#how to shell bash

[triffany-lottablog]

I found a super obscure silly newspaper comic series with these guys and the design choices for each of them are frankly baffling so I wanna redraw them but first I need to figure out designs that are expressive while still being on model which is easier said then done

[nanamiskentos]

♩ (mdni) abstract — semi-public sex, in a library, fwb, canon!gojo x afab!reader

fwb!gojo satoru who's the cockiest man that you've ever seen. sure he's the strongest sorcerer of the modern day and age. and he's a good teacher to his students. but he doesn't give a fuck about deadlines, or being a decent coworker, or being polite and quiet in the staffroom — and it's enough to send you up the wall.

he also doesn't give a fuck about being quiet when he's drilling his solid inches into you. gojo clearly doesn't care for noise when he's got bruising fingertips pressed into your hips. when he's got your staff uniform pulled to the side so the fat tip of his cock can slap thick wisps of pre against your clit.

"ya' can feel that right, sweets," gojo's chuckling, teasing and so full of himself as he sees you sink your teeth into your lower lip, trying to keep your whines quiet, huffing and snapping at the shell of his ear.

"y'know we hafta' be quiet, right, mmph — satoru!" you don't get to finish admonishing him because he swallows your concerns in a messy kiss, all clashing teeth and tongue as he slowly pushes his fat tip past your glossy, winking entrance.

and what a sight, to know that this is how you can undo the most powerful man to walk the earth, to see his pale-pink lips drop open as his blue eyes glaze over. to know that he's losing himself in the tight heat of your pretty cunt, and he's not even halfway in yet.

"s-sorry, what was that, sweets?" he's gasping into the crook of your neck, a large hand on your thigh, manoeuvring your leg wider so he can slot his frame in between your legs, "didn't quite catch t-that, woah. it's like she's got magical powers or something." all sleazy grins and bashful smirks as he pats at the mound of your groin, right where his own hips are now tacked to yours, glistening.

"charming, satoru," you breathe out, trying not to let on that you're just as affected as he is, "b-but the students, they're gonna — hnngh," your words are cut off as he bottoms out with a slick pop! but you're never one to give up, digging your nails into the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. you thread your fingers into the soft hairs of his undercut, letting satoru practically purr above you, "they could walk in any minute, don'tcha think?"

it's clear that it's not a pressing concern to gojo right now, because he just suddenly leans back, rolling his hips slowly into yours so each angry and thick vein must be swabbing your insides, "ya' think too much, sweets. there's, hah, none on campus right n-now," and he bestows a shiny, spit-slick kiss upon your waiting lips again, "it's just you and me, ohhh — and her 'course."

you respond with a strong clench of your gummy walls around his cock, and the hand that wasn't holding your thigh up ends up slamming down hard on the oaken desk, sending books and stray papers to the floor as he huffs, "w-whoops, yer' just takin' me in sooo good, fuck, i really needed this sweets, ya' got no idea. stupid higher ups got me run dry. and you looked s-so damn good in that meeting, couldn't focus," and he's babbling now, "couldn't focus and knew i had to sneak ya' back out here, get you on my cock."

you swipe a thumb over his candy lips, all mint and sugar, as you mewl in pleasure, having him batter your guts over and over so you're imprinted against his sculpted abdomen, "you gon' pull outta me if i make a stupid joke about me milking you dry?" and gojo snickers but it quickly turns into a breathy moan, "tch, ya' don't think that's w-what i want? always so good at doin' this. why don't ya' just let me take you out properly?"

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. ❞

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: john walker x fem!reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.8K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, (mdni), porn without plot, established relationship, lots of dirty talk, breast play, making out, biting, john walker’s praise kink, prone bone, unprotected p in v sex, creampie. sweet ending.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: yeah I’m not even sorry for being debauched anymore !! this is filth with a soft ending. this lowk got me biting my knuckles during the writing process so ,,, I hope you all enjoy! 🫶

Inky black paints the skies above the Watchtower, New York cityscape a canvas for thousands of stars. It’s a quiet night, a rarity that doesn’t seem to come very often, but you accept them whenever time allows.

Water trickles from the faucet in John’s bathroom, accompanied by the rhythmic noises of a toothbrush being scraped over teeth.

If it weren’t for trying to keep your relationship private for the sake of the team, you would’ve already relocated to his room. However, there’s still some thrill you get in sneaking over once it’s dark like a teenager.

Pinned beneath his sheets, you’re perfectly content to observe from your perch, gaze tracing over raw, sinewy muscle, over yellowing bruises.

He isn’t chiseled or godlike in the way that Bob is, but he’s real, physique attained from years of hard work, of pushing himself to the brink. Broad shoulders are smattered with light freckles, biceps flexing; you don’t stop staring.

John stopped wearing a shirt to bed, clad in a pair of plaid boxers that kissed the center of his thighs. He’s leaning over the sink, spitting a wad of arctic mint into the basin, washing it out with a swig of water.

The sight of this, of him bare and vulnerable, is inherently domestic, a life that you never envisioned for yourself. Something stirs within your belly, mere embers preparing to rage into flames.

His shirt hangs loose over your frame, still alive with his scent, a heady mixture of now-stale cologne and something husky.

When he turns, he catches your gaze with a lopsided smirk, cocking an eyebrow as you sheepishly turn away. You’ve been together for months, and you’re still acting a little bashful — he thinks it’s cute.

He used to convince himself that roughness was the only path forward — that being sharp, uneven like tilled earth, was how he needed to be. You’d convinced him otherwise, and he was grateful.

“You’re not subtle,” John echoes, switching off the bathroom lights before coming to join you in bed. He doesn’t crawl beneath the sheets, hands seizing your hips. “C’mere.”

“John!” You gasp through a mouthful of giggles, flesh crawling with heat as he drags you to him, pinning you against his chest. Face-to-face, he plants a kiss against your jaw, gaze softening.

Tangled in an amalgamation of limbs, you perch against him, letting your weight sink down as you trace circles over his collarbone. “God,” He murmurs, reverent. “You’re gorgeous.”

Behind closed doors, the swagger and temperamental smugness dissipate, leaving just John; he’s significantly softer in private. Whatever facade he wore before seems to drop, and it’s just the two of you — no bravado.

With a lackadaisical smile, you preen beneath his words, lashes kissing the skin beneath your eyes. His hand cups your hips, digits skimming over slivers of exposed flesh.

John stares at you; you’re grounding, an anchor that he never imagined needing. Irises glisten with affection, with a tenderness he still feels undeserving of, but he’s let that go.

He exhales when your hand cups his jaw, thumb tracing over the scruff of his beard, digits mapping his visage as if he’s a constellation. “You’re so perfect.” As the words rush from your mouth, he shifts beneath you.

He doesn’t feel perfect; he’s never felt remotely close to anything other than a fraud, a shell of a man, but you’ve helped him pick up those pieces.

John doesn’t define himself by past actions and merit anymore — he can’t. Inadequacy is the biggest chip on his shoulder, and he’s still learning to let that go. If it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t have changed.

A light huff escapes him, brows drawing together as he squeezes your hip. “Should be telling you that.” He sighs, lips twitching into a threadbare smile.

“Nothing’s stopping you, Walker.” Cheeky, you happen to wriggle closer, bridging the gap between mouths. Lips connect in a soft kiss, something tender; it makes his head spin, brain filled with static.

Through his mouth, his smile remains, a faint upturn that you feel between kisses. You’re still partially on top of him, slotted against his thigh, feeling his hands become emboldened through touch alone.

John’s chest blossoms with a stinging sigh, sharp, attempting to rein in the myriad of crass thoughts that float through his head. It’s difficult with your body against his, touching him as if he’s the only thing worth your while.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, sweetheart.” He challenges, though it’s exceedingly weak. To your delight, you’re prepared to follow through, lips stilling against his.

Sitting upright, your expression is one of incredulity, a smile finding its way to your mouth. “You started it,” A flimsy excuse, at best. “You started it as soon as you pulled me in.”

He lifts a hand in faux defense, blonde brows pinching together, chest erupting with a huff of laughter. “Not guilty.” John retorts, albeit playfully before watching you crawl away, laying beside him with a cheshire grin.

“You’re ridiculous.” You’re breathtaking when you smile; and John knows that it’s all for him. He covets that, a sacred look shared between lovers, knowing you’ve got him pinned.

In the still silence that falls between, John’s countenance glows with a beam, chest shaking with a huff of laughter. “Right — ridiculous.” He lulls, drawing out each syllable, grunting as he shifts to move on top of you.

His weight ghosts above, a warm pressure that sends butterflies surging through your belly. Bullying your legs apart, he’s perched on his forearms, staring down at you through a half-lidded glower.

The intensity of his gaze pierces through you, sharp and poignant, heat beginning to slither over your limbs. Wordlessly, he bends to kiss you, scruffy mouth claiming yours.

Something charged lingers within his lips, something hungry, as if he’s telling you what he wants without verbalizing it.

When your palms snake to settle over his biceps, caressing him as if he’s something precious, it all feels so raw. He doesn’t bristle at the softness like he used to — he embraces it.

Kissing him stitches your heart together in ways you never thought possible, mending years of a self-inflicted isolation.

He kisses you hoarse, hot and messy, like dry kindling catching fire. Arousal creeps between your thighs, damp and incessant, causing you to shift beneath him.

“John,” You sigh, shivering as teeth languidly scrape over your bottom lip, tempting you. The growing swell of his cock presses through the linen of his boxers, firmly slotted over your clothed core. “Please don’t tease me.”

Much to his embarrassment, it never takes much for him to get riled up, erection rutting against your groin, friction spreading like wildfire.

Through an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue wets your bottom lip, foreheads nestled together, his heart singing in his ears.

One hand shifts to snare within the hem of your shirt, dragging it toward your ribs, fingers tracing up until he gropes your breast. He’s kissing you as if he’s trying to win, ripping air from your lungs.

Your hips urge forward, and as if to torment him further, you’re grinding into his cock, pulling a husky groan from his chest. Hands rake to the nape of his neck, fisting into blonde tresses.

The rough pad of his thumb circles your nipple, gooseflesh erupting beneath his touch. It only furthers the ache that screams between your thighs, slick with a familiar heat.

Mouths continue to clash, a mess of lips and teeth, tongue when John initiates it, eliciting a moan from your throat. Passion overrides everything else, ardor replacing logic.

“Christ, you’re drivin’ me crazy.” He pants into your mouth like a dog in-heat, and it all seems to escalate with a fervent intensity. His Georgian drawl slithers in when he’s wound up tight.

“John, shit — do something about it.” It shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did, your wanton remark — but it did, and he’s reaching to tug at your panties.

Serum-infused blood pumps through his veins with a renewed fervor, and instead of sliding them down your legs as he’s done many times before, he grips, grips tightly. “Hope you aren’t attached to these.” He growls into your ear.

His guttural snarl makes you want to press your thighs together, stopped by his musculature, and your eyes go doe-eyed, wide. Digits flex into the cotton material and pull, stitches ripping as he tears the fabric right from you.

A gasp rips through your diaphragm, coupled with shock and awe as he kneads into your breast, rolling your nipple between thumb and forefinger. “J—John!” You moan, feeling his lips wrap around your chest.

“Gonna fuck you until you’re hoarse.” John gruffs against your flesh, and you’re squirming, body buzzing with a teeming him. You’ve never heard him talk like that, but he’s thoroughly and utterly razed.

Needy lips harshly suck at your unattended breast, edged with the graze of teeth. You shiver, back arched, flesh crawling with heat, eyes half-lidded as you scrape your fingers over his scalp.

The floral scent that permeates your skin sends him into a near-frenzy, a smell he’s grown accustomed to. He gropes at your tits, kisses, bites — tension coils in his shoulders, and he wants a release.

“Turn over.”

He isn’t asking you, either.

Dizzy, your muscles feel molten, as if you’re going to melt right through the mattress. Eyelids twitch, your jaw unhinged, pushing a sharp gasp through your diaphragm.

As if to accentuate his command, his lips nip at your sternum, pinching at your nipple with enough stimulation to make you whimper.

He’s grabbing a pillow somewhere from the left side of the bed, relinquishing his weight from you, allowing you to roll over onto your stomach. John kindly manhandles you into place, shoving the pillow beneath your hips.

His name cascades from your mouth like a prayer, anticipation crawling through your spine. He walks a fine line between domineering and passionate, as if he’s solely in control, but you know how easy he falls apart, too.

Fabric shuffles behind you as he discards his boxers, reddened tip of his cock prodding against your slick cunt. It makes you shiver, his breath hot beside your ear.

Weight bears down on you again, more similar to a warm blanket, chest flush as he presses into your back. He’s so much larger, face just behind your own, hands locking in over yours.

The sensation of fingers intertwining sends another spike of liquid heat through your belly, cunt aching for him with desperation. “So wet for me,” He pants, teeth nicking the shell of your ear. “Jesus, you’re so pretty like this.” The grit in his cadence makes you throb.

John’s got a mouth, sure, but he’s never used it like this, torturing you with dirty praise that makes you writhe. As if to tempt him, you push yourself against him, cunt grinding into his cock.

“J—John, please …” He’s got you broken, thoughts scrambled, liquefied in the wake of crass murmurs. You’re undeniably soaked, flesh tingling, body craving him as if he’s air.

The tip of his cock rubs along your pussy, and you’re debauched, nails curling into the sheets, flexing against his fingers. Prone beneath him, he huffs, forehead nudging into the back of your neck.

With a forward motion, he pushes his hips into yours, cock meeting mild resistance. His actions are disarmingly sluggish — you expected something feral and rough, but he does the opposite.

He’s groaning into your skin, planting kisses there when he isn’t making noise. A moan shakes your chest, drawn-out and wanton, a sound that’s sure to be embedded into his mind for days to come.

The position forces you to feel every inch of him, and he’s infuriatingly well-endowed. His cock kisses your walls, cunt clenching pathetically around him the further he goes, bodies now entangled.

“F—Fuck, John,” Slurred, you’re drunk on your own desire, brain fuzzy with static, mouth slack to make room for throaty moans. “God, you fe—feel so good, please!”

John’s voice tapers off into a husky moan, the praise driving him crazy, and it’s almost enough to get him under control. “Jesus, takin’ me so well.” He roughs, kissing just beneath your ear.

The tightness of your cunt drives him to the brink of madness, huffing beside your ear, teeth grazing over your jaw. He’s growling, panting, his sounds mirroring that of a feral dog instead of a man.

As he fully hilts inside of you, cock bottoming out, he squeezes at your hands, mouth flush to the nape of your neck. There’s a second to adjust, the both of you lost within the haze of ecstasy.

Drawing his hips back, cock halfway gone, he pushes back in — deep, sensual. There’s a significant lack of roughness, but he doesn’t do anything in half-measures.

“Feel s’good, perfect,” Through a string of needy whines, you try to push your hips back against him, but the prone position makes it difficult. The pressure of his body is grounding, dizzying. “You feel so good.”

It’s an incoherent mess of babbles that leave you, singing his praises, and he buckles. That validation and praise he craves from you brings him to heel, brows pinched together.

