#my inbox is for requests that i’ll get to eventually

[dailyhogz]

Hii I heard you have commissons open!! Can you draw the werehog wearing this Christmas sweater:

Also give him a red nose that Rudolph has pls :3

hihi! my comms are open, but you have to buy them over on my kofi ,,, sorry for not clarifying grhfhf (/ε＼*)

[daily-crowley]

hello! i turn twenty today! could i please have a birthday crowley if you have a free moment?

Crowley Of The Day: happy 20th birthday!!! 🥳🎉 how was your day? I hope it was amazing. How do you feel about being 20 now? Have 1941 S1 Crowley as a gift 💞

[skyward-floored]

We’re up to almost 2k and only two Links have managed to show up dangit

[darling-im-wonderstruck]

hi friends !!! send in requests please :))

[trashytracktales]

Okay i don’t know if you’re still receiving requests so 😭 but i absolutely ADORED inked and it actually inspired me for a request and you’re literally the only one who could give it justice. hopefully😔

so imagine reader not being able to cum for the past few times they had sex, maybe because she was stressed for work/exams/adult life and she hasn’t told lando because she feels bad for it and she doesn’t think it’s his fault. so when he finds out there’s a lil discussion and he PROMISE he SWEARS he will make it his mission on earth to help her to get out of her head and relax and enjoy herself and what they’re doing and he’s like WHATEVER IT TAKES you will orgasm again i promise, even if it takes all night!!

so he’s a man on a mission and when he succeeds they have their best sex ever and she’s having the best orgasm of her life! fireworks !!!!! 🥹🥹

The finish line | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── So… ✌🏻😗 I usually go with the flow when I’m writing, and for this one, it felt right to leave it at THAT (you’ll see). Don’t worry, there are fireworks and Lando achieved his goal. However, I felt it in my bones to keep this one leaning more on the emotional side, because sometimes, less is more. Enjoy!!

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⤿ PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOTS: Inked, Winning hand, Seasons change.

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. ݁₊ ⊹ summary ──── While Lando is sound asleep after a passionate night together, she wakes up restless and frustrated, unable to ignore the weight of her own insecurities.

. ݁₊ ⊹ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

. ݁₊ ⊹ rating ──── explicit

. ݁₊ ⊹ category ──── F/M

. ݁₊ ⊹ warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, smut, mentions of sexual frustration and insecurity, emotional vulnerability such as crying and self-doubt, masturbation, obsessive behavior, fingering, swearing, use of praise and mild dominance, begging & desperation, overstimulation.

. ݁₊ ⊹ word count ──── 4.5k

. ݁₊ ⊹ date ──── Jan. 29, 2025

. ݁₊ ⊹ a/n ──── I know I sound like a broken record, but I don’t want you guys to think that I’m lying. THIS is the current state of my inbox:

Just know that I am trying, but at the end of the day, I’m literally just a girl 🎀 If I didn’t post your request yet, thank you for your patience, I’ll eventually (hopefully) get to it.

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﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE BEDSHEETS ARE rumpled, and there is a faint scent of sweat and sex that lingers in the air. Lando sleeps peacefully on his stomach, his arm draped lazily over her waist. His soft snores are the only sound that animate the room, but inside her head, her thoughts are louder.

It’s late, and she should be exhausted; well, she is, but mostly on a mental level. Her body feels heavy and restless, the glow of their earlier intimacy only temporarily satisfying a more deeper need that refuses to fade, no matter what she does. Her skin feels hot, especially where he touches her, and her mind races with thoughts she can’t control.

At this point, it’s been too long.

She shifts in different positions, and when it gets too much, quietly, she slips out of the bed, careful not to wake Lando, and pads her way to the bathroom. The cool tiles under her feet send a shiver down her spine as she closes the door behind her with a mellow click.

She splashes cold water on her face, hoping that she’ll wash away every little doubt that way. The shock of it is prickling her skin, but it does little to cool the constant heat simmering beneath the surface. Involuntarily, her thighs press together in a failed attempt to soothe the ache that refuses to dissipate.

Small droplets of water slide down her cheeks as she raises her head, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her lips are parted, her breathing uneven, and her eyes betray the storm churning inside her. It’s become an obsessive ritual, one she can’t seem to give up until she gets all the answers. The shame coils tight in her stomach, a mix of desperation and anger at herself.

Why couldn’t she just let it go?

Why couldn’t she figure out what was wrong?

Her reflection doesn’t offer any of those answers — only a silent, maddening reminder of how close she always gets before it slips away, like sand through her fingers.

She lets out a frustrated exhale, while grabbing a towel from the rack with trembling hands, shaking it out before folding it in half and laying it on the floor. Carefully, she lowers herself onto it, her back pressing against the cold porcelain of the bathtub. The chill bites at her skin, but it keeps her guarded. She pulls her knees up slightly, legs spreading just enough to give her the space she needs, the vulnerability of the position making her heart race. Her fingers tremble as they trace the edge of the oversized t-shirt she’s wearing, closing her eyes to gather the remaining pieces of her patience.

The bathroom is tenderly lit by a single lamp above the mirror, casting a silver glow on her flushed face and the sheen of sweat clinging to her skin.

Weakly, she starts circling her fingers with increasing desperation, her slick heat betraying the arousal that never seems to reach its peak. Her breaths grow shallow, her movements frantic, but no matter how hard she tries, the pleasure stalls, hovering just out of reach. Irritation claws at her chest as her thighs tremble, the pressure building only to evaporate moments later, like a cruel joke.

Tears blur her vision as she slows, finally giving up, her head falling back. A sob escapes her lips, her mind spiraling into dark thoughts, and she pulls the towel tighter around her as if it can shield her from her own failure.

Back in their the bedroom, Lando stirs. His hand instinctively reaches out to her side of the bed, but the cool, empty sheets pull him out of his catatonic state. Half-asleep, his head lifts as he scans the room, his hair mussed and eyes hazy; it’s the faint, muffled sound that wakes him up completely. A muted cry, that he’s easily able to recognize.

His heart lurches, and he’s on his feet instantly, tugging on a pair of boxers. He follows the sound to the bathroom door, pressing his ear to it. The cries are clearer now, but they’re not purely sad — they’re mixed with hushed panting.

His brows knit together, and without thinking, Lando knocks. “Everything okay, love?” his voice is thick with sleep and worry.

She doesn’t answer.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Lando insists, tightening his grip on the doorknob.

Inside, she’s too caught up in her own world to hear anything else. Her hands finally drop to her sides as she lets out another defeated sob, the tears spilling freely on her cheeks. She feels raw and vulnerable, unable to understand why her body is betraying her like this.

Sounding more concerned now, Lando knocks harder this time. “Babe, I’m coming in, alright?”

The door creaks as he steps inside, and the sight before him makes him stop in his tracks. She’s sitting there, legs spread, flushed and teary-eyed, her chest rising and falling in erratic breaths. His mind takes a second to catch up to what’s happening, his gaze flickering from her damp cheeks to the towel beneath her and then finally to the source of her breakdown.

Her eyes widen when she realizes she’s not alone anymore, and she quickly moves to close her legs, her face burning with embarrassment.

“Lando—” she begins, but her voice dies in her throat.

He’s frozen for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest, but then he steps closer, crouching down in front of her. His hands reach for hers, gently prying them away from where she’s trying to cover herself.

“Don’t do that,” says Lando in a tender voice. “What’s going on, babe? Talk to me.”

She looks away, the shame too much to bear. “I don’t know,” she stammers, her voice a small whisper. “I can’t—”

“Can’t what?” he prompts gently, brushing a stray tear from her cheek.

She lets out a shaky exhale, avoiding his gaze. “I’ve been trying so hard, but I just—I can’t finish,” she admits finally, her voice breaking.

Lando’s expression softens, and he cups her face, tilting it up to meet his eyes. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asks, his voice low but laced with concern.

She laughs dryly, “And say what? It’s fine, Lando. I didn’t want to bother you,” she replies, sniffling. “You were sleeping so peacefully, and I thought I could just handle it myself.”

His lips quirk into a tiny, understanding smile. “Baby, you’re never a bother to me,” he murmurs, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. “You know that, right?”

She nods weakly, her lips trembling as fresh tears threaten to spill. Lando doesn’t hesitate, sitting down beside her on the bathroom floor, the cool tiles pressing against his bare legs.

His hand moves tentatively to her knee, but he stops just short, his eyes searching hers. “Can I touch you?” he asks patiently.

Her nod is almost imperceptible, but it’s enough for him. He places his hand on her knee, his thumb tracing soothing circles over her skin. He’s quiet for a moment, trying to figure out how to approach the situation, but his concern outweighs his uncertainty.

“Come on, baby. It’s just us,” he says, his tone earnest. “What’s really been bothering you?”

She hesitates, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her — his — old t-shirt. The weight of the truth feels too heavy, but his steady presence makes it easier to breathe.

Finally, she exhales shakily and confesses, “I… I haven’t had an orgasm in three weeks.”

Her words hang in the air, and Lando blinks, his brows furrowing in concern. “Three weeks?” he repeats, raising his eyebrows in surprise, as if he’s trying to wrap his head around it.

She nods again, her eyes fixed on the floor. “Look. It’s not you, Lando. I love being with you, and I love the way you make me feel,” she pauses, her voice trembling, and the tears come again, “I think something’s wrong with me. I’m so—I’m sorry, this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Her shoulders shake as she cries, and Lando’s heart breaks, seeing her in such distress. He shifts closer, wrapping his arms around her gently, his hand resting on the back of her head.

“Don’t do that to yourself,” he says in a soothing tone. “There’s nothing wrong with you. I promise.”

“You don’t know, Lan,” she sobs into his chest, her hands clutching his bicep. “I... don’t know what else could be wrong. I just. I feel broken. Every time we’ve been together these past few weeks, I’ve tried so hard,” she trails off, the weight of her words crushing her.

Lando feels something dark coiling in his chest as the realization settles like a heavy weight in his gut. Weeks. She’s been suffering in silence for weeks, lying beneath him, taking everything he gave her, and still unable to let go. His fingers twitch with the need to fix it, to wipe away every trace of frustration she’s felt, to drag her into a pleasure so deep she forgets this ever happened. But on the outside, Lando stays calm; he can’t let his frustration show, because this isn’t about him. This is about her. And he’s going to make damn sure she never has to feel like this again.

But… how could he have been so clueless?

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asks in a weak tone, pulling back just enough to look at her.

“I didn’t want to ruin things for you,” she admits, her voice barely audible. “You’ve been so busy lately, and I didn’t want to add to your stress. But it’s not your fault,” she reassures him. “It’s not. It’s me, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

Her words cut through him, and he shakes his head, his hand cupping her cheek. “Stop saying that, you’re not doing anything wrong,” says Lando firmly, his voice filled with conviction. “God. Whatever this is, it’s not on you, okay?”

She sniffles, her lip trembling as she looks up at him. “But it feels like it is. Like my body’s just failing me all of a sudden.”

Lando’s jaw flexes, and he feels a sudden pang of anger — not at her, but at himself for not paying enough attention. For being so blind.

“I’m sorry I was so busy and distracted. I should’ve known something was off,” he sighs, voice filled with regret. “I feel so bloody stupid for not noticing how much you’ve been struggling.”

“You’re not—” she says quickly, but he cuts her off.

“No, baby. I should’ve seen that you were hurting.”

Her breath hitches at the sincerity in his voice. “I didn’t want you to see. It’s fine, just… I don’t know what am I supposed to do now,” she whispers, her voice losing intensity.

Lando’s words come out so determined next time he speaks, “We’ll take our time, and we’ll work through it together.”

She looks at him, wanting to believe him, but she’s too caught up in her own head. Without thinking, her hands start trembling as they push against his chest, desperate to get some distance.

“No,” her voice is cracking. “No, you deserve better than—gosh, this so unfair. I’m always so close, and then I lose it. This never happened to me before.”

She covers her face with her hands, squeezing her eyes shut and hoping that next time she’ll open them, everything will get back to normal. But she knows it’s not that simple, so she stays like that, pressing the bridges of her palms on her eyelids until she sees white, sparkly dots.

Lando stiffens momentarily, the weight of her words sinking in. Her pushing him away stings, but he doesn’t let it show, and he doesn’t let it deter him, either. Instead, Lando leans forward, wrapping his arms around her from behind, holding her close even as she tries to fold in on herself.

“It’s okay. We’ll get to the bottom of it,” he whispers, “Just, please. Don’t shut me out.”

She feels his steady embrace, his scent and warmth enveloping her like a protective blanket. “I don’t know what to do,” she admits again and again, hoping that she’ll eventually find an answer.

Lando presses a kiss to the top of her head and tightens his hold. “Is there something I can do? Right now? Something to make you feel even a little better?”

The question hangs in the air for a few seconds before she exhales shakily, attempting to lighten the mood with a weak, joking reply, “I’d like to have an orgasm,” she mutters with a sad laugh, but the vulnerability in her voice betrays her attempt to make light of the situation.

