#I will also be trying to finally respond to asks and fic comments in the coming days

[witchslove]

👏SO

I keep thinking thots about MILF!Wanda

Thot 1 is about recently-divorced!Wanda wanting to be more sexually adventurous and hitting on her next door neighbor’s kid, Reader (who’s home from college and incredibly dense) but they don’t pick up on her hints so she just keeps getting more and more out there until she basically just screams fuck me

Thot 2 is about powerbottom!Wanda being a size queen and OBSESSED with Bad Dragon toys, and I mean like the H U G E ones.

Anyway love your shit mwah 😘

I am always thinking about milf!Wanda tbh...

I'm obsessed with the first thought, I actually want to write a fic about it. Wanda would be so flirty with you, constantly giving you compliments and teasing you.

She wears jeans that hug her ass just the right way, short dresses that show off her cleavage, and she invites you over for pool days just so she can see your reaction to her in a bikini.

It's obvious that you want her, and she tries to make it obvious that she wants you too, but you never seem to pick up on it. She loves to make you flustered, calling you a good girl when you help her with things and teasing you when she catches you staring. She also tries to coax it out of you, commenting on how alone she is on a Saturday night, hoping you'll invite yourself over, or apologizing for looking like a mess early in the morning, just so you'll tell her she looks beautiful.

Wanda tries to seduce you without actually coming out and saying she wants you, but you're still so oblivious, assuming that the teasing touches and flirty comments she makes are just part of her personality. When she finally does make a move, you're so taken aback by it that it actually makes her laugh.

It starts with a conversation about her divorce, which leads to you reassuring her that anyone would be lucky to be with her. "Anyone?" she asks and you nod. "Someone like you maybe?"

"Um, sure," you respond nervously. "I mean it, Wanda, anyone. You're an amazing woman and if your ex-husband couldn't see that, then he's an idiot." She almost chuckles at how you're still not getting it, biting her lip as she realizes she's going to have to make the first move.

"No," she says, causing you to furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "Not just anyone... you."

While you try to figure out what she means, Wanda leans in and captures your lips with her own, making you gasp. You can't help but kiss her back, despite the state of shock that you're in. Kissing her feels like heaven and you've wanted to do it for far too long. Before you can get lost in it, she pulls away, opening her eyes to look at your shocked expression. The look on your face makes her huff out a soft laugh, her warm breath hitting your face with how close you still are.

"I want you," Wanda says, her voice practically a whisper. "Do you want me too?" She already knows the answer, but she wants to hear you say it.

"Yes," you manage, feeling nervous and excited under her gaze. Her pupils are dilated and focused only on you, and it makes you feel hot all over.

Wanda smiles, satisfied with your response, before leaning in to kiss you again. This time, she deepens the kiss, the two of you battling for dominance as your mouths move in tandem. She wins, pushing you back on the couch to crawl onto your lap, pinning you down beneath her as her tongue moves against yours.

After some time, she practically begs you to fuck her. She leads you to her bedroom and you make her cum over and over, her name falling from your lips along with loud moans and breathy praises.

Thank you so much, I’m happy that you enjoy my work! I appreciate you! ❤️

[dittomander]

anyway I won't apologize for how I run my own blog but I do feel like I should maybe give a "brace for impact" warning of some kind bc I've finally decided to start chewing thru my 600+ drafts that have built up over the last half year and so there will be a couple weeks of regular post spams from me before that's resolved

[lolab4t]

safe together - fluff, angst

pairing: bob reynolds x thunderbolt!gn!reader summary: you’re benched with a broken ankle, stuck in the tower while the rest of the team is out on a mission. the only one left behind with you is bob. what starts as awkward company and bob acting like your nurse slowly turns into something deeper, safe, and comforting. word count: 5.8k warning(s): light thunderbolts* spoilers, angst, fluff, brief nightmare , implied trauma, mentions of the void and past trauma related to him, injury (broken ankle), mutual pining, emotional vulnerability, awkwardness, reader likes to read (lol) a/n: finally wrote for my sweet boy! yelena fic is prob coming next... i really hope you enjoy :) and if you do, please feel free to like, comment, or reblog! <3 also, requests are open!

chihiro - billie eilish

you hated it. sitting on the sofa, wrapped up in a blanket, leg propped up on a pillow. you felt guilty for feeling so comfy. you felt lazy. like you were wasting time.

you had broken your ankle, and found yourself in a boot, unable to walk. so of course, you were forced to sit out of a mission.

bob, who was used to staying back, was clearly excited to have some company for once. he didn't admit to it, but it was obvious. the tower always felt so cold and lonely to him when the team was gone. he always tried to distract himself with books and chores, but none of it compared to having you there with him.

now, he seemed to be glued to your side, staying near you on the couch. still shy, still quiet, still careful not to hover too obviously. he didn’t say much, only asked how your pain was doing or what you needed. every now and then he'd glance over at you, like he was checking to make sure you were still okay. he was acting a little like your nurse. it was sweet.

"do you, uh… need some water or anything?" he looked at you for only a second, before directing his gaze back to the tv. his voice was quiet and hesitant.

you looked up for your book and smiled. "no, i'm fine. thank you though, bobby."

bobby.

he originally hated the nickname when walker called him that. but when you started using it… he grew to love it. maybe he just didn't like walker.

he didn’t respond, and just gave a tiny nod, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile.

you adjusted your blanket again and looked back down at the book in your lap. it was your favorite, one you'd read a million times. but this time, you found yourself rereading the same lines over in your head… your thoughts kept wandering. to your ankle. to the mission the others were on. and to him. quiet, careful, sweet bob, sitting beside you like your own personal shadow.

he watched you like you were something fragile. something important. it made you feel… safe. which was ironic, considering the darkness that everyone knew was hidden inside him.

the void.

he sat there, still as ever, arms folded loosely in his lap. he glanced over at the book that seemed to be stealing all of your attention.

his voice was quiet again, cracking a little at the end. “what book, uhm— what book are you reading?”

you looked up and closed it gently, turning it to show him the cover. “it’s my favorite.”

he blinked, leaning in a little. “really?”

you nodded, watching the way he scanned the cover. he seemed interested in it. he was interested in it because you liked it.

"do you wanna borrow it?" you asked, not sure if he would want to.

his eyes lifted from the cover to your face, surprised.

"are you sure? i don't want to take it if you're reading it…" he rubbed the back of his neck shyly.

"i've read it a dozen times. take it. i think you'd like it." you smiled as he finally accepted it, holding it in his lap like it was something precious.

you don’t remember much after that. you must’ve dozed off, giving into the sense of comfort and safety you were feeling.

what you do remember is the nightmare you had. it was painful, full of the memories and wounds that had been reopened when you went into the void about a year before.

when you blinked awake, you were sitting up, sweating and panicked. the room was dimmer now. it had likely only been a few hours.

and bob was still there. he was already leaning forward, not crowding you, just close enough that you could see the worry in his face.

"you okay?" he asked gently, scanning your face for any answers.

you swallowed hard, finally catching your breath. you wanted to say yes. you wanted to pretend it was nothing.

“nightmare?” he asked before you could speak, "i get those too."

you nodded slowly. “yeah. probably the painkillers.” you let out a half-hearted chuckle.

he hesitated for a second, then reached out, lightly brushing your hand where it lay on your lap.

“can i…?”

you didn’t know what exactly he was offering but you nodded anyway. he carefully took your hand in both of his. his palms were warm. steady.

"sometimes just knowing you're not alone can help." he smiled softly.

for a moment, comfortable silence stretched between you. then he gave a small, awkward laugh, pulling away slightly.

“sorry. i’m... probably making this worse, huh?”

you shook your head, managing a tired smile. “no, it’s… nice. thanks, bobby.”

he looked down at your hands, squeezing gently. “nightmares suck.”

“yeah,” you whispered, “but having you here is making it a little less… bad.” you giggled quietly.

he glanced up, eyes soft. “i’m glad i could help.”

you took a deep breath, letting the tension ease out of your shoulders. your eye caught sight of the book, sitting behind him on the couch.

“so,” you gestured to it, trying to lighten the mood, “have you started reading it?"

he looked surprised, then grinned sheepishly, letting go of your hands to grab it. “i, uh, already finished it." he held it out to you.

you blinked in shock, taking it, "finished it?" you opened the book, flipping through the pages.

bob had left pieces of post-its on almost every page, full of handwritten notes. you stared at them in a stunned silence for a second, then let out a soft laugh. “you annotated it?” you asked, shocked... but touched.

he looked flustered, cheeks turning just a little pink. “i—yeah. sorry, i should’ve asked first. i just… i kept thinking about how you loved it so much, and i wanted to understand why… i wanted to remember what stood out. i’ll take them out if—”

“no,” you interrupted, clutching the book a little closer. “don’t. i think i love it even more now.”

he blinked, clearly surprised by your reaction. then smiled, just barely.

for the first time in a while, you both felt comfortable and safe. with each other.

thanks so much for reading <3 as always, requests are open

[k-hotchoisan]

missing piece

<seonghwa x fem!Reader>

Building legos is important business and Seonghwa knows that very well when he realises he’s missing a piece.

So who would’ve thought two people attempting to search for one Lego piece would lead to other things?

genres/warnings: smut, pwp, softdom!seonghwa, missing Lego piece (don’t worry it’ll get found later), dirty talk, it’s legit teeth rotting fluff and smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, established relationship, mild choking, clit stimulation

a/n: another fic exchange with @bro-atz 😎👊🏻 it’s a competition of who can kill each other faster and we both LOSING. love u bro <3 and also finally serving you all the softdom! Seonghwa you all deserve 😛 enjoy my loves 🩷

read bro’s one here 💘

wc: 1.9K

‘A couple activity idea’—apparently the amount of countless generic couple websites would list this idea. 

Yeah, this would qualify for a couple activity idea casually, not when it seemed like a big business deal when it came to Park Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa had the ambiance set, his station ready—the Animal Crossing Soundtrack Playlist with Rain playing through the speakers, his desk clean and white—only stacked with the Animal Crossing Lego sets prepared to to be unboxed, in his favourite oversized shirt, and not forgetting you, who he dragged into his room to watch him build his little building block empire—comfortably seated across him on his bed. 

You didn’t mind watching your partner build the latest Animal Crossing Lego set he just easily blew a couple of hundred on hours before. You watched his inner child take form when he made you sit down with him to watch him unbox the first set he was gonna build, his eyes large and twinkling, just like his Animal Crossing character in-game.

Seonghwa hums softly, and it’s definitely his favourite soundtrack from the game. From time to time, Seonghwa would make the little critter noises his animal villagers would make while he fixes the animal villagers and you can’t help but giggle whenever he does the impressions. He’s finished a cherry tree, making sure he flailed his wrists to get your attention. Your lips pull to a smile when your eyes land on the pretty cherry tree he built, reflecting his satisfaction with his plump lips too. 

Then he’s back to his workstation, and you’re absorbed back into playing your switch. 

“This set is pretty easy”, you hear him comment. 

“Is it?” You reply, your attention focused on trying to slay the beast. 

“Yeah. I think I could finish this in another half an hour.” He sounds confident. 

“Good luck with that sweetheart”, you respond, your eyes trailing back to your game. 

Then midway through, Seonghwa demands your attention again, and this time you watch the way his eyes light up the whole damn room when he shows you the way the little Lego letter fits into its little Lego mailbox. Not gonna lie, it was a very adorable detail. He yaps about it for a good seven minutes before he sinks back into his building block world. 

“Now here’s the million dollar question—pink or brown for the door?” He asks, loosely fitting both coloured doors after one another 

“Pink, obviously”, you pick. Seonghwa seems satisfied with your answer, and you swear you see the little musical notes float out of him when he fixes the door onto the house. 