“Keep talking, honey.” John groans, kissing a messy, wet string of kisses over your shoulder, finding a rhythm that makes your head spin.

Each thrust of his hips sends him deep, cock nearly kissing your cervix. Each ripple of your cunt makes him shudder, the sensations nearly overwhelming — all-encompassing, consuming.

“You — Shit, you fuck me so well,” The words feel foreign in your mouth, but it barely registers, emerging as heated whines. It makes him growl into your shoulder, teeth gently biting at sensitive flesh. “John, please, please.”

John’s reply was another snap of his hips, cock pounding away at your aching cunt. Each thrust is passionate — he wants you to feel everything, feel what you do to him.

He’s fucking you as if it’s the last thing he’ll do, grunts resonating beside your ear, breath hot as it tickles the nape of your neck.

As good as it feels, you wish you were looking at him — the image is drenched in sin, the one you conjure up. Each moan that keens from your lips is answered with a roll of his hips, cock working you open, kissing your cunt.

Scarlet clings to John’s features, handsome and pink, jaw strained as if something might shatter. He’s grunting, warm baritone slipping off into a half-moan when your thighs clench together.

Each slap of his cock lewdly urges against your slick cunt, arousal thick and honeyed around him, making everything easier.

The pillow pushed beneath your hips lets you take the brunt of his thrusts, his groin grinding near your ass, bodies sticky with perspiration. He exudes heat like a furnace, making you sweat.

Ecstasy builds, twined around his muscles, constricting him in some blinding haze. “You’re mine,” The snarl he lets out sends shockwaves through your cunt. “My girl.”

John is naturally possessive, and when he lets his claim fly between messy kisses to your shoulder, it sends you into overdrive.

“M’yours,” Receptive, you feel him fuck into you again, pace still bordering between sensual and vigorous, cock hitting new depths. “Fuck, John — so good at this.”

Your wanton praise goes straight to his head, fueling that subservient side to him that hungers for your attention. It’s more than enough to inflate his pride, and he releases one of your hands.

Beside your head, one hand remains interlocked with his, the gesture disarmingly tender between lewd clashes of bodies. His palm slides over your shoulder, slow, caressing until he finds your waist.

His thumb traces circles into the silky skin there, ministrations never slowing — his pace remains unwavering.

John shudders at the feeling of your cunt, tight and warm around him, clenching around his cock with each roll of his hips. Pleasure mounts within him like a white-hot coil, burning through his belly.

You sob from the pleasure, ecstasy shooting through your body as if you’ve been struck by lightning, arousal seeping from your cunt.

It’s all flesh against flesh, accompanied by a cacophony of groans and whimpering, and you’re rutting into the pillow pushed beneath your hips.

The friction is stinging, lungs burning with each breath you take. “Keep going, please.” You sigh, delirious with desire, any shred of coherency surrendered to him.

John’s a good soldier — obedient, and he’s certainly not one to defy your command when he’s deep in your cunt. He’s rutting into you, passionate and needy, pleasure surging through his veins.

Muscles coil around you, and he’s caging you in between his body and the mattress, grunting when your cunt clenched around him.

His palm drags over your ribs, calloused flesh meeting your silky skin, and he’s head over heels. He can’t think straight anymore, logic thrown out the window, abandoned — you’re all he wants, all he sees as he thrusts again.

It’s a blissful rhythm, the best you’ve had, a constant rut of urging hips and a mouth that wanders over the juncture between throat and shoulder.

He bites softly, pulling a moan from your lips. “Christ, you’re perfect like this.” John gruffs, beard scratching ragged over your flesh, leaving you tingling all over.

He’s getting close, feeling the occasional spasm of your hips as you grind into the pillow, pushing against him as best as you can. You moan his name, again and again.

The pace of his thrusts seems to increase, jackhammering at your cunt when he’s pushed closer to the edge. You clench around him as if you’re sucking him in, and he’s enraptured.

It’s everything — it’s his mouth, teeth, body blanketing yours, hands intertwined, cock fucking you deep — you’re not going to last much longer like this.

“Close, m’close.” Panting, your diaphragm burns with labored breaths, muscles like jelly, body succumbing to his vigorous, sensual thrusts. Bliss festers within your belly, screaming.

Daring to lift your head, you decide to look — the sight is nothing short of mesmerizing, sinful.

Wisps of blonde hair stick to his temples, brow glittering with sweat, countenance contorted into an expression of sheer bliss. His jaw is locked, eyelids nearly shut, looking as if he’s just glimpsed the holy ghost.

Part of you wished you’d been treated to the picture of him all along, flushed and pink, handsome without a drop of effort. He’s even prettier when he’s fucking you hoarse, exertion poured into pounding away at your cunt.

“Jesus, you’re tight,” John rasps, throat thick with desire, coarse as he feels himself slipping over the edge. “Fuck, I can’t — Goddamn …” There isn’t any warning, but you don’t care in the slightest.

Every thrust is sharp, precise — he’s gritty, perspiration glittering along his neck, muscles pulled taut. John sucks a hickey into whatever flesh he can reach beside your jaw.

His cock pulses, throbbing incessantly inside of you as he snaps forward again, groaning beside your ear when he hits his peak.

It sets off a chain reaction — white-hot bliss, a buzz shaking your nerves, brain humming with static. Any coherent thought is promptly scrambled, tossed aside.

John’s forehead rests just behind your ear, hot breath curling over your throat, still hilted inside of you when he cums.

There’s something messy about it — reckless, incendiary, rapturous. He doesn’t pull out, fucking you full with his cum. Warmth floods your insides, crescendoing into your own release.

With another light grind against the pillow, friction grating right to your core, you moan, clutching onto his hand like a vice. Bitten by ecstasy, you feel like you’re floating, the coil within your stomach unfurling.

It’s as if you’ve been washed in fire, flesh feverish, the heat so intense you nearly collapse. He ruts through your shared release with sensual, sluggish rolls of his hips.

Ripples of bliss shoot through your veins even still, seeing stars through closed eyes, thighs quivering like leaves. John’s chest breaths ragged with each sigh, as if he’s exhaling fire, brows still furrowed together.

Entangled moans finally simmer down, tapering off into stinging huffs, exhales pushed through his nose. He presses a string of kisses over the back of your neck, to the top of your spine.

In the afterglow, it’s hushed — you’re catching your breath and so is he, feeling him stay inside of you for a few moments longer.

“You okay?” John murmurs, wondering if he’d pushed it too far. Roughened fingertips trace over your side, coming to affectionately squeeze your hip. “I didn’t take it too far, did I?” He asks, concerned.

Smiling to yourself, you’re flustered, feeling his cum and yours cool over your cunt, the ache diminishing into a dull pulsation. “No, no,” You soothe, feeling his mouth on your throat. “I’m really good.”

John nods, planting another kiss to your jaw before he reluctantly pulls out, leaving behind a mess of fluids that paint your inner thighs. The sensation is sticky, exceedingly wet.

He grunts, moving off of the bed to get you a towel — and new panties. The remnants of your undergarments are in scraps somewhere on the floor, you realize.

You lay there, razed, limbs feeling molten, as if the bone has turned to liquid. A pleasant buzz hums through your veins, breathing beginning to steady as you roll onto your side.

Framed by the golden glow emanating from the light above his headboard, he’s stunning — shadows accentuating raw muscle, body a canvas for yellowing bruises and fading scars.

Even afterwards, he’s exceptionally sweet, a natural caretaker as he brings you a towel and a pair of underwear you’d left in his room prior.

“Thanks.” You smile, awkwardly shuffling to clean yourself up a little bit, sliding on a dark, spandex pair of panties. Readjusting your shirt, you toss the towel into a dirty basket.

“You’re so beautiful.” John murmurs, retrieving his boxers, tugging them back on as he joins you in bed again, looping you into his side. His arm wraps around your hips, pressing a kiss to your jaw.

Smitten, you crawl closer, head nestling against his shoulder as your fingers trace over his chest. Hands intertwine somewhere over his heart, dog-tags hanging beside his collar.

“You’re cute like this,” You hum, and he scoffs instantaneously. “You are, John. You’re really sweet when you want to be.” He takes the compliment to-heart nonetheless.

Lips mold together, the kiss wonderfully tender, enough to make him melt beneath you. John savors it all, letting it linger, hand tracing the soft curve of your hip. “Cute, huh?” He utters, husky.

“Very.” Soft, your cadence quiets, leg hitched over his hips, anchored to his side, oozing with warmth. You keep the sheets off for now, letting him cradle you, hold you tight.

He laughs; a flash of pearlescent teeth, bleeding with a charm that makes your stomach erupt with butterflies. “Don’t tell the rest of the team about this.” John grouses, feeling your lips smooth over his cheek.

“They already know, John.” You hum, feeling his body jostle with a huff as he caresses beneath your shirt, palm dragging along the small of your back.

John doesn’t seem perturbed; if anything, he’s happy — content, even. “Your fault.”

[thevillainswhore]

“Good girl,” he mumbles, running his fingers through your hair while looking at you.

So We Meet Again

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: A reunion between two old friends quickly turns heated.

Warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, smut, blowjob, mouth fucking, ball sucking, praise, pet names, cum eating.

Author’s Note: This is part of The Love In The Woods Collection ❄️ beta’d by the lovely @buck-star thank you my love 🥰 dividers by @saradika-graphics.

You didn’t know what to expect once your old friend opened the door to his cabin. It had been years — too many of them since you had last seen him and to say you were nervous was an understatement. 

The logs that had been carefully wound together to uphold the structure were beautifully cut, a deep mahogany that was rich in pigment. But you couldn’t help but quirk your lips at the beigeness of it all. 

A little splash of colour would do the trick. 

You had no time to internally decide what kind of palette you could imagine for the rustic cabin before the wooden door creaked open and a vaguely familiar face came into your view. 

“Bucky?” You gasped, the air knocked out of your lungs. “Is that—Is that really you?”

Far from the scrawny boy you had attended school with, your old friend stood before you transformed into a man. 

The stubble that graced his cheeks was new. The once long hair that he had chopped down into a short fluffy cut was also new. The muscle he had packed on that made the woolly coat he was wearing strain against his arms was definitely new.

All new territory that you had no idea what to do with. 

“Hey, Dolly. It’s been a while since I’ve seen that pretty, little face.” 

Oh, the deep voice was a welcome surprise too. 

“I—” You didn’t know what to say, shell shocked by the sight in front of you. “You’ve gotten taller.” 

Bucky laughed abruptly. “Well, damn. Thanks, sweetheart.” 

You let out a small huff of laughter for your own awkwardness. “What I meant to say was you look good.” 

Though a lot had changed since you last saw Bucky, one thing that had stayed the same was how bashful he got over the slightest compliments. 

Rubbing the back of his neck as a hue of red blossomed on his cheeks, he smiled. “You know how to make a man blush, don’t ya?” 

Just as you were about to reply, a gush of frosted wind made you stumble. Bucky shot his arms out and grabbed you before you could fall. “Shit, let’s get you inside before it gets nasty out there. Come on, you.” 

With his arms still keeping you balanced, Bucky brought you over the threshold and into the warmth of his home. He shut the door with his foot and continued to smooth his hands down your coat covered arms. 

“This place is beautiful, Buck. I can’t believe you made this by yourself,” you said in awe. 

“I’m glad you like it. You helped me design it after all.” 

You spun around with your mouth open. “You did not keep those sketches after all these years!” 

Bucky shrugged with one shoulder and slid his palms into his pockets. “I did. I neatened them up a little here and there when I got the planning permission. But I kept them.” He pointed towards the fireplace with his head, a fond smile curving his lips. “Look.” 

After tapping the excess snow off your boots on the doormat, you made your way towards the mantelpiece that hung above a roaring fire. Low and behold, there were the drawings the two of you had made together years ago in college. Ripped out of your notebook and framed. 

“You believed in me when not many people did.” Bucky’s voice was closer as he came up behind you. “You didn’t laugh when I told you I wanted to build my own company. It's because of you that people took interest in this house and now I get regular contracts to keep me steady.” 

Unexpected tears began to bubble to the surface. You couldn’t believe your old friend had kept something so sentimental and created something so beautiful out of it. Sniffling, you faced Bucky and hugged him tightly. “I’ve missed you, Buck.” 

Instantly, his arms curled around you, holding you with just as much vigour. “I missed you more, Dolly.” 

The two of you kept huddled in your embrace for a while, savouring the feeling of each other after lost time. 

Suddenly, a thought popped up. You pulled back, though Bucky’s arms held firm around you. “Wait. Does this mean what I think it does?” 

Your excitment began to grow at the grin on your friend’s face. ��Why don’t you go and find out?” 

With a squeal, you quickly toed off your boots — not wanting to dirty the cabin — and ran down the hallway. If Bucky hadn’t changed anything about the floor plan, you were sure to find what you were looking for. 

And to your delight, once you had ripped open the door, you found your most prized possession — the library. 

You spun around, unable to contain the emotion in your voice. “You really built it.” 

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised, sweetheart. I told you I would.” Bucky leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with an unknown look in eye. 

“But—“ you tried to reason. 

Though Bucky quickly shook you down, already knowing what you were trying to say. “But nothing. You’re still my best friend no matter where in the world you are. No matter if we haven’t spoken in a while. This is for you, Dolly.” 

You swallowed the growing lump in your throat. “It's beautiful, Bucky. I love it.” 

“You’re welcome here anytime. You know that.” By the earnest look in his eyes you knew he meant it too. 

After you had explored the house some more, Bucky had ushered you to the table to get some food down you. His concern for your wellbeing hadn’t changed at all since school. He was always mothering you, making sure you were taking care of yourself. 

It was like the two of you had never been apart. Conversation came easily over his homemade meal. Laughter bounced off the walls of his kitchen. It was easy to fall back into your friendship. 

But there was something else brewing that you couldn’t explain. An added supplement to your relationship. 

There were lingering looks over the candles scattered across the dining table. There were flirtations that made you squirm in your seat. 

If Bucky wasn’t your friend, you’d have thought that you were on a date. 

But Bucky was your friend. And every time your eyes caught each other and his hand brushed over yours, you found yourself thinking of him differently. 

Snow pelted harshly against the windows and you looked outside to find the storm predicted by the weather forecast was raging in full force. You wiped your mouth with a napkin and sighed. “That’s just going to be great to drive in.” 

Bucky’s eyes snapped up to you in aghast. “You’re not actually thinking about going out in that, are you?” 

“What other choice do I have? I’ve got to get to my hotel.” 

“Absolutely not.” Bucky shook his head in finality. “You’ll stay here.” 

Your eyes widened in shock. “I can’t just stay here, Bucky. This is your home!” 

You knew you sounded stupid, especially when he raised his eyebrow at you. “My home is your home. You’re not riskin’ your safety just to stay at some deadbeat motel where the doors don’t even lock. Not a chance.” 

Bucky’s reasoning was sound. The room you had booked was kind of cheap and you shivered when you thought of the possibilities why. But after a night filled with inexplicable tension, you found yourself still weighing the options.