Lando pauses, his lips parting slightly. She feels his chest rise and fall behind her as he takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he says simply, his tone laced with quiet determination.

She turns her head to look at him, confused. “What?”

Instead of answering, he adjusts his position so that she’s sitting between his legs. His hands come to rest on her arms, and his touch is light on her skin, as if silently asking her to put her trust in him.

“Just relax,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against her ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Her shoulders tense at first, but as his hands begin to move, caressing her arms with deliberate care, she allows herself to calm down.

“You don’t need to prove anything to me,” the girl tells him, tilting her head slightly to meet his eyes. Her hand comes up to cup his jaw, her thumb brushing over his cheek. “You’re always in my mind, Lando. Always.”

Her words make his stomach flip, but he shakes his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. “That’s good, baby. But I can’t stand the thought of you feeling this way. Not when I can do something about it. So, let me try.”

He dips his head to kiss her neck, slow and measured, his lips warm against her skin. She shivers, goosebumps spreading across her arms as his hands travel up her sides, cupping her breasts lightly through her shirt. His thumbs brush over her nipples, teasing through the fabric, and her breath hitches.

“Lando…” she breathes, but her protest is weak.

“Shh,” he whispers, his lips still moving against her neck. “Let me.”

With a gentle tug, he pulls her shirt up and over her head, tossing it aside. Her bare back presses against the heat of his chest, and she leans into him instinctively, her body relaxing further. One of her hands reaches back, resting against his thigh, while the other remains on his jaw, her thumb tracing his skin absentmindedly.

His kisses grow lazier, deeper, taking his time to savor her, his hands still exploring her body with quiet reverence. When his thumb brushes over her bare nipple this time, her breath catches, and a soft moan escapes her lips.

“Better?” asks Lando quietly, the question laced with affection and a hint of teasing.

She doesn’t answer with words, only nodding as her eyes flutter shut, her body leaning fully into his.

“You’re safe with me,” he assures softly. As his lips linger on her shoulder, his hand moves lower, tracing the curve of her stomach.

Her body tenses momentarily before melting into him again, exhaling sharply when his fingers trail lower, featherlight, until they dip between her legs. He feels the slight tremble in her thighs as her body reacts, and she instinctively parts her legs for him, granting Lando all the access he needs.

Her gaze drops to his arm, watching as the veins stretch under his skin with every movement. The strength in his hand contrasts with the careful way he touches her, and she can’t help but marvel at the sight. Almost instinctively, her hand moves to cover his — not to stop him or to slow him down, but to ground herself in the moment, to feel the reality of him there with her.

“Don’t think too much, yeah?” Lando instructs her, his breath warm against her. “Focus on me. I’ve got you.”

Lando’s fingers part her folds, and he has to close his eyes at the heat and wetness he finds there, evidence of the frustration and need she had been battling. When his thumb brushes against her clit, he feels it pulse under his touch, sensitive from what she had been doing before he walked in.

“Wanna see how responsive you are?” he asks with a teasing smile, pressing his thumb firmly against her clit without moving it.

She gasps silently, but he keeps his hand steady, his other arm holding her securely against him.

“Easy, baby,” he says, his tone as soothing as ever.

He holds the pressure for a few seconds, then finally rubs slow circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Her breathing deepens, her legs shifting as he repeats the motion: firm pressure, then slow strokes, over and over. The rhythm he sets is almost hypnotic, and he feels the tension in her begin to ease as her arousal builds.

Once a new wave of wetness slicks his fingers, his lips twitch into a satisfied smile, “See that? Such a good girl,” he praises gently.

She whimpers at his words, her hips bucking slightly against his hand. He adjusts his grip, keeping her in place as his fingers move lower, teasing her entrance. He doesn’t push inside just yet, only circling the sensitive area, feeling the way her body squirms and trembles in anticipation.

“Relax for me,” he reminds her, his tone almost pleading, “I’m not going anywhere until I make a mess of you.”

She does as he says, but a soft, desperate cry still manages to escape her lips. Her arm wraps tightly around Lando’s neck, pulling him closer, her lips ghosting over his jaw as her breathing grows uneven. He presses a kiss to her temple, whispering words of encouragement, while his fingers explore her with dexterity.

“That’s it, feel me,” he soothes, his tone gentle yet commanding. “Don’t think.”

He finally pushes a finger inside her, but only the tip, teasing her repeatedly. He feels her walls soft and pillowy as he pumps it in and out, and she feels the stretch on her hole somehow differently. When he pulls out completely, her pussy clenches around nothing, instinctively trying to keep him there.

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, and he presses his lips against her hair, smiling. “There goes your needy little hole,” he says, his voice filled with quiet admiration. “Told you there’s nothing wrong with you, baby. It’s all in your pretty head.” Lando pauses, his hand still as he tilts his head closer to hers. “Let me clear it for you.”

With that, he pushes his finger all the way in this time. Her sudden gasp hits his jaw, her hips jerking forward at the sensation. He knows it’s not enough, though the way he feels her walls fluttering around him, tells Lando he is on the right path.

“Look how perfect you are,” he praises, his voice a warm caress. “You were made for this, weren’t you?”

Without warning, he adds another finger — just to prove his point — stretching her and going deeper than before. Her moan is breathless, her head tipping back as her hips grind into his hand. Lando groans, feeling the slick warmth of her around him, and the way she reacts to every little movement.

“There it is,” his low voice catches her attention, “Feel that? That’s all you, my love. You just needed to be reminded of how incredible you are.”

He finally sets a rhythm, curling his fingers just right, and her cries turn into something more profound, a broken whimper of relief and pleasure as he works her open with care.

Leaning in, Lando is capturing her lips in a urgent kiss. His tongue slides against hers, coaxing soft moans from her as his fingers keep pumping in and out of her slick heat. He spreads her wetness over her puffy folds, his other hand moving to her chest, teasing and pinching her nipple until it hardens under his touch. He’s deliberate in his movements, having one clear goal in mind: to overwhelm her senses, to pull her away from the pressure of the finish line and make her fall in love with the journey.

His fingers scissor inside her, stretching her further, before curling again, brushing over the spot that makes her cry in pleasure. He presses the bridge of his palm firmly against her clit, applying just enough pressure to have her legs trembling against him. Her breathing turns erratic, her chest rising and falling quickly as the excitement starts to blur the edges of her thoughts.

Lando’s hand never falters, burying his fingers in and out of her with just the right amount of force, the wetness between her thighs making everything slick and obscene. But then, just as the wave begins to crest, he stills. His hand stops and she cries out, her walls protesting around him, as if trying to pull him back into motion.

“It’s okay, you’re doing so well,” he continues with his praise. “We’re close, yeah?” asks Lando rhetorically, waiting, feeling her body tighten and then gradually relax.

Then he starts again, the rhythm maddeningly slow.

Her moans grow louder, more desperate, but just as she teeters on the edge again, he stops once more.

“Fuck, Lando. Please,” she chokes out, her hips jerking against his hand, trying to create some friction. “I can’t—please, let me have it,” her voice is drenched in frustration and need.

He hums against her neck, savoring every sound she makes. “You know I will, baby. But you need to trust me,” he says, voice steady, his fingers suddenly resuming their pace. “You don’t want to disappoint me, do you, pretty girl?”

Her whole body shivers, her thighs trembling around his hand as she shakes her head frantically. “No,” she whimpers, “I won’t—please, please. I’ll do anything, just don’t stop again.”

The desperation in her voice tugs at something deep in him. He feels guilty, seeing her so wrecked and desperate after holding this pressure inside for weeks, but when her slickness grows, coating his fingers and hand, he knows she’s on the brink. He can physically feel it.

Smiling, Lando leans over, pressing soft kisses to her flushed cheek, talking tenderly against her skin, “Make me proud,” he whispers, his voice thick with affection and lust.

And that’s more than enough.

Her release comes in a rush, hitting her like fireworks as she cries out his name, her body spasming uncontrollably around Lando’s fingers. He keeps working her through it, whispering praises against her skin while her nails dig into his forearm, anchoring herself to him as the weeks of frustration dissolve into pure, blinding pleasure.

“Beautiful,” says Lando, dipping his head to kiss her.

He bites her lower lip, tugging it between his teeth before soothing it with a soft lick. Then, with a sly smirk, he shoves his tongue back into her mouth, tasting the soft gasp she lets out.

He attacks her senses from every direction — his hand between her legs, the other on her chest, his lips consuming hers. The pressure on her clit, the way his fingers still curl and stretch inside her, the heat of his body pressed to hers — everything feels right again. She’s finally losing herself, over and over, her mind emptying of everything but the way Lando feels, and the way he’s making her feel.

Just like he promised.

Her lips part against his, and the only thing she can think to say it’s his name, that escapes in a broken, breathless cry.

Her cheeks are flushed, the heat spreading through her body like wildfire. The wet, slick sounds of his hand working her fill the bathroom, blending with her breathless moans and the occasional low rasp of his voice. She feels the telltale pressure building once more in her lower abdomen, the one that makes her toes curl and her thighs tremble. And then, like clockwork, the fear starts to creep in — the same fear that’s stolen her release before.

Sensing the shift in her breathing, Lando reminds her, his voice impossibly soft, “You can,” he encourages her, “One more, baby. Look how well you take my fingers.”

Her chest heaves as she finds the strength to glance down, her half-lidded eyes catching the hypnotic way his hand works between her legs, his fingers disappearing into her again and again. The sight is enough to make her stomach tighten, and when her gaze lifts, she meets Lando’s.

He’s already looking at her, his eyes dark with desire but impossibly gentle, filled with reassurance and love. That’s what does it — their unyielding, pure connection. Her second orgasm crashes over her without warning, the intensity pulling a cry from deep within her chest.

“Lando, yes!” she moans, her voice breaking as she clings to him, her body shaking uncontrollably. “Oh my—”

He doesn’t stop, his fingers working her through the overwhelming waves of pleasure. She’s crying, tears slipping down her cheeks, but these are different — they’re tears of relief; liquid euphoria.

The towel beneath her is soaked, her release spilling out in waves, and Lando lets out a low, approving groan as he feels her gush against his hand. “That’s my good girl,” he says proudly, kissing her temple as her cries fade into breathless whimpers. “Look at you. So perfect, baby. You fucking did it.”

She collapses into his chest, her body utterly spent, her mind hazy from the high of finally letting go. And for the first time in weeks, she feels nothing but peace.

Lando keeps her close, his lips brushing against her temple in the softest of kisses, waiting for her to come back to herself. She exhales shakily, the steady thrum of his heartbeat calming her.

Lando tilts his head down, his curls tickling her cheek as he insists, “Next time you feel like this, come to me. Don’t keep it in, baby. We’ll work it out together like we did now,” his words are definitive, the weight of his love for her wrapped around every syllable. He leans back slightly to look at her, his eyes soft but unwavering. “The perfect fit, you and I, right?”

She lifts her gaze to meet his, and he smiles, his dimples peeking out as his hand brushes a strand of hair from her face. “Thank you,” she says. “For knowing me better than anyone.”

“That’s because I love you, silly,” says Lando, his lips grazing hers in a featherlight kiss. “And loving you means taking care of you. Even when you don’t know how to let me.”

Hearing Lando’s words, a flicker of shame creeps in. She realizes she should have told him sooner. They’re a team — they always have been. And yet, she let herself spiral alone, convinced this was something she had to fix by herself.

Before she can dwell on it too much, Lando peppers more kisses to her temple and cheek, his voice deliberately teasing, but laced with something undeniably serious, “Let’s go back to bed,” he says, helping her up. “I’ve got three weeks to make up for, and I don’t plan on wasting a second.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[hysteria-things]

HEYY I LOVE YOUR STORIES COULD YOU MAYBE DO ONE FOR CHRIS OR MATT WHERE HE MEETS A GIRL ON TOUR WHEN SIGNING AUTOGRAPHS AND TELLS HER TO MEET HIM IN THE TOURBUS THEN YKK

♛ ONE ° •

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the versus tour takes place in your hometown! while doing autographs, you seem catch the matt sturniolo’s eye.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY SMUT, swearing, choking if you squint, making out, oral (male and female receiving), dry humping (?), face fucking, spanking, p in v, overstimulation, dumbification, marking, some degradation/praising, hair pulling, squirting, cream pie, ROUGHH

ASSUME YOU’RE ON THE PILL!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,427

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i added this to my welcome post but i’m going to say it here too. my requests are now CLOSED because i’ve been getting overwhelmed and i want to get them done LOL but my inbox is still open so feel free to chat with me :)

idk when i’ll open them again, but they will be eventually!

the moment you’ve been waiting for for months has finally arrived. you and your best friend hannah were lucky enough to get tickets to the sturniolo triplets tour in your hometown.

currently, the small talk line moves slowly but surely. your friend is decked out in purple for nick while you’re wearing blue for matt.