A couple more minutes later, you glance over at the messy pieces of Lego strewn all over Seonghwa’s table, below his half-completed Animal Crossing cottage. 

He has his cheeks puffed out, and his eyebrows knitted together while he’s carefully scanning over the table. 

“Are you missing a piece?” You ask, setting your console on the bed. 

“Yeah, I think I am”, Seonghwa mutters, his index finger pointing over each piece on the table, in hopes of finding it. 

You take the instruction booklet from his hands, skimming through the pictures before you settle it down onto the desk, your eyes laser-focused onto the mess too. 

“Do you wanna come over to my side instead? Maybe you can spot it better from this view”, you suggest, which Seonghwa takes, so he shuffles over to the bed, and moves to sit right where you are—and now you’re on his lap, with his chest pressing right against your back as he towers over you, arms hugging you from behind. He continues to search for the missing Lego piece. 

You take part in the search too, the game completely forgotten by then. You realise it’s nice just having Seonghwa sitting close to you like this. Maybe this was what they meant by building Lego as “a couple activity”.

“Did you drop it or something?” You ask, shifting slightly to have a better view of the floor. You hear Seonghwa grunt behind you, but you pay no attention, focusing on finding the piece. 

Seonghwa swears he’s focused on looking for the missing piece too—he really wants to complete the set, but at the same time, he’s watching and feeling you move against him on top of the way he’s able to wrap his arms around you easily, smelling his scent on you—it’s not helping his case. He bites his bottom lip, trying to manage himself. 

Obviously, it does nothing, considering he’s having you in such close proximity, and every movement you’re brushing against him is starting to make him grow sensitive. 

His hand snakes down to your thighs, drawing circles, his other hand sifting through the endless pieces of Lego. 

He forces himself to concentrate, and it works for a split second, that is, until you absentmindedly shift his free arm on under your loose shirt, and he snaps. 

“If this is your way of breaking my concentration, you’re doing a good job”, you hear his deep voice ringing in your ears. He’s letting his hands roam all over your body hidden underneath your shirt, his fingers grazing against your nipples teasingly, and it draws gasps out of you. 

“Focus on finding the block, Park Seonghwa”, you tease, readjusting yourself, making sure you press against his growing erection underneath his loose shorts. 

It’s Seonghwa’s turn to draw a shaky breath every time your clothed ass comes into contact with his erection.

You pretend to ignore him, but you can’t ignore the way he’s massaging your tits, and you find yourself sighing and growing hotter through each passing moment. 

You think he’s finally giving you a break, but you’re proven wrong when his hands are sliding down the waistband of your shorts. 

“You’re not finding the block, Angel”, Seonghwa points out, and you pout at his words. Your hand slips under the large opening of his shorts and fuck—his erection is only growing thicker. 

You hear him groan behind you when you let your hands wander to stroke his cock through his underwear. So he retaliates with his finger sliding past your panties, cursing when he realises your pussy is growing wetter by the second.  

“We’re supposed to be looking for the Lego piece, Hwa”, you mutter, mind growing hazy as his fingers get drenched from your slick, circling your clit gently. 

“Mmhm. We are, baby. You’re just not focusing”, Seonghwa replies, his index and middle finger spreading your folds open letting his index finger find your clit more easily, and it’s driving you fucking crazy. 

Your legs push open automatically, your hands pausing stroking him off, well, not that Seonghwa minded. 

“That feels so good”, you sigh. Seonghwa’s other hand cups your jaw, and you turn to face him, feeling the way his hands slide down your throat while Seonghwa has your lips on his, eating up your whines and moans before letting you catch your breath.

“So fuckin wet for me, Angel. You like it that much?” He teases. 

“Mmhm, your fingers feel so good Hwa”, you nod, your grip around his arm tightening as the pleasure builds in your stomach every time his finger strokes against your clit. At this point, you can’t even pretend.  

His lips are pressed against your ear, his voice deep yet you sense traces of whining in his tone when he says, “Sit on my dick. I need you on my fucking dick now, Angel.” 

Of course, you comply, despite your legs trembling slightly, letting Seonghwa slip out of his bottoms. His arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you impossibly close to him, his lips making a whole garden of bites down your neck before he has both his hands lift your hips. 

Seonghwa lines himself against your fluttering cunt and he pushes himself into your pussy hole, his moans of relief sending you into a spiral on top of his cock sinking into you. 

Fuck, he’s filling you up so fucking good. 

“Fuck. That’s it, babe. You’re so fucking good”, he groans when you squeeze against him. 

“Hwa, oh my fucking god, you’re so full in me”, you sob, trying to adjust to his length. 

“Do you think we can find the piece better like this?” He jokes while peppering kisses down your neck to distract himself so he doesn’t fucking just burst in you just yet. 

Even in your pleasured haze, you still manage to laugh while you try to keep your eyes open. 

“I think we can”, you reply with a giggle, before squealing when you feel him twitch in you. You shift forward slightly, feeling his cock shift in you, dragging along your walls, a small whine escaping past your lips. 

With the last of your sanity remaining, you glance over the desk one more time, biting your lip to stay grounded, obviously to no avail, especially not with Seonghwa and his little movement behind you. 

“I really think it’s-fuck-not here”, Seonghwa mutters behind you, forcing himself not to thrust into you, his fingers slithering down to your wet clit once more. 

“I’m pretty sure it d-dropped. We haven’t checked the floor yet-ngh-right?” you manage to ask.

“Mmmm nope”, Seonghwa responds, mesmerised at the way your slick growing thicker on your clit and on his cock as he continues to rub your clit. “I guess we can do that later ‘cause I really need to fuck your pussy right now, Angel.” 

He doesn’t give you much time to answer because you’re a complete goner when Seonghwa is making you bounce off his cock while he gets you off with his fingers. 

You’re trembling from the sheer pleasure, your vision slowly growing hazy, the knot tightening in your abdomen more quickly than you thought. 

“H-Hwa! Gonna cum-Oh fuckkkk”, you draw out, white clouding your vision. Your cunt flutters around his cock, dopamine shooting up your body while you completely let go on his cock as Seonghwa fucks you through your orgasm.

“Fuck, you’re such a good fucking girl. “That’s it. Be a good girl and cum on my dick like that, Angel”, Seonghwa groans into your ear, his gaze traveling down at the way your thick cream streaks down his cock when he pulls out. He shuts his eyes, sighing into the nape of your neck while he listens to the way your cunt is just so loud and wet for him while he fucks your cream out of you, thrusting his hips upwards. 

“God, your pussy feels so fucking perfect. Fuck. I’m gonna cum. Gonna fill you up so good baby”, he pants before his hips thrust and press against yours, filling you up with his warm and thick cum accompanied by his low groans. 

You feel Seonghwa’s hands run down your body, soothing you after emptying his fucking load into you before he slowly pulls out of your cum-filled pussy. 

“I’ll get you a towel, Angel”, Seonghwa tells you, pressing his lips on your temple before leaving the bed. 

He retrieves a spare towel from the bathroom and cleans you up, before releasing you to wash up in the bathroom. 

When you renter his room, Seonghwa is switching gazes between his half-completed set and the instruction manual. 

He looks up at you with a grin that’s making you feel uneasy. 

“Babe, turns out I wasn’t missing a piece—I already had it in all along!”

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @pre1ttyies @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify @miss-fallon @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn @vic0921 @sanhwajoong @bitejoongie @no1likevie @woojirang @jjoongstar @yuyusgirl

[daisynik7]

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.5k

cw: established relationship, smut – PIV sex (doggy style), rough sex, blow job, cunnilingus, bondage, blindfold, use of safe word, slight degradation (use of the word slut), explicit language, safe word, pet names (sweetie, sweetheart, princess, honey), aftercare 

Summary: You send your husband an eggplant emoji as a joke, but he doesn't find it amusing one bit.

Author’s Notes: Barely proofread, hardly edited, all horny. Just my little contribution to the plethora of delicious fics that came out after this latest episode. Tagging @lovekento because this was inspired by your recent ask about the safeword audio we love so much. Also tagging @darkstarlight82 because of your recent ask to be tagged in JJK fics! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated. Thanks for reading! MDNI and support dividers credit to @/cafekitsune (as always).

Nanami does not take kindly to jokes. Years of being together and he’s uptight as always. That doesn’t mean you stop trying, especially when you love how mad he gets at you.

It’s innocent, silly, completely unserious. I’m really craving something tonight, followed by suggestive emojis, including the winky face and a particularly phallic vegetable. You grin at your screen when you notice the three dots blinking, indicating that he’s read it and is currently typing a reply. Probably growing hard in his pants just thinking about it, knowing him. Before he can say anything, you send him a selfie of you at the grocery store, holding up two large eggplants, smiling wide at the camera. Eggplant parmesan! The dots flash once more, then disappear immediately, and you crack up in the middle of the produce section when he ends up not responding at all. 

Back home, it’s eerily dark inside with all the lights off. You carefully set your groceries on the counter, clicking the switch to illuminate the kitchen. You’re startled when you notice Nanami’s burly silhouette in the living room, back turned towards you, sitting upright on the couch, motionless. He does nothing to acknowledge your presence, worrying you even further. “Honey?” you call out, slowly making your way towards him. His arms are crossed over his chest, bulging out of his sleeves, staring straight ahead with a menacing look on his face. He remains silent, ignoring you. 

“Kento,” you say, swallowing hard, nervous at this unusually sinister behavior.   

“Thought you were craving something.” His voice is low and husky in his throat. Almost threatening.  

You kneel in front of him, leaning on his thighs. “It was a joke, honey.”

Finally, he looks at you, gaze intense from behind his glasses, nostrils flaring as he takes a deep inhale through his nose, exhale out his mouth. “So, you riled me up for no fucking reason then?”

You gulp loudly again, taken aback by his sudden vulgarity, simultaneously aroused. “I’m sorry, Kento.”

“Do you think I’m going to let you get away with this?” He grips your chin, focusing your attention on his lap. “Look how hard I am. Look at what your stupid joke did to me.” His massive erection is strained in his pants. Your pussy throbs, mouth salivating at the sight of it.

He unbuckles his belt and splits his zipper open. “You know what you have to do, don’t you sweetheart?” He shrugs his pants down enough to free his cock, veins protruding on the thick shaft. You nod silently, peering up at him with wide eyes, parting your lips, hungry for him. 

“That’s what I thought,” he mutters, stroking himself in his fist, precum oozing from the tip. “Stick out your tongue.” You do, letting it hang from your bottom lip, mouth open.

“Good girl,” he purrs. “So obedient for me.” He swipes his thumb over his cockhead, collecting the precum to smear it onto your tongue. “Swallow. Get a taste of it before you take me.”

You obey, relishing the salty, luscious flavor down your throat, your eyes never leaving his. He smirks, tracing your lips with his thumb, the first hint of softness since you this all started. “I’m going to ruin this mouth. Understand?” 

You nod again, panties wet with your arousal. Hoping he doesn’t notice, you reach between your legs, desperate to touch yourself. He catches you, using his foot to swat your arm away. “Ah, ah, ah. You’ll have your turn later.” He loosens the spotted tie on his neck to cover your eyes with it, knotting it tight. “There. Nothing except my cock to occupy this little head of yours.” He guides his cock into your mouth, sliding it along your tongue until he bottoms out. “Now, suck,” he demands, your face pressed to his groin, bottom lip grazing his heavy balls. You bob your head back and forth on him, drool leaking from the sides of your lips, teasing your gag reflex with every solid thrust, swallowing it down every time he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he whispers, cradling your face. “Such a good fucking slut for me.”