Bucky must have seen the indecision in your features. The groan of his chair pushing out caught your attention and you had to bite your tongue when he crouched before you to hold your hand.

“Come on, darlin’. You can’t go back out there tonight. Stay with me.” 

You would always argue it was his eyes that persuaded you. Bucky always had a way to make you give in to him with his steel blues. It was the same as college kids and you realised it was the same now. Only more dangerous. 

“Okay,” you whispered around a gulp. Squeezing his hand, you confirmed, “I’ll stay with you.” 

Bucky’s eyes lit up. Pulling you out your seat, his large arms wrapped around your shoulders and squeezed you tight. He nuzzled his nose into your hair and let go of a deep breath. “That’s my girl.” 

Your body shouldn’t have reacted the way it did. You were just glad that Bucky was too enthralled in your hug to notice anything amiss. 

Clearing your throat, you stepped back and smoothed your clothes. “Let me help you put all this away.” 

Immediately, Bucky took the plate you were about to grab. “Not a chance, Dolly. Go sit down and wait until I’m finished and then I’ll show you to your room.” With his free hand, he patted your lower back, enough for his fingers to skim the top of your ass and shooed you away. 

Once the kitchen was cleaned, Bucky lifted you off the sofa with his hand and guided you towards the hallway where the bedrooms resided. You weren’t quite sure why you faltered upon the first step, but you tried to control your breathing enough to push yourself to keep walking. 

The night wasn’t what you expected when you decided to visit Bucky. Maybe it was silly to have any sort of expectations after so many years apart from your friend. 

However, this new element came at you with no time to prepare. 

Especially not when he let you lead so he could place his hand on the small of your back. Not when you felt the movement of it gliding further down to rest on the curve of your ass. And not when he grabbed your hand to pull you back once you surpassed the open door to his bedroom. 

“So—um—the guest room is just next to mine.” Bucky looked down at you with what you could only call desire in his irises. 

“I know,” you breathed airily. “I helped you design the layout, remember?”

Bucky swallowed. “I guess I’ll say goodnight then.” 

“That would be best.” Though you made no way to retract yourself from his proximity. 

“Goodnight, Dolly.” 

“Night, Bucky.” 

The air became stifling hot, even as the cold crept in from the open windows around the house. 

Wetting his lips with his tongue, Bucky slowly moved forward with what you supposed would be a friendly kiss on the cheek. You kept deathly still as his stubble scratched against your skin, even though a shudder clawed its way down your back. But your attempts were useless when his lips hovered a little too close to the corner of your mouth. 

Bucky let himself linger before he pulled back. Though he could only manage to draw himself away from you slightly, allowing the two of you to breathe each other’s air. His eyes were blown, like he’d taken a hit and his hand squeezed your waist like it was painful for him to move. 

Who made the next move would continue to be debated for years to come. What you could both agree on with certainty was the instant connection the two of you felt when your lips finally connected. How perfect the two of you intertwined your bodies in a dance of fiery passion.

The nagging voice that had tormented you throughout the night vanished and you finally let yourself go, losing yourself into Bucky. 

“Fuck,” he murmured around your kiss. “I’ve been wantin’ to taste those damn lips all night, Dolly.”

You tangled your fingers into his fluffy hair, pulling harshly as his hands sneaked up your shirt to feel your bare skin. “Then shut up and stop wasting your breath.” 

His responding growl sent a shot of electricity between your legs and you couldn’t help but flick your tongue against his to hear it again. 

The two of you made out like a couple of horny teenagers in the hallway, unable to keep your hands off each other. It was as though Bucky was the oxygen you craved after being starved of air. You’d die if he let go of you. 

Bucky began to step back into his bedroom and the door crashed against the wall. You broke away when your feet recognised the soft carpet furnishing, a string of saliva still connecting your mouths together. 

“What are you doing?” Bucky whined while his chest heaved and his eyes were hooded in pure lust. 

Ignoring him, you dropped down onto your knees with a thud. His eyes shot open and you graced him with a sultry smile, licking your lips while you slid your palms up the denim covering his thick thighs.

“Oh, shit. You’re really gonna—”

You didn’t give him the time to finish his sentence. Adrenaline was sparking your momentum in that moment and any doubts about how fast you were moving were pushed out of your mind as soon as you tore his jeans and underwear down in one go.

Bucky’s heavy cock bounced out of its confines. He was all girth and length, a true testament to the rest of his bear-like physique. Although his dick was intimidating and you had to take at least a whole minute to stare at it in wonder, you got to work quickly.

There were no teasing licks, no hesitant strokes of your hand. You went all in, hollowing your cheeks while you began to feed yourself his cock. You held the base with one hand and slid your other further down towards his balls, beginning to massage them just as you felt the head of his length hit the back of your throat.

“Holy—D-Dolly, you gotta—fuck that’s so good—Slow down, baby. You’re g-gonna choke.”

Lifting your eyes to settle them on Bucky’s, you winked and hummed around him, watching in delight as his eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be,” he chuckled before biting his bottom lip, beginning to gently meet the rhythm of your mouth with his own thrusts. “Ain’t gotta tell me twice, baby.”

Spit drooled from your mouth, pooling onto the hardwood floor, while your eyes began to water. Any decorum had gone out the window and all that was left in its place was raw, shameful mouth fucking. Bucky couldn’t keep his jaw shut as he towered above you, watching how his proportions bullied the tightness of your throat.

“Good girl,” he mumbled, running his fingers through your hair while looking down at you. “Good fuckin’ girl. Gettin’ all messy for me.”

His hands tightened their grip, tugging enough for a sharp pain to sting your scalp. But it only served to rile you up more. Letting his cock fall from your mouth with a wet pop, you reached further down to suck his balls. 

Bucky choked on his own spit at the sensation of your tongue flicking against the thin, delicate skin and the warm wetness your saliva provided him. “Sh-Shit, Dolly! Uh-huh, baby—Just like that.” 

Cradling the back of your head with one hand, Bucky used the other to hold his cock. He wanted to see the tears glistening over your waterline. You hummed as you made eye contact with him and the vibrations ran through his whole body and lit his nerves on fire. 

“That’s right, suck my fuckin’ balls. Look so pretty on your knees for me and your own damn spit covering your face.” With a grunt, Bucky pulled back, almost regretting leaving your hot mouth, and grabbed your chin, spitting on your awaiting tongue and shoving his dick back down your throat before you could blink. “Show me how much you missed me, baby.” 

Your body was like a live wire, sparks shocking your nerves and leaving you pent up and on edge. The pure animal had come out of your best friend — a side to him you had never had the pleasure of seeing before — and it only made you crave your own stimulation. 

Your jaw ached and your throat cinched in pain every time the fat tip of Bucky’s cock hit the back of it. But none of that mattered when you watched the harmony of pleasure across his face. How he looked at you like you were an angel on your knees, serving your god. 

You grabbed the base of his cock with your hand and pulled him out of your mouth. “Paint my tongue, Bucky.” There was a hoarse rasp to your voice but you swallowed and began pumping his length. “I wanna know what you taste like.” 

Bucky’s eyes gained a new gleam, one that frightened and excited you. 

“Fuck my life. What the fuck have we been doin’ all this time?” Grabbing the length of your hair and twisting it around his hand, he pulled, forcing you eye to eye with his crotch. “Come here, Dolly. Lemme feed you my load if you wan’ it so damn bad.”

Bucky fed you his cock and widened the stance of his legs, his free hand framed your chin — smothered in a combination of saliva and pre cum — and began to thrust. 

Spit flew out of your mouth, each squelch and gag leaving no room for anything but Bucky’s thick length to take ownership of you. Your cries fell on deaf ears as Bucky became a man possessed. 

“Gonna take it, sweetheart? Gonna swallow my cum and fill up your tummy?” 

You nodded as best as you could, moaning around his girth and trying to convey with your eyes how badly you wanted him to use you. 

Bucky licked his lips, panting viciously. “You’re mine now, Dolly. Do you understand?” 

When you didn’t answer, too drunk off his cock, he harshly tapped your protruding cheek. “Answer me, sweetheart. Do you fuckin’ understand?” 

You gargled around his length, tears streaming down your cheeks as you screamed your muffled agreement. 

Bucky swiped his tongue across his teeth and grinned. “Good. Cos’ I ain’t letting you go.” 

Your nails dug into the meat of his thighs, trying to steady yourself from the cruel thrusts. Bucky began to grind his cock down your throat, leaving you depleted of oxygen and struggling to form a single coherent thought. 

“‘M gonna cum, baby. C-Can’t hold it any longer.” Bucky’s legs started to shake with his impending orgasm, his words slurring the closer to his end he got. 

So with a sudden bout of eagerness, you slid your hands around to his ass, gripped each cheek and pulled him impossibly further down your throat until you couldn’t breathe. 

Bucky didn’t even have a chance to warn you before his cock began to pulse, not a second later shooting pearls of thick, white cum from his tip to coat your tongue. 

“D-Dolly—baby—I can’t. F-Fuck, I’m cummin’ so much. All this fuckin’ cum for you, sweetheart—” he rambled. Stumbling over his own words until his dick finally began to settle and his load had all been released. 

You struggled to hold the vast amount of cum in your mouth, some of it sneaking out from the corner of your lip and joining your tears as they rolled down your chin. Your bloodshot eyes, rimmed with red speckled veins looked up to Bucky, watching the pure elation on his face while his fingers started to carefully unfurl from your hair. 

Slowly, once Bucky’s length began to soften, he retracted his hips, letting his cock fall from your mouth. His thumb rested on the dimple of your chin, rubbing back and forth as he caught his breath, a new hunger in his eyes. “You still got my load in that pretty little mouth, baby?” 

Tightening your lips, you nodded, chest heaving and nostrils flaring with an adrenaline that hadn’t been sated. 

Bucky smirked wolf-like and kneeled down on one knee to match your height. “Wanna show me?” 

Caught up in the boundaries the two of you had surpassed, that threatened to untangle the very purpose of your being, you held your friend’s eye and leisurely stuck your tongue out. White cream, thick and musty, balanced on your tongue, exposed and vulnerable. 

Bucky’s eyes darkened and you barely had time to anticipate his intentions before he threw himself forward and kissed you. 

You squealed, panic surging through your limbs and stiffening your body. But Bucky grabbed your waist and hoisted you up onto his lap, manipulating your legs to wrap around him. 

The shock of him tasting his own cum left you paralysed, unable to reciprocate his kiss properly. However, the deep groan that rumbled from his chest at the motion of your tongues colliding and his load falling onto his own kick started your body. You kissed him back with reverence, a fire rekindling in your lower stomach. 

Your faces were a mess of spit and cum, though the two of you were more concentrated on each other, content in getting lost in the new development of your relationship. 

The kiss eventually died down, Bucky leaving a couple of intricate, slow pecks to your lips before seperating. He kept close, noses teasing each other while you caught your breath. 

Tenderly, he swiped the gooey liquid lingering around your mouth with his thumb and tapped your cupid's bow twice, a plea to open up. You complied, allowing him to enter and you were quick to enclose your lips around him and suck. 

“Good girl,” Bucky whispered, watching you with wide eyes. “You’re such a good girl for me.” 

Before you could reply, he lifted the two of you up with ease, keeping a firm grip around your midriff, and laid you down on his bed. 

“Let me see what else you’ll do for me, Dolly.” Bucky’s eyes bore into your own gaped ones, still trying to wrap your head around the events of the night. “Please.” 

There was no other answer. Not when he caged you with his thick arms and not when he delicately trailed his nose along the sensitive skin of your neck. “Okay, Bucky.” 

You couldn’t have imagined where that night could have taken you. Nor could you have conjured up how the hell the two of you ended up fucking until the early hours, singing songs of praise to each other and experiencing a pleasure that you thought would forever be a myth. 

And when you awoke in the morning, scared and worried of the consequences of your actions, you were sure you would regret it. 

But as Bucky tore your clothes off, pouring his adoration and devotion into every crevice of your body with more skin that was revealed as your heart beat as one, you couldn’t even try to muster up any feelings of remorse or anguish. 

You just wanted your best friend to fuck you until the sun came up. 

[cagednymph0]

꒰ა dutch van der linde x fem! reader

𐔌 cw - 99% smutttt, fast paced (as always), age gap (reader is in her 20s), MAJOR innocence & corruption kink, dutch is a perv, fantasizing, cheating, use of pet names, fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), overstimulation , size difference, loss of virginity, unprotected p in v, breeding kink.

𐔌 a/n - just a quick one shot before i finish up some requests — forgive me Molly, ily — not sure if smutty books existed in the 1800s, but pretending they did — also here is the cai version <3

Dutch had a lady. But after all this time, she wasn’t exactly what he needed. The once fiery woman had now dissolved into a shell of her former self. He was finding it hard to keep her entertained.

Day after day she’d nag, and nag, and nag. He couldn’t stand being around her most days. Couldn’t seem to catch a break.

But you. Oh, you.

Dutch has a natural inclination to appreciate a new face.. but you? You were especially interesting. Unlike anyone else at camp. Like an innocent little lamb caught in a den of wolves. You didn’t belong with these rugged folk. You had hardly experienced the cruelty of this world. You were like a breath of fresh air. A sweet release.

You often kept to yourself, engrossed in the pages of fiction that lay in your hands. Lost in your own world and blissfully unaware of Dutch’s lingering presence.

“How’re you settling in, my dear?” His voice startles you, drawing your attention away from your book. “Folks been treatin’ you alright?”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, somewhat bashful. “Some real nice people…”

Sir. Oh, how he loved the sound of that title coming from your sweet little mouth.

You looked at him with the utmost respect. Like he was some kind of savior, or hero. He was nothing of the kind. If only you knew the nasty thoughts that swarmed his mind everytime you were near. Everytime you looked up at him with those gorgeous, doe-like eyes.

He yearned to ruin you.

“Glad to hear.” He motions his hand toward your book. “Whatcha’ readin’ there?”

Quickly, you attempt to conceal the cover from his view. He grins. How cute. You were embarrassed.

“It’s nothing interesting…” you retort. “Really. Just some silly old romance story I found.”

Dutch hums, crouching down towards you to take a peek at it. It was indeed a silly old romance story. And he’s willing to bet you’ve never even experienced half the things that occur within it.

“No need to be shy with me, little miss. I’m not one to judge.” he tips your head back up, sweeping away a few stray hairs that fall over your eyes. The cool silver of one of his rings brushes the flesh of your cheek. He notes the way you shudder at the contact. Like you’d never been touched before. Sends an unbearable surge of heat through him, straight down to his cock.

“Perhaps another time, you could read a bit for me?”Begrudgingly, he stands back up, letting you go. His pants were growing uncontrollably tight. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could conceal himself.

You nod in agreement, shaking off your feelings of fluster. “Yes, Mister Van Der Linde. I’d enjoy that.”

You sure would.

───── ⑅ ♡ ⑅ ─────

Doesn’t take long before he’s hurriedly pumping his fist over his length once he’s excused himself from camp. His ‘taking a walk’ is just a shitty cover for his true intentions.