“we’re next!” hannah gushes, clapping her hands in excitement. she pushes you ahead of her. “i’m scared. you go first.”

you roll your eyes playfully. honestly, you’re not nervous to meet your favorites. you feel chill, which is the opposite of what you thought you’d be like.

matt greets you by hugging you tight and smiling. “how are you?” he asks, taking his card and signing it.

“i’m doing good.” you return his smile. “you liking the tour so far?”

he nods, eyeing you up and down. he feels something different about you. this doesn’t feel like any other small talk.

“i love it.”

the security man motions for you to go on ahead. of course, you listen and start to grab your items, but matt stops you. “do you have a boyfriend?”

see, if this were any other person you’d be weirded out by this question; but because it’s matthew sturniolo, you answer.

“nope.”

he licks his lips, taking the card that he signed and flipping it over to write something.

the scary security is getting angry and impatient with you, so you can only read what he wrote as you walk away. your eyeballs almost burst out of your skull.

i want to see you after the show.

now, you and hannah are standing in the red carpet line before the show actually starts.

you guys talk until it’s your turn, the both of you going since you want a group picture. first is chris, then nick, and lastly matt. he hugs you longer than the other two.

a chill runs down your spine when his voice tickles against your ear. “i’ll meet you outside later, right?”

he pulls away, getting ready to pose for the picture, but you nod for an answer.

“that was so much fun!” hannah screeches as you guys walk to the parking lot.

you agree, before stopping. “i need to go back and use the restroom. do you mind taking my stuff with you to my car?”

she grins, grabbing your stuff. “sure thing.”

you speed walk back to the venue, fewer and fewer people flooding the area as you wait.

a door opens moments later, sounding like the backstage door, and you turn to the source.

you blush, your cheeks heating up more and more the closer he gets with that damn smile on his face.

pinch me this can’t be real.

“hi,” he says lowly.

“hi,” you repeat back.

he looks at his watch. “they’re yapping away in there so we should have some time.”

you’re not sure what that means but again: since it’s matthew fucking sturniolo… you’ll listen without a doubt.

your heartbeat pumps rapidly in your chest when he sneaks you into the tour bus.

you kind of feel bad for leaving hannah behind… but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

the bus looks way bigger on the outside than the inside, and you’re still trying hard to wrap your head around that you’re with matthew. fucking. sturniolo.

he admires the way you take it all in with his hands shoved into his pockets. he’s sure you’re thinking about so many things right now, but the only thing he can think of is how badly he wants to fuck you.

thinking about a fan that way is insane, but he just finds you so much different than any other fan girl. you’re confident, kind, and gorgeous.

you finish observing the tour bus and smile wide at him. “it’s very cool in here.”

“yeah.” he chuckles. “the beds are a tight squeeze though.”

you giggle, and he steps closer. your mind runs a million miles a minute with each step he takes. “do you trust me?” he questions, now inches away from you.

you raise a brow suspiciously. “should i not?”

he smirks, shaking his head. “i’m just checking.” he places his hands on your hips gently, running them up and down.

leaning towards your ear, he whispers. “be good for me, yeah?”

your legs subconsciously squeeze together, and he cups your cheeks with his palms. he leans in slowly. he hesitates when his lips ghost yours to see if you’d protest, but because you don’t, he kisses you.

his tongue licks your lips to indicate that he wants you to open, but you don’t. you feel the coldness of his rings on the side of your neck before he squeezes. when you gasp at the sudden contact, that’s his sign for his tongue to enter your mouth. “you promised you’d be good.” he says between the kiss.

you smirk. “i didn’t promise anything.”

he snarls, leaning back in. the make-out goes on for at least thirty seconds before he pulls away, the lipstick you had on now smeared on both of your mouths.

your eyes have a mind of their own and look down, seeing his rock-hard erection as clear as day through his jeans. “get on your knees.”

your eyebrows shoot to your hairline at the sudden tone change, but you obey either way.

he wastes no time to unbuckle his belt to pull down his jeans, his dick springing out right in front of you. the tip is red and leaking pre-cum. you open your mouth wide without him having to tell you, and he smirks.

leaning in, he grabs your hair and stops you. “no.” he says.

instead, he slaps the head on your tongue before pushing in slowly. it’s like you can feel every vein enter your mouth, gagging in the process when he’s deep in your throat. “holy shit.” he breathes, seeing how much of him you took.

it’s not all of it, but it’s more than he thought. you give him puppy dog eyes through your lashes, despite them being glossy.

he starts to thrust into your mouth, jaw slack as he watches his dick run past your lips in one swift motion. the grip on your head stays tight, him hunching over slightly to get deeper.

you moan at the shape protruding in your throat, the gagging and sloppy wet noises making you turned on even more. “fuck i’ve been wanting to do this since you opened that pretty fucking mouth of yours.” he pants, moving at an ungodly speed that makes it hard for you to breath. “do you just let random guys use this mouth? sure seems that way.”

you moan again, lifting yourself off of the ground the tiniest bit so you can feel the top of his shoe on your swollen clit.

whimpering at the feeling, you start to grind yourself on it while he still fucks your mouth. your arms wrap around his leg, humping faster like a bitch in heat.

“that’s a little pathetic.” he laughs hoarsely, groaning when his dick twitches. “so, so needy for me.”

you let out a pained sob because along with your throat, the feeling of you grinding also hurts. it would be best if you had something way more than his shoe.

“s-shit.” he whimpers, pulling out to where only the tip is in your mouth, making sure you get all of his cum on your tastebuds. he smears the rest on your lips.

matt lifts you from the ground, bending you over the small table that they have. he grabs your ass before giving it a light spank.

it’s his turn to kneel now, simultaneously taking off your leggings. he bites your ass before sliding your panties over. you feel his breath against your aching core. “jesus christ.” he mumbles. “you’re dripping down your legs already. aren’t you just an eager thing?”

he spreads your folds with his thumbs, blowing cool air on them that makes you jolt. you’re too sensitive for that.

then, your phone starts to ring right next to you. it’s hannah.

shit.

you cannot not answer, because if you don’t she’ll think something is wrong. you swipe, putting the phone on speaker. “hell— oh.”

matt immediately digs into you, eating you out like he hasn’t eaten ever in his life.

“where the hell are you? i’ve been waiting by your car for like thirty minutes. using the bathroom shouldn’t take this long, y/n.”

the man below you squeezes your thighs, spreading yourself wider to practically be nose-deep inside of you. your eyes roll back hard, mouth hanging open with silent moans leaving it. “hello?”

“h-hannah i’m sorry i’ll— mm— be out s-soon. i’m sorry.”

“are you okay?” she questions.

with that, matt starts sucking at your bud, causing your legs to shake. you grip the table as hard as you can, your upper body giving out and laying flat on the surface in front of you.

“yes i’m fine!” you say, trying to reach for his head and push him away, but that only makes him grab onto you harder.

he’s fascinated by the way you taste it’s almost hypnotizing. your arousal drips down his chin, and the way he’s sucking has your orgasm wash over you without warning. “i’m cumming.” you whine, and you feel the smug smile on his face.

“oh, so you’re coming? thank god because it’s a little chilly out here,” hannah replies.

“fuck yes.” you moan but cover it by clearing your throat. “i mean, yes. i will be coming in a-a bit.”

she sighs through the phone. “okay.”

you quickly hang up without saying goodbye, holding on for dear life since your release knocked your legs out.

he holds you, getting up and wiping your cum off of his face. “you’re a bit of a bad girl, aren’t you?”

spank.

“leaving your friend out there all alone.”

spank.

“so that you can fuck me.”

spank.

“like a slut.”

spank.

you wince every time he hits you, the stinging tingling on your ass. he grabs your hips and arches you more.

he moves his tip up and down at your entrance teasingly, getting wetter by the second. “matt, please.” you whine, your pussy desperate for his cock. “please fuck me.”

he stops, waiting for a beat before pushing into you like it’s no big deal. he’s big for sure, but because of your wetness, he slides in perfectly. the both of you moan, and matt stares at where you conjoined. “your pussy’s fucking amazing.” he groans. “by far the best i’ve ever had.”

you start to bounce back on him since he’s taking his sweet ass time, but out of nowhere starts pounding into you.

whatever they have on the table starts to either fall or rattle from him railing into you. he takes your hands and pins them behind your back. “harder.” you wince out, and he whistles.

“you have no idea what you just asked for.” he says, doing the opposite and slowing down. “you won’t be able to speak, baby.”

baby. you moan at the nickname.

you’re way past the point of ‘omg i’m hanging out with matt sturniolo!’

you try bouncing your ass back again, but this time he smacks it and spreads your legs wider to plow into you deeper. “so impatient.” he sighs.

all you can do is scream and gasp for air with each thrust, hands balled up into fists.

your mind becomes blank once your eyes cross, your mouth hung open with your chin resting on the table. he hits just the right spot each time, squeezing around him.

“i— i—” you try to warn that you’re close, but your mind won’t let you.

he wasn’t kidding about the won’t be able to speak part.

“you can do it,” he says, knowing damn well you can’t.

your body becomes limp like a rag doll, matt having completely corrupted you.

he tuts fake pouting. “look who’s cock drunk. be a good girl and cum for me. you deserve it.”

blabbing a response, you squirt before cumming harder than before. usually, you’d be embarrassed, but you’re too far gone to care.

“that’s so hot.” he grunts, fucking you through your orgasm. “come on, baby. one more.”

“i can’t.” you sob, his hand letting go of yours before wrapping your hair not once but twice to lift your body to his.

“you can and you will,” he says, your third orgasm already building up in less than two minutes.

tears run down your face, eyes fluttering shut from the overwhelming amount of pleasure. there’s no way the human body can have this much pleasure and be okay.

matt kisses your neck, sucking a big mark when he finds the sweet spot. “i know you’re close already.” he says, his cum starting to leak into you deep.

you can’t stop your body from spasming, letting out one last sob before you cum again.

he pulls out, laying down on top of you and rubbing around your body soothingly to calm you down from your heavy breathing.

he covers your full cunt with your underwear so his cum doesn’t ooze out. he kisses your clothed pussy, and you flinch from the sensitivity. “making sure it’s in there.” he smirks.

after a few minutes, he helps you sit on the table to put your undergarments back on. your eyes are half closed from the post-sex haze.

matt grabs you water and a bag of chips before giving you one last hug. you guys talk for a little before he makes sure the coast is clear for you to get out without being seen.

you’re limping like crazy back to your car, seeing hannah impatiently tap her foot while leaning against the door.

once she sees you, she comes storming over. “you’re so lucky you’re my best friend or i would kill you.” she threatens. “i’ve been standing here for an hour.”

“i’m sorry.” you rasp out.

she studies your face, and it looks like you quite literally saw god. “oh my god, are you sure you are alright? you look like you got jumped.”

“it’s the after-show feeling.” you lie. “i’m exhausted. let’s go.”

she doesn’t question anymore, not even the random snacks and water you have. you start the car and place the stuff matt gave you down until you see there’s a post-it note attached to the bag of sour cream and onion.

to my favorite fan,

xxx-xxx-xxxx

text me when you get the chance, gorgeous

- matt :)

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @r4iyaa @sturniolotriplettoplover @mattybswife @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @sturniol0s @sturniologirly @hbvfb

[luveline]

omg jade i heard you asking for hotch reqs and i RAN to your inbox

what about hotch taking care of r after they have a lil baby?? i think if i saw that man hold a new baby id die!!!! he could hole their whole head in the palm of his hand 😭😭😭

Every time you move, your hips and more intimate regions hurt like a hot poker. You probably won’t cry, but you require some tylenol and some sympathy to carry on. “Hotch?” you ask. 

Silence. You tip your head back over the armrest to find him. Even upside down, he looks handsome, sitting in the two seater with your little bundle of agony in his arms. Or, arm. The baby rests neatly in the curve of his forearm, his free hand dedicated to the baby’s small back. 

“Hotch?” 

“Who is she talking to?” Hotch asks your baby gently. You know what he’s doing immediately. 

“You get so hung up on the Hotch thing, if you didn’t want to be called Hotch, you shouldn’t have introduced yourself as Hotch.”  

You’ve been calling him Hotch for years, you aren’t going to suddenly kick the habit now. 

“She was my subordinate,” Hotch tells the baby. “She couldn’t have special treatment, even if she is the prettiest subordinate I ever had. It wouldn’t have been fair.” 

“I wouldn’t mind some more tylenol.” 

He raises his gaze. You twist into a painful but better suited position to watch him move the baby closer to his collar, his hand covering the entirety of the baby’s small head. Hotch said Jack was a little baby too, but you’d been terrified regardless, and no matter the size, it was too big for you to come out of the ordeal unscathed. Tylenol isn’t so much wanted as required. 

“I’ll get it for you,” he promises. 

“Thank you, Aaron.” 

“Oh, you’re welcome, honey.” 

He stands and shifts your tiny baby further into his chest, little snores pressed to his collar. “You okay to take him? I’ll make you some lunch at the same time.”

“I can’t eat.” 

“Just chips and a sandwich, honey. You can manage that.”  