After several more strokes, he pulls out of you, cock wet with your saliva, squelching between his fist as he continues to jerk himself off. “On my lap. Come on.” He lends his hand, helping you up while the blindfold remains. You bend over his thighs, in position for a spanking, just as he expects. 

He chuckles. “Good girl. You already know that you need to be punished, huh? Always playing these ridiculous pranks on me. I hope you learn your lesson after this.” He slides the belt off his waist, binding your wrists behind your back, shoulders in an uncomfortable stretch as the leather digs into your skin. The need to be touched by him overwhelms you, body tingling with anticipation, pussy aching to be filled. 

He pulls your pants down, leaving you only in your panties from the waist down. The first spank sends shivers down your spine, the loud smack bouncing off the walls of the kitchen, flesh prickling from the contact. The second comes almost immediately, surprising you. You whimper, shutting your eyes, clenching your legs together. “Kento.”

A third is delivered, your ass throbbing and swelling against his calloused hand. “What?” he growls, palm ready for a fourth. 

“Fuck me,” you whine, jittering on his lap. You can’t take it anymore. You want him. You need him. 

“Oh, so you’re giving orders now?” He rolls you on your back, tugging your panties off, exposing your glistening cunt. “That’s not how this works, sweetheart. You know that. I can’t just give you what you want after what you did to me.” He spreads your legs apart, teasing your slit with his fingers, spreading your slick across your swollen clit. “Look how fucking juicy you are. All that because I fucked your throat. Nasty slut.”

You hear him spit, then feel the trickle of his saliva coat your aching bud. He repeats, soaking you in his spittle. He readjusts himself on the couch so that he’s between your legs, licking and slurping your cunt until his chin and nose are glossy. You squirm, knees shaky, already pushed to your limits. His lips surround your clit, sucking on it until it’s puffy in his mouth, tongue flicking it aggressively, pussy fluttering with arousal. You’re overstimulated, core incredibly tight, ready to fucking burst. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he muffles, still slobbering. “Come on my face. Squirt all over this couch. I’m going to fucking embarrass you like you did me, you stupid slut.” You whine his name, gushing for him, rutting your hips against his face, writhing on the cushions damp with your juices. 

He rolls you over again, dragging your body until you’re up on your knees, ass up. “I’m going to wreck this pussy. Pound it until you learn your lesson. Got it?”

You nod erratically, ready to be fucked hard and fast. He enters you smoothly, stretching you out until you’re completely full of him, everything so wet and messy between you. He pumps his cock in and out of you, pace increasing the more and more your body yields to him. He fucks you like an animal in heat, railing your cunt like it’s his own personal cock sleeve for him to use and tear apart. 

Blindfolded and still bound by the wrists, you begin to grow scared of his carnal behavior. His nails imprint your skin, grip so strong it hurts with every brutal thrust. The guttural growls he emits sound nothing like the Nanami you know. The way he bullies his cock into your tight pussy, so deep and so rough that a cramp develops in your abdomen makes you think that the person fucking you is a complete stranger now. You want your husband back. It takes you a few tries to get it out, but eventually, you do, whimpering, “Makgeolli.”

He doesn’t hear you, so you say it once more, louder this time. “Makgeolli.”

Immediately, it’s as if a switched is flipped. He pulls out, quickly removing the belt and blindfold off you, his tie saturated in tears and sweat. “Hey, hey, hey. Sweetie, I’m here. I’m right here. You’re okay.” He pulls you up on his lap, cradling you in his arms, kissing your sticky forehead, brushing away any of the remaining tears from your eyes. 

You relax into his hold, nestling your face into his shoulder, steadying your breathing. He massages your back, pressing soft kisses on your cheek. “I’m sorry, princess. I’m so sorry. I got carried away, I admit it.” His voice is soothing now, familiar and comforting in your ear. 

Sniffling, you ask, “Are you mad at me?”

He smiles, nuzzling his nose to yours. “I was never mad to begin with. I just wanted to tease you, but I took it too far. I’m sorry.” He kisses you on the lips, cupping your check in his palm. “Your joke was actually quite funny.”

You giggle softly, running your fingers through his hair, damp with his own perspiration. “At least I got you to finally admit it.”

He gives you another smooch on the forehead, lacing his fingers with yours. “I’ll run us a bath, okay? And then after, we can order pizza and watch a movie. Sound good?”

“Yes. And I’ll help you with this while we’re soaking in the tub. Does that sound good?” You palm his cock, still stiff and wet against his abs. 

“Whatever you want, princess.”

[inkedinshadows]

Never Hold Back

Day 31: Squirting — Lucien x f!reader

Warnings: oral (f receiving), fingering, insecure reader

Word count: 1.099

A/N: we've finally got to the end of Kinktober! This was so much fun, but it was also exhausting ngl. I'm working on new fics and I'm so glad it's not smut bc I seriously need a break from it. I didn't think I'd be able to write a fic for each day when I decided to do this and I have to say I'm quite of myself for making it. Thank you so much to everyone who read/commented/reblogged my silly smutty blurbs and if you've stuck around to read them all, I love you pls let's get married.

based on this suggestion

You didn’t have much experience with sex. Or rather, you did, but the people you had been with could be counted on one hand. And if there was one thing you learned after your first time, it was how to fake an orgasm just before the real one hit you. That way, your partner would relent, sparing you the embarrassment.

But Lucien wasn’t like your previous lovers. He was your mate.

When you arched off the bed and moaned louder than before, he pulled his mouth away from you and watched you with a furrowed brow.

“Why do you do that?”

At first, you didn’t understand what he was talking about, and your insecurities took over. What had you done? Did you have an actual orgasm? No, you would have felt that, and Lucien would have looked more grossed out than concerned.

“Do what?” you asked, trying to keep the tremor from your voice.

Lucien sat up straight and you immediately felt the absence of his head between your thighs. His eyes found yours and the uneasiness etched on his face made you brace yourself for what might be coming.

He was silent for a moment before he said quietly, “If you don’t enjoy what I’m doing, please just tell me.”

Eyes wide, you sat up too. “Why would you think that? Of course I enjoy it, Lu!”

“Then why did you just fake an orgasm?”

“I didn’t—”

“You did it last time too.”

Your breath caught, heat rising to your cheeks until you were sure you looked like a tomato. Unsure how to respond, you looked down at your fidgeting hands.

You always thought you were good at faking, that it looked real enough to not raise suspicions. None of the males you’d been with before had ever noticed. And now that your mate had realized it, you wished the ground would open and swallow you whole.

“Sunshine,” he called softly.

A slender finger hooked under your chin, and then you were looking into his eyes. He didn’t seem upset, which spurred you to finally say something.

“I’m sorry,” you stuttered, and words began pouring out in an incoherent stream. “It’s just… my body. When I come, it does— it’s really gross, so I just… I thought you—”

You stopped abruptly when his thumb moved to cover your lips. He searched your face, his brows still furrowed, before he asked, “What do you mean ‘gross’?”

You shook your head, resisting the urge to look away again, but his gaze was piercing, and his golden eye seemed to see right through you, so eventually you answered, voice just above a whisper.

“I… I tend to squirt.”

You expected disgust, judgment, maybe even rejection—the same reactions you had gotten the few times it happened, the reasons you had started faking.

Instead, Lucien smiled broadly. “You do?”

He sounded so excited that you frowned as you gave him a single nod. His hands traveled down your body, caressing your sides until they rested on your waist. You were still waiting for a rejection, and he probably read it on your face because he gently squeezed you.

“Y/N… did someone tell you it’s gross?” he questioned. “Is that why you say that?”

You blinked. “You don’t think it is?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, Lucien’s posture changed. His back went a bit rigid, and his jaw clenched as he let you go. “Lay back down,” he said, or rather ordered. No soft tone was left in his voice, in his expression.

“Lucien…” you tried, but he cut you off.

“Lay down. I’m going to make you come.”

You did as he asked, though with a touch of hesitation. Lucien was quick to settle between your legs again. When you opened your mouth to try and talk him out of it one last time, he beat you to it.

“I am going to make you come,” he repeated, even more firmly than the first time. And then he was licking a stripe up your folds, his hands holding you open for him to feast on.

You decided to just enjoy it, then. What else were you supposed to do when he flicked his tongue over your clit and gently rolled it between his lips? Your hand shot out to tangle in his fiery hair, and you sucked in a breath, feeling his low chuckle reverberate against your cunt.

He probed your entrance with a finger, and when you squirmed, he pushed it in and curled it, hitting that sweet spot that drew a groan from deep in your throat. And then you lost all sense of time and space as the fingers became two and his mouth latched onto your clit.

The pleasure was rising fast—faster than ever, now that you weren’t worrying about waiting for the perfect moment to fake your orgasm. Yet as you felt it approaching, the thought that maybe you should stop before it was too late lingered at the back of your mind.

“Lucien, I’m… I’m close,” you warned, your voice a breathless murmur.

“Then come for me, sunshine.” He looked up at you through his lashes, and his next words were a low, commanding growl. “Don’t you dare hold it back.”

When he thrust his fingers in deeper and curled them once more, you didn’t hold it back, and after so long without such an intense feeling, you were utterly overwhelmed by it. A loud cry broke free from you as your whole body shook while you squirted all over Lucien’s fingers and chin. He held you firm, still working you until you went limp, spent and panting. Only then did he pull back, and you blushed at the sight of his face covered in your release.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Lucien only smiled. “Don’t be. Don’t ever apologize for it.”

He climbed up your body, and you wrapped your arms around his neck out of instinct. As he kissed you, you could taste yourself on his lips and tongue. You weren’t sure how you felt about it.

“It was amazing, sunshine,” he murmured against your lips. “Hot, even.”

His words warmed your heart and a bit of the shame you had grown accustomed to began to melt away. If Lucien, your mate, found it hot… then maybe it wasn’t actually that bad after all.

“And to think that you've denied yourself so many orgasms because of it…” he went on. A smirk blossomed on his lips and a mischievous glint sparked in his russet eye. “Let me remedy that.”

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings

Kinktober taglist: @thyellablackk @p1nkfluffysocks @maddieboo8 @a-courtof-azriel @whataenginerd @loviseamms @chaconnelatte @okaytrashpanda @scarsandallaz @velarisdusk @olive-main @krispypotato @scorpioriesling @fourthwing4ever @asaucecoveredsomething

[wildflowersandvibranium]

Say That Again

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Gender Neutral!Reader

Summary: A quiet change in Bucky’s behavior turns into a painful truth: he’s losing his hearing. As he battles the weight of this new reality, you stay beside him learning, adapting, and loving him in every unspoken way.

Word Count: 2k ish

Warmings/Tags: Angsty parts but also fluff. Friends to Lovers <3

Bucky gets injured on mission , mentions of blood , injury , hydra , non graphic torture , hearing loss/hard of hearing , kissing , sign language , brief buckys sad feelings i think thats itttttt

if I missed anything let me know!

Authors Note: the love ive been getting recenlty is making my heart explode!!! i do plan on making series and or just multipart stories but i just get so much inspiration i have to make them into one shots! i have 2 more fully written fics after this im posting soon enjoyyyyy bbys

REQUESTS / ASK IS ALWAYS OPEN MY MASTERLIST

COMMENTS / REBLOGS AND LIKES ARE LOVED AND ENCORAGED!!!

The first time you noticed something was off, you were curled up next to Bucky on the avengers compound’s massive sectional couch, a bowl of popcorn between you and a rom com flashing across the screen. 

He laughed a full five seconds after the joke, and when you glanced sideways, he just gave you a sheepish grin and reached for more popcorn popping it in his mouth.

You didn’t think much of it.

The second time, he didn’t hear you call his name. Not even once—though you’d said it twice, standing barely a few feet away in the kitchen.

