doubts, determined to wring every last drop out of you.

You can’t open your eyes, you can’t stop the earthquake in your legs, and your claws dig into his scalp. The noises you make are matched by him, groaning in maddened relief and joy at what he’s accomplished. It gets everywhere, drenching the front of his clothes as it pours down. The bed frame and the carpet and the furniture behind him are rained on, and there’s not a single thought in his mind of regret. Your abdomen flexes, pushing out every wave in pulses until it fizzles out. His hand slows, your breathing evens out, and your locked up body begins to relax muscle by muscle. He peels himself out of your hold, your limp limbs unable to put up any fight to keep him cuddled up on you. Lazily, your head lulls in his direction, eyes peering at him reverently stroke his palms over your puddle on the bed. All the releases he took from you perfectly layered on his navy blue sheets. His slack jaw encapsulates his awe at his handiwork, meeting your gaze with a brazen emotion nothing short of pride.

@HANASNX 2025 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal.

[vacate-et-scire]

╰➤Dish Duty

You pause in the doorway, blinking at the sight before you.

Jason. At the sink. Doing the dishes.

For a moment, your brain refuses to process it. This is Jason Todd, a man whose idea of cleaning is kicking his boots into a corner and calling it a day. A man who has been known to buy new dishes just to avoid washing the ones in his sink.

And yet, here he is, sleeves rolled up, hands in soapy water, looking criminally domestic.

You squint. "What are you doing?"

Jason glances over his shoulder. "Dishes?"

"Since when do you do that?"

"Since you told me you don’t enjoy it." He shrugs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, before turning back to the sink.

Your brain short-circuits.

Because what the hell.

Your heart clenches, because it’s such a small thing—so stupidly, absurdly small—but it means everything. He doesn’t say I love you all the time, but this? This is him saying it without words.

You step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek against his back. He’s warm, solid, and smells faintly like dish soap and him.

Jason huffs out a laugh. "What, you get turned on by dishwashing now?"

You snort, smacking his side lightly. "Shut up."

He smirks but keeps scrubbing.

And you stand there for a moment, holding him, listening to the soft clink of dishes, feeling your heart swell.

Maybe you’ll start complaining about laundry next.

[girllblogging777]

hi congrats on 1k!! can i please request a cinnamon tinged tale with mattheo riddle with a scenario where they have a fight and go to bed seperate but they both can’t sleep without each other!!

𝑈𝑁𝑆𝑃𝑂𝐾𝐸𝑁 𝑃𝑅𝑂𝑀𝐼𝑆𝐸𝑆 ˚ ༘✶

↳ bf!mattheo riddle x reader (angst, fluff)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1.5k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 :you and your boyfriend can’t sleep without eachother, but you had an argument

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

mattheo’s dorm was unnaturally quiet tonight. no whispers, no soft rustling of sheets, no stolen glances or quiet giggles. just silence, cold and deafening. he laid flat on his back, arms crossed behind his head, his jaw tense as he stared up at the dark ceiling of his room. the argument replaying in his mind on an endless, bitter loop.

he exhaled sharply through his nose. maybe he was an idiot like you had told him. scratch that. he definitely was. your words, heated and full of hurt, had ricocheted off the walls like a spell gone wrong. and instead of deflecting, instead of softening, he’d snapped back with the kind of sharpness he reserved for enemies. not for you. never for you.

but now you were gone. well, not gone-gone, but you weren’t here. you had stormed out of his dorm, muttering something about needing “space.” space. mattheo didn’t even know what to do with space.

his mind wandered to you. where were you now ? back in your own bed, curled up with that damn blanket you refused to replace no matter how many times he teased you about it? where you crying? did you hate him?

the ache in his chest tightened, like a hand gripping his heart. he turned to his side, punching the pillow beneath him in frustration. he needed you, your scent of cinnamon, your quiet murmurs before sleep, the way your hand would instinctively find his beneath the covers. without you, the room felt emptier than it had any right to.

across the castle, you sat cross-legged on your bed, staring out the window. the moon hung low, bathing the grounds in silver light, but your thoughts were anything but serene.

why had you said those things? you hadn’t meant to snap at him. it wasn’t his fault he was reckless, it was just who he was. you knew that, knew it better than anyone. but still, watching him flirt with danger, walking that fine line between thrill and disaster, it drove you insane. you cared too much to stay silent.

you sighed, hugging your knees to your chest. the bed felt too big, too cold without him. even on nights you two argued, you would always ended up tangled together, legs overlapping, breaths mingling. it was impossible to stay away from him and not to break the castle’s rules by sneaking into each other’s rooms past curfew. but tonight, you were alone.

minutes stretched into hours and you kept tossing and turning, thinking about him. at the same moment, mattheo swung his legs out of bed, running a hand through his messy curls. he didn’t care if he’d get caught. he didn’t care if you were still angry. he needed to see you.

suddenly, your bedroom door swung open and you turned around, eyes widening. “mattheo ?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. he stood there, unsure of what to say “i uh… i can’t sleep…”

“neither can i,” you admitted softly, watching him intently.

he stepped closer, his hand twitching at his sides. “i’m sorry, baby. i was a dick. you were just trying to look out for me and i lashed out, it wasn’t fair.”

your heart clenched at his honest words and you looked up at him, “i shouldn’t have pushed you, matt, i just worry about you too much. and sometimes, i feel like i care more about you than you do”

his brows furrowed and he finally reached out, his hand softly brushing against your cheek. “i do care. about me. about us. but i’m just… stupid sometimes.”

you couldn’t help but huff out a small laugh, leaning into his touch. “yup, you are.”

a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “does that mean i’m forgiven ?” you pretended to think a moment before answering, sighing. “only if you stay.”

and he didn’t need to be told twice.

moments later, you two were tangled together in your bed, your head resting on his chest as his fingered traced lazy, absentminded patterns on your back. neither of you spoke at first. the quiet felt sacred, too delicate to shatter. but mattheo couldn’t let it end there, not when he had so much to say.

“i don’t ever wanna go to bed mad at you again.” he murmured, his voice soft but heavy with meaning. his fingers stilled against your back, waiting for your response.

you tilted your head up, your chin resting on his chest as your eyes met his. “me neither,” you whispered back, “i hate how it feels, matt.”

he nodded, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your soft skin in the dark. “i know, love,” he admitted, “it feels wrong. everything feels wrong without you. i’m sorry i made you feel like i don’t care.” he paused for a second and you waited, silent.

“i care, baby. i care so much if scares the hell out of me sometimes.”

you could see it in his eyes, the way his walls had crumbled entirely for you and how painful that felt for him. mattheo riddle, who always unshakeably confident, was laying himself bare for you.

“i know,” you said in a steady voice. you reached up, your hand curling around his wrist. “but i’ll keep worrying about you, you know ? that’s not gonna change..”

he chuckled, the sound now and warm in the quiet room. “i figured, love. i don’t deserve you.”