You open your arms, letting Hotch lower your baby down into your arms and the surrounding nest of blankets. “You need to go see where Jack is,” you say. 

“I know,” Hotch says, kissing your cheek quickly. “I’m gonna make his lunch too. I’ll be right back.” 

You cuddle your baby to your chest and lean back. Your baby Hotchner is, as previously stated, so tiny, but he’s a nice weight against you, and he sleeps like a champ. You thought easy babies were a myth until now. So far he’s done nothing but sleep and stare at you whenever you talk. You think it’s love, or the surprise of seeing the voices that talked to him nonstop while he was in your belly now out in the open. He does the same to Hotch whenever he’s awake. 

You haven’t named him yet. You asked Jack for help, but he’d recommended you name your new baby Mister Awesome, so you’re at a loss for now. It doesn’t matter, though. He’ll have a name eventually. Until then, he’s the baby. And he’s very well loved. 

You wish he hadn’t hurt so badly to bring into the world, is all. 

Somewhere deeper in the house, Jack tumbles down the stairs, to Hotch's audible horror. “Are you alright? What are you doing, buddy?” 

“I’m being quick!” 

“Please be careful!” There’s the sound of a kiss. “You sure you’re okay? Yeah? Gonna go and keep Y/N company?” 

“Yeah, dad.” 

“Okay, thank you. I’m gonna make your lunch now, any requests?” 

“Peanut butter. And chips. And pretzels. And orange slices? And–”

“How about I bring you lots of everything, bud?” 

“Yes. Please. Hug?” 

They must hug, though you can’t see or hear it, as Jack walks into the living room with wildly tousled hair and a smile. He climbs over the back of the couch even though he shouldn’t, dropping onto your feet, a tangle of arms and legs. “Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hi baby. You hungry?” 

“Dad’s gonna make me a sandwich.” 

You reach over to collect his hand in yours, squeezing his fingers gently. You’d thought for sure that having a baby in the house would upset him, if only because his usual routine was disrupted —he’d had to make room for you first, and now suddenly there’s a new baby taking all the attention? it’s not what only kids usually want— but Jack’s an easy kid too. He squeezes your hand back, shimmying up the couch to lean on your leg. It aches, every touch to your lower half a reminder of the pain further inward, but he’s not rough. He climbs further onto your leg and rests his cheek on your shoulder. 

“Is this a cuddle?” you murmur. 

“Pretty please.” 

“No please required.” You frown to yourself, trying to juggle the baby into the opposite arm so you can wrap the one closest to Jack around his shoulders. You manage it poorly. “Dad makes this look so easy.” 

“He has longer arms,” Jack says with a shrug. His nose jabs the skin just above your chest. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“I won’t. Thank you, babe.” 

Jack touches the baby’s back. “He’s sleeping?” 

“Yeah. Must be weird getting to sleep all the time and then suddenly being born. At least he’s not crying.” 

You and Jack lay with each other for a while, watching the baby snore as you whisper about what Hotch is making for lunch. You wish he’d brought you the tylenol before he started, but he’s got a lot going on. You’re glad he’s the one making lunch (though you can’t be expected to right now, considering). The idea of having to stand there and butter a sub roll sounds like a low level of torture. 

“Don’t let me fall asleep holding the baby,” you tell Jack, your eyes drifting closed as Jack snuggles closer to your face.

“I can go get dad.” 

“I’m here,” Hotch says swiftly. You drag your face to the side to see him in the doorway, two dinner trays balanced with ease in his hands despite their obvious weight and full glasses on either side. “Don’t fall asleep, I’m coming. Sorry about the wait.” 

Hotch puts your trays on the coffee table and scoops the baby from your chest, leaving behind an awfully warm patch of skin. 

“Tylenols on the tray,” he says, smiling at you lovingly. “You okay?” 

“Fine. Jack’s gonna feed me.” 

To his credit, your lovely stepson offers to really feed you, but you’re not so tired now there’s food in front of you. Your stomach groans in want. 

Hotch stands looking down at you, baby somehow even smaller looking in his arms. “Need anything else?” 

You hold half of your sandwich up to him. “Eat that.” 

“I’m fine. My hands are full.” 

“I’m not asking, Aaron. Take it.” You force the sandwich on him. “We both know you only need one hand.” 

He’s cautious not to rain crumbs down on the baby. You make no such fuss, bread and lettuce falling down into your lap as you eat. Jack can’t stop giggling, “You’re not s’posed to eat like that!”

“Sorry!” you say, “I’m just so hungry!” 

“It’s okay,” he says. “Dad will vacuum you.” 

Hotch’s mouth is full to bursting, but his nod is vehement. He swallows hard. “I’ll mop you, too.”  

[slytherin-pen]

Rained Out

pairing: Eris x Reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: smut, mdi, 18+

tags: one bed trope

a/n: for the 500 follower bingo! this request was sent in via comment by @lomahdu . i actually panicked for a second when i was going through my inbox and couldn’t find it like did i make this up?? but thankfully i took screenshots of the comments i received lmao

You should have known the storm was coming. The birds had gone silent and the woodsy critters vanished as if they sensed what you didn’t. But you had been focused on the task at hand—stalking game alongside the Heir of Autumn, your bow strung, footsteps silent and careful.

Eris Vanserra walks ahead of you, red hair dampening from the rain, shoulders broad and tense beneath the layered furs of his hunting cloak. You’d been assigned to assist him today and perhaps the little “he requested you specifically” murmured by your colleague before you left had something to do with how distracted you were.

You have feelings for Eris, but who wouldn’t? He is the prince of your court. Handsome and charming as he is lethal. But you are just a huntswoman working out of a small cabin on the edge of the capital village, trailing behind hunters all day and skinning animals by night. You are nothing like the pretty courtier females he sees every day. Your clothes are dirty with blood stains you gave up on removing and you don’t even want to imagine what you smell like.

The sky cracks open with a strike of lightning. Rain pours in heavy sheets, turning the earth beneath your boots to slick mud.

“We need cover,” Eris calls over the rain.

You don’t argue.

He knows this forest like the back of his hand, and without hesitation, turns left through the thickest part of the glade. You follow in his wake, heart hammering harder with each icy drop that soaks into your clothes.

Between an opening in the trees you can barely see it, nothing more than a darkened shape in the distance, but it’s a cabin Eris is leading you to. He ushers you through the door without a word.

Inside, it’s cold and dark. The living room, bedroom, and kitchen are all squished into one large room, and Eris snaps his finger to light a fire in the hearth before peeling off his soaked cloak and hanging it on the hook by the door.

You do the same, peeling damp gloves off numb fingers. You’re dripping wet, hair sticking to your face, and water trickling down your spine.

Eris glances over his shoulder. “There are towels in the closet,” he says pointing to the door behind the couch.

You grab one, toweling your arms and neck before sitting in front of the hearth. You sigh at the warmth, relishing in the way your hands grow hot, but you’re still shivering.

Eris crouches beside you, face half-lit by firelight, eyes scanning you. “You’re freezing.”

“I’m fine,” you lie.

“You’re practically turning blue.”

You scowl. “I wasn’t prepared to get soaking wet today, or else I would have worn thicker clothes.”

He huffs a laugh. “You should start carrying a bag with you. Stuff a coat in it for the next time this happens.”

He stands again, shedding his jacket and revealing a white, low v-neck tunic. You try not to stare at the pale, freckled skin peeking out, the way you can see the indent of his muscular pectorals.

“There’s only one bed,” he says eventually.

You look over. There is, in fact, only one. The couch is threadbare and barely big enough for a hound, let alone either of you.

“I’ll take the floor,” you offer.

“No, you won’t.” His tone is sharp. “We’ll share.”

Your throat dries, but you nod and take your boots off, then hover near the bed, wringing your hands.

He goes to the chest at the foot of the bed and pulls out a red tunic and black pants. “Here,” he calls, tossing the tunic at you. “You can change in the bathroom. You’re not getting my bed wet with those clothes.

You nod mutely and walk to the bathroom, locking the door behind you before you begin to remove your clothes. Eris’s tunic comes down to your knees, nearly the length of your usual night gown, modest enough that you don’t feel too exposed. When you emerge, Eris has already changed into the pants and…is wearing nothing else.

You gulp, your eyes roaming over his freckled and scarred abs before snapping your eyes back up. “I—uh—I just left my clothes hanging on the tub, if that’s okay.”

Eris dips his chin. “It’s fine.”

You both crawl into the bed, Eris using his magic to dim the fire without putting it out. The bed is too small for the both of you to keep a reasonable amount of space between an employee and an employer. You try to keep your distance, curling near the edge, but the chill seeps into your bones. You may have changed clothes, but your hair is still dripping. You can’t help the trembling. The only sound in the cabin is your chattering teeth.

“Come here,” Eris murmurs.

You freeze.

“I can warm you,” he says. “And I can’t sleep with that incessant noise.”

You hesitate only a moment before turning.

He’s already watching you.

Carefully, you scoot closer. His arm opens, inviting, and you press against his chest. One of his arms curls around you. You bury your face against him, breathing in cinnamon and wood smoke. The warmth is blissful. But then you feel it. The brush of his fingers against your spine. The way his chest rises, tense. The steady drum of his heartbeat just below your ear.

And something else.

A coil of need tightening low in your belly. You should move. You should ignore it. But you don’t. Instead, your hand slides up his chest, slow and curious. His skin is hot to the touch. His breath catches, and you feel it the moment he notices. The scent of your arousal hits the air, subtle and sweet—but not subtle enough.

Eris growls. It’s low, guttural. His arm tightens around you, and when he speaks, his voice is barely audible. “You smell delicious. Is that for me?”

You swallow hard but don't deny it.

His nose brushes your jaw. “You’ve been tempting me all damn day.”

“I haven’t done anything,” you protest.

“You exist,” he snaps quietly. “You breathe and I want to burn the world for a taste of you.”

His fingers tilt your chin up. His eyes blaze like twin embers. “I can’t pretend anymore,” he says, voice low and sharp. “Can you?”

“No,” you whisper.

His mouth is on yours before the word has fully left your lips. You don’t even try to stop it. His kiss is all heat and hunger, devouring and desperate. His hand tangles in your hair as he presses you down into the mattress, mouth never leaving yours. You arch into him, every inch of your body aching for contact.

You don’t even notice him take his pants off or pull your panties to the side. You only care that his skin is searing against yours, that his hands know exactly how to touch you. When he finally pushes inside you, it’s slow. Deep. Like he’s trying to memorize how you feel around him.

“Fuck,” he groans, forehead pressed to yours. “You feel divine.”

You can barely breathe. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he swears, voice cracked. “I could live inside you.”

His rhythm starts steady, building heat between your hips, your thighs wrapped tight around his waist. You claw at his back, chasing the fire building inside. He thrusts deeper, harder, until you’re gasping, incoherent. He murmurs praises against your throat—beautiful, perfect, mine. Each word sinks deeper than his cock, and it undoes you.

Pleasure shatters through your spine like lightning.

You cry out his name, and he follows with a strangled sound, spilling into you as he holds you through it, shaking with the force of restraint broken.

The storm outside howls.

Inside, there is only your breathing, tangled limbs, the scent of sex and sweat, and something more dangerous blooming in your chest.

Love.

He presses a kiss to your temple, lips softer now. Reverent. “You’ve always been mine,” he whispers.

You turn your face into his neck, warm and full and content.

“I know,” you murmur, tracing your fingers over the flame-marked skin of his back. “I was just waiting for you to realize it.”

Bingo 500 taglist: @nocasdatsgay

[daryltwdixon]

Would you write something for Joel where he is patching reader up after a patrol gone wrong, lecturing her about how she should be more careful and stuff, and eventually they end up kissing?

Joel Miller x Reader drabble

Jackson!Joel, fluff, protective, slightly angry, Tommy cameo, reader is hurt: mentions of blood & first aid notes: Hiii thank you for your patience I know this has been in my inbox for forever 😅 hope you guys don't mind I've been doing blurbs/drabbles for requests lately! the creative juice is on E and keeping them short & sweet lets me have more fun!

Your boot slips on the mess of red beneath you—a smattering of blood you’re trying really hard to forget is your own. Your hand presses against your ribs, your shirt torn and soaked through by the time you stumble through the door of the small shed.

"Sit down," Joel orders, voice rough. It’s not a request. He’s already pressing a hand against your shoulder, forcing you onto a storage bin in the dust covered shelter. The plastic groans under your weight.

"I’m fine," you argue, wincing as the words pull at the wound.

Joel scoffs, shaking his head as he kneels in front of you. He’s still catching his breath, hair damp at the temples, hands stained in blood that’s not his own. His fingers press against your side, peeling back your shirt, his touch gentler than his words.

"You don’t get to say that." His voice is sharp, angry, "Not after what you just pulled."

You don’t answer, don’t argue. He’s right. It had been reckless. You’d put yourself between Tommy and an infected, took the hit so he wouldn’t. There hadn’t been time to think.

Footsteps pound outside, then Tommy’s shadow crosses the doorway. His eyes sweep over you, widening.