“Bucky?” you tried again, louder, eyebrows knitting.

He turned finally, blinking like he was just waking from a dream. “Huh? sorry , say that again?”

You frowned a little, but again, brushed it off as you repeated what you were saying.

But then it kept happening.

He’d respond with a puzzled “what?” or “huh?” more and more often, even in conversations with the others. 

You’d walk into the room and he’d be blasting the TV at full volume, like an old man stubbornly refusing to admit age was catching up with him.

You started paying attention now.

At breakfast one morning, Sam made a snarky comment across the table. 

Bucky blinked, half-smiled, and clearly didn’t catch a word. You saw it in the way his jaw tensed as he nodded like he understood. He didn’t but he was trying. That was the third or fourth time in a single day.

Later that evening, you caught him in the common area with the subtitles on.

You still didn’t mention it.

Not yet.

Not until the next afternoon, when you walked into the lounge to find him sitting with Steve and Natasha—both of them trying to tell him something. 

Bucky was nodding along, squinting looking at their lips, clearly trying to fill in the blanks. 

You watched him struggle.

That was it.

That little squeeze of your heart and a voice inside you saying: He’s not okay.

You waited until later, when the two of you were alone in the training room, stretching after sparring. 

You leaned back on your hands, catching your breath, watching as he wiped the sweat from his brow with a rag.

“Hey,” you started gently, “can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” He wasn’t looking at you.

“Have you noticed your hearing’s been a little… off?”

He tensed instantly. The towel paused mid-motion, pressed against his jaw. “What?”

Your brow furrowed.

He saw it. Dropped the towel. “You think I can’t hear?”

“I didn’t say that.” You stood up and walked over, meeting his eyes. “But… I think something might be wrong, Buck. You haven’t been hearing people. You crank the TV with subtitles. You’re always saying ‘what’ or ‘huh.’ I think maybe you should see Bruce.”

Bucky looked away sharply, metal fingers curling around the towel like it had insulted him.

“Buck.”

“It’s fine,” he muttered.

“No, it’s not. If it was fine, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

That got him.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t stomp away. He just stood there, chest rising and falling heavily, like the truth of it had been chasing him for months and had finally caught up.

He didn't want hydra to win again , to take another thing from him, especially something like his hearing.

“Just let Bruce take a look,” you whispered. “Please.”

His jaw ticked. “You’ll come with me?”

“Of course , I will.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Bruce was gentle, as always. Precise. Kind.

“Looks like it’s a slow, progressive hearing loss,” he said after several scans and an awkward hour of testing, during which you held Bucky’s hand the whole time. “Could be from the trauma, the cryo stasis, the missions… unfortunately even the serum can’t undo all the damage hydra put on your body.”

Bucky stared down at the floor.

“But you’re not alone,” Bruce added carefully. “We can work on accommodations. Sign language. Tech. Fit for hearing aids eventually, if you want.”

Bucky still didn’t say anything.

You squeezed his hand. “We’ll figure it out , Buck. Together.”

He looked at you then, and there was something unspeakably raw in his eyes. He nodded once, slow and resigned.

Bruce gave you both some space, and after the door shut, you turned to Bucky on the medbed, brushing his hair from his face.

“You okay?”

He shook his head. “I’m so tired.”

“I know.”

“I feel like… I just got used to being normal again. After everything with HYDRA. The nightmares. The triggers. And now this.”

Your heart splintered. You pressed your palm to his cheek. “It doesn’t make you any less, Buck.”

“Maybe not to you.”

“To anyone. But especially to me.”

His eyes searched yours for something, but whatever he saw made him look away. 

He nodded again, and when he stood, you laced your fingers with his—no words needed.

That night, you did your own research. And then you marched to Clint Barton’s room the next morning with determination in your eyes and no time to waste.

“Teach us,” you said. “Please.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Clint was happy to help.

He brought over old training books, videos, and little flashcards. 

He joked through it, but he was thoughtful and careful with both of you, making sure to encourage you and especially Bucky when he got frustrated.

At first, Bucky resisted. He said you didn’t have to do it.

“You’re not the one losing your hearing,” he’d grumble, furrowing his brows as he fumbled a basic phrase.

But you just smiled. “No, but I am your best friend.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

From there, it became your thing.

It started slow—just fingerspelling, little greetings. “Hi” and “bye.” Then names. 

Then more complex things.

When Bucky left for missions, you’d sign from the jet: Bye, Buck.

He’d sign back: Bye, Doll.

Sometimes in the kitchen, when everyone was talking over each other, he’d glance at you and sign: You okay?

You’d answer with a smile and a soft: I’m always okay with you.

Touch, too, became everything.

His hand brushing yours when you handed him a plate. 

Your pinky wrapping around his thumb while walking side-by-side. The back of his fingers tracing your wrist when the compound was loud and the voices too fast.

You understood it better than anyone—he heard you best when you touched him.

Neither of you had said how you felt yet, not really. But you were sure your fingers had already told his.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You woke up to the sound of FRIDAY’s voice, soft but urgent.

  “The team is back. Medical emergency in the hangar. Sergeant Barnes has been injured.”

Your blood turned to ice.

You threw the covers off so fast your foot tangled in them and hit the ground running, still in your sleep shirt, heart hammering louder than your footsteps down the compound hallway.

He was back.

But hurt.

Please not bad. Please not bad. Please.

By the time you reached the landing pad, the quinjet had already arrived. The back doors were open. A team of medics was running down the ramp with a gurney , and Bucky was on it.

“No….no, no—” you gasped, pushing through the crowd. “BUCKY!”

He didn’t respond.

There was blood. 

His entire side was wrapped, stained deep crimson red.

 His face was too pale, eyes closed, lips slightly parted like he was in mid-breath.

Steve caught your shoulders before you could throw yourself on the gurney. “Y/N, hey , listen to me ,he saved them. There was an explosion. Civilians. He dragged them out before the whole roof came down.”

Your throat tightened. “But….he….why isn’t he—?”

“They’re doing everything they can. I promise.”

You couldn’t hear anything else. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

The medics whisked him down the hallway and you followed on autopilot, feet moving even though your mind was stuck somewhere in that split-second when you saw him—unmoving, vulnerable.

Bucky Barnes , your Bucky , had always felt unbreakable. Like the world had shattered around him, but not through him. And now… now he looked too human.

Too breakable.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Hours had passed. 

You waited outside the medbay, pacing the same stretch of white hallway, arms wrapped around yourself. 

Steve brought you coffee you didn’t drink. 

Natasha offered to stay with you, but you waved her off. 

You needed to be alone.

It wasn't until Bruce came out, slow and tired, that you finally sat up.

“He made it through surgery,” he said. “He’s going to be okay.”

You collapsed back into the chair, burying your face in your hands, sobbing with relief. Your body gave out before your mind could.

“He’s not awake yet,” Bruce added. “But you can sit with him.”

You didn’t wait. You ran.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The medical bay was quiet. Cold. Sterile.

You hated it. And you knew Bucky did too.

He lay there hooked up to monitors and IV, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of beeping machines, his skin still pale but alive.

You sank down into the chair beside him and took his hand. 

His metal one—it was always warmer than people assumed.

 Your thumb traced the edge of his knuckles like you had a hundred times before, but this time you were shaking.

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered.

There was no answer.

Your throat ached. 

Your eyes burned. 

You leaned in close, forehead resting against the bed’s edge, and the words spilled out—because if not now, then when?

“I need you to know something,” you said, voice cracking. “Something I’ve never had the guts to say.”

His hand didn’t move.

“I’m in love with you, Bucky. Not like a little, not like maybe. And I’m scared—God, I’m so scared—because I’ve spent all this time pretending like I’m okay being your best friend, but I’m not. I want more. I always have.”

Still nothing.

You sniffled, lifting your head just enough to wipe your eyes with your sleeve.

“I’ve loved you in every way I could without saying it. I learned your language. I touch you every time I want to say I’m proud of you. Or that I’m glad you’re still here. I use my hands because you couldn’t hear me, but maybe now that you're asleep, you'll be able to hear me just this once…”

You choked out a weak laugh, wiping your face again. Then, slowly, you let your fingers spell it out across his arm.

I love you.

One letter at a time.

And then-

You felt a shift. Movement.

You froze.

His hand twitched in yours.

You looked up so fast your neck cracked. His eyelids fluttered once… twice… and then opened slowly.

“Bucky?” you gasped, rising from the chair.

He blinked, his gaze shifting until it met yours, dazed and glassy—but focused.

You couldn’t speak. You just signed, slowly, with trembling hands: 

Are you okay?

He nodded.

Barely.

Then his hand moved again—his other hand, the human one still hooked to monitors.

His fingers twitched clumsily, you focused and knew what he was trying to sign.

Did you mean it?

Your heart nearly burst.

You let out a breathless laugh, tears rushing again as you half-signed, half-shouted, “You idiot! Of course I meant it! Of course I’m in love with you!”

He smiled.

A full smile—broken but real.

Then his hand lifted shakily.

He formed it with care: I love you.

Two fingers extended. A thumb pointed out.

I love you.

You reached out with both hands, framing his face, your thumbs brushing under his eyes.

And then you kissed him.

Soft. Desperate. Long overdue.

He kissed you back instantly, weak but purposeful, like his lips had been waiting for this as long as you had.

When you pulled back, your foreheads touched.

“I thought I’d never get to tell you,” you whispered.

“You always told me,” he signed slowly, clumsily, the motion half-signed against your palm. “You just didn’t know it.”

And then he added aloud, voice gravelly and quiet but still so Bucky:

“Say that again..” he whispered

You signed as you spoke “ I love you , Bucky Barnes”

You couldn’t stop crying.

Neither could he.

You stayed with him the whole night, your hand in his, feeling , speaking in that language that seemed to only be yours.

-end

[soaps-mohawk]

I'm going to be honest

I'm having a genuinely hard time making this post. I've been fighting with it for a couple weeks now, but I think it's time I finally make it.

I'm not having fun on this blog anymore.

It sounds bad, but honestly, it kind of is.

I think a lot of it started from the very beginning with the precedence and expectations I put on myself. I've always tried to respond to every comment I get. Even from the beginning. It's just a polite thing to do since those who leave comments took the time to write out what they think of my fic, even if it's just a keysmash. I've always felt the need to thank those who leave comments or reblog my writing or (now that tumblr has it) replied to my fics. It worked fine before because none of my fics were particularly popular. Even my most popular fic (at that time) didn't get as much attention as CRCB has. I've never had a "big blog" before, nor a fic as popular as CRCB has gotten.

It was fine at first, responding to everyone, engaging with everyone. I was riding that high of omg so many people are reading and enjoying my fic! I've never had anything quite like this before.

Now...it just feels more like a chore. I set this precedence on this blog that I respond to everyone and I know a lot of people have said that they're surprised I responded to them and to everyone, and now I'm getting why a lot of writers don't. I'm exhausted. I feel like I've just been robotically saying the same thing over and over trying to respond to people now. I used to love seeing asks in my inbox and reblogs and replies but now? All I feel is dread because I have to respond to all of those.

Turning anon off was a big help. It lessened the sheer volume of asks I was getting a day. And while I do feel bad for all of my anons who prefer to stay anons, with everything that happened (the multiple incidents) with anon that kind of started to suck the joy out of everything. That paired with the obsessive need to constantly have my inbox cleared and make sure everyone gets a response...I can understand now too why big blogs will have 200+ asks in their inbox. It's hard and it's exhausting and I'm burning out.

First it was the fic that was burning me out. Things have gone on far longer than I planned and I just wasn't prepared for this fic to go on and for a while there it was dragging. I'll admit that. If I could go back, I'd speed up a few things, but it's done, it's posted there's no going back. I kind of hoped I would have the mental capacity to upload more than once a week too, but I just couldn't. I still can't.