“damn right you don’t,” you teased, your lips twitching into a genuine smile. then your voice softened “ but that doesn’t mean i’m going anywhere.”

the tension in mattheo’s body eased at your words, and he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping tightly around you as to shield you from the world. you felt the way his lips brushed against the top of your head, a soft gesture that made your heart flutter.

“i love you,” he said quietly, the words slipping out as naturally as breathing.

“i love you too,” you whispered back, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as your heart pounded against your chest.

for the first time that night, the heavy weight between you lifted and the two of you stayed like that, your breaths syncing and limbs tangled in complete and utter peace. because no matter how messy you were, how much you clashed or stumbled, you always found your way back to eachother.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : tysm for this amazing idea ! tell me if you wanna be tagged and check out my 1k celebration for more !

@redeemingvillains @leona-hawthorne @shiftingwithmars @tateshifts @rose-of-the-grave @clar2aa @iris-qt @sp7-mr @deadghosy @deadsnakey @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @shiftingwithleah @sunkissedscribbles @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @yikesitslush @slut-for-fictional-men @romantasyreader28 @witchsrecs @mattiesgf @reidol0gy @kenjikishimotoswifey @2dloveshp @hisparentsgallerryy @riddlesgrl

[nottswitch]

need us having a guy over and hooking up with him while sister’s bf!theo is there and he can hear. how would he react?

꒰ sister’s bf!theo hears you fucking his bsf mattheo ꒱

cw: 18+ mdni, voyeurism, masturbating (m), implied unprotected p in v, implied creampie, hair pulling, cursing, mentions of cheating

a/n: well hi there. we’re fucking his bsf matty here, i hope you don’t mind. i’ve been waiting to write this for so long, and finally we’re getting to it, so buckle up !!

⋆˚꩜｡

the sound of music coming from of your room is pretty much a habit at this point. theo isn’t surprised when he hears a faint sound of some chase atlantic song, chuckling to himself – god, you’re annoying with this band, much like his best friend, who always puts them on when he’s on aux duty. theo places his spare keys on the small vanity at the door – he’s come to wait for your sister, who had to run some errands this afternoon.

but as he walks further into the apartment, planning to make himself some coffee in the kitchen, he has to stop and listen closer. the music is suddenly not the only thing he can hear. his eyebrows knit together as he starts to distinguish… moans? he’s never heard you moaning like that before, that freely and loudly. whenever you were with him, under his mouth and fingers, your sounds were always low, stifled, always under threat of being exposed. now… you were unashamed and loud as hell.

despite himself, theo starts walking in the direction of your room. he can’t help being drawn there, and he curses quietly as he feels his cock starting to harden in his jeans – you sound that good. however, as he closes in, he hears something else, something that makes his frown deepen significantly. another set of moans and groans, male. there’s no fucking way.

surprisingly, or not, the door to your room is cracked open. of course, theo is a weak, weak man, and he has to know, has to confirm his assumptions. as he peers into the crack, he nearly chokes on air. there, on your bed, you’re in a very delicious position, ass up face down, your hands fisting the sheets as a guy pounds into you from behind, his fingers firmly digging into your hips. and not just any guy – theo’s very best friend, mattheo.

fucking chase atlantic. should’ve been a dead giveaway.

theo feels a wave of pure jealousy wash over him as he watches his friend take you in a way that theo could only dream of. he’s gonna kill him, he thinks – mattheo is fully aware of everything going on between you and theo, and still, he decided go against every single variation of bro code in existence… he almost groans aloud, having to bite his bottom lip to silence himself. the scene in front on him has no business being this hot.

without really thinking, theo unzips his jeans and pulls them down along with his boxers, his hard cock eagerly springing out and already leaking at the tip. his hand closes around the base, his breathing turning shallow as he watches mattheo grab a fistful of your hair to pull your body up against his chest.

"you feel so fucking good, baby," he hears his friend growl into your ear, thrusting deeper and eliciting a sweet, high-pitched moan out of you. theo grits his teeth as his hand starts stroking his cock, the rage he feels towards mattheo mixing with his burning arousal. precum drips down his length, his fingers smearing it all over, and he has to be slower than he wants to be in order not to give himself away by the slick sounds of him jerking off.

"my mate is a fucking idiot, missing out on all this." mattheo’s words make theo’s free hand curl into a fist, the desire to punch his friend overridden only by the pleasure he’s feeling as he starts pumping his other hand faster. he knows mattheo is right – theo has been the one refusing to fuck you so far, because apparently that would be cheating on your sister, and him dry humping you into oblivion every chance he gets isn’t. but this realization doesn’t make it easier; it makes it harder, in more ways than one.

mattheo’s pace inside of you grows quicker, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room, and at this point, the entire apartment. theo’s lips part as he watches your body move along with his friend’s thrusts, your tits bouncing up and down and making his mouth go dry. his cock twitches in his hold, and he feels his orgasm inching closer and closer with every moan you let out.

"you close, baby?" he hears mattheo’s ragged whisper, and your frantic nod is almost all it takes to bring theo over the edge. he can’t believe himself – he’s jacking off to the sight of his best friend fucking you, and he’s about to witness you cum on his dick. no wonder you will, he’s seen mattheo’s dick himself, it’s a goddamn fuck machine…

when your whole body shakes, and your voice grows hoarse from the pleasured moan you let out at your orgasm, theo can’t hold himself back – he spills into his hand, bracing himself against the wall by leaning on his forearm. the sticky mess of his cum seeping through his fingers is a shameful reminder of what has just happened – he jerked himself off watching his best mate fuck you. god, was it really worth it? the post-nut clarity is strong, and it only gets worse when he witnesses mattheo not even thinking of pulling out when he cums. this fucking bastard…

theo decides for himself right that moment that he absolutely needs to fuck you, his pride be damned – not like he has much of it left anyway. and maybe punch mattheo a couple of times.

au. more.

[jayparked]

hii!! congrats on 1k! ^^ can i perhaps get 47 + 75 with jungwon? <33

warnings: overstimulation, established relationship, rough sex, possessive/dom!jungwon, bathroom sex, semi public sex, dirty talk

wc: 516

"jungwon, please! it's too much!" you cry out, tears staining your cheeks while your boyfriend relentlessly pounds into your pussy. he has you sitting on top of the bathroom sink in some random person's house, the music from the party downstairs vibrating the walls around you. it's the one thing you try to focus on in order to hang onto your sanity. jungwon has already made you come twice now and he's showing no signs of stopping anytime soon.

he watches the spot where your bodies connect carefully, lips parted slightly as he pants with each hardened thrust. his tongue pokes out to swipe along his bottom lip before he looks into your eyes, his own cloudy with determination.