In a secluded place near camp — not too close but not too far — he sits, eyes closed against a tree. All he can imagine is your cute little face. Sweet, plump lips. Your pretty, innocent eyes gazing up at him through your fluttery lashes.

He craved you to no end.

Never in his life had he needed something so badly.

He groans, corkscrewing and churning his palm around his leaky tip, picturing the way your lips would part as he’d ease into your warm, wet mouth. Imagining the tears that’d fill your lashline as you struggled to take it all in.

But you would take it all.

He knew you would. You were such a sweet girl, you’d probably do anything he asked of you. You were so grateful to him. So grateful to him for taking you in.

You’d never guess what a sick and twisted man he truly is. Cumming all over himself to the thought of breaking you in. He was a disgusting, horrible man. Not even close to worthy of your gratitude.

And he had no shame. None at all. Cleaned up, walked back to camp, back to Miss O’Shea like it was nothing. Slept by her side like a baby. Without lick of guilt in his system.

───── ⑅ ♡ ⑅ ─────

The following day, he made his rounds. It was like routine.

After wishing everyone good morning — and attempting to appease Molly — he’d stealth over to your bedroll to pay you a ‘friendly’ visit. Which you, of course, thought nothing of. Mister Van Der Linde was just a sweet, selfless man in your eyes. Treated everyone equally.

In truth, he was always desperate to see you. To hear your voice. Just so he could have more material to think of when he’s tending to his needs. His intentions were anything but good. And he loved that you were too dumb to catch on.

You followed him into your tent like an obedient puppy. Just to read your book to him.

You sat in his lap in your pretty little dress, just as he asked, without even questioning it. It was like a dream come true for him. It was far too easy to get what he wanted from you.

The pair of you sit on your bedroll, Dutch’s larger form leering over your shoulder as you read the words from your book. The story was cheesy. Everything he had expected from a romantic novel.

Well, for the most part.

Some aspects surprised him. He hadn’t expected a sweetheart like you to read something so… erotic. The way you read these things aloud to him so effortlessly made him question a bit.

His hands rub slowly, tantalizingly up and down your sides as he listens intently. It appeared you were no longer paying attention to him or what he was doing, far too immersed in what you were reading.

In actuality, all you could focus on was the scruff of his facial hair tickling your neck. His large hands splayed out along your middle. His reoccurring hums of praise.

How you wished he’d teach you how to do the things they were doing in your book.

You found yourself leaning back, sinking further into his warm lap. Letting your dress hike up just a tad. You wanted him to notice. Wanted it so badly. You were too scared to say something to him outright.

It was so unbelievably wrong. Pining after a man so much older than you. A man who was taken. You wouldn’t dare.

But he would.

“Ever done something like that, my dear?” he questioned, referring to the page you were on. You were hardly even comprehending the words, too distracted by his closeness.

Of course, you had touched yourself before. But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that.

“No, sir…” you shake your head. “Never.”

“No?” he mocks surprise. “That’s a shame.”

You’re almost disappointed when he drops the topic, urging you to continue narrating. You feared you just threw away the only opportunity you had to be something more to him. But then, you feel a rough hand snake it’s way up the bare skin of your thigh.

“I’d love to teach you, sweet girl.” he eyes you closely, observing your expression like a hawk. He was pushing it. He knew that. But in this moment in time, he couldn’t bring himself to care about the potential risks. And deep down he knew you wouldn’t deny him. You needed his expertise.

Your thighs instinctively spread, making way for his hands to venture higher. Your body language told him everything he needed to know.

“Atta girl,” he praises. His fingers inch their way up to your panties, rubbing along the outside. “Keep reading for me.”

You obey, continuing where you left off before his interruption, struggling again to focus as he slips his hand beneath the fabric of your underwear. He dips into your slick, groaning in arousal at the feeling. You were absolutely dripping wet, and he hadn’t even done anything to you yet.

“Such a needy little thing,” he teases, sliding his finger through your juices. “Let’s take these off.”

Gently, he pulls your panties down, letting them slip off from your ankles, revealing your pretty virgin pussy. He almost turns feral at the sight.

His arms snake around your waist once more and he uses his legs to pry apart your own. “Fuck.. You’re perfect,” he husks. “Anyone ever told you that, baby?”

“No, sir.” Again, you shake your head. “No one’s ever seen me like this.”

He takes a deep breath, trying and failing to calm his nerves. That fact alone, that he was the first to see, made him painfully hard.

“Such a good, sweet girl.” he coos, his middle and index fingers moving circles around your little nub. “Let’s keep it that way.”

He holds you steady on his lap, relishing in the way you squirm against him.

“Mister Van Der Linde-“ you whimper, sending another surge of heat down south. Mister. Sir. It drove him mad.

“Shhh,” he hushes gently. “Wouldn’t want to get caught now, would we?”

He eases a finger in, his breath hitching at the way your squeeze around him. So fucking tight. He couldn’t wait to stretch you out, mould you to his shape and size. You were going to be his and his alone.

He adds another digit, slowly but surely scissoring you open. He curls them inside of you, searching for that spongey spot to make your toes curl. He rubs over it in slow strokes, making your pussy drool.

“Mm.. making such a mess for me.” he pulls his fingers out, bringing them up to his lips to lick them clean. He nearly loses it. You were so fucking sweet. He needed more.

He lifts you off of his lap with ease, laying you flat on your back on your bedroll. He’s no longer thinking. Just doing. Bunching your frilly dress up over your hips and burying his face between your legs.

His large, roman nose dives into your cunt, nudging your clit as his mouth latches on. Your fail to muffle your moans as his tongue laps through your folds. He’s sloppy with it, eating like it’s his last meal.

He slurps and sucks through your mess, eventually setting on your clit. He flicks his tongue mercilessly, panting and groaning into you. Your hips threaten to lift off the bed, unable to stop squirming as relentlessly he torments your poor pussy. But he forces you back down, not willing to let you slip away. Not until he’s had his fill.

“Taste so fucking sweet,” he mumbles, the vibrations of his deep voice almost make you tip over the edge. “Cum on my tongue, sweet girl. Let go for me.”

Your thighs tighten around his head squeezing him suffocatingly tight. He doesn’t mind, of course. If anything he loves it. Knowing he’s making you lose your mind.

“Gooood girl,” he drawls out, still circling his tongue around your bundle of nerves. “Cum for me…”

You do. And it’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. He doesn’t stop until you’re practically jirating. Until your voice starts to reach that painfully high octave, begging and pleading with him to stop.

When he sees that fucked out look on your face, he can’t hold back. His belt comes undone, pants dropping down to his ankles. His hard cock hangs heavy. He lays it to rest against your lower stomach, as if measuring how deep he’ll go.

“Look at that, baby…” he’s peering down, pupils blown out. “Think you can take it all?”

You’re still struggling to catch your breath from cumming last. Your brain hadn’t fully recovered, all you knew was that you needed something more. Needed it so badly.

“Yes, sir..” you pant. “Fill me… please.”

Before you know it, his lips come crashing against yours in a messy, spit filled kiss. His tongue slips in past your lips seeking out yours.

“My sweet, innocent girl. I’m going to ruin your little pussy. My little pussy.” his teeth sink into your lower lip, dragging back and reluctantly letting go.

His fat tip drags down your slit searching for your entrance. He throbs, his precum mixing with yours as he pushes in. He sucks air through his teeth, wincing. You were squeezing his cock so tight it was almost painful.

He watches your nose scrunch as you take in this new sensation. “Mm.. relax for me-“

His hips roll forward, pushing deeper inside of you and he swears under his breath. His girth was stretching you to the max. Tears fill your eyes as he thrusts a final time, bottoming out inside of you. Your mouth pops open, but your voice fails you.

“Fuck- that’s it… s’ okay. Taking me so, so well.” he croons, swiping the tears from your cheeks. “So proud of you..”

He kisses you once again, much softer this time.

Once you’ve calmed down and adjusted to the size of him, he begins to roll his hips. He shudders, pulling out and pushing back into your depths.

The sounds of squelching and slapping of skin soon fill your small tent. Plap. Plap. Plap.

Dutch can’t control himself enough to go slow anymore. He’s fucking your tight cunt like you’re his personal fleshlight. You can hardly keep your eyes open, and he’s practically crushing you with his weight.

Your legs remain wrapped around his waist, and your hands squeeze his as he pins them at your sides. “So fucking good…” he moans. “Like you were made just for me.”

“Mister Van Der Lin-“ you mewl, and his lips attack yours, muffling your sweet voice.

He picks up the pace, desperately chasing his high. He pulls away to whisper harshly into your ear “Mmm- My pretty little cock sleeve. Gonna breed you so full… Fill you with my babies.”

Dutch’s thrusts begin to lose their rythym. He’s watching your face. Your arched brows, glossy eyes staring up at him like your brain has gone dumb. Turned into a pool of mush. So fucking pretty.

The sight of you pushes him over the edge. His cum spurts out inside of you, deep within your canal. He rides out his high, lost in the pleasure and unable to stop his movements.

He curses softly, filling you with everything he’s got, letting you milk his aching cock.

He eventually pulls out with a wet plop, flopping down beside you to catch his breath. You curl up to his side. His hand comes up to rest on your head, lightly scratching at your scalp.

“You did so well for me, sweet girl.” he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Wore this dirty old man out.”

[clockwayswrites]

Danny in Metropolis, ch3 p3

Masterpost bad bad day, so have a bitty bit of feels goo. please no back seat editing, I am in pain and tired ty <3

Danny held out the box with the pie in it towards Kon’s parents. “Um, for desert, as a thank you.”

“Well isn’t that swell of you,” Clark said. He was obviously charmed by Danny, which Kon guessed was good.

“Course, thank you for inviting me for dinner and the night, that’s really nice of you all,” Danny said as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “I hope it’s not any bother.”

“Of course not, we’re glad to have you,” Clark said cheerily. He would have looked entirely innocent to the untrained eye, but Kon could see the glimmer in his eyes and was dreaded whatever would come next. “Conner has been talking about you a lot so it’s great to finally meet you.”

Danny ducked his head as if that could hide his faint blush. “Hopefully nothing bad.”

“Dude, of course nothing bad,” Kon said, really hating that Danny blushing made him want to blush. “There’s nothing bad about you to tell. Just talked about school and our project and stuff, you know?”

“And speaking of that project,” Lois said, “I’d love to hear what you all have down about it so far, but also you tell me to shove off if I get too annoying about it.”

“Oh I co—”

“No, Danny, don’t say that,” Kon interrupted Danny and what was inevitably going to be him saying that he couldn’t do that. “You don’t know how intense Lois can get about words.”

Lois shrugged, unrepentant. “I didn’t get my Pulitzers for nothing.”

Danny glanced at Kon and then Lois. He didn’t look shell-shocked, thankfully, but was still being uncharacteristically bashful. Or just uncharacteristic for what Kon knew of Danny?

There really was a not he didn’t know, wasn’t there?

Like why Danny was sick.

“The help will be nice, really Mrs. Lane. English isn’t exactly my best subject these days.”

“Mrs. Lane’,” Lois repeated with a fond (if teasing) grin. “Please, you’re in my house, Lois is fine.”

“I—um, would Miss Lois do?”

Lois tried to cover her laugh with a cough. “Sure, Danny, we can compromise to that for now.”

Kon wondered if Danny could even hold out for the night.

[punkkture]

simon w a shy gf and hes trying to get her to open up in the nastiest way.

word count: 2.9k

dead dove warning: pervy!simon, finger fucking, maybe a little bit of exhibitionist.

mdni

.ೃ࿔*:· — its a seedy and dimly lit place. it reeked with the scent of cigarettes and sweat, the faint smell of alcohol lingered in the air.

"i dont want to be here, simon" you muttered under your breath with a soft frown. he noticed the look on your face, but your words fell of deaf ears. 

he had you held tightly in his lap, a large tattooed arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from moving anywhere on your own. he was too busy sipping his whiskey to acknowledge your complaints. his friends had accompanied the two of you. or rather it felt like you accompanied them. 

john sat across the booth, smoking a cigar and watching the new dancer on stage, soap though, he caught a glimpse of your coy attitude. and the way simon seemed to have you in a lock. 

he leaned towards the two of you, having to speak up a bit as the music got louder. "why're ya keepin' the poor lass on a stronghold, mate?" he teased. 

it was already sleazy in here enough, and the way soap was still acknowledging you didnt help. you wanted to feel hidden, like people couldn't see you here. 

"she's gotta get used to bein' in uncomfortable situations." was all he gave back. 

soap just chuckled with a snort. finding simons excuse somewhat ridiculous. but there was a hint of understanding in his expression, he knew how simon worked. 

"ay, so you figured a strip club was the best place to build up her confidence?" his scottish accent was teasing and mocking you. 

simon laughed at that. nodded, but laughed. "your girlfriends on stage, pay some attention to her." he mused back, wanting to get soap's eyes off of you for a second. 

the place was doing anything but making you feel confident. a bunch of sleazy men around and girls with half of everything hanging out. your stomach felt uneasy. the anxiety already swirling in there. simon just found all of this amusing. most of all how you tried to look away from everything, just an innocent bunny trapped in a wolfs den. 

his hand gave you a little squeeze. he chuckled darkly, pulling your chin so you'd look at him. "i brought you here for a reason."

"its a stupid reason." you mumbled back, just wanting to go home and get in bed already. outings weren't your thing. and this especially was not. 

simon chuckled again, "dont be disrespecting my reasons, sugar." his hand moving to tilt your neck up so he could kiss at the skin. 

steering your head away from his lips, "not here. . ." you muffled. in a place like this you wanted to sit and be quiet and not be acknowledged until it was time to leave. 

"no ones paying attention to us. theyre all focused on the damn strippers. youre in my lap, not on the pole." his eyes watched you closely. trying to find any part to crack and get in to. to maybe break open that shell a little more. 

always far too bashful about sex and anything to do with it. he was a man who needed it. and its not that he didnt get it from you, it just always took a bit more work than it should. and if you wanted to push away from his kisses, he wanted to see what you'd do when he turned your head the other way. 

"look at the stage, bunny." he said in a low tone. turning your head to watch the woman on stage dance. 

he kept you in a tight grip, forcing you to watch the girl as she swayed and moved across the pole seductively under the dim lights. he didn't watch a second of it though, just wanting to see your reactions. gauging what it meant when your eyebrows furrowed and then softened, how you seemed to watch it on your own and with a little bit less resistance for him. 

you couldn't say you . . . enjoyed it. but it definitely intrigued you. to watch someone else be so shameless and not be afraid about the things you were afraid of. looking at everyone around her just cheering and wanting to get a taste. it was far out of your comfort zone, something you would never do. but why were you so intrigued about the way she seemed to just, own it?

the way you looked was so cute and innocent. its really like you had no idea what simon dragged you in to. he chuckled softly. 