I've come to dread posting chapters because I know I'm going to have to reply and respond to everyone. The only thing keeping me posting is the fact that we're in the part of the story I've been excited about since the beginning and also because I keep leaving everyone on cliffhangers and I love torturing y'all with all of them.

So that being said, this is in no way to shame anyone for interacting with me, anyone leaving comments or replies or sending asks. Don't feel bad about doing it please. I appreciate all of you that have engaged with me and it really means so much to me. Honestly, earlier this year, if I didn't have this fic and everyone on this blog, I might not have made it to now. It's been a really rough year and it's still going to be into next year. It's just getting to the point where I need a break.

I've needed a break for a long time. I thought taking days off the blog would help, and it did for a couple of weeks, but now even on the days I'm supposed to be on the blog and engaging, I just find myself queueing stuff up and just being offline most of the day still.

I'm tired. That's the best reason I can give. I'm tired and burned out on life and I'm tired and burned out on this blog.

So...I think I need a break. I need to not keep responding to every single reply and reblog every chapter. I need to not force myself to answer every ask right away, no matter how much I want to. I feel bad, but I know everyone would rather have me here and enjoying the blog than forcing myself to interact to the point where I'm dreading it and just robotically repeating myself over and over with every reply and answer and comment.

I won't be pausing the fic, I won't be not uploading. I'll still be posting chapters, I just might not be interacting as much as I have been. It's just putting such a mental strain on me still, even with anon off, even with days off. And with things getting busier for me, it's going to be too much to try and deal with irl stuff and write and try to be super active on the blog. There's going to come a point where I have to sacrifice the writing or the blog and I'd rather sacrifice the blog to keep myself sane, and also to keep trying to finally get this fic done. I love this fic, don't get me wrong, but I'm just burning out.

I'm already burned out in a lot of ways.

I was planning kinktober this year but honestly I'm considering not doing it because I know interaction is going to be insane and it's going to be a lot to keep up on. Plus trying to write that many fics is hard and I'm not sure I have the ability to do it. I have a few done but now I'm just like...is that something I want to do on top of irl stuff and CRCB.

There's just no joy in it anymore. It's not anyone's fault but mine. I put the pressure on myself, I held myself to that standard for this long despite the fact I knew it was draining me. I've tried to push through when I should have prioritized myself. I feel so guilty not responding to everyone. I feel so guilty being a day or two late responding to everyone.

I want to be here and interacting and responding to things but I just can't bring myself to anymore. It's no one's fault, and this is not a drag on anyone, or an attempt to make anyone feel bad or guilty for interacting or sending asks or anything. I'm just airing out the truth and saying what I need to say because I feel like I've been so robotic and lifeless with my responses these last couple weeks and I feel like I need to explain why. It's nothing anyone has done. It's my fault. It's 100% my fault.

Things have just gotten to be too much and it's my fault for forcing myself to be so active. The social battery has dropped into the negatives. I'm not a social person. I can only handle so much interaction and I've pushed so far beyond that, that things have gotten to this point. I want to be here and I want to have fun and I want to use this as an escape but I just don't feel that way about it anymore. It's a chore for me, a job, something I feel like I have to do and it's my fault that I feel that way. It's my own standards and expectations I set on myself, and my expectations on what I think my followers want and deserve and now I feel like I've gone on too long like this that I can't change things without hurting anyone's feelings. I don't want people to think I'm ignoring them in favor of others because I know there's writers out there that do that. They only respond to a certain group and ignore others that comment and reblog. I don't want to make anyone feel like I'm doing that to them and that's now led me to here.

I'm forcing it and I'm tired.

It's been hard these last few weeks. The life has just been draining and draining continuously. The joy and the love I have for this blog and my followers and the interactions and the fic. The last anon bullshit that happened was just kind of the last nail in the coffin so to speak. The straw that broke the camel's back. Things stopped being fun. It made me feel bad (and not in the guilty way, though that was a part of it) and I'm honestly just over it. I'm over the blog, I'm over interacting, I'm over life at this point. August is a hard month for me and every year it seems to get worse and worse. A lot of it is unrelated to anything online and I was going to make a post about it but honestly I just don't want to. Those that know, know. Those that don't...it doesn't matter.

I'm getting annoyed by the blog, I'm getting annoyed every time I look in my notifications and see an ask or a reply or a comment. I'm getting annoyed by some of my followers and that's not fair to you. Everyone always talks about how nice and kind and patient I am when I'm really not. I'm not the person I present myself to be on this blog, the way I mask myself so I can present myself as being a normal, kind human being. The mask is coming off because I'm so tired I can't keep it up anymore. It's happening here and it's happening in real life. I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I'm angry at a lot of things and the last thing I want is to start taking it out on my followers. You don't deserve that, especially when it's not your fault, it's nothing any of you have done. It's all me.

It's not you, it's me.

So for the sake of not burning this whole thing to the ground, I'm going to take a break. I'm not replying to everyone, I'm not responding to every reblog, I won't reply to every ask I get right away, if at all because sometimes I just don't have anything to say in response and I need to learn that's okay. It's nothing against you. It's not aimed at anyone specifically, I'm just trying to put myself first and stop things from escalating. I need a break and I'm going to do something selfish and I'm going to take it.

Don't apologize because it's not your fault. Don't apologize because you think you might have contributed to this because you didn't. It is no one's fault but my own.

I'm the one that needs to apologize to all of you because I've just not been myself because I've been forcing myself to be someone I'm not. I've been very unfair to a lot of people over the last seven months that this blog has been active and I've held a precedent that is not sustainable in the long run and made everyone believe that I was capable of maintaining that kind of interaction when I'm not.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been putting everyone through this. I'm sorry I've been so detached and robotic and ingenuine. I'm sorry I led everyone to believe I'm someone I'm not. I'm sorry I've dragged this on this long that it's gotten to the point that I have to make this post.

I considered just disappearing but that wouldn't be fair to you either. I don't want to put you through that, so I'm pouring all of my thoughts out and making you read through this fucking novel of a post. If you've made it this far, then congrats I guess. Gold metals to you who bothered reading this far.

Anyway, all of that aside, I'll still be posting chapters. I'll have them scheduled and I'll probably come on and add links places to keep things current. I'll respond and reply and answer asks when I feel like it. You don't have to stop sending them, but just don't expect them to be responded to right away anymore. I'll probably still be here reblogging things I want and doing things when I feel like it.

I just need a few weeks to myself. Time I don't have to care about the blog at all and keeping up with it. Anon will remain off for the sake of keeping asshole trolls away, and also so I don't open tumblr and have 200 asks in my inbox after a week. Sorry to my anons but it's just the way it needs to be right now. Maybe once this break is over and I've dealt with irl stuff, I'll consider putting it back on. I just can't after everything I dealt with recently on anon.

It'll be the same on Ao3, for those that follow here and read there. Comments will probably sit for a while. They won't be answered right away anymore unless I get the energy to burn through them. Even then I won't try to answer them all at once like I did this last weekend.

I'll try to reblog something every day so y'all know I'm alright. I don't want y'all to panic and it's not fair to put you through that, especially those that might not see this or bother reading it. Those that follow simply for the fic and nothing else. I'm here, I'm just not...here.

This week's chapter is in the queue to be posted tomorrow as usual. Chapters will still come out as planned since I'm not stopping writing, just taking a break from the blog itself.

Thank you those of you who stuck through to the end here. I appreciate all of you so much. You have no idea. I'm sorry I let things get to this point and I'm sorry to anyone that I've gotten rude or snappy with because I couldn't be selfish and put myself first. I'm sorry to anyone that got a robotic, repeated response to something they were probably excited to share. I'm sorry I've been so unfair to everyone and I hope you can forgive me.

Take care and I'll talk to everyone when I have the energy to.

[chiaaseedbaby]

☀︎Teasing Devil☀︎

Pairing: Solivan Brugmansia x Male! Reader

Hello lovelies!! This is gonna be my first time writing a full smut fic, I really hope you enjoy it ^^

Tags: dryhumping, soaking, orgasm denial, overstimulation, begging, spanking, marking, and bondage <3

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Sol was a patient person, at least he tried to be. He held his tongue when people made comments about his style or the way he spoke. He barely reacted to direct insults to his face, but the one thing he couldn’t handle, was teasing.

He absolutely despised being teased, it made him feel weak and helpless. Though, despite how irritating it was to be teased, it made him really, really horny. You of course knew this, and decided to take advantage of it.

“… Love? Why are you sitting on my lap?” He asked, looking up from his book for a moment as you parked yourself on top of him.

“No reason, just bored♡” You whispered into his ear, trailing your fingers down the side of his neck. Sol let out a soft whimper from the cold feeling of your fingers, he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers.

“You’re acting weird, are you alright?” You ignored his question and pressed a kiss to his collarbone, then one to his nose, then his temples, then his cheek and then finally one soft peck to his lips, subtly rubbing your butt right on his thigh, making him tense up. “Love… don’t do that…” He said with a shaky breath.

“Hm?~ What’s wrong Babe? You okay?” You ask with faux innocence, looking up at him with a subtle but mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Y-Yes I-I’m fine… but… are you doing this on purpo-“ Just as Sol began questioning you, in came Crowe to beg for your help in stopping Brittney from beating Deryl to death because he took her phone.

“Oh, okay Crowe! Bye babe!! I’ll see you later!!” You called as you ran with Crowe to stop the attempted murder about to commence, while also planning how you’d mess with Sol later. Oh this, is going to be fun…

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☀︎NSFW BELOW☀︎

You laid in bed with Sol, resting your body on top of him, your head resting upon his chest. “Baby?” You coo, crawling up to kiss his jawline again.

“Hm?” He responded, his eyes closed as he was half asleep, listening to an audio book. “Is there something you need love?” He asked, his hand coming up to rub your hair.

You giggled, palming his cock gently. “No~ Just wanted to hear your voice…” You said softly. Giggling from the sharp breath he took.

“Love… you’re starting a game you might not be able to finish.” He growled opening his eyes and wrapping his arms around your waist. But right as his hand reached your shorts, you stopped him.

“Nuh uh~” You hummed, booping his nose. “No touching♡” Sol stared in disbelief.

“I’m… not allowed to touch you? Why?” He asked, looking at you with confusion etching his face. “Did I… Did I do something wrong?”

“No love, I just wanna try something… different.” You smiled, reaching over to your nightstand. Sol’s eyes followed your hand and widened when he saw you pull out a bundle of silky green rope. “Can you put your hands above your head Babe?” You questioned, already unbundling the rope.

“Y-You’re going to tie me up?” He said, his voice shaking with fear and a bit of excitement as you nodded cheerfully.

“Yup! It’s gonna be fun! Don’t you think?” You smirked, pushing his hands above his head as you guided yourself onto his lap. As you tied his hands up in a pretty little but really tight bow Sol stared up at you, mesmerized, never expecting you to ever take control like this. “Are you comfy baby?” You ask sweetly.

“I-I’m alright Love.” He whispered, still staring.

“Good! Now let’s begin~” You say with a sultry tone, grinding your hips on his hardening cock. “How’s that feel?” You question while slowly pushing shirt up.

“F-Feels… G-Good…” Sol whimpered, his hands instinctively trying to go grab your waist. “P-Please don’t stop…” He murmured, trying to slow down his rapidly beating heart.

“Hm… You don’t want me to stop? Do you?”

He looking up at you shaking his head. “Wanna t-touch you… please?” He whined at you, hands still struggling with the ropes. He wanted you, he needed you, he was going to get out.