"not stopping," his words come out ragged as he continues to put everything he has into each thrust, "someone else thinks they can fuck you better? im gonna make you come so many times on my cock that you'll never doubt that i'm the only one who can do this to you. only i get to ruin you like this, you hear me?"

"wh-? what are you talking about?" your eyelids are fluttering now and you're desperate to ignore the way your bruised walls clench around him.

"heard some guy talking about you, eye fucking the hell out of you too. said he could probably make you come in less than five minutes," jungwon scoffs, "well i made you come in one minute. and i bet i can do it faster if we were at home." a darkness flicks across his iris's and suddenly he's gripping you even tighter, moving your legs higher up on his waist.

"i want you to scream my name," growling, jungwon grabs your hips and pulls your body in pace to his thrusts, each one harder than the last and it's a miracle you can even understand what he's saying with the way you're so fucked out.

"th-there are people outside this door. you want everyone to know we're having sex?"

"well, this isn't about them now is it?" he grows more aggressively, lips now attached to your collarbone, nipping and sucking on your flesh until pretty little red marks appear.

you try to hold on, you really do. but jungwon lifts you off the counter and holds you against his body, using his upper body strength to bounce you on his cock while he leans against the bathroom wall. the squelching is getting louder as your ability to hang on dissipates.

"fuck! yes! jungwon right there! oh my god jungwon please!" you dig your nails into his shoulders and flex your leg muscles around his waist, his pace still not letting up.

you were doing just fine until suddenly, jungwon's voice drops to a lower register, his tone even and demanding, "that's it baby. tell everyone i'm the only one who can ever make you feel this good."

suddenly, without any warning, you're releasing on his cock once again, his name leaving your lips with a scream that rips through the house right as the music goes silent between changing songs.

for part of my 1k follower celebration send me a member and a number from this list and i'll write a short drabble about it ♡ masterlist

[itoshiexx]

running your fingers through their hair

you are now reading... LENA'S 1K MILESTONE EVENT FIC!

↳ itoshi rin, michael kaiser, reo mikage (separate) + cafuné (n.) - running your fingers through the hair of someone you love

notes: omg hi guys! i'm freaking ALIVE!!! i know i've been terribly inactive but life as a recently graduated lawyer has been INSANE and i barely have time to breathe, let alone write. regardless, i was able to finish this after some struggle, and i really hope you guys like it! cafuné is a brazilian word and it's something i love very much, so thank you anon, @kyukiss and @etoiile for the request and sorry it took so long ♥

event masterlist

Itoshi Rin

“you remind me of a dog, you know?”

rin’s eyes shoot open with your unexpected words, and you receive the harshest glare you’ve ever witnessed on his face when it came to you. 

“excuse me?”

his tone is supposed to be threatening, but his voice is slightly laced with sleep, so it sounds a lot more like a whine. you snort a little bit, pausing your ministrations on his head, where your fingers run through his hair. 

“not in a bad way, baby. i just mean you’re like a puppy when you want my attention,” you giggled a little, and if rin didn’t love the sound so much, he would have berated you. 

“that’s absolutely not true.”

“it is, though. you came back from practice all tired and grumpy, and the first thing you did was put your head on my lap because you wanted me to run my fingers through your hair. you didn’t even showered, rin.”

“i did shower! on the locker rooms!”

you smile mischievously. “oh, i thought the dampness was from sweat. i was about to call you out for being stinky.”

rin’s grimace worsened, and a pout formed on his lips. you couldn’t resist the urge to squish his cute cheeks together. god, he was so adorable it tugged on your heartstrings. how was that even possible?

you lowered your head to give him a quick kiss, and although rin tried to deepen it, you pulled away fast, grinning once again. he knew what was coming even before you said it. “you’re also like a puppy when you trail after me around the house. a lost puppy.”

his groan reverberated through the whole apartment, and rin shoved your hands away from his face, scowling. “i fucking hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

“i hate you. i’m serious.”

you giggled again. “so why didn’t you leave my lap then?”

his eyes met yours, and you kind of relished in the furrow of his brows. it made his pout even cuter. “…what.”

smugness radiated off of you, because you knew rin — your rin — like the back of your hand. and if there was an universal truth in the world, it would be that the younger itoshi was down bad for you. enough for him to stay despite your shenanigans that always got on his nerves.

“i said, if you hate me, then why didn’t you leave my lap?”

his mouth opened, but no retort came out. he gaped like a fish for a few seconds before groaning again, turning his body so that he could hide his face on your stomach. you laughed at his childish behavior, knowing it was one of the reasons you loved him so much. not many people were able to see this vulnerable side of him, and you were glad to be one of them. 

“shut up.”

“yeah, yeah. you big baby.”

comfortable silence engulfed the both of you, and rin remained hidden on your stomach as you picked up the book you were previously reading, wanting to continue the story. though your left hand was suddenly tugged to lay on your boyfriend’s head.

“keep going,” he murmured, “…please?”

a gentle smile took over your features, and you were quick to run your fingers through his dark, silky strands. rin sighed softly, content with the affection you gave him — as if your angelic hands could take away every doubt swirling on his mind and wipe off the tiredness from his sore body.

“of course,” you said. and your mind completed silently: i’d keep going forever if it made you happy.

perhaps you were down bad, too.

Michael Kaiser

contrary to popular belief, michael kaiser was not a bad boyfriend. 

despite his huge ego, his narcissistic tendencies and his extravagant yet somehow rude personality, he wasn’t the type of guy to treat his partner poorly. in fact, he was a very attentive boyfriend, always doing his best to make sure you were happy and healthy.

or maybe it was just you. who knows.

whatever his reasons were, you relished the fact he took such good care of you, even if he wasn’t physically present because of away games — because michael was very good at making people notice him. whether it was with a bouquet of your favorite flowers delivered to your job, a nice breakfast cooked before you woke or even a small note of love professions. 

however, nothing really compared to having him there, with you, flesh and bone. 

especially on those days you just felt so miserable you wanted to disappear. 

“liebling? you okay?”

it was one of kaiser’s rare day offs, and all you wished for was to spend some much needed quality time with your boyfriend. though, this wasn’t possible due to your job, one you liked having despite michael saying he could support the both of you financially.

but the day at work just sucked. like, a lot. it was that kind of day where things go from bad to worse in a matter of minutes, and when you swear it can’t get shittier, it does.

you were exhausted and emotionally drained. the whole drive back to your shared apartment you were holding back tears, and the dam broke the second you heard kaiser asking you that.

“whoa!” the blonde exclaimed when your bodies collided on a tight hug. “what is it, engel? what happened? did someone hurt you?”

his worried tone just made you sob harder, and kaiser rubbed his hands on your back, trying to give you some comfort. he started to sway your bodies together while humming, doing everything to calm you down.

eventually, your sobs died down, and your boyfriend carefully brought you to the couch, making you lay on top of him; head on his chest. he started to gently scratch your scalp, running his long fingers through your hair.