“Oh, shit,” he mutters under his breath.

"I’m fine," you hiss again.

Joel exhales hard, muttering something under his breath that you don’t catch, but you know him well enough to know exactly what it is. Something about stubbornness. About stupidity. Probably both.

Tommy steps closer, his gaze flicking between you and Joel, and for once, he’s quiet. He must see it—the way Joel is wound so goddamn tight he might snap.

“You’re losin’ a lot of blood,” Tommy mutters, glancing down at the crimson soaking through your shirt. He shifts his weight, slinging his backpack off his shoulder to dig for something.

“She knows,” Joel bites out before you can say anything, his hands already outstretched to take the first aid kit from his brother. His movements are sharp, precise—borderline aggressive—but his hands are steady. Always steady.

Tommy takes the hint, nodding once before backing toward the door. “I’ll keep watch.”

And then it’s just you and Joel.

The silence isn’t comfortable. It’s thick, suffocating, stretched tight between you like a tripwire waiting to snap.

His fingers press into your ribs, searching for deeper damage, and it takes everything in you not to flinch. Not from the pain (okay maybe a little bit from the pain), but from the way his jaw flexes when he sees the gash beneath the fabric.

“Should’ve let me take the hit,” Tommy had shouted earlier, before Joel had practically shoved him out the door of the building swarming with infected. And maybe you should have. Maybe you shouldn’t have thrown yourself into danger without thinking.

But you did.

Joel pulls a bottle of antiseptic from the kit, cracking the cap off with more force than necessary. He’s quiet, but you can feel his anger buzzing beneath the surface, pulsing like a live wire.

“This is gonna sting,” he warns.

You barely have time to brace before the liquid meets your skin, sending a sharp burn through your ribs. You hiss, gritting your teeth, but Joel doesn’t look up. He’s watching his hands, jaw locked so tight it might crack.

“You got a death wish?” He asks quietly, almost under his breath.

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“You heard me.” His hands are still on you, pressing gauze to the wound, but his gaze finally lifts, dark and unreadable. “’Cause that’s sure as hell what it looked like out there.”

Your lips part, but he’s not done.

“I don’t need you throwin’ yourself in front of shit for Tommy, for anyone.” His voice is rough, worn thin. “Damn sure don’t need you gettin’ yourself killed for it.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” you admit. “It just… happened.”

Joel shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “That ain’t good enough.”

You should be frustrated. Maybe you are. But there’s something else underneath it—something thick in your throat as you stare at him. Because this isn’t just anger. This isn’t just him lecturing you for being reckless.

This is fear.

Joel’s hands curl against your side, the bandages warm against your skin, and for a second, you swear you feel him tremble.

Your breath stutters, "Joel—"

“No.” His voice is raw. “I can’t—” He exhales hard through his nose, shaking his head, gaze darting away like he’s already said too much. His hands work at the bandage, tying it off to keep the gauze in place. His fingers are rough, purposeful, but there’s something frantic in the way he moves—like if he just keeps working, keeps his hands busy, he won’t have to deal with whatever the hell is breaking open inside of him.

Your heart feels like it tightens in your chest. You want to tell him that you’re fine, but it’s a lie and you both know it. You want to tell him that it won’t happen again, but that’s a lie too.

So instead, you reach out.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, just enough to keep him there, just enough to stop him from pulling away.

He goes still.

Not just his hands—his whole body. His breath catches, his muscles tight beneath your touch. For a second, he just stares at where your fingers wrap around his wrist, like he’s trying to decide whether to pull away or hold on.

And then his shoulders drop, his body slumping forward just slightly. Like he’s exhausted. Like he’s done.

It’s not just anger, not just fear—it’s the man who has spent years keeping people at arm’s length because he knows exactly what happens when he lets them in. The man who tells himself, every single day, not to let this happen. Not to let himself care. Not to let himself love.

But then, for the first time in all the years you’ve known Joel Miller, he finally breaks.

The space between you disappears.

He moves fast, faster than you can process, his hands gently finding your jaw, like he’s trying to ground himself in the feeling of you, in the fact that you’re still here.

“I can’t lose you.” His voice is low, almost too quiet, like the words barely make it past his throat. But they hit you like a hammer, cracking through the wall he’s kept between you for so long.

Then, his lips crash into yours.

It’s not soft, not careful. It’s desperate, raw, laced with something you can’t name. Like he’s spent every moment holding himself back and has finally stopped fighting.

A sound escapes you, something caught between surprise and relief, but you don’t hesitate. Your hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until there’s nothing left between you but heat and the sharp edge of his breath.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes find yours, his breathing uneven.

“You gotta stop scarin’ me like that,” he murmurs, voice rough against your lips.

You manage a weak, breathless smile.

“No promises.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head, before kissing you again.

[rafeovermorals]

CELIBACY - RAFE CAMERON

it’s been too long, celibacy what do you want? tell it to me dropped to my knees let me break your streak, i’m begging you, please

content: inspired on the song celibacy by partynextdoor and drake. includes smut, oral (m receiving), fingering, p in v, cream pie, rafe kinda creeps on reader a bit, MINORS DNI!!!!

word count: 3.1k

a/n: this is my first time writing a fic let alone my first time posting on tumblr, please bare with me! still trying to figure out a good layout and there may be misspellings so i’m sorry. feedback is greatly appreciated!! and i’m opening my inbox to requests or questions to talk about rafe/drew/etc.

“you haven’t been fucked in how long?” sarah asked you a bit too loud, her eyes wide in shock at your confession.

you had just told her that you were going on over a year celibate. four hundred and thirty two days.. that’s if you were counting, of course.

it initially started when you and your boyfriend broke up. a drunken fight over jealousy resulted in three years down the drain. you were in no rush to find another sexual partner anytime soon because he was your first for everything. first kiss, first touch, first love. it took you a few months to go through the stages of grief but you got over him eventually, except your standards were different now. through your healing, you realized that you settled for a lot of things that you shouldn’t have.

one of those things being his performance during sex, or lack there of. it was mediocre to say the least, all about him, him, him. you tried to excuse it with the fact that you were his first too, and maybe he just didn’t know any better. but as time went on, nothing changed. he didn’t listen to your wants or needs, and certainly couldn’t fulfill your deepest desires. you were convinced that no one ever would, so you stayed celibate.

you hadn’t even kissed someone since him. you weren’t sure if you still remembered what it felt like.

“sarah!” you exclaimed in embarrassment, giving her a light smack on the arm to hush her. “talk quieter, i don’t need ward hearing anything about my sex life.” you scrunched up your nose at the thought.

“the man is ancient, he can’t hear shit.“ sarah replied nonchalantly. she looked over at her bedroom door to check that it was closed before turning back to face you. “we need to get you laid.”

you shook your head. it’s not like you hadn’t considered it, especially recently. you thought about that more than you’d like to admit, really. most nights ended with your hand between your thighs, attempting to get yourself off. you were always left unsatisfied, it was like an itch in a place you couldn’t quite reach to scratch on your own.

you had been on a few dates, but nothing ever clicked. kildare island was a small town so everyone knew each other. it was difficult, to say the least, to find someone without association to your ex. “i don’t know.. i mean, where would i even start? tinder?”

“hell no. that’s a breeding ground for creeps and losers.” she immediately dismissed. she grabbed her phone from beside her, pulling up a text thread from her boyfriend and flipping it around to show you. “there’s a party at topper’s later, you should come. maybe you’ll find someone there.”

you wanted to say no, but sarah was persistent. you knew she wouldn’t let this down anytime soon, so you agreed to appease her mind. “okay.. i’ll go.”

what you didn’t know is that the walls of tannyhill were thin, and someone was listening in on everything.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

coming here was a bad idea.

it didn’t take long for sarah to walk off to go find topper, leaving you on your own. you slipped through the crowd, finding yourself a drink but no luck with finding anyone worth your time. you quickly felt overstimulated, deciding to wander to the back of the house to find a place away from the crowd. you sat down on a couch, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly to pass the time.

sarah had driven the both of you there, which was definitely a mistake on your part since you knew she would stay the night with topper anyway. she probably thought this would leave you no choice but to go home with someone. you’d have to talk to her about that later.

you were fixing to send her a message that you going to walk home, calling it an early night, until a voice spoke in front of you.

“hey, sugar.”

your eyes left your phone screen, peering up to meet rafe towering over you. he was so close that you had to crane your neck to fully see him. you had always thought he was good looking, too attractive for his own good. he had on a tight-fitted, salmon colored polo paired with his go to khaki shorts, his hair swooped and parted to the side with gel. his arms were folded across his chest, biceps flexing with a sly smile tugging on his lips as he looked down at you. “can i join you?”

you felt your shoulders drop in relief, thankful that it was him and not one of the other frat boys there. you and rafe weren’t close by any means, sarah made sure of that. any time he would try to talk to you while she was around, she would shut it down immediately. not that he really cared or listened to what anyone told him. he wasn’t going to let that stop him, which is why he needed to find a way to get you alone, and this opportunity had you falling right into his lap.

“rafe, hi. i was just about to leave.. actually.”

he had been watching you carefully since the moment you walked in. rafe was a calculated man like that, purposefully standing in the corner of the kitchen to keep track of you throughout the night. he saw a kid— who was way too confident— make his advances on you by offering a drink, but you declined and poured your own instead.

‘smart girl.’ rafe muttered to himself, taking a sip of his beer as you turned him down. you strutted off shortly after that, which he soon followed.

his face twisted in confusion. “so soon? you haven’t even been here an hour.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, unsure of what to say. it’s not like you could tell him why you were there in the first place. you already felt ridiculous for even considering this idea.

“just.. not really in the mood tonight.” you answered hesitantly. it wasn’t necessarily a lie, but something about rafe made you nervous. he was older than you by a few years, and you could feel it through his presence. the way he asserted himself, it made you feel small. submissive.

he nodded, his eyes taking you in as you sat there. you were wearing a little black top and a denim skirt so short that it should be illegal. you tugged down on it a bit in reaction to his gaze, the fabric not budging as it clung to your thick thighs. he noticed the apples of your cheeks turning pink at his stare.

rafe couldn’t help but smirk. you were so cute, so sweet. he liked seeing you like this— without sarah. how such a good girl like you could be so close with her was beyond him. what kind of friend was she to bring you here to get fucked by some stranger?

but he wouldn’t let that happen.

“i’ll take you to the house then. i can’t let you walk back this late.”

“no no, i’ll be fine. i-“

“that wasn’t a question.”

he reached out his hand, gesturing for you to grab it before you could protest any further. it would just be a quick ride back to tannyhill, right?

you exhaled, putting your smaller hand into his and letting him pull you off the couch. his fingers intertwined with yours as led you through the crowd, people’s eyes following as the both of you passed by. it was hard not to get attention being next to rafe cameron— girls wishing they were you and boys wishing they were him. you dropped your head hoping that no one would notice. that was doubtful.

the tension during the drive was thick. you felt his eyes on you more than the road, which had you squirming in the leather passenger seat. his car smelled like him— a mix of weed and cedarwood cologne filling your senses. you almost felt lightheaded with how nervous you were and he hadn’t even done anything.

on the other hand, rafe was loving every second of it. he had been dreaming of this moment before you were even single. his sisters pretty little best friend, always around but just barely out of his reach, was currently in the palm of his hand.

partynextdoor was playing on the radio, you could hear him humming along as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. you heard your phone ding with a text notification— from sarah.

sarah: hey i’m downstairs did you leave?

you: yeah, sorry i couldn’t find you

sarah: with who??

sarah: please don’t say brian

sarah: tell me if he’s hot at least

sarah: is his dick big?

“everything okay?” rafe broke the silence, gesturing to your leg that started to bounce.

“it’s sarah, wantin’ to know who i’m with..” you replied, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard to type out a response to her.

he placed his hand on your knee, his grip gentle but firm enough to stop your moments. “just ignore her.” he said it like a suggestion, but his underlying tone told you that it wasn’t. you couldn’t help but listen to him, powering off your phone all together.

he kept his hand there, rubbing small circles with his thumb before he decided to test you, slowly going up your thigh. the warmth from his hand went straight to your core, your legs subconsciously parting just slightly at his touch.

“rafe..” you attempted to hide the shakiness in your voice. he was still driving, his eyes set forward. it took everything in him not to stop and take care of you right there— parking his car off the dirt road and bending you over in the backseat— but he held himself back. not only out of respect for you, but he wanted to do it the right way. he had been waiting to have you for years, he could handle a few more minutes.

“when’s the last time you’ve been touched like this, sweetheart?”

his fingers were now lingering between your thighs, slipping past that excuse of a skirt and brushing over your white panties. “and tell me the truth, or i stop.” he coaxed, his middle fingers pressed through the fabric, it becoming wet with your arousal. you whimpered at his touch, ashamed that you were reacting so easily to him. it was as if he already knew your body— knowing exactly where and how to you touch without even looking.

“i- i don’t know.” you breathed out. your head was fuzzy with desire, a feeling foreign to you.