"now, what do you think?" he asked, his dark eyes studying your expressions. 

you shrugged. how were you supposed to feel, what were you supposed to think. "i dont know" you mumbled lightly. 

simon watched your eyes stay stuck on the dancer. just looking at the curiosity in your gaze, the way it intrigued you. he understood your fascination, even if you couldn't put it into words. the way she moved so confidently on stage was stark contrast to your shy and innocent demeanor. 

his grip on your chin fell, letting you watch on your own. allowing you to try and figure out your feelings on your own. 

and you didnt know how to describe it. envy? maybe. but enjoyment? certainly not. it reeked in here, not one man came with empty pockets and they seemed to just be throwing it all out for her. doing anything they could to see just a little bit more skin. finally, your head turned back to simon. 

a smirk was tugged to the corners of his lips. your reaction was exactly what he had expected. "does it make you jealous?"

you could've scoffed out the answer. "no" you said back quickly. 

your denial only served to amuse simon. he knew you weren't being honest, his smirk growing. he leaned in closer to you. "no, huh? you dont get all shy thinking of her being on that stage with all those men watching her? drooling for her? you wish you could be up there, dont you, moving your little body for everyone to see?"

he was being incredulous. of course not. "no . ." you said again quickly. but maybe a little too quick for the slow pace of the club. 

simon was always a perceptive man. picking up on the smallest change in your expression. it was clear you were lying, even if you didnt quite know it. he saw it in your eyes, the way you averted his gaze. 

"dont lie to me like that . . youre green. you know the men in this room are watching you right now, dont you?" he smirked, voice rough. "and it makes you all flustered." his big hands groping at your chest. 

hes been touchy all night, always holding onto you somewhere, and it was about time those pretty tits got some attention. 

"look around baby, every man in here has looked at you." he kept his hands on you, squeezing firmly and just enamored by your flustered look. "they're all imagining what you would look like on that stage."

it made you turn beet red. thinking of other men looking at you like that. but you couldn't deny the little bit of warmth it stirred up between your legs. "simon stop . . . not here." you reiterated. hoping to stop blushing and maybe looking around just a little, hoping someone was watching.

he smirked at the whine. could see your cheeks turning a pretty shade of red and he just loved every second of it. giving you a little bit of exposure therapy to get that side of you to come out. that's all he wanted, just for you to get out of that shell a little bit. but he wouldn't let you change the subject so easily. 

he gave your chest one more squeeze, trying to get you to look at him again. the way your nose scrunched up in discomfort. 

"you want them to watch, dont you?" his lips close to your ear, feeling the bit of scruff on his face. "you want men to desire you."

"that's . . . not true" 

he just laughed. letting you have that one. but it was a short lived win as he started to pull at the zipper on your skimpy dress. his hands were slow and deliberate. "you crave the attention, its clear bunny."

your quiet protests continued to fall on deaf ears as they have all night. he could see how your eyes darted around to make sure no one was watching. maybe even getting a little warm when you did see someone's eyes on you. god he just loved it. 

heavy fingers continued to pull down the zipper of your dress, groaning lightly as the fabric started to loosen. your nervous coughs and the way you looked around the room made him chuckle. 

he loved all of it. the way your shyness always got the best of you. how easily flustered and nervous you got, it was endearing to say the least. you couldn't even look him in the eye without blushing. 

he tugged at the zipper until it was loose around your top. pulling it down to show off the pretty red lingerie he had you dolled up in. "such a pretty color," he grumbled under his breath as the zipper came undone. he could see your chest more clearly now, the fabric pooled around your hips. 

simon continued to tug at your dress, enjoying your shy and whimpering responses. little hands holding tightly onto his shoulders. ''s just a lil bit of exposure therapy," he purred into your ear. 

soap finally looked over again, seeing the look on your face and the way your body moved against simons. "she looks uncomfortable," he pointed out, gesturing to your flushed face and trembling body. 

your boyfriend huffed out an exasperated breath. his grip tightening on your waist a little bit. "she always looks like that, this is good for her, trust me."

fingers continued to play with your dress until he pulled it back up. dragging you to a secluded room. it was away from the rest of the busy club, the lights were still dim and the room seemed even more intimidating. 

it had a mirror and he sat down across from it, like he was expecting company. he pulled you into his lap. forcing you to watch yourself in the reflection. your body fit perfectly against his broad frame.

while sitting on his lap, you couldnt hide your expression. the shyness and discomfort clear on your face. eyes locked onto his. 

"look at this pretty little body." he purred into your ear. "good little thing."

any man could appreciate how much you blushed when faced with such an erotic scene. his hands once again pulling at your dress, getting you in your panties and bra. a little more accepting now that you weren't in a room full of people. 

to see you like this was a sight for him, the way you were becoming more comfortable with the situation. he tugged at your outfit until your undergarments were exposed for him to see. he let out a soft chuckle. his eyes scanned over your face in the mirror. 

you seemed to like how it looked. his big hands swallowing your form and making you look so small. so loved. he could worship over your body any day, but when you looked like this . . . he admired you just a bit closer. his hands moved up your thighs, spreading your legs. 

making sure they stayed there, he gave a soft kiss to your temple, a small reward. those same heavy hands moving to unclip your bra. "keep watching yourself, bunny."

he worked carefully to unclasp the lacey material. letting it fall from your arms, discarding it to the floor next to the both of you. his eyes never left your body. his hands coming back up to your chest to grope at your tits. 

he could feel the heat coming off of you in waves. his touch gentle as his hands grazed over your ribcage. feeling the soft skin underneath his rough palms. "tell me how it feels, baby."

and with a little less people in the room, the sensations he was giving you, you started to come out of that shell a little. 

"feels good." you whimpered quietly. 

his fingers pinched your nipples and groped at your tits. watching your face for any other reaction. the words did wonders for him. giving him that confirmation you were opening up more. the air in the room was getting hotter as he continued to touch you in front of the mirror. he watched how your back arched closer to his hands, how you continued to look at yourself in the reflection. he loved most of all how your tits looked pushed up against his palms. 

you looked eager. 

he wanted more. moving his hands to comb through your hair, pushing past the locks as he spoke. "keep your legs spread for me, mkay?" a gentle kiss pressed to your shoulder. 

his hand came down to rub at your panties. the room slowly but surely starting to fill with the sounds of your whimpers and moans. he was so proud of you. his sweet little honey getting all heavy and hot from watching herself get played with. 

a groan parting his lips as you leaned your hips in to his hands. he couldn't help the wave of possession that filled his body. even with how this night started, such a coy and sweet looking girl . . . now straddled across his lap all for him to toy with. 

simon moved one of his hands to your throat, grasping it lightly while he continued to tease your sensitive cunt. 

"keep looking at yourself, baby." he wanted you to see the things he saw. 

his hand dipping into your panties, two heavy fingers spreading around the wetness he knew was there. it was warm and just aching for him. the tight hand around your neck gripped just a little tighter as you moaned. 

you looked so pretty like this. tits out and just begging to be fucked good. he was glad you were finally starting to see it like how he did. finally accepting his attention. 

it was like you could see the effect you had on him. the way you strived to be desired and wanted. you were the center of his world, and he would do anything to make you see that. 

his words were low and raspy, dripping with need. 

"youre so damn pretty bunny, look at yourself. I could do this all night long." he just loved the way your body was submitting to all of this. being thrown into something so intimidating and coming out feeling even better. 

he waned you to know how good it could feel to give in to your sickest desires. maybe you liked being watched, you liked being the center of attention. and that's what this was all about. his fingers curling inside you and pressing right into that sensitive spot that got you to squirm. 

you started to pant, your body starting to tremble. he wanted you, and he wanted you to know it. "do you know how bad you look right now?"

the humiliation started to creep back in as he pushed you further. 

"s-stop" you whimpered in a desperate moan. and he couldn't help but chuckle. how you practically begged him to stop. he knew you didnt really want him to, you were just getting overwhelmed. he placed a quick kiss on your cheek before pressing his lips up against your ear. "no baby, im not gonna stop, not when you looked so good like this. like a little slut that just wants to cum all over my fingers."

your moans grew louder, your body arched in a begging way for his. he could feel all of it. the way you tightened around his fingers and started to drip out more slick. your body was begging, shaking, just pleading to be fucked. 

"does it feel good?" he crooned into your ear. 

and you finally gave in. moaning out, "i-it feels so good." 

he relished in it. the sound of your words that he had been waiting so long to hear. to hear you give in to the pleasure. the stubborn and coy attitude now gone and replaced with submissive moans and gasps. he had you right where he wanted you. right where you belonged. 

his hand moving to pull at your hair, keeping your head up to watch how his fingers fucked into you and pulled out desperate moans and mewls. he spoke to you in between the kisses on your neck. "that's my good girl, there she is."

he pressed his fingers against your sweet spot, applying just enough pressure to get you to moan. his heavy fingers staying snuggly fucked up inside of you while the palm of his hand grazed against your clit and got you to squirm even more. he could tell how bad you needed it. 

"tell me what you want, baby." he purrs in a low rumble. ready to give you anything you asked for. 

and of course, you moaned out, "i wanna cum." so sweetly, it was pure honey to his ears. 

he was so happy you were finally being so vocal with him. letting him know what you wanted and what felt good. he was happy to get you to cum. shoving his fingers into you even deeper, making a mess of your panties and mind as he pulled you over the edge and got you creaming around his fingers. it was a dream come true to him. 

"good girl . . . good fuckin' girl." he moans, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you watched him slip his hands out from your panties. face flushed and broken as you looked at the mirror. 

ೃ࿔* tag list: @vanillarosekiss @simonskitty @cu456 @silverwoodlynx @mlthree @vint4geroses @ktmjoslin @darlingchanse @xangelbnnyx @jgissle12 @asherscove @bunty-girl @diorpar @sky-robin  @ldrtypeofgirl @mentalhorror @teranya @chawitea @all-by-myself98 @jinx53 @alfiestreacle @frazzledfawn @iamtoriasworld @annierosesposts @dude1634 @happysmappy @itgetsdarksometimes35 @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @slut-lmao @theyluvlaur @bruisedfig @pinkthxt @hobiebrownenthusiast @h0lydrag0ns @cashmereandcookies 

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 11

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 11 of 12!

Chapter 11

His sister's screams were bloodcurdling.

Charles had known that birth was a painful, messy affair, that it was never easy, but actually hearing his sister’s very real, very painful screams from the room beyond was a truly eye-opening experience. He didn’t know how women could survive this, frankly.

Arthur looked green around the gills, not helped by the white bandage on his forehead…which apparently had been the result of him fainting and being taken down by the corner of a hospital bed. 

"I am never having kids," Arthur said, swallowing heavily.

"I am rethinking my family planning as well," Lorenzo said weakly. "I don't think I can stand seeing Charlotte go through that pain."

Arthur grimaced as another scream came ringing out from the room. “I think I am scheduling a vasectomy tomorrow,” he said faintly. “This absolutely confirms it as a good life decision for me.”

"I think that's the concussion talking," Charles tried to assure his brother, as another scream rang out.

On second thought…maybe Arthur was onto something.

And just at that moment, Colette's scream suddenly broke off. They froze—all of them.

Absolute silence rang through the room. Charles was afraid to even breathe. He had no idea what was happening on the other side of the door, and that terrified him. Everything had been going well so far, hadn't it?

And then a cry rang out.

A baby’s cry: shrill, a little indignant.

All three men let out their collective breaths in a sigh of pure relief.

The whole room was silent for a moment, as they processed the fact that their sister and her baby were alright.

“Oh, thank god,” Lorenzo said feebly. “I thought something awful had happened.���

“No kidding,” Arthur agreed. He sagged back against the wall behind him, his skin regaining a proper colour again, instead of the sickly green it had been moments before.

Charles leaned his head back against the wall, shutting his eyes for a brief second. It was over. Everything had gone alright. 

Colette and her baby were both going to be okay.

"We are uncles now," Arthur said suddenly.

A beat of surprise. And then:

“Oh god, we are, aren’t we?” Lorenzo said.

“We’re uncles,” Arthur repeated a slightly shell-shocked look on his face.

Charles couldn’t help it. A smile broke out over his face, a very real, utterly ridiculous one that he didn’t have the energy to hold back. “We are, aren’t we?” he repeated Enzo’s words.

“This is absolutely insane!” Arthur said, a grin creeping over his face. “We’re going to be the coolest uncles ever.”

“I thought kids are overrated?” Lorenzo pointed out wryly.

“The most overrated,” Arthur insisted. “But I’m going to spoil our niece or nephew absolutely rotten.”

It took a little while longer, but finally, the door opened, revealing Max. He looked…exhausted. Absolutely beat. There were dark circles under his eyes…but a look of relief was on his face like Charles had never seen on his friend before. And yet, Max was grinning.

Looking happier than ever.

“Max,” Charles said, a little hoarsely. He wanted to ask how they were, he wanted to ask about the baby, he wanted to ask if Coco was alright. But all he could get out was Max’s name, his voice too thick.

"Come meet your niece," Max said simply.

He said the word ‘niece’ like it was the best thing in the world, and it made Charles smile. He straightened up, following Max into the room, Arthur and Lorenzo trailing behind him.

Coco was curled up in her bed, her hair messy, her face pale, but she was smiling, a weak little smile tinged with exhaustion but so very, very happy. And cradled against her chest was the baby, wrapped snugly in a little pink blanket.

Charles just sort of stopped dead in the midst of the room. Seeing his sister with her baby in her arms… it was like his brain had stopped functioning in the space of a moment.

All three brothers were silent for a long moment, just taking in the sight of them.

Charles felt a lump rise in his throat,and swallowed heavily.

Lorenzo was biting his lip, trying to keep the tears from welling up in his eyes. And Arthur was absolutely silent, all of the usual sass gone from his expression.

It was a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, as they all just stood awkwardly at the edge of the bed, just looking.

Finally, Coco looked up at them, and her smile widened faintly. “Well?” she asked. "Cha, don’t you want to hold your niece?"

His heart skipped, and he managed to pull himself forward so he could sit down on the bed next to her. “I get to hold her?” he asked, just to be certain.

"Of course, you do," Coco told him softly. "Here you go."

Charles could hardly believe it as Colette gently eased the baby into his arms, carefully supporting her head. And suddenly he was holding her, his niece, this brand new little life, in all of her tiny, delicate, vulnerable little glory, bundled up in a soft pink blanket.

"She's perfect," he said softly, swallowing. 

She was so…fragile, in his hands. He hadn’t expected her to be that small, somehow. Charles smiled faintly, running his fingers gently over her hair. Her eyes were closed, and one tiny fist was poking out of the blanket.  

"Does she have a name yet?" he asked his sister. 

"I get to pick," Colette told him with a grin. "Given that Max named the cats after Monaco's nightlife."

Charles had to admit that was a fair point.

“What, you aren’t going to let Max name your daughter La Rascasse?” he teased Coco who just rolled her eyes.  "What have you come up with?" he asked curiously, tearing his eyes away from his niece to look at his sister.

"If she was a boy, I would have named him Emilian Hervé after Papa," Colette said softly. "Sadly that doesn't work for a girl."

Charles smiled faintly at the mention of their father. Their father would have doted on this baby, he was certain. He would have spoiled her absolutely rotten.