“you feeling any better?” he asked in a low tone.

“yeah. thank you, mikka.”

the blond only hummed. “do you… want to talk about it?”

you had to stifle a giggle. god, he was so cute. even when he sucked at talking about feelings, he always made an effort for you. 

you slowly shook your head. “jus’ had a really bad day. but it’s okay now.”

his eyes softened impossibly, and you nearly swooned at the sight. “yeah?” 

michael kissed your forehead, and kept threading his fingers among your locks in a gentle caress. you smiled, because it was all you really needed to be comforted.

“yeah.”

Mikage Reo

reo’s body collapsed on top of yours, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs. you should have been used to it by now, really, since he’d always do that after you finished your smexy times, but sometimes it still caught you off guard.

“reo, you’re heavy,” you groaned, teasing him. “get off me!”

“give a guy a break, will you?” he whined. “i’m tired.”

your giggle reverberated through his body, and reo repositioned himself to lay his head on your chest, hugging your waist tightly as if to never let you go. he’d rather lose all his fortune before he let that happen. 

“is mr. athlete getting out of shape? i didn’t know this light exercise could make you so…”

your boyfriend interrupted you with a groan. “babe!”

you raised your hands in mock surrender, giggling again, and reo thought maybe he didn’t really care about your teasing if it meant seeing you this happy. he loved you in all your versions, but carefree was his favorite one. 

“sorry, baby. i’ll make it up to you, yeah?”

before he could make a suggestive joke, his breath hitched in his throat when your soft hands started caressing his hair, gentle fingers threading through his purple locks making him sigh. it was so unfair, he thought, how you managed to disarm him with just a small touch, reduce him to putty in your palms with a little gesture of affection. some of his friends said he was a fool in love, and reo couldn’t agree more. 

your love made him silly, but he didn’t hate it. he could never hate anything about you. all mikage reo was able to feel was love, love, love, an emotion so strong it nearly overwhelmed all of his senses, making him forget about all his worries and responsibilities — heck, even the whole world. and he didn’t mind if the world burned as long as he could keep you safe and away from the flames.

“what are you thinking about?” the whisper of your voice echoed the walls of your shared bedroom. 

“what makes you think i’m thinking about something?”

though reo couldn’t see you, he knew you rolled your eyes. 

“it’s usually how the human mind works, honey,” you answered, your wit making him stifle a laugh. “besides, you’re always so chatty, talking my ear off—”

“hey!”

“—so it always concerns me when you get quiet.”

the heir sighed, letting the silence linger a little longer to recollect his thoughts. reo usually didn’t have a hard time expressing himself with words, but sometimes his heart swelled so much it made it hard to think. so, pretty much every time he was with you.

“it’s just… i’m thinking about how i never really believed in past lives and reincarnation. i never really believed in soulmates, either,” he said, and you paid attention to every word. mesmerized by the wonder in his voice and even more by the sparkle in his purple eyes when he averted his gaze to yours. 

“but when i think about you, love… when i see you in my arms or when i rest in yours, i’m sure you are my soulmate, and that we were together in every lifetime. it’s always been you. it will always be.”

your chest swelled with love for the man laying in your embrace, and you tried to hold back the tears from falling. god, he was everything. you didn’t even know what you did to deserve a lover like mikage reo, but you were far from complaining. 

you gave him a chaste kiss on the forehead, trying to convey even a fraction of the love and adoration you held for him, and looked back to caress his face. then, smiling with the world in your eyes, you answered:

“it’s always been you, too.”

© 2024 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[faithsmadhouse]

Ride it|| Oscar piastri x fem!reader

Summary— reader and Oscar try out something new in the and Oscar swears that he’ll loose his mind

Word count -313

Warning— semi-sub Oscar thigh riding

A/n — this is apart of my 1k smut Drabbles

Oscar’s sitting up against the headboard, legs spread slightly, watching you with that unreadable, focused stare he gets when he’s seconds away from losing control but refuses to show it.

You straddle one of his thighs, bare and already slick against the firm muscle of his leg, your fingers curling around his shoulders for balance as you rock your hips forward, then back again. Slow. Deliberate. Cruel.

He sucks in a breath through gritted teeth. “You’re really doing this, huh?”

You don’t answer. Just grind down harder, chasing the friction you need his toned quad tensing beneath you with every subtle shift of your weight. You can feel the flex of muscle, the slight bounce as you move, and the sharp edge of his control start to splinter.

His hands twitch at his sides, like he doesn’t know where to put them. He wants to grab you. Steady you. Maybe flip you over and fuck you senseless. But you’d told him not to touch said this was your turn to take control.

And fuck, is he feeling it.

“You’re such a tease,” he rasps, voice thick and low, watching the way your slick glistens on his skin every time you slide forward. “Look at you riding my thigh like it’s enough.”

You bite back a moan and lean in close, lips brushing his jaw. “It is enough.”

He huffs a laugh, barely holding himself together. “Fuck. You’re soaked.”

You nod, grinding down harder, your clit catching perfectly against the curve of his thigh. The tension builds with each roll of your hips, each little whimper that escapes you when the friction hits just right.

Oscar’s breathing hard now, his hands clenched into the sheets. “If you come like this without me even touching you—”

“What?” you pant, grinding faster, thighs shaking. “You’ll what?”

His jaw clenches. “I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

That’s the goal.

[shadowkoo]

Almost Home

→ Summary: Your boyfriend looks extra yummy when he's in the driver seat, which tends to turn you into a feral, needy animal.

↠ wooyoung x f.reader | 712 words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, pwp, established relationship

→ Warnings: roadhead, oral (male receiving), ball squeezing, teasing, slightly bratty!reader, cock choking & cock swallowing if you squint lol, praise kink, slight exhibitionism & voyeurism, i think that’s it but let me know if i missed something

→ Networks: @k-vanity @ksmutsociety @pirateeznet @othersideoutlawsnetwork

→ Author Note: just a quick drabble bc i have a looooot of thoughts about the photos woo has been sharing lately ugh, not edited either so yeah...enjoy

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

“We’re surrounded by other vehicles right now, you can’t wait?” Wooyoung exasperates, exhaling a breath as your hands slide up his thigh.

“Just drive faster so no one sees me face first in your lap. It’ll be fine,” you shrug nonchalantly.

“But we’ll be home soon,” he points out lamely, trying to distract you - and himself.

You can’t wait though, he looks almost too good. There’s just something about the way he sits in the driver’s seat, exuding confidence and control, both of which have heat pooling in your center. It's the way he owns the space, completely in charge, and it’s making you lose your mind.

“Let me suck you off, please?” you whine. “I’ve missed you, all of you. Especially your pretty dick. I know it missed me too.” You lean over the center console of his car to kiss his neck, letting your hand dip in between his legs to cup his package. He hisses at the initial contact, then melts into your touch. He secretly loves it when you praise any part of him, even if you use the word pretty in the same sentence.