“i think you do.” he thumbed your clothed clit, your head falling back against the seat in response. “i heard you and sarah talking earlier. could’ve came to me instead, y’know.” he continued to rub over your heat, just enough to tease you to the point it was nearly unbearable.

rafe sped up the rest of the way home, his patience running thin with his cock straining in his shorts. you were even more impatient, bucking your hips into his hand to feel some relief. you were beginning to make a mess on the seat and his fingers weren’t even inside of you yet.

before you knew it you were being thrown onto rafe’s bed, your legs hanging off the edge as he stood in between them.

“such a needy lil’ thing, hm?” he ditched your soaked panties on the floor, running his calloused fingertips over your slit to lather them with your slick. he parted your lips— so pretty and pink and glistening just for him. you were perfect.

he circled at your clit, applying pressure to the sensitive bud. you were pulsating beneath him as he started to rub faster, your thighs trembling. he pressed his middle finger at your entry, sinking himself in down to the knuckle.

rafe warmed up your cunt a bit longer before adding a second digit, pumping both in and out of you with determination— your soft moans spilling out like music to his ears. “god, baby, you’re drippin’ everywhere..” you whined at his words, which only made him keep going.

he curled his fingers, your gushy walls engulfing him as he hit that special spot inside of you. you could feel everything— the metal of his rings hitting against your cunt, the heat of his breath on your neck as he nibbled at it, the coil in your belly tightening.

“rafe.. i- i feel like-“

“i know baby, it’s okay. i got you.” he mumbled into your ear before he brought your lips to his, kissing you like it’s all he could do to breathe. you tasted so pure, like a ripe summer peach on his tongue— and he just wanted to swallow you whole. he continued to suck on your bottom lip until it was swollen, only pulling away to watch you.

and the look he was giving you— hungry with desire— was it took before you snapped, cumming for what felt like the first time. he held your hips in place with his other hand, holding you down to ride out your high.

you were gasping for air at this point, your bottom mascara smudged from the tears that prickled from your eyes. rafe looked wrecked as well, face pink and his once perfectly laid hair now disheveled. you didn’t know why until you sat up and saw it, the outline of his cock prominent in his shorts. your breath hitched, your doe eyes widening at the sight.

he grabbed your hand and brought it over his length, guiding you to rub it back and forth. even through the clothes you could tell he was bigger than your ex, surely. the thought alone had you pulsating.

“don’t by shy, sweetheart.”

you unbuttoned his shorts, pulling them down with his boxers to free his erect member. it hit his stomach, the tip red and leaking pre cum from being pent up for so long. he was girthy, thicker than his two fingers that you could hardly take a few minutes ago.

still, you pursued. you reached down to your sopping cunt, cupping it to lubricate your hand and bringing it to his cock. he let out a groan as you stroked him, jerking your wrist in smooth motions.

rafe was in heaven. you seemed so shy and innocent at first, he felt almost wrong for corrupting you like this— that was until you took it upon yourself to lick up the vein of his shaft, taking him into your mouth. you began to swirl your tongue, flicking it at his head to collect the dribbled cum. you went further, one hand at his base until you felt him hit the back of your throat. he rutted his hips, grabbing a fistful of your hair in a halt. if you kept going like this he wasn’t going to last.

“need to be inside you.” his voice was filled with desperation. he was panting at this point, a string of saliva following when he pulled you away. “please.”

you couldn’t finishing nodding your head before he went straight to work, pushing you flat to the bed with his weight on top of you. he ripped off your shirt, unclasping your lace bra in one smooth motion. rafe loved the feminine physique, and he was absolutely infatuated with yours. your tits were perky, full cups that sat sculpted on you just like a roman statue. your tummy was plush with a shimmery belly ring, the curves of your waist and hips drawing him in.

he brought his mouth to your breasts, lapping his tongue over one nipple as he fondled with the other. he was so eager— sucking and twisting at them like he was trying to feed. you were mewling, twisting under him at the sensation.

he slid his cock over your puffy folds. “saving this pussy for me, weren’t you?”

he slipped in raw, slowly filling you up inch by inch. he tried to go easy on you, but fuck, the way you were clenching around him it was like you were begging for more.

you were so stretched out, so full, and he still hadn’t put himself all the way in. he was thrusting into you at agonizing pace, not allowing you to adjust to his large size. you tried to scoot away, the pleasure being too much to bear, but he held you in place at the waist. he watched you engulf his dick in satisfaction— a creamy ring forming at the base.

“so fuckin’ tight— shit.” rafe moaned, squeezing his grip on the flesh of your stomach which would surly have bruises by morning. he finally bottomed out, hitting your core with a smooth trust. he was splitting you open with no mercy as his room echoed with the sound of skin slapping skin.

“suckin’ me in so well, feel like a virgin. you sure you been fucked before?”

“not like this.” you barely choked out, turning your head into the sheets as he quickened his speed. your face was flushed— chin still covered in spit and brows furrowed together.

“mhmm, but this is what you wanted, isn’t it baby?” his voice was raspy, almost mocking. he was molding himself inside you, like you were made just for him— filling you perfectly as your walls took his shape. his tip skimmed your g-spot, making you cry.

he arched your hips off the bed, moving his palms down to the fat of your ass— kneading it as your pussy started to flutter around him. he could tell you were close, your bodies chest to chest as he pounded into you.

you let go, jolts running through you as you came around his length with the second orgasm coursing through you. you had your legs wrapped around him, milking him dry. he didn’t let up either, continuing to hit into you at a brutal rate.

“gonna nut inside you like you deserve.” his grunted with gritted teeth, burying himself inside of you. his movements stuttered as he reached his peak— cock twitching as he released, his cum spurting in you with thick, hot ropes. he stayed there for a moment, assuring you got every drop before finally pulling out.

he laid down next to you, heavy, ragid breaths leaving the both of you in sync.

“you won’t need to be celibate any more, sugar.”

[tonycries]

Some answers are written in the stars. Others, you must ask to know.

How do you make your text/ titles gradient?

Patorjk’s Text Color Fader!! My life-saver frfr, I just use the steps of the tutorial provided here <3 However, this unfortunately can’t be done on mobile 😔

Where do you find the manga panels for your headers?

I usually find the panels and/ or titles on mangacap account on Twitter (eg. HornetPills, FAKKU, and lewdxvisuals). Most of my headers are from → “Lady K & The Sick Man”, “Infiltration! Agent on the Edge”, and “Hachisuka’s Family Kotoribako.”

How do you make your headers?

On Canva! I did a tutorial for getting that colorful ombré look right here <3

Where do you make your memes/ get those silly reaction pics?

I make all my memes on imgflip, and the unhinged pics - including the infamous werewolf ones - are mainly from Pinterest and stan Twitter. 

What are your writing tips?

Here are the writing tips n' quirks that work most often for me, and here is for if you want something more practical/ to help with writer's block!!

Can I take inspiration from your fic/ did you take inspiration from [X]?

As long as you give credits/ tag me then yess you can take inspo lovely! It's the same thing with me - if I've taken inspiration, the author will be linked in the A/N, if not, the work n' concept is completely my own!!

What fandoms do you write for/ have you written for?

Currently, only JJK - but if you checkout my first masterlist you'll see that I have written for a lil' bit of AOT and Haikyuu.

What is your posting schedule?

9:30PM - 10PM EST on Wednesdays and Sundays for my fics; and you’ll usually catch me answering asks from 1:30PM onwards and 11:30PM onwards the rest of those days. Tiny reminder though that I don’t answer asks on days I post my writing and for 24 hours beforehand (ya girl will be busy typing away something diabolical 😩.)

Why did you miss a posting day?

I try very, very hard not too n’ I miss a posting day very rarely - I promise!! 99% of the time it’s because I’m super sick, though, and I’ll let you babygirls know prior to that. Dw, I almost always bounce back on schedule for the next posting day <3

Are you taking requests at the moment?

Noooope!! Sorry lovelies, but requests are closed. I do take suggestions and thirsts where I’ll just brainstorm or add on to the idea if I really like it, however. Something that looks like this or this.

Where are you from?

Sri Lankan through n’ through rahhh 🇱🇰 Feel free to yap with me in my inbox about it!

What is your gender/ what are your pronouns?

I’m a girlie n’ I go by she/her pronouns yup yup 😌 

So then, why does everyone call you “daddy Tony”?

I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE IT STARTED BUT DADDY TONY IS SIMPLY DADDY TONY 😈 DOESN’T MATTER THE GENDER 😈😈 (+ Tony is just what everyone irl calls me too so.)

If that makes you uncomfortable though, you can always call me simply Tony without the daddy part, or Toe knee, or Toenail, or mommy Toenail- you get the point. My lovely babygirls love to make up a lot of names for me n’ I haven’t heard one that doesn’t make me CACKLE just yet 😭

Why do you call your followers “babygirls”?

Ah, I’m daddy Tony and you all are just my babygirls heheh. It started off as a joke at first because I tend to start most of my announcements with “bonjour babygirls” even irl, but it eventually just grew to me referring to all my gorgeous followers as Tony’s Cult of Babygirls - took a page out of Geto’s book there.

I also tend to sift through a variety of pet names when responding to individual asks/ comments - like sweetheart, lovely, ml, gorgeous. etc. Do let me know straight-up if this makes you uncomfortable, because using those is simply my default.

Why didn’t you respond to the thing I tagged you in?

*SOBS* I’m saur sorry about that, I get tagged in a lot of things so either my notifications were clogged n’ I didn’t get it, or I simply missed it amongst everything. I love responding to things y’all tag me in, though - so send me an ask to double check!!

Did you see my ask or was it eaten up – you haven’t answered yet?

Pinky-promise daddy Tony’s not ignoring you!! If I haven’t responded to an ask, it’s usually one of these reasons: 

I get a LOOOT of asks daily - and while I do try my best to respond to every single one - I might take some time to get to yours. Please, please, please don’t send a follow-up ask about your previous one unless it’s really, really important, or until it’s been two weeks since I haven’t responded. That only adds more to my inbox, and I do answer before it reaches that point.

I might have gotten an ask that was very similar to yours, n’ responded to that one instead of both.

Your ask went against my rules/ it was a request (because my requests are closed, most asks like that end up written down in a doc I have. But they won’t be publicly answered until requests open up/ I just decide to write it.) Again: Thirsts and suggestions are completely okay – just no requests!

Your question was already answered in my FAQ - in that case, yippee I hope you got your answer, lovely <3

Sometimes my asks actually get eaten up by this site, and I apologize for that 😔 Like I said, if it’s been two weeks then please do resend me the ask!!

Who are the anons that you have right now?

🧃, 🐹, 🐁, 🔮, 🪦, 🍙, toji titties anon, ⛸️, scribbler anon, 🌳, ♍, medicine major anon, gojo big cock gagger anon, 🫃, 🗣️🩰, <3 anon, orgy anon, 🐝, marketing major anon, 🫶🏻💕, 🧋, 🐠, 🐛, 🗣️🎬‼️, 😼, 🐇, ✏️, 🪶🧠, 🌸, 👀, 🧝🏽, 🌦️, 🌺, 🍭, 🌙, 🔔❤️⚙️, 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 anon, neuroscience anon, 🎀💄, 🫐, 💋, 🦴, 🦎, 🦩, 🌱, 🫀, 🍓, CJ anon, 🐨, 🦤, 🐚, 💃, 🦇, 🌛, 🪼, 💤, 🍫, ⭐, 😈, spooky sweet tea anon, 🧠, 🧌, 🗣️, 🐄, corpse goon anon, 🦐, tiny anon, 🌟🦈, 💧, 🎱, 🦢, dewdrop anon, 🍵, 🥗, 🥠, :) anon, 🥥, 🐩, 🌝, 🪽🦦, (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) anon, silly anon, jester anon, 🐡, 🎀,  anon H, Marchailina, 👟, horny anon, b. anon, 🍰, 🪢, 🦚, lads anon, lads anon #2, 😻, 💐, 🐢, 🍣, 🃏, ex Nanami-hater anon, ovulating anon, 🐼, 🐜, 🦗, 🚀, vet major anon, 😔, 🐦, void anon, 🦢🐚, gojo convertee anon, therapist gojo anon, 💗, 🧸, 🍄, 🐾🐕, ✨🍀, 🐦‍⬛, lawnmower anon, Nanami’s 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 anon, 🕷️, 🍞, Nanami anon, ☀️🪵, reading sesh anon, 🐸, 🏵️, 🍄😈, 🪨🧍, law student anon, 🦶, 🔖, 🪞, 🍯, 💌, 🎧, 🪐, 🫆, Hoyoverse anon, 🐈, 🐮, 👅🍑, 🪱, 🍍, 🧪, 🥖, 🌊, 🤍, Hua Cheng anon, 🦅, ♠️, 🕷, 🫧, 🧱ed🆙, waitress anon, ❤️🌻, ⏾, 𝐹𝒶𝓃𝒸𝓎 𝓃𝒶𝓃𝒸𝓎 👹, 🪱🔥, 💠, freaky lads anon, 🤠, ❄️ 🐆, ⚜️, 🎏, 🅰️🍄, ♒️, 🎐, 🦦, 🐯, ⭐️, 🐈🐈‍⬛, 🍜, 🔬, ☄, 🫦, 🍸, 🦋, 🍒, (.)(.) anon, brother’s best friend!piner anon, freaky filo anon, 💢, 🦊, 🍃, 🪸, 🩻

Why do you scare me?