You smiled at his whine, leaning down to start leaving marks all over his neck and upper chest, grinding your hips harder on him.

“F-Fuck!” Sol gasped out, arching his back a bit. “L-Love I’m c-close…”

“Oh are you? Hm? How close?” You stared down at him, gouging his reaction, and when he was right on that edge, right about to cum, you stopped, lifting your hips above his clothed cock. “Oops~ I slipped off~” You hummed, at his desperate groan. He thrust his hips up, trying to get that delicious friction back.

“C-Come back. P-Please? I want… I want to cum please!” He looked up at you with the neediest look you’ve ever seen from him.

“Awww baby… I’ll start again, don’t worry.” You began grinding again, holding his face into your hands. “Baby… are you crying?” You stared at the tears that slid down his cheeks.

“N-No…” He pouted, looking away from you. Your heart clenched at his desperate behavior, but also didn’t want to stop teasing this poor man. So you brought him right to that edge once again, and stopped. Repeating this process again, and again and again. Every time he whined and begged you to let him cum, but you weren’t ready to yet.

“Aw my poor silly baby, you really really wanna cum don’t you, why don’t you be a good boy and beg me mo-“

SNAP!

“Shit…”

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To be continued…

Hi lovelies!! I wanted to post this for you so you guys could have something to read for now. Since it’s taking me so long to fully finish this, here’s the part one, you can expect part two as soon as I’m done! (๑>◡<๑)

Also… happy late Valentine’s Day!

[thatfandomslut]

Soft For You

Regina George x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Trigger Warning: heart palpitating fluff- be safe out there. There is also mentions of bullying towards the reader in this fic, brief moment of feeling claustrophobic, feelings of insecurity.

Request:

Do you think you could do a fic where Regina is the Queen B and everything but y/n is her soft spot

Mean Girls requests are open.

In the dictionary, if someone located the name 'Regina George,' they might read 'the biggest HBIC to ever grace the halls of North Shore High School.' Regina was stone cold with icy blue eyes to match her rigid exterior. She didn't care if she hurt someone's feelings, nor did she care who anyone was at North High unless they were Gretchen, Karen, Cady, or the only person who was allowed to see her complex side, (Y/n). (Y/n) was the human personification of ADHD, and she somehow managed to catch the attention and affection of the school's ice queen, Regina.

If someone were to look at (Y/n) with any hint of a funny expression, Regina was telling them off. She felt like (Y/n) needed her protection. So, she was there to offer it, even when (Y/n) didn't ask. (Y/n) also didn't mind Regina defending her if someone said something mean to her as she was not a confrontational person. She tried to stay on everyone's good side, but sadly that task was easier said than done because somehow, (Y/n) seemed to have gotten on the wrong side of the girl's soccer captain, Tammy Schneider.

They were in their shared English class when the two got paired up, and Tammy seemed less than pleased with the idea. (Y/n) didn't understand why, so she tried to start on their writing assignment, but Tammy wasn't responding to her well. "I'm sorry, but have I done something to offend you? I'm just trying to get this assignment done." (Y/n) tapped the pencil in her hand on her brainstorming paper as she tried to figure the girl out. She wasn't too sure what she might've done to Tammy since the two had never had a real conversation before.

Tammy shrugged with narrowed eyes, causing (Y/n)'s frown to deepen. "I just personally think you're nothing special. Regina George parades you around like you're made of gold, but for what? Your only prospects are English and History. Your looks are mediocre, nothing like the other Plastics." Tammy commented with her nose in the air. (Y/n) was surprised by the girl's answer. She had already been insecure over topics such as these, but no one was brave enough to talk to her the way Tammy had. "But, whatever, Regina can date a loser, but many of us are still confused as to why." She said simply, ignoring the hurt on (Y/n)'s face as the girl stared at her paper.

(Y/n) was thankful for the bell ringing, dismissing her from the class. Usually, she'd wait for Gretchen, who shared that class with her. Today, she had gathered up her papers, stuffed them into her bag, and escaped the room she was starting to feel claustrophobic in. Swallowing thickly as she made her way into the bathroom she went to the sink to splash some water on her face. She had to calm herself down before she met with the other girls during lunch. She couldn't cry, or her eyes would be puffy, and Regina would know something was off. (Y/n) breathed in deeply hearing the ping in her bag that alerted her to a new message.

'Hey, where did you go? Are we just meeting in the cafeteria?'

(Y/n) rubbed at the eye that was watering before responding to Gretchen, apologizing for leaving so abruptly. She made up an excuse of leaving an item in another classroom before confirming that they would meet in the cafeteria. (Y/n) adjusted her cardigan before removing then reapplying some of the makeup she had damaged when she had initially teared up. Her cheeks were still a bit flushed, but she could use the excuse of running to another classroom for that. (Y/n) finally deemed her appearance significant enough to leave the restroom before heading to meet Regina, Gretchen, Karen, and Cady for lunch.

"Hey, princess," (Y/n) greeted Regina first, placing a soft kiss on Regina's temple. She felt dumb doing that now. Regina probably secretly felt disgusted after feeling her lips on anywhere on her face. Due to that sudden thought, she felt queasy and lost her appetite. Still, she made sure to eat, knowing that it was important to keep her energy up. After all, she had softball after school and she needed all the energy she could get so she could pretend Tammy was the yellow ball hurtling toward her that she smacked into the outfield. "Hey, Gretchen, Karen, Cady."

Regina recognized the tremble in her voice as she examined her girlfriend's body language. She didn't want to say anything in front of the other girls, though. She didn't know if this was a private feeling, or if she'd rather share. So, she ultimately decided to ask her after lunch to provide a safe space for (Y/n) to communicate her feelings.

"Will you walk me to my car after you eat? I think I've left something in there, and I don't want to go alone." Regina inquired casually. She didn't want to draw any attention to the situation. She knew how observant Gretchen was. It was one of the reasons she actually appreciated Gretchen as a friend, even if she struggled to show it. When (Y/n) smiled, biting into her sandwich, Regina grinned. "Perfect! Thank you, baby girl."

Gretchen made a little thoughtful noise. "Everyone is forgetting something today. Just before lunch, (Y/n) left something in her last class period." She spoke thoughtfully, causing (Y/n) and Regina to look over. Sometimes, Gretchen was too observant for her own good. This was the best example of that. Sometimes, with how observant she was, she tended to make comments that made those she was observing hoping she would stop connecting dots. Like, now, for example,

Regina and (Y/n) left the table shortly after, when (Y/n) finished her lunch. "What's on your mind?" Regina questioned when they made to their Jeep, away from everyone in the cafeteria. Not many people hung out in the parking lots during lunch. "You look upset about something, and I want to be here for you," Regina spoke softly as she cupped her cheek gently.

This seemed to be what broke whatever dam (Y/n) had put into place. Her eyes instantly watered, and Regina quickly took her into her arms. "Tammy Schneider implied that I wasn't good enough for the Plastics and you." She admitted, trying to stop herself from crying. She felt pathetic and insecure, despite Regina's caring hold on her as she cried in her shoulder. She hated feeling less than, and she constantly worked on not feeling this way, but sometimes it only took a few mean comments to send her down a rabbit hole.

Regina had stiffened at the realization of someone being mean to (Y/n). Pulling away, she used her thumbs to gently wipe away the cascading tears on (Y/n)'s cheeks. "You need to listen to me, okay?" She waited to see (Y/n) nod as she sniffled under Regina's touch. "You need to know that I have never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else. You mean the world to me. You're kind, strong, and smart. I enjoy how you can talk about anything and everything. I am so soft for you that it's completely altered my personality. I am a better person when I'm with you. With that said, I will be grinding Tammy into sand." Regina stated, fire in her eyes as she kissed (Y/n)'s forehead.

(Y/n) smiled a bit, leaning into Regina's touch, her ever-looming insecurity lifting. "You make me a better person, too, Regina. Thank you for making me feel better. I don't think grinding Tammy into sand will make the situation better though." (Y/n) admitted, even if a small part of her would pay to see Tammy even attempt to step up to Regina's plate.

There was a small smirk that played on Regina's lips. "It'd make me feel better. And judging your little smile, you're not too opposed to that idea." Regina teased as (Y/n) laughed, nudging the girl gently. "Maybe I'm not too opposed," (Y/n) admitted, before kissing Regina softly. Regina kissed back happily, already plotting Tammy's demise.

[pzweigs]

sorry for being feral just realized I commented on both your wip for you to tag me😭😭😭 artrick writers are just so much rarer and i love your writing style

but as for a request, I was thinking maybe stanford!art getting jealous of tashi (since patrick spends all his time with her) but once patrick realizes he’s like “awe baby if you wanted me to fuck you too all you had to do was ask”

omg, first of all, thank you so much! i really appreciate the interest! also, i am SO sorry for how long this took, truly no excuse, i just take forever and am very easily distracted… this really got away from me ehtiwjrjsjfjs i lowkey don’t know how to keep things short so this is kind of a mini fic… i feel like it might be a bit different from your original rec, it ended up being a lot cuter than i had originally thought!

anyway! artpatrick, stanford, 2.5k, m/e

When Patrick walks into Art’s dorm, he immediately knows he’s in trouble.

Art is lying supine on his bed—doing that thing where he pretends to be asleep but is really just quietly furious—arms crossed and hat covering what is sure to be a very dower expression.

Patrick double checks his watch, only now registering it’s three hours past when they’d originally agreed to meet up. He winces—he’d been in a haze after leaving Tashi’s dorm, high off the sight and sound that is Tashi Duncan in the morning. She’d rolled on top of him and his brain leaked out his ears. He’s only human.

He’d been late arriving to the Stanford campus the day before and was too tired after hours of driving, so he’d crashed in her dorm. He hasn’t even had the chance to see much of Art yet. Patrick feels a twinge of guilt—it’d been some time since his last visit—but can’t help the smile that quirks up at the familiar picture Art makes: pouting and waiting for him. Always with the dramatics, Patrick thinks fondly.

“Hey.” He tries, opting to ignore the tense atmosphere he’d just stepped into.

Art doesn’t respond, continues lying there like he’s not in the room. Patrick, never one to be ignored by Art, lands on the bed brashly, hard enough to jostle Art in his place with the loud creak of the springs. His dumb, red Stanford hat tumbles off his face, revealing his annoyed expression as he sits up to glare at Patrick directly. “You’re three hours late.” He finally says.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He is, is the thing. “Tashi and I—“

Art cuts him off sharply. “I don’t need to hear about you and Tashi.” His tone is increasingly harsh—Art seems to be getting angrier the longer he looks at Patrick. “Do you even know what you look like right now?” Patrick blinks. He really, really doesn’t—can only imagine it’s something along the lines of very-freshly-fucked. “It couldn’t be more obvious that you two—”

“Had sex?” Patrick finishes with a grin. “Why, is that a problem?” He asks, faux-innocently with a tilt of his head.

Art on the other hand only gets more tense, brows furrowing further as he looks away from him. “It’s kind of fucking gross, yeah.”

“Gross?” He scoffs. “Me, having sex with my girlfriend? Are we twelve?” Art twitches at the mention of girlfriend, staring hard at the door as if he’s trying to will Patrick into leaving with just his mind. Like hell he’s going anywhere now.

He shifts even closer, on his knees knocking into Art’s legs. “Figured you’d like it. Smelling her on me. Like a contact high.”

The blonde whips his head back towards him, seething: “Can you just,” He grits through his teeth, “for one second, not fucking push me?”

Patrick takes a second to think about it. He answers easily and honestly. “No.”

Something snaps in Art’s eyes, his body language, and it freezes him in his tracks. Art is seriously pissed, Patrick can tell, but he can’t help his heart skipping at the sight of him anyway— hurt, furious, blazing with it.