"So I figured… somebody else needed to give their name for her," Coco continued. "I hope you don't mind."

"Of course, I don't mind," Charles assured her at once. Why should he? "Whose name did you use?" he wondered. 

"Yours, you idiot, Cha," Coco told him, her voice soft. "Charlene Victoria Verstappen. We'll call her Charlie for short."

"Oh my god," Max's sister breathed somewhere behind him. "You.."

But Charles could only stare at his sister…could only feel the lump rise in his throat again. He swallowed hard. “You named her after me?” he asked with a waver in his voice, feeling like his heart might just explode in his chest.

"Of course, I did," Colette said softly. "You're my twin brother, why wouldn't I name my baby girl after you?"

Charles couldn't find any words to answer that with. He couldn't find any words at all. His eyes stung, and he couldn't look at her for fear he might cry. He looked down at the baby. His…god, his niece that was named after him.  

He gently ran his fingers over her hair again, marvelling at her tiny, perfect little body. "Hello, Charlie," he said softly, his voice a little choked.

The baby didn't even stir, and Charles smiled, shifting slightly to support her more securely. He couldn't believe that his sister had done this, that she had named her baby girl after him. It made his heart feel like it was fit to burst straight out of his chest, made him try to blink back tears and fail horribly. 

"Congratulations, you've made Charles cry," Lorenzo said from somewhere behind him, sounding a little choked himself.

Charles let out a noise that was half-laughing, half-crying as his brothers joined him at his side. "Shut up," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

"Not a chance," Arthur said as he squeezed in next to him to get a better look at the baby. Lorenzo joined him, peering down at the baby in Charles' arms with a strangely soft expression on his face.

"You gave her my name too," Victoria said weakly. Charles looked up at Max’s sister, not knowing what to say. It had sounded so obvious, so natural to hear Colette say it, that Charles had completely forgotten that Victoria shared the same name.

But she did. 

"A sibling for each of us," Colette said simply. "Sorry, Enzo, Arthur. Maybe next time.”

“Nah, Arthurelle is a horrible name,” Arthur responded. “Totally see why you went for Charlene.” 

Colette laughed, but it was a very weak, exhausted laugh. Charles couldn’t blame her. She must be absolutely wrung out.

And still as he looked at her...as her eyes met his, he could feel how happy his sister. How utterly in love she was with her daughter. How this was everything Colette had ever wanted, and it was right there. 

"I am never driving you to the hospital again though, just so you know," Arthur said. “That cost me at least 30 years of my life.”

"But you did so well," Colette teased their younger brother. "Thank you for that, ma petite puce."

Arthur grimaced faintly, but he looked too tired and happy to actually bite back. Charles smiled faintly at all of them in turn.

Charles‘ eyes snagged on their mother.

"Well, Grand-Mère," he teased her. "How does it feel?"

For a long moment, their mother simply looked at the baby in Charles’ arms with an unreadable expression on her face. And then her expression slowly shifted into a smile. A true smile. A happy, proud Grandma smile.

“Your father would be so proud of you all.” 

[wheeboo]

pamper | lee chan

SYNOPSIS. in which you give your boyfriend a bath. PAIRING. lee chan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. chan gets... naked. yeah, suggestive undertones, slight allusions to sex, terms of endearment, just pampering (and teasing) chan :( because he deserves it WORD COUNT. 2k

notes: there's this reddit post that occasionally comes up when i scroll thru pinterest abt a guy's girlfriend giving him a bath and how much he felt loved from it :(( idk why it stuck w me i just find it so so cute adfjldsfj

"Take off your clothes."

Chan's eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mouth dropped to the floor at your sudden bold request.

"You want me to what?" His voice cracks mid-sentence as he feels the rush of heat already painting his cheeks. He's staring at as if you've just asked him to commit a crime.

You roll your eyes. "Get your mind out of the gutter, babe. I just want to give you a bath because you smell like a gym locker room."

Chan blinks at you like your words aren't fully processing in his brain, still frozen in place.

"I-I can just shower. Alone. You know... like a normal person," he mumbles sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

You smirk, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. "Where's the fun in that? Can I not pamper my boyfriend every once in a while?"

Chan opens his mouth to argue, but when he catches sight of the way you're standing there, arms crossed and giving him that playful, yet determined look, his words fall short at the end of his tongue, shoulders slumping like he's accepting defeat.

He lets out a sigh, and you watch as he starts to pull off the maroon-coloured hoodie he was wearing over his head, the fabric briefly getting caught on his head before he yanks it off, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. His eyes flit nervously to you, waiting for any sign of judgment, but you’re just watching him with a teasing smile.

"Stop staring at me like that," Chan mutters nervously, and you can see the way he seems to shrink in his shell under your gaze.

"Like what?" You quip playfully, stepping a bit closer to him.

"Like..." he starts, face turning even redder, deeper than the colour of his hoodie. "Like you're... I dunno𑁋gonna pounce on me or something."

"I will pounce on you if you don't get your clothes off in the next two minutes."

"I𑁋Fine," Chan grumbles, giving into his fate. He strips off his shirt next, revealing his toned torso, defined abs that show all the work he's put into over time, and you can't help but let your gaze linger for just a moment. His muscles flex subtly as he moves, and the way his eyes flicker to yours for reassurance tells you everything you need to know𑁋he's still a little unsure, but he trusts you. He's never once doubted that.

His hands now fumble clumsily with the button of his jeans. You stand there, arms still crossed, watching him with a smirk, your eyes softening as you notice how shy he's being. It's cute𑁋adorable, even𑁋and you can't help but feel a flutter of affection for him.

"This is so weird," he groans out.

"Weird?" You fully step up to him now, placing a set of reassuring hands on his shoulders, before drifting upwards to cup his cheek affectionately. "I'm your partner and you're my boyfriend. We do weird things together, okay? Now, chop, chop. You stink."

There's a breath that escapes him that he doesn't realise he's been holding. Chan leans into your touch instinctively, body relaxing at your words. He gives a nod as you pull away, letting him slip his pants and his boxers off until they pool right at his ankles, and with a bit of a bashful glance toward you, he kicks them off to the side.

You can't help the grin to your face as you ogle him just a little bit, his unease still there but softening with each moment. He's standing in front of you, completely exposed, but there's no judgment in your gaze𑁋only adoration, this need to take care of him after all the times he's done so for you.

"Alright, pretty boy." You face him around, bringing him in the direction of the tub. "Sit."

Your hand grazes against the contours of his back as you flip on the tub, letting warm water slowly fill in from the faucet. Chan doesn't let his eyes stray too far away from you as you pour some bath salts into the water𑁋you really went all out for this, he thinks𑁋the comforting scent of lavender curling through the warm air.

Briefly, Chan hesitates, standing just shy of stepping in, but you can see the small glint of trust in his eyes. Slowly, he steps into the tub, the warm water enveloping his legs and around his torso as he lowers himself. The magic of the water seems to already be working, his muscles soothing the moment he's almost submerged.

A sigh of contentment slips past his lips.

"Not too hot?" You ask as you kneel beside the tub, dipping your hand into the water to check the temperature.

"Hmm, it's... it's good," he breathes out, eyes fluttering to the feeling, leaning back against the tub. "It's perfect."

A pleased smile spreads across your face. Reaching for the loofah, you squirt some body wash on it, taking a moment to simply admire him.

He looks so peaceful, and your heart flutters at the thought of him letting himself be this vulnerable around you. Letting you take care of him in a way that's just so intimate.

"Can you move up a little?" You request lightly. "Gonna start with your back."

As Chan adjusts himself, you lather the loofah up, before tenderly guiding it over his shoulders and down his back, leaving a trail of soapy bubbles in its wake. You let your gaze wash over him, taking in the sight of his bare back and the way the water clings to his skin. You let the loofah glide over the muscles that have worked tirelessly through long hours and hectic days.

Chan's eyes fall to a close, a soft hum of appreciation from your careful touches.

"This... this feels nice," he murmurs lowly. "You're really good at this."

You twitch a brow at his words. "Yeah? I sure hope so." When you finish lathering up his shoulders and back, you clear your throat to ask, "Can I... do your chest now?"

Chan's breath hitches at your question, your voice even coming out shaky and shy as well. His fingers curl slightly against the edge of the tub, and he glances at you, searching your expression for any hint of teasing or judgment. But all he finds is the softness of your smile and the warmth in your eyes.

"Y-Yeah..." he finally answers, turning himself around for you. "Go ahead."

Your heart skips a beat at that, and you dip the loofah back into the water before you tentatively reach out to glide it over his chest. The moment the sponge touches his skin, you feel the subtle shift in his posture𑁋his body tensing slightly, but not out of discomfort.

You can't help the way your eyes flicker down his chest, the way the water traces the fine lines of his abs and the soft curve of his collarbone as you continue your task.

Chan sucks in a breath when your hand trails closer to his stomach, and the subtle tension in his body only deepens as you reach further down. He's trying to play it cool, but his face betrays him𑁋flushed, eyes half-lidded, biting his bottom lip. You could only smirk to yourself, a quiet satisfaction bubbling up within you.

"Just relax," You coo reassuringly. "I've got you."

"Easy for you to say," he counters with a pout. "You're not the one who's... naked in a bathtub right now."

You snort at his comment, shaking your head as you rinse out the loofah in the water. "Yeah, right, because I'm the lucky one who gets to enjoy the view."

A half-laugh, half-groan leaves him, and he immediately shifts his gaze away from you, but he knows you'll never let go of the way the tips of his ears are firing up.

"You're going to be the death of me," he mutters under his breath.

"And I'd be honoured," You retort back, lightly splashing water over him to get rid of the suds all over his body. When you finish, you run a playful hand through the strands of his hair. "Now to tackle this little mop of yours."

Chan relaxes his back against the tub as you lather his hair with some shampoo, deft fingers massaging into his scalp with nothing but care. His eyelids fall to a close once again, and he can't help the thought that he feels just so loved right now.

Never once has he been treated this gently ever, and it makes his heart swell to the brink of overflowing.

Your fingers work their magic, threading through his damp hair and scrubbing away any remnants of stress from his day. Chan leans into your touch without thinking, a low, content hum slipping past his lips. It's a sound so soft, so vulnerable, that it makes your chest tighten.

"You doing okay?" You ask him, angling your head to get a view of his face.

"Mmhm..." he breathes out. "Feels... nice. Really nice."

You smirk at that, slowing your ministrations a little to lean in and press a kiss to the top of his shoulder, and another one to his neck. His head tilts instinctively to your affection, and you smile against his skin, before pressing one last peck to the sweet spot of his nape.

"My pretty boy," You murmur softly, smiling at the way his skin flushes under your affection.

Chan shivers at the words, the sweetness coated on them wrapping around him like a warm blanket. His chest feels tight, but in the best way possible. His limbs feel numb, like they're floating, but he doesn't mind, because he knows that you'll always be there to catch him.

As you start to rinse his hair, he calls out, "Babe?"

"Mhm?"

"I love you." The simple words leaves his mouth all too quick, but then he adds, "Like... so in love with you that I think I might explode one day."

You chuckle at that and give his hair one last rinse before turning your attention back to him.

"Drama queen," You remark teasingly, but the features to your face only soften when his eyes meet yours. There's a twinkle in them that you pinpoint, and it most certainly is not from the light of the bathroom. "I love you too, Channie. More than you know."

For the rest of the bath, it's peaceful. You continue washing and pampering him with tender care, your fingers gently massaging his scalp, his back, his shoulders, and even the spots on his neck that are particularly sensitive.

When you finish, you retrieve a towel and wrap it around your boyfriend, carefully patting him dry. His hair shoots up in all sorts of directions, body shivering slightly from the cold air hitting his skin as you guide him out of the tub. He nearly slips on the wet floor, but you manage to catch him just in time, steadying him by the hips.

"Alright, big baby." You give him a soft squeeze on his waist. "Let me get you some clothes to change into."

When you lead him back into the bedroom, Chan plops down at the edge of the bed, observing as you rummage through the closet and drawers for a fresh set of clothes.

"So..." Chan starts, a thoughtful look painting his face. "When can I return the favour?"

You turn to him with a suspicious brow, tossing a clean pair of boxers to his face. "You're seriously thinking about that right now?"

"I𑁋Not in that way!" Then he bites at his lip, suppressing a boastful grin. "I mean..."

You take a few gigantic steps over to him, tossing his clothes on the bed before placing your hands on his shoulders and leaning in close to his face. He glances down at your lips briefly, throat tightening as you draw nearer to him.

"You can pay me back with kisses and cuddles," You tease, lips hovering just inches before his, and the need only spikes higher within him. "But right now, tonight, it's all about you. So get comfortable, pretty boy."

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[prettybabyyyy]

okay, but rafe fucking you infront of a mirror would go smth like…

Big palms were kneading at your thighs, keeping them spread open, wide enough so you could see yourself, and him— watching through the oval mirror of your vanity, chair barely accepting the both of you at once, you on top and him below, though you knew where the dominance was held.

His coos were sickly sweet, honeyed and warm, sponging against the shell of your ear when he spoke, the quick flick of his tongue sending shivers down your spine. “Look at you,” he hummed, a little chuckle punctuating his speech while he raised a hand to keep your gaze on yourself, strong and heavy, not letting it flick elsewhere.

“already fucked out— pussy’s just droolin’ f’me, isn’t she?” You’re eyes were hooded, glazed over and completely glassy, tears ebbing at the constant jabs to your sweet spot— and you watched, so transfixed on the way his cock rutted into you, even from the awkward position and you could see the obscene little dribbles that squelched out around his cock and pooled onto the chair, your slick dripping, getting wetter and wetter with each inward thrust. “Now you can see what I see, honey—” he spoke, so condescending it had you clenching hard.

“See how pretty and pathetic you get when daddy’s got his cock in you.” You whined, clutching at the sides of his thighs, nails clawing and dragging crimson lines while he fucked into you. “‘Cause you’re a daddy’s girl, ain’t ya, honey? All f’me and no one else.” You nodded, babbling little hints Ohdaddyplease quick when it left your lips, leaving you breathless and panting when he grinned and chuckled at how inebriated you were from his pretty cock. It was so big, stretching you open and splitting you in half, you could see the way your pussy accommodated him, stretching around him, thankfully your wetness made it easier to slide in, soaked and saturated, slick enough to have very little resistance and he’d cooed at you once he got all the way in- balls deep.

“Takin’ it like a fuckin’ champ.” He moaned, mouthing at your neck and puckering his lips around any piece of skin he could find, suckling it between his lips and pulling away with a lewd ‘pop’. “My girl deserves a gold medal, hm? This sweet little pussy does too.” Your cheeks were searing, warming from his filthy words, tucking your chin against your chest, bashful and vulnerable with his gaze always on you. “Nuh uh—” he scolded, brows furrowed and stern, grabbing at your cheeks and squeezing, easing you to look back at your reflection and watch your lips jut out into a forced pout.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, baby— m’balls deep and you wanna act like a little prude?” Your gaze jutted down to the thick ring of arousal that soaked the base of his cock, coating the course hair that littered there too— you were creaming him. “That’s not how it works, honey, I know how much you wan’ it.”