“Baby,” he groans, tipping back against the headrest and swallowing hard.

“I’ll stop if you really want me to,” you say, massaging him through his pants.

“Fuck,” he grips the steering wheel tighter while increasing speed, “Don’t you dare stop.”

Dipping into his pants after undoing them, you free his hardening length from the layers of fabric. You’re mesmerized by the little beads of pre-cum that spill out of his angry tip. Using your thumb, you smear them across his velvety flesh before immediately taking him in your mouth. The head of his length alone is enough to fill your mouth.

Wooyoung’s body stiffens from the sudden contact, and he might have accidentally swerved into the other lane, just for a second, when your teeth graze along the underside of his heavy head.

Christ.

Removing your mouth from him, you kiss every inch of his thickening length, effectively teasing him until more pre-cum leaks from his small hole.

His body reacts with another shudder when your other hand goes lower to cup his balls, your palm tightening around them when you leave another feather-light kiss on the very tip top of his member just to drive him crazy.

“You’re such a brat. Stop teasing and start choking on my cock already,” he grumbles, using his free hand to shove your face back down.

You comply, wrapping your hand around his girth and lowering your mouth around him. Mmm, you definitely missed this.

Hollowing your cheeks, you take him in further and further until your sputtering along his length.

Wooyoung loves the way your mouth stretches to take all of him. If he wasn’t so hyper focused on not crashing the car, he’d fuck the hell out of your mouth right now. He’ll make time for that later, you know, once you make it home.

Coming up for air, you grin toward your boyfriend while a string of saliva falls from your mouth. “I swear I’ll never get enough of this, enough of you,” you moan.

Wooyoung watches intently as you take in his full length again, only breaking eye contact when he needs to check the road.

“Look at you, you’re unreal. Do you know that?” He says, his eyes burning into yours as he looks down at you again. He rubs a fallen piece of hair out of your face. “Just gorgeous.”

His words make your panties wetter than they already are and you squeeze your legs together for some kind of relief.

You continue to play with his balls as you hum around him while he’s deep in your throat, a move you’ve learned that will send him spiraling right over the edge.

A few seconds later, his hips jerk and he twitches inside you. His hot, seedy release shoots down the back of your throat while he lets out the most delicious moan you’ve ever heard.

“Mmm,” you say, licking your lips once you pull yourself off him. “That was fun. Now take me home and dick me down properly as a thank you.”

He shakes his head, the corners of his lips curling into a smile, “As you wish.”

→ Taglist: @gyupremacy @beomcoups @yoonguurt @sinfullygay

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⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

©shadowkoo 2024. All rights reserved.

[dannyriccsystem]

max verstappen 10 & 11 for the 1k special please!

THAT’S BECAUSE I’M A GOOD OLD-FASHIONED LOVER BOY!

1K SPECIAL - MV1

Awkward first date + Wearing their clothes

SUMMARY: A rather ridiculous first date ends with you crashing at his apartment. Whoops!

WORD COUNT: 680

WARNINGS: Very cringy first date, waitress flirting with YOUR man, borrowing clothes.

FEATURING: Max Verstappen x Reader

NOTE: MEOWWWW MAX VERSTAPPEN MEOWWW

YOU WEREN’T SURE WHY YOU AGREED TO THIS. You were close friends with Victoria Verstappen, the sister of a famous Formula One driver. The two of you met when you were adults, which meant you only heard about Max through stories and occasional pictures from their childhood. Other than that, you knew nothing about him, which was why you were somewhat surprised when she set you two up together.

You met at a quaint little restaurant with a cheap menu. It wasn’t the type of place he’d visit frequently with the fear of being recognized, but things seemed fine so far. Save the occasional fan walking up to ask for an autograph, or the waitress fawning over him.

Yeah, actually, it wasn’t fine. You sat there quietly, watching as Max awkwardly avoided every flirty remark from the woman taking your orders. She brushed against his arm, praising him endlessly for his four world championship titles, and his incredible, hard working mentality. You were getting tired of it.

“We should go,” He suddenly stated, his voice firm as he locked eyes with you. You blinked in surprise, sitting up straight. “Yeah, remember? You said you needed to be home in about…” He checked his watch. “Ten minutes.”

He raised his brows at you. You understood. “Oh, yep. Yep, I do remember. Too bad, I was really excited to eat here.” You huffed, standing up and collecting your things. In a fit of quiet rage, your waitress ‘accidentally’ knocked over your glass of water, sending it flying across your lap. You gasped, shuddering at the cold.

“Oh, no…” She cooed. “Let me go grab—”

“No need.” He grabbed your waist, pulling you to his side. Your eyes widened, but you tried to relax and look casual. “We were just about to go home anyway. I’ll clean her up.”

Your waitress stared with silent shock as you both exited the restaurant, giggling amongst yourselves. “Nice save.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you something.” He pulled you outside of the building, and you both groaned. It was pouring down rain, and you were both left without any sort of coverage.

“Damn. I parked far away… Where’s your car?”

“No, I walked. My house is just down the road. We can walk?” You hummed and nodded, though you seemed hesitant. You were already covered in water, so what harm could it do?

A lot.

You were freezing when Max ushered you into his home. Thankfully, it was warm inside, offering you some relief. He scurried off down a hall, emerging with some clean clothes. “Here, you can get changed. I’ll get you a towel and blanket.” He smiled at you gently, and your heart fluttered while you accepted the clothes. You entered his bathroom, in awe at the pristine interior.

When you exited the bathroom a bit later, you felt refreshed and warm. Max had laid out some blankets and a towel on the couch for you. You could hear him in the kitchen, shuffling around. “Can I help with anything?” You called out as you grabbed the towel, using it to dry your face and hair.

“Nope. I’m just gonna make something simple,” He replied. You were satisfied with that response as you sat yourself on his sofa, burying yourself in a pile of blankets and basking in the heat they provided.

Moments later he came out with some pasta on a plate. It likely came from a box, but you didn’t care. You were starving. He also offered some hot chocolate, which was a very exciting spectacle. You both ate on the couch, using the coffee table for support. When you were full and happy, you relaxed back against the cushions, leaning against him.

“It’s still pouring down rain,” You commented softly.

“I can drive you home, if you want.”

“Yeah…” You trailed off. You didn’t really want to leave, you were enjoying his company. Your eyelids grew heavy.

“Or…” He pulled up a fuzzy blanket, tucking it in at the sides. “You can stay here?”

He took your soft snores as a response.

[studioeisa]

hard carry 🧮 mingyu x reader.

your math major soulmate is the only reason you’re surviving college, but how long can you rely on him for help?