I promise I don't bite unless asked to!!

[c0renswet]

Next Time (scott miller x reader) part II - 18+ MDNI

warnings: sexual tension, swearing, scott being scott, not enemies but not friends to lovers, mentions of alcohol/drinking, kissing, eventual smut (soon i promise)

a/n: so sorry it took me so long to get back to this!! i’ve been so busy with personal stuff. just bear with me as i get caught up :)

my inbox is open for requests! rules for requests are on my pinned post :)

part one | part three

The few days after Scott had paid you his midnight visit to your motel room were awkward. More awkward than usual. You didn’t think the tension between the two of you could get any worse, but it did.

Scott seemed to be in a weird mood when he was around you. He’d practically stopped talking to you altogether, unless it was to communicate during a chase. The silences lasted forever and were more uncomfortable than they’d ever been. You hated to admit that you missed his snarky comments.

You tried to ask him what was wrong but you’d always be met with silence. You gave up.

Tonight, though, you hoped things would be different. Javi had invited some of the crew out for drinks, including you and Scott.

Since you were on the road, you didn’t have anything super nice to wear. You did what you could, putting on a simple t-shirt and jeans. This wasn’t your first time going out with the crew, but there was something in the back of the mind that you couldn’t quite figure out.

Your phone dinged and you picked it up, a text from Javi appearing on the screen.

Be ready in 5. I’ll meet you downstairs.

You typed out a response and finished getting ready. You made your way downstairs, butterflies starting to twirl in your stomach.

Javi was waiting, smiling when he saw you.

“Hey, ready to head out?”

You smiled back at him.

“Yeah, where’s the rest of the guys?”

“They’ll meet us there.”

You walked with Javi to his Storm Par truck. You opened the passenger side door and climbed in. It’d been a while since you’d been in here. It was nice to be in a vehicle other than the SUV you shared with Scott. Javi climbed into the driver’s side, starting the truck.

“Have you noticed something up with Scott?”

Javi inquired.

You were surprised, you didn’t think anyone else had noticed Scott’s weird mood.

“Yeah.”

You swallowed.

“What’s going on?”

Javi looked at you.

“Not sure. He’s been like that for a few days.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, you didn’t want to mention that Scott had given you shit after the chase you were wrong about, or the fact that he’d come to your door in the middle of the night.

Javi shrugged but didn’t push the conversation. He pulled into the parking lot of a small bar, parking next to Scott’s SUV. The butterflies in your stomach intensified. You got out of the truck and took a deep breath, trying to gather yourself before going inside.

—

Javi and the rest of the crew had left the table you and Scott were at. They were off somewhere playing pool and darts, typical bar stuff that you weren’t interested in. Scott sat across from you. He hadn’t talked to you much, other than a few acknowledgements.

The alcohol had melted away your nervousness. So you asked him again.

“Hey. What’s wrong with you?”

You broke the uncomfortable silence.

Scott looked at you, those menacing blue eyes fixed into yours. His hair was brushed nicely, dark curls framing his face perfectly. He wore a black t-shirt and jeans. You were drunk but you had to admit that he looked good, really good.

“Scott. I know something is up. Talk to me.”

You pushed him. You were tired of his silence.

His jaw clenched, something in his eyes darkened as he looked at you. He studied you, eyes moving over you like he was looking for something.

“Scott.”

You wanted to beg, plead for a response from him. But you kept your composure.

Scott stood up, you weren’t sure what he was doing until he grabbed your arm, making you stand up.

“What-”

He looked around to make sure none of the others were paying attention before he pulled you with him into a bathroom. Scott slammed the door behind the two of you, making sure it was locked before he turned to face you.

“What the hell, Scott?”

You snapped at him, even though you weren’t exactly sure why you were mad.

“Shut up.”

He grabbed your face. He wasn’t rough with his touch, but it was enough to make you be quiet.

“You wanna know what’s wrong with me? Hm?”

He spit the words out. You looked at him. His eyes were dark, sky blue covered by a dark cloud. His eyes matched the skies that you loved chasing.

“It’s you. You. I went to your room that night wanting you to let me in. I can’t get you out of my head. Since I met you, since Javi put you with me… fuck, you’re intoxicating.”

You opened your mouth to speak but Scott’s lips met yours before you could. He kissed you rough, deep; full of heat and desire. Scott pushed you up against the wall behind you, his body so close to yours you could feel his warmth.

You kissed him back, meeting his desire with your own. You realized what was in the back of your mind for so long, it was him. You longed for him. You snapped out of your thoughts when Scott’s lips met your neck, gently sucking on the areas that made your knees weak. Your skin was flushed and you felt so warm.

“Scott..”

“Shhh.”

Scott mumbled against your skin. His voice was deep, filled with lust. You loved it.

Scott pulled away from you, and suddenly his warmth was gone. You whined instinctively, wanting his touch.

“Not here.”

Scott collected himself, his face flushed and lips swollen from kissing you.

He turned to open the door, but you stopped him.

“Scott, come to my room tonight. I’ll let you in.”

Scott smirked at you, opening the door.

“I’ll take you back to the motel. Javi’s hammered.”

Scott walked out. You waited a few minutes before leaving the bathroom, trying to find Javi. You found him at the bar, laughing with some of the guys from the crew.

“Javi-”

“Heyyyy, y/n! Where’ve you been?”

Javi laughed, his words slurred.

“Scott’s gonna take me back to the motel. Text me if you need me to come get you.”

Javi looked at you, but it was almost as though he didn’t process anything you’d said. He took a moment to respond.

“Right on! Thank him for me.”

Javi smiled and went back to talking with the guys. You shook your head as you walked away. Scott was waiting for you by the door.

“So, you’ll let me in, huh?”

Scott held the door open for you as you walked out.

“Only if you’re nice to me.”

You winked at him, getting in the passenger seat of the familiar SUV.

—

@rossylightwood asked to be tagged <3

[hummingbird24220]

hello! How are you these days?:3 I hope you're doing well! I have a request if u don't mind

I'm feeling angsty rn, so I will probably need some scenarios of op men (you can choose) if they lost (they died) reader to a fight🥹 I'm so sorry if this is too angsty but I need it💔

I hope you understand my needs! haha, your writing is beautiful I can't deny it. if it's too deep or you don't want to do this request, you may skip or delete it. thank you in advance! 💕

Hello. SO sorry it took a while! Been swaaaaamped, got 50 ish requests in my inbox lol. Hope this breaks your heart , but like, in a good bad way.

They Lose You - Various x Reader

Luffy – “I’ll never forgive them. Never.”

He stands in the middle of the wreckage, knuckles clenched, face shadowed by his hat. The silence is deafening. Not even the birds dare to sing. “They were just… with us.” Usopp’s voice cracks. Luffy doesn't answer. The ground beneath him trembles before he screams, his haki exploding like a tidal wave, shaking trees, stones, the sea. He carries your body back himself. Sits at the edge of the ship that night. “They said they’d become Pirate King with me,” he whispers. And in that moment, for the first time in a long time, the crew sees Luffy cry.

Zoro – “I was too slow.”

Zoro’s blade is still dripping, but he doesn’t move. Not even a twitch. The enemy’s body is split behind him, but it’s too late. He kneels beside you, gently laying Wado Ichimonji across your chest. “She liked this one,” he murmurs. He doesn’t let anyone else carry you. He trains every night after that with an intensity that borders on suicidal—until Chopper physically drags him off the field. “She would’ve yelled at me for this,” he mutters. But he never stops watching the horizon. One day, he swears, he’ll meet you on the other side.

Nami – “I’ll draw your map too.”

Your blood is still on her fingers. She screamed when you fell—tore her voice raw. The sea stormed that night with her grief. In the weeks that followed, her charts became messy. Lines where they shouldn’t be. Splotches of water damage. One day, she tears everything up. Starts again. But in the margins of every map, she writes a note: "For Y/N. The journey you didn’t get to finish." She includes a tiny compass rose with your initials at the top. A quiet tribute.

Sanji – “Your plate is still full.”

He made your favorite meal that night, out of habit. Set your spot at the table, even poured your drink. And then just stood there. No one says a word. Sanji doesn’t cry in front of them. But in the pantry, he falls to his knees, fists curled against the cabinet. He lights a cigarette and lets it burn to the filter. Later, he keeps your knife in the kitchen. Never uses it. Just polishes it, like a shrine.

Usopp – “I was supposed to protect you.”

He was the one paired with you that day. He was the one who watched you run ahead, laughing. He was the one who missed the shot.

He tells the crew, “They said to go ahead. I did. I didn’t look back.”

What he doesn’t say is how your body crumpled with a smile still on your face. How you reached for him. How he was too slow. How he keeps seeing it in his dreams.

He stops lying for a while. Not because he can’t—but because he doesn’t have the energy to make up stories anymore. His voice feels too small.

Eventually, he builds something in your memory. A statue, almost. Small and wobbly. It sits near the edge of the Sunny, watching the sea. “Hey,” he whispers to it. “I'm still aiming higher. Just like you told me.”

Brook – “May I play for you one last time?”

Death is not unfamiliar to Brook. But your death… Your death hurts.

You were the only one who treated him like he still had a heartbeat. Who danced with him without flinching. Who made jokes about being a "bonehead" just to see him laugh.

That night, Brook disappears from the ship. They find him at the site of the battle, standing under the stars, violin in hand.

He plays until sunrise. A sorrowful melody that ripples across the ocean like waves of mourning.

Later, he engraves your name on his violin’s side. Every concert he plays, he plays for two. “I hope you are listening from the other side, my dear. Yohoho… don’t worry. I’ll carry your song with me.”

Robin – “You were one of the only people who didn’t look away.”

Robin doesn’t scream. She doesn’t cry. She just sits still, your lifeless body cradled in her arms, as if you were sleeping. She doesn’t say goodbye. Not then. Not in front of anyone.

Later, she vanishes into the library.

She stays there for three days.

When she comes out, her eyes are shadowed—but her steps are purposeful. She adds a page to her personal journal: a memory, a drawing, a quote of something you once said—“I want to live a life that makes people smile when they remember it.”

Every year on the day you died, Robin visits that page.

And she smiles.

Just a little.

Chopper – “I’m the doctor… why couldn’t I save you?”

He worked on you for hours. Blood soaked his hooves. His tools. The floor. He screamed at the others not to come in. Said he could do it. That he would.

But your heartbeat didn’t come back.

And Chopper didn’t leave the infirmary for two days. When Sanji finally carried him out, he was barely conscious—whispering your name under his breath like a prayer.

He started researching like mad. Every book, every formula, every medical journal. “I’ll find a way to stop it next time,” he said. “I’ll be better. I’ll be stronger.”

He keeps your chart tucked behind his favorite book. And sometimes, when he’s sure no one is looking, he clutches it to his chest and cries.

Franky – “You were the most human part of me.”

Franky shuts down.

Literally.

After the fight, he doesn't cry, doesn't yell. He goes to the workshop and locks the door.

For days, the sound of metal-on-metal echoes through the ship. The crew knocks. He doesn’t answer. Finally, he emerges—red-eyed, silent. Holding something.

It’s a small mechanical device. Shaped like a heart. No real function. No flashy gadgets. Just a quietly humming core.

He places it gently on your bed.

“I couldn’t save you,” he says softly, brushing the sheets. “But I can make sure you’re never forgotten.”

Later, he upgrades the Sunny. Not with weapons. With a room full of your favorite things. A preserved space. A tribute.

When someone new joins the ship, he shows them that room first. “This was Y/N’s,” he says, voice cracking. “She was suuuuuuper.”

Ace – “I should’ve burned the world down for you.”

When he finds you, you’re barely breathing. He’s got your hand in his. There’s fire licking up his arms, wild and uncontrolled.

You smile at him. You apologize.

He begs. “No. Don’t you dare. Don’t you leave me too.”

But the light in your eyes fades.

And the world goes quiet.

Ace doesn’t speak at the funeral. Instead, he lights a torch and walks alone into the woods. They say the fire raged for two whole days. When he comes back, he's bruised, eyes bloodshot, his coat charred and singed. He never says what he did out there.

But the next time someone threatens someone Ace cares about?

He doesn’t hold back.

Because the last time he hesitated, it cost him you.

Law – “I’ve performed miracles. But I couldn’t fix you.”

He used Room six times. Swapped out every damaged organ. Sutured every artery with precision only he had.

But your body kept failing. You’d lost too much. Even he knew it.

And still—he tried again.

“Stay with me,” he begged, soaked in blood. “Don’t be stupid, you can’t leave me now.”