[bambieyedoll]

⋆·˚ ༘ * EMMETT CULLEN HEADCANONS 𐚁̸.ᐟ

𐙚 emmett cullen x shy!reader

emmett immediately notices you, even if you try to blend into the background.

you’re the quiet girl who always looks down, but he notices the way your eyes crinkle when you smile at your book or how you fidget with your sleeves when you’re nervous.

he adores how shy you are. not in a mocking way—he genuinely finds it endearing.

the way your cheeks go pink when he compliments you? yeah, that makes his undead heart stutter every single time.

“you’re blushing again, baby… you know that’s not fair. i can’t compete with how cute you are.”

he’s so soft with you.

as big and energetic as he is with everyone else, with you he lowers his voice, touches you gently, and asks before doing anything that might fluster you.

he wants to make sure you always feel safe.

he gets a kick out of seeing how bashful you get when he calls you things like “sweetheart,” “baby girl,” or “angel.”

he’ll say it just to see your eyes widen and hear you stammer out his name.

“say that again?” he’ll tease gently when you mumble something under your breath. “i wanna hear your pretty voice.”

when you’re out in public and get overwhelmed, emmett immediately notices and subtly shifts closer, creating a physical barrier between you and whatever’s making you nervous.

his arm slides protectively around your waist, and he’ll lean down and whisper, “you okay, love?”

he lives for when you cling to his hoodie or hide your face in his chest when you’re feeling overwhelmed. he wraps those big arms around you and presses a kiss to your hair.

his favorite thing in the world is making you laugh.

he’ll act like a total goofball just to hear the soft sound of your giggle, and the first time you laughed so hard you snorted? he died of happiness.

emmett’s favorite way to show affection? picking you up like it’s nothing and spinning you around when you least expect it—especially if you’re too shy to say you missed him out loud. “you don’t have to say it, babe. i know you did.”

he loves sitting behind you with his chin on your shoulder while you read or draw.

he doesn’t make a sound—just wraps his arms around your waist and stays there, completely content.

he also loves to sneak up behind you and scoop you into his arms when you’re in your own little world. “gotcha,” he says with a grin, while you squeak in surprise and hide your face in his chest.

emmett brags about you constantly to his family.

“she’s shy, but she’s got the biggest heart in the world,” he’ll tell rosalie or alice with a proud grin. “you should see how she looks at me. like i’m worth somethin’.”

when you get nervous around the cullen family, emmett is always by your side, cracking jokes to make you laugh and squeezing your hand under the table so you know he’s there.

he is so proud when you start to come out of your shell.

the first time you spoke up in front of the family, he practically beamed at you for an hour and kissed your cheek like you’d just saved the world.

“that’s my girl,” he whispered, grinning like you just won a gold medal.

he’ll always let you take the lead when it comes to affection.

you don’t like big public displays, and he respects that to the core. but when you shyly reach for his hand in the school hallway for the first time? he lights up like a christmas tree. “oh, so we’re doing this now? babe, i’m honored.”

and when you finally, finally work up the courage to kiss him first? he freezes like his brain short-circuited and then melts. “you’re gonna ruin me, sweetheart. you really are.”

when you’re too shy to say something in front of others, emmett will gently encourage you, or—if he senses you’re really uncomfortable—he’ll say it for you and shoot you a wink like, “don’t worry, i got you.”

emmett has learned your body language like a second language. he knows the difference between your nervous fidgeting and when you’re shy but happy.

if he sees you twisting your fingers or tugging your sleeves, he’ll gently slip his hand into yours or whisper, “want to step outside for a sec, angel?”

you get flustered when he stares at you too long, and he does it on purpose. he’ll prop his chin on his hand, just gazing at you with this stupidly soft smile.

“what?” you whisper, cheeks hot. “nothin’,” he shrugs. “just admiring my girl. don’t mind me.”

he leaves little notes in your books or on your backpack. “i love your smile.” “you looked so cute this morning.” “can’t wait to kiss you later.” always signed with a tiny doodle of a bear or heart.

he once got you a giant stuffed bear and said, “this one’s for when i’m not around—but let’s be honest, it’s not as good-looking as me.”

he keeps a polaroid photo of you blushing and smiling tucked in his wallet (even though he technically doesn’t need one). it’s his favorite picture ever.

emmett absolutely knows you’re shy about physical affection, especially in public, so he never rushes you.

he’s touchy in his own subtle ways—offering his hoodie, brushing his fingers along your hand, tucking your hair behind your ear—but he never pushes.

he’s the kind of guy who’ll pause before leaning in, eyes searching your face, and gently ask, “can i kiss you?”—in a voice so soft it feels like a secret.

your first kiss happens somewhere quiet, away from prying eyes—maybe sitting on the tailgate of his jeep under the stars, your legs swinging and your hands barely touching.

you’re rambling nervously about something when he interrupts with a quiet, “you’re really beautiful when you talk like that.”

you blink up at him, heart pounding, and he leans in just enough that you feel his breath on your lips. but he waits.

and when you finally nod, cheeks burning, he kisses you like you’re made of glass—slow, warm, lingering.

when you pull away, flustered beyond belief, he just grins and murmurs, “worth the wait.”

after that, emmett becomes obsessed with quick, stolen kisses when no one’s looking.

like pressing a kiss to your cheek when he hands you your books. or gently brushing his lips against your temple when you’re too shy to say anything.

he’ll carry you on his back when you’re tired, no hesitation. “c’mere, sleepy girl. let your man do the heavy lifting.”

despite his size, he treats you like the most delicate thing in the world.

but the moment anyone makes you uncomfortable? that playful grin disappears and emmett gets real serious real fast.

when you cry or get overwhelmed, emmett sits with you in complete silence. no pressure to talk, no teasing—just warm arms, quiet heartbeats, and gentle fingers running through your hair.

jealous emmett is… hilarious. someone compliments you in front of him? he immediately wraps his arm around you, grinning a little too wide. “yeah? my girl is stunning, huh?”

if he sees someone making you laugh a little too much, he gets all pouty and weirdly competitive.

he’ll dramatically throw his arm around your shoulder and say, “she laughs harder at my jokes. watch this—hey baby, remember that time i broke that tree wrestling edward?” (he tells the story again, even though you’ve heard it six times.)

he lives to reassure you afterward. “i trust you, baby. it’s them i don’t trust.” then he kisses your forehead and adds, “besides, no one else gets to see that cute little blush but me.”

the first time you get jealous (even slightly), he is delighted.

you mutter something about a girl looking at him too long, and he turns into an actual golden retriever. “wait. you’re jealous? of me?”

he hugs you so tight you squeak and whispers, “god, you’re so cute when you get possessive. i’m all yours, baby.”

he’ll bring you flowers after a night out when he was a little too protective. “sorry if i went caveman on you last night. i just… can’t lose my girl.”

emmett never makes you feel like being shy is a flaw. in fact, he thinks it’s one of the best things about you.

“you don’t need to be loud to be strong,” he says one night, thumb brushing your cheek. “you’ve got this quiet kind of magic. and i’m lucky it’s mine.”

[xoxochb]

stupid.

stupid sandals that keep breaking. stupid shells and pebbles that dig into your bare feet. and stupid towel that keeps falling off your shoulders, exposing your only bikini-clad body.

fireworks burst in the distance, reds and whites and blues, stars and spirals and such.

as much as you would have killed to join the camp’s fourth of july party, there was one issue to go along with that.

you hadn’t a friend in camp.

you’d arrived not that long ago, claimed by hades last month. of course you were a child of the big three. no siblings and a cabin entirely to yourself.

sometimes it was better like that, sometimes it made you jealous to see the other cabins and their sisters and brothers and siblings.

the sun goes down rapidly, the coldness of the night nipping at your skin. you just need to walk faster, that’s it. but the rocks you step on hurt far more than you’d like to.

stupid. it was stupid— utterly— you’d rather walk right back to the ocean and shove your head—

fuck.

before you have a millisecond to collect yourself, your body is colliding with the pavement of the pathway, face just saved.

it takes you an entire ten seconds to come to your senses. but, only by a savior in white birkenstocks walking towards you.

hot tears of embarrassment fall down your cheeks like waterfalls. you already hadn’t made a good reputation for yourself when you’d joined cabin thirteen. you didn’t need another aphrodite girl laughing at you for tripping and falling.

“need a hand?”

reluctantly, you look up with a quivering bottom lip, only to be met with an extended hand and the most gorgeous set of sea-green eyes you’d ever seen in your life.

“I…”

your words fail you as you drown.

look anywhere else. the rocks. the ground. your fallen sandals, the sky, the fireworks, anything.

but your eyes fail your brain as they do quite the opposite.

“thank you,” you breathe out, taking the outstretched hand into yours. it’s awfully cold like the ocean you’d previously swam in.

you notice how your knees are wobbly as the boy guides you upwards. involuntarily, you fall against him. a bashful blush unfolds along your cheeks.

“I— I’m sorry.”

the boy only steadies you by your waist before netting your gaze again. “is this okay?”

so very green…

you nod.

“your knees are bleeding,” the boy points out.

you hadn’t noticed until you looked downwards upon his statement. they were entirely skinned and red.

you inhale to prevent tears from falling once again.

“I should go to the infirmary.” they were always open come the fourth of july, you’d taken notice that the stolls liked to torment others with firecrackers.

“it’s closed… but I have a first aid kit in my cabin. I’m not a doctor but my mom taught me a thing or two.”

closed?

you take another look at your knees before returning to the oceans with a sigh.

“how do I know I can trust you?”

“how sweet of you, I’m offering to help and you’re judging my trustworthiness.”

“well?”

“yes, you can trust me, I swear it.”

“fine then. but if I wake up with half a leg I will find you and I will hurt you.”

the boy holds a hand up defensively, the other still holding your waist. “noted.”

“glad you understand.” you throw him a sarcastic smile and sniffle.

the green eyed boy is in a trance for about five seconds before he returns to reality. “I’m percy, by the way.”

oh… the only son of poseidon. that explains the pretty eyes.

“you’ll get my name when you earn it.”

“and… how exactly do I earn it?”

you think for a second before deciding. “we’ll see.”

“you drive a hard bargain.” percy frowns. “let’s get those knees cleaned up, sweet girl.”

“don’t call me sweet girl.”

“don’t make me wait for your name.”

“don’t be sassy!”

“don’t yell at the boy who is actively trying to save your life!”

“see? sassy!”

“see? the sweetest, kindest girl to ever live.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“I am.”

that was a long night.

a very, very long night.

[eightmakesonebraincell]

how do you think bf!ateez would be like with a shy gf? :o

the ones who silently take care of you: seonghwa, san

nobody can convince me otherwise that hwa and san would not lay down their lives to make sure that you feel comfortable so long as you are with them. they are both extremely perceptive and know what you want or need before you even do. you want a tissue from the box but you're too shy to ask the strangers on the table beside you for one? he's already asked and placed the tissues in your hand. you're meeting his friends for the first time and you're nervous to talk to them? he's already told his friends in advance to make you feel welcome without overwhelming you with questions. they thrive off being able to protect and care for you in all these little ways, and the cute smiles, appreciative hugs and bashful pecks you give them in return? anything you ask for and don't ask for, they will move heaven and earth to give to you

the ones who make sure you are okay: hongjoong, mingi

honestly, i think both joong and mingi would wonder at first if you being quiet and withdrawn has something to do with them. are they doing or saying something that is making you feel uncomfortable? or they might wonder if something is going on in your life, like with your friends or family. they probably ask you every now and then just to check in and make sure you're okay and that nothing is wrong. but they come to understand that it's just your personality and you're naturally shy, so you need time to feel confident or warm up to settings and situations. they might take a more proactive approach to help you with your shyness–not in the sense that they want you to overcome it, but more in the sense to help you feel more at ease and less nervous, especially when they are not there for you. they encourage you in small ways to step outside of your comfort zone, but of course the moment they see that it might be too much for you, joong and mingi are stepping right in to help you. no matter what, you know that they are always watching you and have your back

the ones who are just as shy as you are: yeosang, jongho

it's probably a constant back and forth of finding each other endearing LOL. i feel like with yeo and jongho, because they are both also quite shy, a relatively new relationship would give such puppy love vibes. there are a lot of bashful giggles and awkward eye contact when you catch each other stealing glances at one another. in situations that might require confrontation, like the waiting staff confirming the wrong order when you're on a date at a restaurant, you would look at him and he would look at you and neither of you would correct the staff. that's the charm of your relationship though. you both go with the flow that doesn't make either of you uncomfortable, and it's very relaxed and easy-going. and let's be real, you both probably go home afterwards and laugh about (and shit-talk) the situations that neither of you were going to speak up about. introversion and shyness is just a part of the relationship and it works for you all

the ones who bring you out of your shell: yunho, wooyoung

their infectious energy and easy banter just makes it impossible for you to be shy around them. it does take a while at first, but once you're comfortable with them? shy girl who??? i feel like yun and woo just have a way of drawing out your hidden mischief and occasional brattiness, and god do they feel a sense of giddiness to know that they are one of the only people you show this side of yourself to. at the same time though, they are able to reign themselves in when a situation calls for it and they are extremely dependable. they make sure that you know you can rely on them in situations you aren't comfortable with, like if you're in an unfamiliar setting or a situation that requires confrontation. all in all, shyness doesn't exist when you are with yunho or wooyoung, but when certain people or environments bring that shyness back, they're right there for you to lean on

[lizzy06]

Togata Mirio x Reader Fics Recs!! (Tumblr/Ao3/Wattpad)

My Hero Academia Fic Rec Masterlist

One in Lemillion✨✨ by Tiny_Breegull (fluff, smut, high school(?do we put this tag in an anime on high school)) It was no secret to yourself that you had feelings for the one boy in class that barely knew anything about you. But that might not necessarily be the case; after all, Mirio has a habit of dropping in on you when you least expected it. [COMPLETED]

Lemillion to One✨✨ by Tiny_Breegull (fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut)Navigating through high school with a quirk was difficult enough, but things changed for Mirio Toogata after Eri's rescue. Between finding a new direction for his future and working his way through adolescence, things aren't always going to be easy for the ambitious blonde. Still, at least he has you to share the ride with him. [COMPLETED]

I Guess It's Fate ✨by HereticDawn(oneshot, soulmate au, fluff) Soulmate AU where the reader's soul mark is a rather embarrassing phrase and she kind of hates him.[COMPLETED]

Just Leave it to Me by weabooweedwitch(oneshot, reader is insecure, fluff) Mirio is none too happy to find out just why you might have rejected his heartfelt confession. Or at least, why he THINKS you rejected him… [COMPLETED]

Place Your Bets!✨ by Amethyst (escapismislife)(oneshot, fluff, humor)Mirio is crushing hard on this girl from another class. The usually confident boy seems at a loss on how to woo her. But hey, he's trying his best![COMPLETED]