★ math major!mingyu x art major!reader.  ★ word count: 2k ★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: college/university, alternate universe: soulmates (you and your soulmate can communicate with thoughts), romance, fluff, humor. a math term/solution i am not 100% sure about. reader’s thoughts are in pink while mingyu’s are in blue.   ★ footnotes: this is part of my follower milestone event. when are @maplegyu and i not self-indulgent? alas, brainiac!kmg is one of my favorite versions of gyu— so i’m glad to finally have an excuse to play with it. ily, maple! 

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ hard carry by got7. no song without you by honne. in the same place by girls on top. let’s love by suho. lilac by iu. mariposa by peach tree rascals. love equation by vixx. common denominator by justin bieber.

Barnett Newman. Helen Frankenthaler. Mark Rothko. 

All fantastic abstract expressionist painters, known for their vibrant compositions and color-saturated canvases. Some of your peers turned their noses up at the movement, presumably because it always took a little more of a critical eye to understand it. 

You didn’t share the same distaste. Most of the time, you enjoyed the colors, lines, and shapes that all served to be a bigger part of a whole. 

If anything, the math problem in front of you was the most abstract thing you’d ever faced. 

You stare at the test paper, your pencil hovering uselessly above the page. The numbers have all blurred together— a mess of equations and symbols that could rival the work of Jackson Pollock. 

It’s almost comical, how you slot so easily into the stereotype of art-major-who’s-ass-at-math. Some people are an exception to the norm. You are not one of them. 

“Fifteen minutes left,” your hard-pressed professor drawls from the front of the classroom, and you snap out of your woe-is-me reverie.

Question five taunts you. If f(x) = 3x² - 4x + 7, find f'(x) and evaluate f'(2).

Derivatives. Okay. You know this. You should know this. 

Except, right now, your brain is a blank canvas.

You purse your lips. This isn’t going to bode well for you, but you’d held out this long. You’ll be lucky to get a C on this test— to pass by the skin of your teeth— and so you deserve to get at least one question indisputably correct. Right? 

Mingyu. You reach out through the bond, desperate. You there? 

Some have said that once you’ve met your soulmate, once you know how they sound like, it’s their voice that rings in your thoughts. If you haven’t, though, you’re left with something more akin to subtitles. Text flashing in your head in a font of your choosing. 

(Your poison is Courier New. You asked Mingyu once, what his font for you was, but he never really ‘got back’ to you on it.) 

There’s a pause— just long enough for you to feel guilty— before a response flashes in your mind. Aren’t you in the middle of a test? 

You can almost imagine his tone. You anticipate it’d be something sharp and warm all at once, which is just your way of coping with how desperate you feel right now. 

I’m seriously failing in the middle of my test, you respond. Hopefully, he can read how frantic and desperate you are. I just need a little nudge. 

A beat. 

You tack on, Please? 

If Mingyu could sigh, he probably would have by now. He’s a man carrying the weight of your academic shortcomings, after all. There’s just enough exasperation in his ‘tone’ when he shoots back, Fine. What is it? 

Your eyes dart over the problem plaguing you. Once you’ve mentally relayed it to your soulmate, he responds without missing a beat. 

Power rule. If you have something like axⁿ, the derivative is naxⁿ⁻¹. 

You blink. Say that like I’m five. 

So help me, God, Mingyu says, forcing you to tamp down a laugh. Okay. What’s 3x²? 

Uh… 6x? 

Good. And -4x? 

-4? 

And a constant? 

Zero— 

You sit up a little straighter, faltering mid-mental correspondence. So f’(x) is 6x - 4.

Mingyu can’t really sound amused— or proud— but you picture it all the same when he urges you to go on. And f’(2)? 

Your pencil is already scribbling furiously across your test paper. Eight, you triumphantly declare. The answer is eight. 

There you go, he answers. 

For not the first time, you wish you’d already met him. It must be nice to have a smile in your mind, a cadence instead of sentences. But you and Mingyu had agreed that neither of you were in a rush. You were both uni students wanting to explore your individual lives at your own pace before attempting a happily ever after. 

It’s only through your ironclad will that you’ve resisted the urge to look him up, to find out if there was a math major named Mingyu within your area.

This is the last time I’m going to help you cheat, he says as you move on to correct your answers for some of the other questions.

A corner of your mouth twitches upward. That’s what you said last time. 

Yeah, well, I mean it this time. Get a tutor or something, woman. 

Are you presenting yourself? 

Don’t tempt me with a good time. 

Your professor keeps you from responding immediately. “Five minutes,” she calls out. 

Your fingers tighten around your pencil. It wouldn’t be the first or last instance where academic integrity might be compromised because of the whole soulmate bond, but Mingyu is right. You can’t keep summoning him like your personal math genie. 

Fine, you concede. I’ll stop bothering you with my [math] problems. Nerd. 

Mingyu asked for it, so, really— he’s to blame for missing it. 

It’s an odd feeling, this restlessness that comes in the absence of your out-of-the-blue inquiries. The two of you still occasionally reach through the bond to exchange an amicable word or two, maybe recommend a song, but gone are the times you’d come running to him for help. 

He’s sitting in the library, his notebook opened to a half-finished proof. His pencil twirls idly between his fingers as he attempts to focus. Instead, his mind keeps drifting to what was once a daily occurrence. 

Panicked whispers of Mingyu, help. Last-minute pleas for salvation. Complaints about how math is ruining your life, how this would most definitely not be useful in the real world. 

(He would never admit it, but he had always liked when you tangented into the last one. It felt a bit like a betrayal to his field, the endearment he felt whenever you’d flood his mind with paragraph after paragraph cussing out Newton and Leibniz for inventing calculus.) 

With a sharp sigh, he stabs his pencil into the spiral binding of his notebook and leans back, rubbing a hand over his face. His fingers drum against the desk. His leg bounces. He debates reaching out first— just to check, just to make sure you haven’t actually given up on math altogether. But what would he even say?

Hey, fail another test yet? Are you alive, or did calculus finally take you out? I kind of miss you annoying me. Don’t let it go to your head.

No, no, and definitely not. 

He doesn’t even know you like that. You’re soulmates and that’s pretty much it. He’s lucky that you’ve been rather chill about the whole affair, not hurrying to meet him and lock him down like other soulmate horror stories he’s heard. 

He knows bits and pieces. Your major, your love for survival reality shows, your utter distaste for anything beyond multiplication. 

Mingyu mumbles something like “for fuck’s sake” to himself. He tries to refocus, and he manages to make it halfway into his homework when it comes. 

Mingyu. 

When you wanted to tell him something inconsequential, like The new Fantastic Four movie sucked or I’d kill for a slice of pizza right now, you went straight into it. You only ever ‘said’ his name when it was related to numbers. 

Took you long enough, he says, his lips twitching. 

Shut up. I was trying to figure it out on my own this time. 

And? 

Your brief moment of hesitation has Mingyu wondering if he’s too cruel. His mother had always advised him to be nice to his soulmate, to not overwhelm you, and he contemplates throwing in an apology. Before he can, though, you’re back in his head. 