“I am so sick of your shit,” He says, face burning but voice cold, embittered. “All I do is just—wait for you like an idiot, or watch you fucking leave.”

The sudden nconfession makes Patrick crumple a little. “Art—“

“No.” Art only gets more and more worked up as he goes on, fists clenched at his sides. “I just sit around, waiting, and then you’re here, for like, a second, before you’re fucking gone again. Like I don’t exist whenever you’re in drooling distance of Tashi. Do you know how shitty that is for me?”

If he’s being honest, guilt isn't something Patrick experiences a lot. It’s just not how he moves through life. He’s thoroughly and proudly self involved, with very few exceptions to the rule. But the fact that he could make Art—Art Donaldson, of all people, feel unimportant to him—it breaks his heart a little. A lot. He figured Art would be pretty upset at him spending all this time with Tashi, hell, he kind of liked the idea. Even more so Tashi spending all this time with him, but—

Something of a light bulb moment occurs just then—an unexamined, unacknowledged truth suddenly staring him in the face, loud and clear. A puzzle finally coming together. Which is all to say that, “Oh,” Patrick grins, “You’re jealous.”

Art’s anger burns to a fever pitch, flushing his skin. “That’s all you have to—“

“You’re not just jealous of me,” Patrick continues as if Art hadn’t interrupted, voice a little awed, smile growing on his face. “But Tashi too.” He swings a leg over Art and straddles him to deliver his simple, tender finishing blow. He cups one hand gently to Art’s cheek, watches him twitch away before eventually leaning into it. “You could’ve just said you missed me, you know.”

He can feel the tension finally break as Art sputters, face contorting from confused, to embarrassed, then back to furious. “I—“

“And I really am sorry.” Patrick looks him straight in the eye, wanting to get this part right. “I’m bad at this shit, and we—we never really had to make plans, before.” Up until last summer, Art and Patrick had practically lived the same life. There was no need to establish dates or times to meet. He’d simply look over, and Art would be there. He’d figured it as a fact of life—Art would always be there for him, waiting.

He doesn’t want to make Art wait anymore. He watches Art absorb this, his shoulders softening for the first time since he’d gotten here.

“And for the record,” He continues, because he always does have to push, “You always exist, even when I am drooling over Tashi. I miss you even when I’m with her. You’re all we talk about, anyway.”

Art tenses again, this time out of clear surprise. Patrick lets his hand drop from the side of Art’s cheek, down, slowly, to his neck; thumb rubbing at the intersection of his throat and collarbone.

“Really?” He asks, softly, all the air out of his sails.

Patrick shrugs, but he’s smiling, and it gets Art smiling too. “What else would we talk about?”

They sit there with a pair of goofy smiles on their faces, chuckling at how quickly their anger had dissipated, before Art shoves him playfully in the chest. He leaves his hand there, warm next to Patrick’s kicking heartbeat. He bites his lip, waiting for something. “Aren’t you going to tell me you miss me too?”

Art’s soft smile turns into a smirk, eyes crinkling with humor. It gives Patrick butterflies to look at so closely. “Nah.” He says, boyish and adorable.

“No?” Patrick pouts. “Not even if I do—” He takes a quick, measuring breath, praying he’s not somehow off the mark; “This?” His voice barely above a whisper as he presses his lips to Art’s.

His entire body tingles at the touch, the subtle press of his lips to Art’s—is this what they mean when they talk about sparks? He feels Art’s breath hitch, a tiny gasp of air when their lips part, then Art’s mouth chasing his. Their kisses are soft and short, tentative in this new balance they’ve struck. When he pulls away, Art’s still smiling, eyes closed. Even so, he shakes his head.

Not saying it, his bouncing curls telegraph. They both giggle, giddy with happiness.

Patrick could sit here kissing Art forever, but right now, he has other plans to put into action. A myriad of ways he could make it up to Art flash in his mind, and he's beyond eager to get to work. He rises further onto his knees, kissing down his throat. “Still no?” He rasps.

“U-Uh-huh,” Art breathes shakily as Patrick uses one hand to push him back on the mattress as he makes his way down further. He pulls Art’s shirt up to reveal the expanse of pale, smooth skin, lips tingling and head dizzy at the contact.

Patrick’s kissing his way down his heaving stomach, fingers resting at the waistband of Art’s shorts. He holds onto Art’s hips, slinking further enough down the bed that he can see the effects of his mouth so close to the tent in the blonde’s short’s, hearing him panting as he appraises it up close.

Art’s a twitching mess under his hands, trying not to get ahead of himself but clearly wanting for more—the desperation makes Patrick smile. Without warning, he’s kissing his crotch, mouthing at the fabric to a loud gasp and lingering groan. “Oh, fuck, Patrick.”

“Miss me yet?” He mutters, dizzy with his nose digging into Art’s groin, soaking the fabric with brief sucks of his mouth.

Art’s hands lift from their place on the sheets, tentatively gripping at Patrick’s hair, as his groan bubbles into a disbelieving laugh. “Patrick, c’mon.”

Patrick’s smiling so hard it hurts his cheeks, dick throbbing in his own pants. He feels so fucking dirty, lapping at him through his shorts. This might be the sexiest thing he’s ever experienced, his head buried in Art’s crotch. “Not till you admit it, baby.” One particularly harsh tug of his hair has him groaning into Art’s clothed dick.

“I fucking missed you, ok?” He looks up to catch the expression on Art’s face; a wobbly grin to mirror his own, cheeks flushed with arousal instead of anger, eyes filled with bemused adoration. “Couldn’t stand it. Everything’s—” He breaths, “Everything’s so fucking boring without you.” The confession makes Patrick moan and his heart clench. He gestures quickly for Art to lift his hips so he can remove his shorts and toss them aside, mouthing at his thin briefs instead.

“Fuuuuck,” Art moans, shivering. Now that he’s started babbling he can hardly stop, and it’s driving him crazy. “Patrick, please, I missed you so fucking much, I miss you all the time, miss you—“ Patrick sucks at the tip through the tiny fabric, prompting a string of curses from Art, hips jumping from the bed in pleasure.

As fun as teasing him is, if Patrick doesn’t get his mouth on Art’s dick immediately he might actually die. With a quick tug of Art’s underwear it pops out, pink and straining and perfect. Patrick’s mouth waters as he quickly licks a stripe to the top of Art’s cock, tongue swirling at the head.

“Jesus Christ,” Art mutters, looking straight at him, both hands deep in Patrick’s curls as he encourages him to take him in his mouth. Patrick acquiesces happily, taking him deeper, cheeks hollowing as he meets his eyes.

He hears Art’s head hit the pillow, sighing like nothing has ever felt better. So it catches him off guard when he says: “Is this what you talk about with Tashi? Hm?” He tugs at his hair again, taking control of the pace to Patrick’s surprised pleasure. “How badly you want to suck my dick?”

Patrick feels shivers run down his entire body, grinding down into the mattress, moaning on Art’s cock. He pulls off to catch his breath, letting his hand take over as he huffs. He’s so turned on he can barely think, can only offer a breathy “Yeah,” before he’s going back down for more.

He gets an answering “Fuck,” in return, Art’s dick throbbing in his mouth as he bobs his head faster. Patrick and Tashi had never really said as much, not in so many words. But everytime she put her fingers past his lips, making him choke on them, the way he’d suck and bite without question, he could see in her eyes that’s what she was thinking—and vice versa.

Art’s dick is a lot bigger than Tashi’s fingers, and Patrick fears he may be addicted to the weight of it in his mouth. What a waste to have not been doing this the entire time, he thinks, head fuzzy with how good it feels to finally have Art where he wants him. He sucks harder to compensate, tries to remember all the tricks girls had used on him in the past while his brain is still functioning.

Not that Art would notice any of his attempts to impress—he can feel how close he is, the way he’s dripping into his mouth, the way his hips buck under his hands, the way his moans ring loud in his tiny dorm, probably through the hall. Moans that sound so sweet, that’ll haunt his dreams, his waking days, for the foreseeable future—until he gets to hear them all over again.

“Shit, Patrick,” Art’s voice and body trembles, his thighs quivering underneath his palms. “So close—Oh shit—Please please please,” He starts blabbering, drunk and desperate with his approaching orgasm, and Patrick could probably get off just like this, hips rutting into the mattress and Art begging to come in his mouth.

He takes him in a little deeper, almost in his throat now, humming in encouragement; he wants to show him how bad he wants it, too—and Art’s off like a rocket in no time, entire body arched, overcome with his release. Patrick watches him fall back into the mattress like a puppet with his strings cut, filled with a sense of pride and, also, a mouth full of come.

He’s not going to make it to the bathroom, figures what the hell, and just swallows. Art gets up on his elbows and watches him do this, watches him lick his lips to get the rest of it and groans weakly, dragging him back up. “Christ,” is all he can manage, pulling Patrick’s lips back on his, tasting himself, while his hand shoves it’s way down his pants. Patrick jolts into him immediately, whimpering into his mouth after being on the edge for so long. Art’s hand starts to move, firm and fast—a little rough from practice—it has Patrick groaning into Art’s neck, thrusting into his fist.

“Missed you,” Art whispers into his ear, leaving soft kisses to the side of his cheek. Patrick turns, chasing his mouth. Art’s somehow even sweeter after he’s come, voice velvety and earnest as he mutters sweet nothings between kisses, working Patrick up even further. Art’s twisting his hand the way he knows he likes, thumbing his head hard the way Patrick told him to all those years ago, and all that combined with the soft way he says; “Missed this face—” makes Patrick melt, cut him off with a breathless groan, and come into his fist. Boneless, he collapses into Art, who graciously lets Patrick lie on top of him as he catches his breath, other hand rubbing soothing circles into his back.

They bask in the afterglow for sometime before Patrick pipes up, rolling off him to press up against his side, ankles crossing and legs tangling together. “Happy now?” He mumbles into his neck, and smiles as feels the vibration of Art’s laugh.

“Very.” Art replies, fucked out and satisfied. He turns to his side, hand coming up to play with Patrick’s curls. 

“Good.” Patrick says around a yawn, sleep closing in faster with every soothing scratch at his hair. He thinks about how Tashi might feel when he inevitably tells her about this development between him and Art— that she’ll probably be very happy too, so long as they can both make up for excluding her this time. He dozes off to fantasies of all the things he and Art can do for her, content in his best friend's arms. 

[coloursflyaway]

i'm finally going through the comments on heaven to no one else but me (i'm so sorry for the delay, btw, but i was gone over the weekend and you guys were SO sweet that i wanted to take the time to reread everything and make sure i'd respond properly) and i just had A Thought.

i've been putting charles through the ringer lately, which i love doing, because that boy suffers so prettily. but how about a fic in which through magical hijinks charles loses his memory, and edwin is the one left behind?

and charles is like he always is, which is bright and happy and clever and wonderful, and he takes to edwin like he did last time ("so we're best friends? that's pretty cool, i never thought i'd get a best friend this clever! how do you put up with me?") and he's the same, but also, he's not.

because all the time they had together changed charles, just like they changed edwin, and there is something impossibly nostalgic about seeing charles like this, like a snapshot of thirty years ago, but at the same time, it's the most painful experience of edwin's life, because charles has forgotten everything about what made them them.

the synergy isn't there anymore, the ease they usually move with together, the references to older cases and the inside jokes they have.

one time, edwin holds out his hand on instinct; charles asks, "huh? what do you need?" instead of putting their magic screwdriver into it.

edwin doesn't do it a second time.

and there is a beauty, maybe, in watching charles get to know him again, but god, it breaks edwin's heart every second of the way.

and they go through remedy after remedy and nothing works, and edwin has to face the possibility that he might still have a best friend, but he'll never get His Best Friend back, and it's not enough to destroy him, because charles is still there, but god, it is close.