Weird by @bnhascribbles (oneshot, fluff)Mirio is a very passionate person—what he loves, he smothers because…well, love.[COMPLETED]

 Big 3 Slumber Party✨ by @writing-freak(oneshot, fluff) a sleepover with the big three leads to some truth or dare confessions you may or may not be ready to share about your best friend.[COMPLETED]

Smiles of Sunshine by @writing-freak (oneshot, fluff)a first date scenario in which Mirio is determined to break you out of your shy, bashful, and slow-to-smile shell.[COMPLETED]

Soulmate AU Mirio w/ First Words AU hcs by @writing-freak (oneshot, fluff, soulmate au) first words au in which Mirio has “OH MY GOSH PUT SOME CLOTHES ON” on his wrist and you have “I am so sorry I did not mean to flash you” on yours. [COMPLETED]

Falling for You by @writing-freak(oneshot, fluff) awkward, embarrassed, pining over here where you are absolutely determined not to fall in front of your crush.[COMPLETED]

Mistletoe Meltdown by Gavorche_san (oneshot, crush, pinning)The Mistletoe Meltdown is where UA students meet at midnight under the belltower and bestow a big smacker on their crush. Mirio declares that he is going. Put two and two together.[COMPLETED]

Embarrassing Encounters✨ by PinkAnon (RedRedRover) (oneshot, accidentally caught you in the act?, smut) If Mirio Togata was bad at one thing (besides keeping his clothes on for any extended period of time), it was remembering to respect people’s privacy.[COMPLETED] Getting Even by PinkAnon (RedRedRover) (oneshot, humor, smut) Pt.2 of Embarrassing Encounter where mirio wants to get even for walking in on you.[COMPLETED]

Standing in the Sun by Magicow12 (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff, smut) Why was your Soul Mark so dumb?[COMPLETED]

Sunshine by EmpressAngel (oneshot, smut)Living in the dorms, it was only a matter of time before your boyfriend walked in on you at the wrong moment.[COMPLETED]

My Little Star by TheSilentSiern (oneshot, idiots in love, not actually unrequited love, humor, fluff)Welcome to the unrequited love train. Current passenger: You! All aboard![COMPLETED]

[starsofang]

still thinking about johnny x extremely reserved!reader. ):

johnny was always the one to joke with you under normal circumstances. it had taken him a long time to even crack a smile out of you from some of his horrible one-liners, and even then, most of your smiles appeared similar to a grimace. over time, he came to learn that it was just how you preferred to smile until you could let out a true one, but he was as patient as ever.

however, the more time passed, the more the tables turned. you were starting to pull the jokes on him.

it threw him in for a complete loop the first time it happened. he was the one who started it, yet you finished it before he could make an attempt.

there was nothing special going on. you and johnny were seated in the common room, you propped much more politely than he was, while he rattled on about nonsense.

he never minded that you didn’t say much. you were always as quiet as could be. even now, you remained engrossed in your book but gave him an occasional hum to show you were listening, and that was enough for him.

johnny liked you. he wasn’t sure why, especially considering the thick, unbreakable wall you had built around yourself like a cocoon.

getting you to open up was like chipping away at a block of ice with an ice pick, only allowed one good swing each and every day. it was slow and tedious, requiring lots of patience. johnny had gotten you to smile before, sure, but he desired more. he wanted you to let loose, to reveal that silly side to you that was cowering away in the corner of your soul.

the first time it happened, johnny could’ve been mistaken for the damn sun with how much it lit him up.

“elephant would beat a lion in a fight,” johnny claimed to gaz, who had swiftly joined the two of you in the common room for the sole purpose of getting an answer to an unhinged question.

“you think an elephant would beat a lion?” gaz gawked. johnny grinned at him.

“aye, c’mon, lad, elephants are huge. and heavy.”

“and lions are the strongest predators in the wild,” gaz explained. “elephant stands no chance.”

the bicker between johnny and gaz continued while you sat silently reading your book, eyes darted downwards in attempts to avoid eye contact. you looked like your were deep in thought, perhaps even in a fit of mischief in johnny’s eyes when he’d sneak glances to you.

“why do you never see elephants hiding in trees?” you asked when gaz had stepped out of the room, leaving you two alone.

johnny’s head whipped in your direction, mouth parting as he stared at you. “what?”

you peeked up from your book, expression unreadable but johnny could decipher the faintest hint of amusement.

“why do you never see elephants hiding in trees?” you repeated. johnny huffed out a laugh, a cheeky grin curling on his face.

“why?” he mused.

“because they’re really good at it.”

the silence that filled the room was deafening. it had your mind reeling, wanting to crawl back into your shell and remain tucked away. but when johnny suddenly burst into bashful laughter, it put your mind at ease.

“did ye just make a joke, bonnie?” johnny exclaimed in excitement, unable to contain the unadulterated joy that poured out of him like a broken faucet.

“no,” you muttered in slight embarrassment, sinking into your seat.

johnny could tell it had taken a lot of courage for you to share such a silly thing with him, and it warmed his heart. he gained a reminder of why he had fallen for you all over again, and why he was working so damn hard to get you to see that you could trust him.

he couldn’t recall how long it had truly been of him picking apart the slow crumbling of your walls, but seeing you take initiative and try to get him to smile and laugh at a ridiculously cute joke, it was absolutely worth it. his patience would never thin if it meant seeing you crack open the jar of quips (that were definitely better than his own).

for my reserved queens, kings, and other lovely royalties because i am not bold or talkative nor do i show smile/expressions a lot, so this is your reminder that if you’re like meeee, then you’re still just as deserving for someone patient and understanding like johnny <3

[rabotimagines]

"Insecticon assault" GN BOT Reader x The insecticons (Noncon!)

Summary: Reader experiences a triple insecticon attack while under Bombshells' outlier ability.

Warnings: Noncon!, Smut 🔞 MDNI

G1 characters: The insecticons!

Genre/Theme: Smut 🔞 Scenario

Notes: Reader gets hit with one of bombshells mind control shells. They call reader "slave" because of this. Reader has limited control of themselves. Reader is also mostly just annoyed about the entire ordeal to be completely honest. Autobot reader!

Pronouns: You, your, yours, them, they, their

You don't know how the pit you got into this situation. You were on night watch and saw some suspicious activity on the outside the ark camera so you noted it to Teletraan 1 to alert the others if you didn't relay back in a few klicks and went to check it out. Next thing you know, you're getting electrocuted so hard your senses reset themselves. You come to on your back with the spark damned insecticons standing over you. You jerk upwards, ready to physically bash your way out if you have too, only for Bombshell to shove himself forward and something to strike you in between your optical ridge.

You have half a nanoklick to realize you're fragged before your frame slacks of its own accord under Bombshells control. "Ha lucky- lucky! We got the one we wanted! Wanted-!" Shrapnel grabs at your faceplate and tilts your helm side to side.

"Autobot slave! You'll forget how to use your communication system while under our command." Bombshells voice is ringing on your audials, and just like that, you forget exactly how to use your com system. Oh Primus, what were they gonna have you do for them. Slag, what could they have you do before Teletrann 1 alerted the others-?

"Lie back slave!" Your frame slacks on the ground, and you're staring at the trees now- "Open your interface panel." Oh- Wait- This is happening? Your interface panel snapped back, exposing your array to the open air. Digits are suddenly rubbing between your valve mesh and- Oh yeah, this was apparently just happening!

"Slave, you're in control of your own frame, As long as you don't move from your spot on the ground, close your panel, or touch my shell." Your optics snap wide when you abruptly have even partial control of yourself again. And you have exactly enough time to get your elbows under you before you get jumped.

Now you're staring down, wide opticed, at the insecticons who've readily taken to slobbering all over your array. Bombshells between your thighs and using his usually hidden mouth to lap greedy strips along your valve. (Why is his glossia so long!?) You can't see him over Kickback and Shrapnel. Who are on either side of your hips and dragging their glossias along the length of your spike. Your servos had tried to push at them, but it only served for both of them to grab one of your wrists. You hissed in a vent and watched when Shrapnel dragged his glossia along the underside of your spikes head. Your spike throbbed on the insecticons' glossia, while Kickback dragged his own glossia along the side of your shaft. Bombshells digits suddenly slipping inside your valve made you buck your hips. "Slave tastes good. Good-!" Shrapnel's words sends humming fits down your spike since he's muttering against you.

You can- Can you call for help? Slag, would it be loud enough, though? It might just only make them order you to stay quiet- and Teletraan 1 should alert someone soon anyway. You just needed to hold on- Bombshell sucking hard on your anterior node makes you cry out and abruptly start overloading right onto Shrapnel. Shrapnel got a splash of your transfluid right in the faceplate, which made him jerk back in surprise. Kickback only leaned forward and started stroking your spike off as you continued overloaded all over yourself. You grunted when bombshell began to curl his digits and lap at your anterior node.

"Naughty slave." Kickback murmured and started lapping at your spike again- like you hadn't just overloaded. Shrapnel wiped your transfluid off of his faceplate and lapped it off his own digits before joining Kickback in cleaning your spike- Slag slag slag- You were sensitive still- Your digits flexed against the dirt.

"Stop-" you whined when Bombshell quickly pulled his digits out of your valve. You could see his helm suddenly, his mask back in place, and something else was pressing against your valve- "Don't-!" Bombshell bottomed out inside you with no remorse. Your back jerked, but your frame refused to raise off the ground. You could only grunt when his hips snapped against your aft in short but forceful thursts.

Bombshell groaned, "Your valves taking me well, slave." Bombshell brazenly admitted, before grabbing one of your legs to hoist onto his own pauldron. His pelvis knocked against your aft every time he thrust back into your valve.

Your attention was quickly brought back to your lap when Kickback and Shrapnel actually started fighting over your spike. Kickback finally raised a leg and smashed it into Shrapnels chassis, sending him tumbling off through the shrubbery. Kickback laughed and threw the already raised leg over your hip. The cons array snapped back, spike pressurizing and valve dripping onto your own plating. Kickback lowered himself, making your spike kiss his valve entrance. "Wait-" Bombshell bottomed out in you hard enough, his pelvis grinded down on your anterior node- And Kickbacks valve was suddenly taking in the entire length of your spike. Your servos latched onto Kickbacks waist, your digits tight enough to want to warp the metal underneath it.

Kickback only laughed "Big- and nice." Kickback rocked back and forth, and you whined through clenched denta. His valve squeezing down on you without remorse. Kickback didn't hesitate to get his own thighs under him and promptly start slamming himself up and back down your length. Valve fluttering over your spike and making your thoughts get even more muddled. Bombshells spike slammed into a deeper pleasure node, and you cried out again.

"Slagger Kickback! Slagger-!" Shrapnel hissed, scampering back over to where you were. You didn't even have the chance to glance at the angry con. Too focused on getting fragged and rode with no regard. So you weren't exactly ready when Shrapnel suddenly straddled your throat with his array out. "Use your glossia slave! Slave-" Your mouth opened on its own accord, and Shrapnel didn't wait to sit his valve right on top of your faceplate. Your muffled noise of protest only made Shrapnel grind down on you with a huffy laugh. Your servos abandoned Kickbacks waist and clung onto Shrapnels thighs instead. Your glossia moved itself against Shrapnels mesh and node. At least he didn't taste terrible (Small mercies.). But Primus, they were using you like an interface toy!

You groaned against Shrapnel when Bombshells spike smacked into another deeper node in your valve. You instinctively clenched down on his length, which made the con groan. Bombshells thrusts only picked up till he was practically slamming back into you to bottom out every time. Kickback started picking up his own pace, his servos grabbing onto your chassis. Thighs working faster to frag himself down your spike. Shrapnel only ground down more enthusiastically, his servos grabbing at your helm kibble. "Good slave-! Take it- take it!" You groaned against his valve, and you felt your second overload rear it's helm and smack you right in the chassis.

You arched as well as you good against the three of them. Overloading under the triple insecticon assault. Kickback overloaded right after you, his valve fluttering in pulses around your spike. Kickback laughed and ground down on your length through his own overload, making you keen pathetically against Shrapnel. Bombshell overloaded next, spike buried deep as he could be inside you and pumping your valve full of transfluid. His servos were squeezing your thighs, and you could feel what you thought was his glossia lapping strips along your leg. Shrapnel finally overloaded with a breathy cackle- hips grinding down on your faceplate through it. Servos clutching your kibble tight and keeping your helm still. Once Shrapnel finally slacked, you relaxed under all three of them.

Shrapnel pulled himself off of your faceplate. You gasped in vents only to watch Shrapnel turn, so he was above your helm- you tilted your helm back to keep a view on him only to find his spike tip kissing your derma. "Now take my spike! Open up slave! Slave-" Your mouth opened of its own volition, and Sharpnel shoved his spike into your intake. A muffled noise echoed out of you when Kickback started fragging himself back on your spike again. Bombshell followed soon after and started fragging your valve again. Valve fluttering and squelching when he fragged his own transfluid out of you.

Frag- They were insatiable- they always were! Just- you just needed to wait for help- you could do that! Your glossia lapped along Shrapnels spike, your servos grabbing back onto Kickbacks waist for some type of purchase. You could survive this- just- You needed to hold on. You could hold on!

...Right?

-

It was morning, the sun streaming through the gaps in the trees. Your helm was fuzzy from how many overloads the insecticons dragged out of you. If the insecticons are smaller then you (which considering they were about minibot sized, the chances were high) They'd end up figuring out that you can take two of their spikes in your valve at the same time. After that, your valve was constantly double stuffed for the rest of the night. (If you're noticeably bigger than them, then they will attempt to fit all three of their spikes in your valve simultaneously.)

They ended up making you overload so hard at the end that your senses reset again. Only when you came to this time, they were gone. Bombshell did not pull his shell off of your helm before he left, so you're stuck on the ground- Covered in transfluid and fragged silly. With copious amounts of transfluid still dripping out of your valve. Waiting for rescue still- Primus, you wish you remembered how to use your comm system.

"-I don't understand how Teletraan 1 shorted out." A familiar voice makes you perk up- as well as you could anyway still stuck on the ground.

"There was a big electrical surge, and Teletraan 1 couldn't handle the output, so Teletrann 1 reset and couldn't turn back on. We only realized it this morning- and they sent that alert actual earth hours ago- I just hope they're okay."

Hoist! And Grapple! Primus! Okay! You could get help. And well... it suddenly made sense why you got fragged till morning with no help at all.

You glanced down at your transfluid stained self.

Yeah, there was no hiding this. You were covered in purple, dark, and silver paint transfers, too. You stared at your still open modesty panel. Which you still couldn't close because of the shell...

Slag it all. Hoist was a medic, and Grapple wasn't the type to gossip. At least your spike wasn't still pressurized. Plus, you technically just got... sexually assaulted. And neither of them were afts, so you should be fine.

Knowing you wouldn't keep what little dignity you had you through your helm back and shouted for help. You thankfully heard your designation being called back and the shrubbery starting to shuffle towards you.

At least Red Alert couldn't be mad at you for abandoning your post... small mercies.

...

And thank Primus Ratchet had replaced your baffles last week... Primus sized mercies.