I need you. 

Something in his chest tightens. He tells himself it’s just relief. 

(The truth of the matter is this: Mingyu liked being needed by you. He wasn’t sure yet why, but he did.) 

Yeah, yeah, he responds as he absentmindedly sketches a heart into the corner of his notebook. What’s the problem? 

You’re starting to think that a tutor might not be that bad of an idea. 

While Mingyu is always obliging, the guilt of relying on your connection was beginning to weigh on you. You scoured the university boards until you found a girl named Somi willing to meet with you twice a week, and it was going pretty well. 

Still— is it weird to admit that you kind of miss running to Mingyu? 

You try your darndest to keep those thoughts catalogued. A couple of your friends have talked about accidentally slipping some of their innermost thoughts to their soulmates, and God forbid Mingyu find out that you crave his dry wit. 

You can’t miss somebody you’ve never met. 

At least that’s what you keep telling yourself as you go to Mingyu less and less, instead filling in the gaps of your conversation with menial, everyday things. 

What coffee do you usually drink?, you ask him one afternoon. 

You’re in the world’s slowest-moving line, at the cafe you and Somi frequented for your tutoring sessions. Your phone is dead, you’ve analyzed the art on the walls at least seven different ways, and there’s no one around for you to talk to. Might as well abuse the soulmate connection. 

His response comes in by the time you’re nearly at the front of the line. Iced Americano, he responds. Why? 

No reason. 

“Next.” 

You offer a sympathetic smile to the dead-eyed barista at the counter. “Once large iced Americano, please,” you say. 

You go to stand off to the side. As you’re waiting for your order, Mingyu asks a question of his own. 

What about you? 

What about me? 

What’s your go-to order? 

You contemplate it for a moment. Salted caramel cream cold brew. 

The barista hands you your drink. A corner of your lip twitches upward as you accept it, Mingyu’s response coming in at the same time. 

That sounds obscene, he taunts. A toothache in the making. 

Hey. You’re mentally britsling, readying to defend your coffee of choice. I’ll have you know— 

“Oomf!” 

This was sometimes the problem about getting lost in your thoughts. You tend to get dragged out of the real world, stuck in your conversation. You exchange a quick apology with the person you bumped into, the tips of your ears flaming red. 

With your drink in hand, you make a beeline for the table that you and Somi always sit at. You’re distracted enough to forget that you were mid-‘conversation’ with Mingyu, and so you barely register that your usually punctual tutor has yet to arrive— or that someone else is coming up to your table once you’ve settled in. 

Later, you will get a text from Somi telling you something came up, but not to fret; she called in a friend to help. Someone who was more than willing to pick up Somi’s slack after joking that he’d already been doing it for the soon-to-be-love-of-his-life. 

Your gaze flicks up to the boy standing in front of you. 

‘Cute.’ ‘Cute.’ 

It’s a two-way record scratch. 

The stranger hovering by your table seems to freeze, too, and the pieces fall together in your head like a puzzle— no. It’s like when you squint at an abstract painting and the whole thing comes together.

You had said sorry earlier, hadn’t you? To the person you bumped into. He had apologized as well. 

Now, there was a voice to the words in your head. A face to the soulmate you’d been missing.

“Hey,” your soulmate says, he says out loud. 

He plops down into the seat across from you, trying and failing to fight off the biggest smile on his face. There’s no need to exchange introductions. He says your name, and it’s so much better than anything you could have ever imagined. 

When Mingyu sets down his drink, you actually laugh. 

It’s a salted caramel cream cold brew. 

[stevesgother]

ahem… may i suggest… k12 + k9 + r4 + w11 … happy 1k i love u diva!!! xoxo han stevenose

you literally could've not told me it was you and i would've known by the prompts you requested alone contains: MDNI 18+ afab!reader, stoned sex, cock worship, fwb!steve, cum eating (omg), praise (steve receiving)

emma's 1k celebration

You knew going into it what you'd be doing with Steve when he invited you over to his place earlier; it's the same thing you've done every time he's invited you over.

It always starts with a hushed phone call, his voice slow like syrup as he asks if you're busy that night. You always tell him you're not. You always end up being pounded into his mattress for the next two proceeding hours, give or take.

You've never fucked Steve sober, and maybe it's better that way. Something awkward happens? Well, you were stoned. Steve comes embarrassingly quickly? Blame it on the weed!

That's where you find yourself now: two joints of some strain called Kush Cake (?) deep, grinding like horny teenagers over each other's laps.

Suddenly, like a dog with a bone, you're salivating. Like truly, honestly salivating. The thought of Steve's cock in your mouth, being so full of him, what his expression would be as you take him to the hilt; it's all too much to resist. You've never been this eager to give someone head before, it's almost alarming.

Without so much as a word, you're sliding off Steve's lap and settling on the floor at his feet. He's staring down at you, heavy lidded and mesmerized, waiting for your next move. You take the liberty of pulling the tie on his pajama pants, pulling them down his thighs until his dick is out, red and leaking against his stomach.

You can't help but wrap your fingers around the velvety skin, stroking it languidly. You're not sure if Steve's always this vocal, or if it's an effect of the pot, but the noises spilling out of his lips are downright obscene. Breathy moans, whimpers and whining. It spurs you on that much more.

This isn't something you just want to get over with, no. You'll be taking your time tonight.

Leaning in, you press open-mouthed kisses to his ruddy head, wet and sloppy. His hands weave through the strands of your hair, not pushing, just keeping you there; unable to bear the thought of you changing your mind.

"Such a pretty cock, Stevie," you tell him softly, your breath against him making him twitch, sensitive. You continue stroking him even as you lick over his frenulum, the sensation making him jolt. At this rate, you're not even sure he'll last long enough for you to get him in your throat.

It's now or never, you suppose, so you waste no time swallowing him whole. Steve cries out, his fist tightening ever so slightly at the crown of your head. You bob up and down, up and down; a tantalizing rhythm.

Tears well at your eyes from the prodding at your gag reflex, a droplet or two streaking down your cheeks. You peer up at Steve through your wet lashes, relishing in how wrecked he appears.

"Don't look at me like that," he grits, then: "Oh, I'm close. I'm-"

He tries to pull your mouth off of him before he blows his load down your throat, still a gentleman even when he's incapacitated.

But you stay firm in your position, opting to take whatever he has to give you. Doubling your efforts, even.

"Oh god," he whines, it's a beautiful sound. "Gonna come down your fuckin' throat, baby."

And he does. Hot ropes of it fill your mouth, almost choking you, swallowing it down as it comes. It's bitter and sweet and somehow ineffably Steve. What a bitch, you think, even his cum is perfect.

Steve pulls you up by the elbows when he's finished, lays you down beside him, and gets to work; not planning on stopping until you're shaking with writhing beneath him.