When the beeping stopped, he didn’t move for a long time.

Later, in private, he punched a wall so hard he fractured his hand.

He doesn’t bury you.

He keeps your heart in a cryo chamber. Preserved. Suspended in a glass sphere.

“Not for experiments,” he says, when Bepo asks with trembling paws. “I just… wasn’t ready.”

He visits it every night. And sometimes, when he’s alone, he talks to it.

As if it can still hear him.

[poffim]

old art I never posted here

dw im working on a request rn I got like 50 in my inbox lmfao I’m trying to best to do them all but it’s hard to keep up XD it’s fine to keep sending more dw about that I’ll get to them eventually

[xgsturn]

good idea? - ( c.s )

summary: you couldn’t sleep so you decided to text chris asking if he wanted to smoke, it’s something you both always did and one thing lead to another.

warnings: SMUT, smoking (weed), oral (female receiving), pet names, (ma, baby), p n v (let’s not be silly wrap before u tap). probably more but idk

word count: 1,557

author’s note: this is my first one shot i’m scared LMFAOOO also i didn’t proofread sorry if there is any mistakes!!

please let me know if you want to be un added or added into the taglist. i had just decided to add my favorite writers!!

also my request & inbox are open 💓💓

-

i’ve been trying to fall asleep for the past 20 minutes. i’ve shifted and turned so many times i honestly lost count.

i open my eyes, groaning with annoyance. some nights i had trouble falling asleep, but there was always one solution to that problem.

i grab my phone, opening the messages app before quickly clicking chris’ contact.

this was a thing that happened every now and then. if one of us had troubles going to sleep i’d go over to his or vise versa. we’d smoke together and then usually get tired after that.

i hear a soft knock against my window signaling that he was here. i walked over to see chris sitting on the small balcony that was attached to the window.

i opened the window, climbing through feeling a slight breeze on my shoulders before shrugging it off.

“like i said you could’ve just used the door” i playfully roll my eyes at him.

“suck my dick” he replied back before sitting down on the ground. “when?” i said seriously. he raised his eyebrows and looked up at me.

“in all seriousness, you’re a life saver.” i sigh, sitting down, and relaxing my body.

he pulled out a fresh rolled joint from his sweatpants pocket, “i know” he smirked, putting the joint between his lips.

“lighter” he mumbles against the joint.

i toss him the lighter, watching as he lit it and inhaled before slowly blowing the smoke out.

i’ll never deny the fact that chris is hot, we had a flirty friendship from the beginning but nothing ever got to far.

he passes the joint to me, i relight it due to the wind causing it to ash out.

i inhale, feeling the smoke enter my lungs. i look at him as i blew it out.

the joint eventually dies out. i look over to chris, starting to admire the way the dim street light in front of him is showing off his features. his hair slightly messy, his eyes hanging low and red and fuck his lips-, he interrupts my thoughts.

“did you hear anything i just said?” he asks, his voice snapping me out of some trance i was in.

“sorry, what were you saying?”

“i asked if you wanted to go inside, it’s getting a little cold” he repeats himself, looking at me with his eyebrows furrowed.

“oh yeah, sorry just a bit distracted” i reply back covering my face from embarrassment.

as i’m climbing back into my room i feel chris’ gaze burning through me.

i get into my room and chris follows right behind me.

-

chris and i have been talking for the past 15 minutes. we both got onto our phones scrolling aimlessly, sitting in a comfortable silence.

i still can’t help to think about him, how his touch would feel on me, how his lips would feel against mine, how his long slender fingers would feel inside me.

i zoned out with a video playing over and over.

“what are you thinking about?” chris looked at me curiously through his low hooded eyes.

we were both still feeling the high effects.

what am i thinking about? i’m asking myself the same question. we have been best friends for years. i mean i’ve always found chris attractive, but tonight is different.

the way his body is leaned against the headboard, his biceps slightly flexing as he puts down his phone and crosses his arms, putting his full focus on me.

maybe it’s just the weed still lingering or maybe i just crave his touch.

“nothing.” i reply trying to act nonchalant but clearly not working.

“nothing, hm?” chris smiles loosely, as he looks down at my thighs then back up to my eyes, making heavy eye contact.

i follow his gaze down to my thighs, realizing how tightly squeezed they are.

i widened my eyes and look back up at him, before trying to relax the ache between my legs.

he puts his hand between my legs, spreading them open. he rotates his body, fully facing me now. his lips inches away from mine.

“is this a good idea?” i say studying his face for an answer.

“do you want this?” he replies in a serious tone.

“so bad but-.”

before i’m done speaking, i feel a hand on my jaw, pulling me closer to him and attaching my lips to his.

my body tenses from the sudden move but quickly relaxes soon after.

he bites my bottom lip softly, making my mouth part open giving him access to slip his tongue in.

he climbs on top of me, refusing to break the kiss.

our tongues fought for dominance before letting him win.

i tugged on his hair, signaling i wanted more. he groaned into my mouth, making me squeeze my legs around his waist. i couldn’t ignore the feeling between my thighs anymore.

“tell me what you want.” he spoke, trying to catch his breath. his lips pink and swollen.

i swallowed, “anything.” i feel desperate for him, wanting to feel some kind of relief.

“be more specific baby”

“need your fingers.” i mumbled quietly.

“good girl” he smirked, pulling my shorts down to my ankles. he slowly kisses my thighs going to the areas around my core.

he avoided where i needed him most.

“please.” i say while looking down at him through my lashes.

his hand still on the band of my pink thong. “can i take these off?” he whispered, looking at me. i nodded.

“i need to hear you say it ma”

“fuck, yes please” i practically beg.

he pushed my thong to the side before glazing one fingers over my entrance.

he slipped one fingers inside me slowly, letting me adjust. i moan into my hand muffling it.

he removes my hand from my mouth, putting it beside me. “i want your neighbors hearing how good i make you feel.”

i got even wetter after that sentence.

as i adjusted, i wanted more. “another one.. please” he listens to my commands and adds his second finger.

he started going faster, curling his fingers inside me and hitting that spongy spot each time. “f-fuck, chris.” i moan out, my fingers gripping my sheets.

he adds his mouth into the mix, sucking and licking my clit with such precision that made me start rolling my hips towards him.

my back was arching as he continued with his eyes fixed on my face.

i knew chris was experienced but i wasn’t expecting this.

my knees were already getting weak. “chris…” my hand going to his brown loose curls, tugging them. “i’m close.” i started to squirm underneath him.

“not yet.” he spoke against my cunt, sending vibrations through my entire body.

as soon as he said those words i couldn’t hold it anymore. the knot in my stomach eventually snapped, coating chris’ face and fingers with my cum.

“you can’t follow a simple rule?” his expression was stern and serious, while licking his fingers and mouth clean.

“i’m sorry, i couldn’t hold it” i reply, breathing heavy with worry all over my face.

he doesn’t say anything, instead he starts taking off his sweatpants following with his boxers. his dick springs free, hitting his stomach.

he was big and thick which honestly i wasn’t surprised about.

it was already leaking with pre cum. a vein coming from the tip to the base.

“think you can handle another?”

i move my eyes up to his face, “i- i don’t know if i can.” i stutter out.

“yes you can and you will” he says firmly.

his eyes darkened with lust, turning me on more.

i nod my head obeying him.

“which position do you want me in?”

“lay on your back so i can see your pretty face.” he slightly tilts his head and smirks.

the ache between my legs comes back causing me to clench my thighs again.

he notices and pushes his knee between my legs, leaving it against my bare cunt.

a pornographic moan leaving my mouth, as i try to grind against his knee to feel some kind of relief.

“be patient baby.” he strokes his dick a couple of times to fully harden it.

he removes his knee and bends down to push himself in.

we both moan feeling the pleasure that we were craving.

chris started thrusting his hips into mine at such a fast pace, and at this point i could cum at any minute.

he leans down and starts kissing my neck sloppily as he tries to remain at his pace.

“taking me so well.” he whispers into my ear.

“chris” that’s all i could say, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as my hips lazily jolted up meeting his thrust half way.

“hm? i fucked you dumb huh.” i nod as a response. i couldn’t even think of a sentence to prove him wrong.

he started rubbing on my clit fast. i threw my head back, my mouth hanging open but nothing coming out.

“cum for me ma.” he said maintaining eye contact, that was all i needed before i squirmed underneath him and came all over his dick. “that’s my girl” he whispered.

he groaned and let his head drop as came into me. i felt his warm liquid feel me up.

he dropped his body beside mine, turning to look at me. “holy fucking shit” he chuckled, catching his breath.

“so friends with benefits?” i suggest while also catching my breath. “fuck yes” he replies almost immediately, making me laugh beside him.

“here let’s go get you clean up” he says while getting up from the bed.

-

tag list!!

@lovingmattysposts @luv4kozume @worldlxvlys @strawberrysturniolo @luvmila444 @m4ttslvr @sturniol0s @fawnchives @hysteria-things

[livelaughlovesubs]

Hi hii for the prompt event can i request dressing childe/tartaglia in degrading outfit? 🙏🙏 take ur time and thankss ^^

Hiiii it’s been so long since I last saw Childes name in my inbox, hope this is to your liking :>

Dom!reader x sub!childe

Warning: feminisation, teasing, cross-dressing

Anniversary event

“Is.. this really my size?” His awkward laugh echoed from the changing rooms, alongside the flicker of the shoji screen. You reassured him by yelling back, “I’m sure of it, it’s supposed to be a little tight. Are you done? Then come out.” One look and anyone could tell you were getting impatient, tapping your finger on your knee, gaze wandering around the establishment to look for anything interesting.

Despite your clear orders, he still hesitated, this time his hand emerged from behind the rood divider. “Are we alone?” The ginger asked, still mysteriously hiding himself, an act that was very uncharacteristic for him. “Yes, we are still alone, just like ten minutes ago.” You groaned, rolling your eyes at his behaviour. “Haha… right.” Tartaglia answered meekly, running out of excuses to use. The atmosphere was so dry, and so uncomfortable.

This time he really shot himself in the knees. He challenged you to a bet, and instead of you meticulously analysing your chances, you immediately agreed. That should have been enough of a sign, you’d never take on a gamble so quickly except it isn’t one. As things have been planned from the beginning, he lost, and had to obey to whatever conditions you set for him. Great, absolutely fantastic.

But why did your request have to hurt his pride like that? He could barely stand straight without shaking with his knees, and now you want him to expose himself to you? Bloody hell, you were so cruel he could feel himself falling for you all over again.

“Ajax, you really are testing my patience. If you don’t come out now, I’ll-” suddenly he moved the paper wall to the side and walked over to you, sighing defeated, “alright alright, I’m here okay?” Your expression changed for a split second, something like shock grazed your features, before you composed yourself again. He tried to stand normal and unbothered while your eyes scanned over his body, tracing every outline and shadow, devouring every inch of his body.

He felt like a prey being toyed with by the predator, you were making him squirm with that intense stare. That’s why you avoided eye contact, jumped from one foot to the other, and kept doing god-knows-what with his hands. At some point you were fed up and said, “hold still, are you a dancing monkey or what?” Childe could only response with another forced laugh.

As for why you were eyeing him up and down so much, well, simply put, he was wearing woman’s clothing. A qipao in a pretty dark red colour, the shade kind of reminded you of blood. Since the dress was cut to fit the build of a woman, it looked clumsy around his fairly muscular body. And even though it looked out of place, you still thought it was quite attractive. Unlike his usual fashion, the dress showed off his curves and exposed his bare legs, what seems to add to his embarrassment.

“Looks good.” You gave him a short, almost forced compliment. It wasn’t a lie, just you had way more to say than a simple ‘looks good’. “Wow, thanks I guess.” Tartaglia groaned, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Seeing what little effect your praise had, you decided to try again, “I mean it, you look good as a girl, as my woman.” Out of nowhere his body twitched and tensed up, he didn’t answer you verbally but with his body language. If he had a tail, it’d be wagging like crazy.

“Are you done gawking?” The male eventually asked, his face and shoulders got painted bright pink. His eyes told you the truth, that he was humiliated, ashamed and yet also excited. “What’s with the rush, can’t wait to show your new look off to the other people?” You teased, and your words immediately got his attention, making his brain ratter, “what do you mean by that?” A smirk plastered your lips, you chuckled amused as you explained, “we are going to have a nice little date night today, and you aren’t going to change until I’m done with you.”

The way the colours left his face, letting him become as pale of a ghost was pretty amazing. He was trying so hard to accept his current situation, his legs were shaking again. “Come on, I already paid for the dress. So let’s put it to good use.” You encouraged him, holding his normal wear in your arms, now he couldn’t even run anymore. It seems there was no way around the straight up shameful act he was going to commit, and as if to add salt to the wound, he felt himself getting hard beneath the skin tight dress~ ♥︎

You walked ahead of him, motioning for him to follow you. All he could do was obey your commands with a sheepish smile, quickly rushing to your side while letting you show him off like your own little pet.