[hanasnx]

telling clark for your birthday you want him to hit it raw 🙂‍↔️

MINORS DNI 18+

NOTES: DC is for December Event!

“You want me to what?” CLARK KENT parrots in disbelief, his raised brows creating ripples in his forehead at what he just heard. Your comment felt so out-of-character, and caught him so off-guard, he performs a cartoonish shake of his head as if to reset himself. He clutches onto your shoulders and stoops until he’s ready to look you in the eye again. Once he does, confusion as well as reluctance is laced in your expression, your hands fidgeting in air in front of your chest. To encourage you, to assert he really does want to hear you, he reiterates, “Just- say that for me again.”

Your parted lips tense to form a word, but he can sense your hesitance because of his dumb-founded reaction. You shift your previous wording, believing it to be the reason for his pearl-clutching, “I just—“ You glance to the side uneasily, finding it difficult to maintain eye contact when your insides are screaming at you to drop this subject and retreat. “All I said was…” your voice gets tiny, sighing in defeat before peering up at him through your brows, hiding most of your face. “What if we didn’t wear a condom next time?”

That’s not what you’d said to him before, but to save himself from his own dramatics, he takes it at face value. “Uh,” He straightens. There’s a swell in his pants that takes everything in him not to adjust, instead willing it away with a self-hating scold. “No condom, huh?” he repeats soullessly, simply to fill the silence as his hand scratches the back of his head. “Isn’t that… dangerous—? To you, I mean.”

You feel the need to be close to him, stepping into his bubble as your hands come to clutch at the front of his shirt. You incline in his direction, draping yourself on him. “It’s gonna be my birthday soon.” Confidence instills in you once you see he’s just as shy as you are, tensing under your touch as his mind races with the possibility of getting to know what you feel like without barriers. “I’ve always wanted to try it.” Your hooded eyes bat long lashes, scanning up his figure until you meet his gaze and he buckles, “Don’t you wanna hit it raw for my birthday present, Clark?”

[maxlarens]

⭐️ oscar + one has an obvious crush, the other is totally oblivious orrrrr secret relationship + someone finding out

hehe okay i did obvious crush but i do love secret relationship

“You’re not subtle,” Lando bumps against your shoulder as he sidles into your space.

You feel something warm spread across your cheeks, you try to hide it by scowling as you take the drink that Lando offers. You tear your eyes away from Oscar, pretending you weren’t watching him talk to Max with an intensity that rivals your focus on track.

“Can you fuck off,” you gripe.

“Nah,” then, he’s shouting, “Hey! Oscar!”

You’re going to kill Lando Norris, you decide. You’ll run him off track during the next race and pray he goes careening into a wall, you’ll put rat poison in the next drink you hand him, you’ll— and oh my god Oscar’s coming over.

It’s not that you can’t be around him. You can. You’re friends. It’s just that lately, your crush is turning into this unignorable thing. You can’t stop watching the way his expressions morph, exposing what he’s feeling so clearly, as if he’s not even controlling it. His teeth on his bottom lip, the freckles on his neck, the stubble on his chin. And he’s wearing this black t-shirt that you hate so much because of how he looks in it.

It makes you angry. It makes you want to claw your hair out of your head. But you also kind of don’t want to ever leave his side.

“Hey,” Oscar greets, smiling with his teeth in a way that makes you a bit woozy, “What’s up?”

“See,” Lando nudges you, sending you careening to the side, your drink sloshing over your hand, “No idea.”

You whip your head around to glare at Lando, you jab him sharply in the arm with a knuckle, briefly forgetting Oscar in your rage, “You little arsehole.”

Lando makes a noise halfway between a giggle and an exclamation of pain, “Don’t punch me, you shit.”

“Huh,” Oscar furrows his eyebrows, laughing a little at your antics, “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” you snap, before realising you sound like a total freak, “Nothing. Lando’s just being a cock as usual.”

Oscar’s eyebrow goes further up and you’re biting the inside of your lip to stop from smiling, to stop from reeling forward and kissing him right then and there.

“Okay,” he says slowly, a bit amused, a bit baffled.

You know you’re staring at him, but you can’t seem to stop. He’s looking at you with a soft squinty smile and your head feels light, like it’s going to float right off your body and up into the rafters—

then Lando snorts. Loud, obnoxious and totally obvious.

You’re really going to kill him one day.

join in on my 1k celebration

[prettydaisygirl]

Hi, Daisy, congrats on your 1k! Just a few months ago we were celebrating 500, omg 🩷

Sooo, here's my request, you know who I'm here for, James Potter, with the prompt "wait... is this a date?", maybe we can make it funny, like reader offering to pay, even if they're married and in all dates James was the one paying, so he's really confused 🤔

tysm! hope ur okay!

hi bestieeeeee thank you for requesting, i always love your requests! this one was really fun, i hope you like it. thanks for celebrating with me <3

james potter, married au, and "wait... is this a date?" ✿ 408 words

cw: fem!reader, husband!James, reader pranks James at dinner

1k follower celebration

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The waitress stands at the end of the table with a smile, and hands the bill to James. You look at him from your spot across from him, hoping to not give away any hint of mischief on your face.

You reach over and take the bill from his hand, your other one reaching toward your purse. “I got it.”

James’ brows furrow, his lips parting softly in confusion. The waitress falters for only a second, her eyes falling to the ring on your hand. She gives you both a nod and excuses herself from the table.

“What?” James reaches over toward you to grab the bill back but you dodge him. 

“It’s my turn to pay.” You say casually, finding your wallet and pulling out your card. James gapes at you in shock and confusion.

“Baby, what?” He frowns further when you continue to dodge his outstretched hands. “Our money comes from the same account. And even before that, I always paid for our dates.”

“Wait...” You gasp, looking at him wide-eyed, really trying hard not to break.”Is this a date?”

Your husband rolls his eyes and finally snatches the bill out of your hand. You break into giggles, and then James does too.

“The waitress is probably so confused.” You chuckle louder than you should and James does too, the two of you getting a few looks from others in the restaurants. Neither of you care.

“I was confused!” James says, and the two of you are still laughing when the waitress comes back to take the bill. Seeing her just makes the two of you laugh harder.

“You could’ve let me pay, though.” You say as the two of you finally begin to calm down, giving James a teasing smile as he takes your hand across the table. He shakes his head at you, rolling his eyes more. 

“Our money comes from the same account!”

“Exactly, so next time let me pay.”

“No.” James answers right as the waitress returns to give him back his card. He takes it, but keeps his eyes on you. “I’m the one that pays, baby.”

You give him a mock pout, but let him take your hand and kiss your cheek. The soft press of his lips to your skin has the corners of your lips tipping up.

“Fine,” You say with a resigned sigh. “I guess I’ll just have to wait until we aren’t on a date.”

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© prettydaisygirl