(charles, at the same time, is baffled by everything edwin knows about him and how close they must have been and is this really everything, is edwin keeping something from him? did they - he can hardly think it, because surely it can't be true, this doesn't happen to him, he's not worth of this happening to him - kiss? is this why edwin looks at him so dejectedly when he thinks charles doesn't notice?)

and charles keeps asking questions, like he is trying to figure something out, until one day, he kisses edwin. straight on the lips, a hint of a question in the curve of his mouth, and edwin is both overwhelmed and devastated, because this is what he had been hoping for before charles had lost his memory, and yet he cannot enjoy it now, because it's not His Charles; and yet he cannot pull away, because it is Still Charles and edwin loves him in any way he can.

it feels like cheating somehow, but what if he'll never get charles back, what if this is all that is left of their friendship now?

so he kisses back anyway, and when charles smiles against his lips, edwin thinks maybe, just maybe, it could be okay.

only that a few days, or maybe a few weeks later, something happens and charles suddenly looks at him and he's Back, edwin can see it in his eyes, and -

-and how can he explain this to charles now, that he let himself be kissed by charles when he was not himself, how can he look charles in the eyes when he knows that he has taken advantage of him like this, has he gotten his best friend back now only to lose him again because he couldn't control himself around charles and-

-and charles smiles at him, says, "hi. good to be back. i missed you."

and he takes edwin's hand, who still cannot speak, cannot think, and presses a kiss to the back of it.

"guess i just had to start all over again to realise i could absolutely fall in love with you, huh?" he says, and he looks at edwin like he used to a week ago, like he used to a decade ago, and edwin is crying before he knows it, fingers curling around charles' to hold onto him.

"did you?", he asks, and charles just laughs, sweet and happy and safe.

"oh absolutely. although i think i might have started thirty-odd years ago."

[catch1ngmoths]

๋࣭⭑: GROAN 𖦹๋࣭⭑:

♪ ༘⋆“And yeah, I wanna spend the night with you. Yeah, I wanna feel a beating, bleeding heart, don't you? Because I've never really known but I pinky-promise you I'm grown, and I wanna know what it feels like” -dazey and the scouts ♪ ༘⋆

SUMMARY: Basically just a joost Klein x Fem!virgin reader fic

WARNINGS: Smut, PIV sex, female anatomy, joost is a flirt, very soft, reader is a virgin, pantie stealing?

NOTE: oh my god…I AM SO SORRY FOR MY 4 MONTH ABSENCE!! I HAVE MISSED YALL SO MUCH, I’ve just been so busy but this concept with this song has been rent free in my head, so here yall go! Also there are 34 requests in my inbox so idk if I’ll make all of them but I might finish some of those, IDK!

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹

Party’s. You hated most of them, they were always too loud or there were too many people. Too much going on. Too much. Which is why you were sat on a random couch in the middle of a party that your friend dragged you to, picking at the skin around your nails. You let out a wince as you peal away some of the skin you relentlessly attacked, furrowing your brows. At least this was an excuse to get up and do something, you thought as you get up to stumble your way through drunk people into the kitchen.

As you look around for a napkin, paper towels, something, you hear someone clear their throat behind you. You turn around with slightly widened eyes to see a tall guy towering a few feet behind you, he had a whitish - blonde short mullet and piercing blue eyes. “Er - are you looking for something?” His accent made your knees weaken. “Oh! Well is there any bandages or paper towels? Something like that?” You ask with a polite smile

“Ah yes, come come, follow me.” He responds, with a smile that calmed any nerves about being here in the first place. You follow him through the drunken crowd of people, trying to be as close behind him as you could. He finally leads you to a small bathroom, looking through the cabinets before smiling back at you and pulling out bandages for you to pick from. Of course you pick the y/f/c one, and wrap it around your finger. “Thank you…..” you trail off, waiting for him to say his name

He chuckles, sitting himself on the edge of the bathtub, motioning you to sit down as well. “My names joost.” He says, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. “That’s a nice name.” You say with a small smile, following his motion and sitting next to him. “And yours?” His accent just makes you weak, mentally cursing yourself for the way you’re reacting to this man you only just met.

You tell him your name with a smile, he repeats your name and mumbles a quiet “mooie” under his breath. You swear your heartbeat is so loud it could be heard through the music that’s thumping through the walls. “Why do you seem so upset? I noticed you earlier… you don’t seem to be enjoying this party too much?” Joost questions, shifting to turn more in your direction.

You smile at him, playing with the bandage on your finger, “I don’t do well with parties, there’s always too much going on for me” you respond, looking back at him and his intoxicating features. “Ah.” He says, his smirk turning into a small smile. “Not one for crowds then?” Joosts eyes scan yours, taking in how much smaller you are compared to him, more fragile. As if one wrong touch and you’ll break into tiny pieces, he’s pulled out of his thoughts with the sound of your voice again.

“What about you, how are you liking this?” you say with a smile and a head turn. “Me? I don’t enjoy it either, I’m only here because the host is one of my friends.” He replies with a shrug and a smile. Joost takes a second to look you up and down, noticing your outfit, how cute you look. “I like your outfit, by the way.” He comments, tilting his head slightly.

You light up at the compliment, a small smile playing on your lips. “Thank you, I wear things like this often.” You say softly, “It suits you, you look….” He pauses to look you up and down - he knew what he was doing, a sorta familiar feeling finding its way to your stomach. His eyes darting to your lips, not as subtly as he thought.

“Is that my turn to give you a compliment?” You tease, noticing his eyes. He looks into your eyes, his smirk never faltering. “Sure, hit me with your best shot, schat.” You hum, seemingly thinking of a compliment. Then after a beat, you speak. “You have really nice lips.” The words come out before you can stop them, it wasn’t really a lie though, but you curse your inner voice for having no filter. His smirk turns into a full on grin at the compliment, his eyes flickering to your lips once more before looking back at you. “You think so?”

“I do.” You say, trying to sound nonchalant about it. A shiver runs down your spine as his gaze lands on your lips, you could feel how he was eating you up just with his eyes. One of his legs was almost pressed completely up against yours, you could feel the heat from him as he leaned slightly closer to you. The air suddenly felt too hot in the room, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You know…you’re very easy to make nervous” he teases as he puts his hand on your knee. You try to speak but it comes out as a stutter, too distracted by his touch. “Y-Yeah?” You say quietly, your heart starting to hammer in your chest as he rubs your knee. He hums in response, his hand moves up further before resting on the inside of your thigh, the touch making your breath hitch again. “Yeah, just look at you getting all worked up by one little touch.”

You could feel heat rush to your cheeks at his words, how true they were. Your thighs instinctively close around his hand as it slowly starts rubbing your inner thigh. “Can’t help it.” You murmur. The only response he gave was a small smirk as he moves to face you completely, his hand now moving to your hip and grabbing it lightly.

You and him are now facing each other, you’re basically sitting on his lap with how close he has you. His hand is on your hip, the other one grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are dilated and staring straight into yours, your body is practically on fire and on edge with how close he is to you. Before he could speak your lips are on his, the drinks you drank earlier making your judgement fuzzy.

As quick as it started you pulled away with wide eyes, “oh god…I’m sor-“ you go to speak until his hands pull your face to his, smashing his lips onto yours. Strong breaths leave both y’all’s lips, whimpers, and moans as well as y’all grab at each other. It’s a desperate tango of lust, “you wanna get out of here.?” He asks against your lips between heated kisses. “Uh huh..” you mumble, not trusting yourself to say words.

Before you knew it, you both were stumbling through the crowd to the front door. Joost was already on the phone with the taxi place as he walked out with you. Some people gave weird looks, some smirked in knowing, but most were too focused on themselves to care about the two pushing past forcefully. As you and joost got outside his lips were on yours once more, it looked like the beginning of a sex scene in a movie.

His hands roam your body feverishly like if he slowed down you’d disappear, while your hands were busy tugging and pulling at the hair on the back of his head. Lips were working on overdrive, a tango of lust and desperation bottled into harsh kisses. Finally the taxi pulls up and both of you part ways, getting in the taxi.

It was a ride full of tension, both you and joost looking over to one another every now and then. His fingers rubbing circles on your thigh, it was odd. You both felt a sense of longing towards one another, for only knowing each other for not even 30 minutes. It was a feeling that both of you felt in your stomachs, a feeling of not just lust but affection.

For you it was multiple feelings deep in your stomach, feelings of excitement, nervousness, awe, and lust. It made your head spin and your brain feel foggy but you didn’t have time to think too deep into these feelings since the taxi had pulled up to what you assumed to be joosts house. You both got out and as soon as your feel hit the floor, joosts hand was interlocked with yours.

You giggle as you get pulled to joosts front door, legs making long strides as smiles paint both y’all’s lips and laughs leave y’all’s mouths. He fumbles with his key as you stand with excitement and fear, you’d never done this before and felt everything inside you yelling to run away from this but your body craved his touch. He opens his door and pulls you inside, you smile against his lips as he connects them again.

You both stumble towards his bedroom, taking off clothes in a frenzy as y’all go. You finally reach the bedroom and are placed on the bed delicately like you were made of glass, I work of art that couldn’t be broken, not in his eyes at least. He leans down to kiss you once more but you furrow your brows and pull away, “joost…wait..” you mumble against his lips

He breathes heavily as he looks down at you, his eyes now flashing concern, “are you ok, do you wanna stop?” He asks, holding your face in his to get his point across that this can stop at the sound of a word. “Yeah - I’ve just, I’ve just never done this before..” you say as you bite the inside of your cheek anxiously, your eyes half lidded. His gaze softens tremendously as he smiles softly at you, “if you don’t want to do this then it’s no problem at-“ you cut him off with the vigorous shake of your head.

“No! I do…I just - you know.!” You blurt out, you had no idea what you were doing, how this would feel, what would happen. He sensed this as he nods at you, pressing a soft kiss to your head, “I’ll be gentle and walk you through it if you’d like..?” Your heart melts and nerves turn to giddiness, you nod and flash him a thankful smile. “I’d really like that..” you mumble against his lips as you press his glossy lips to yours

His shirt is already off and so is yours, you feel his lips licking and kissing at your neck, then the valley of your breasts, your soft tummy, and down until he reaches your skirt. He looks up at you and you swear you can die right here, right now in paradise. “Can I take these off schat?” He asks softly, you give a hum and nod but he doesn’t take that as an answer. “I need a yes or no baby” he smiles at you, he was gonna make sure you were sure about this the whole way through. You squeak out a weak, “please..yes”

He smiles and pulls them off with excitement, licking his lips at the sight of your clothed pussy. He kisses your clit through the fabric, admitting small sounds from you. He kisses and licks through the lace as he groans at the visual of your outlined pussy. He looks up at you once more for confirmation, your voice is shakey as you nod your head. He slowly pulls them off, teasing you before stuffing them in his black jean pocket. He breathes against your cunt before licking a proud stripe right up the center, you let out a whine and grab at his hair. He moans against your pussy, the vibration making your eyes roll back.

He works like he was starving, eating you out like I’d be his last meal but still finding a way to be gentle. His free hand rubbed shaped into your hips in a soothing manner, you could feel his smile against you as you let out a particularly sweet moan that makes him want to stay between your thighs for eternity. You soon feel an unfamiliar sensation in your stomach, grabbing harsher at his hair as you blabber words he couldn’t make out. He knew what was about to happen but didn’t want to make you too sensitive on your first time, he kisses your clit before pulling away.

You whine and shake your head, tears threatening to fall from your eyes in pleasure and frustration. He takes multiple visual pictures of you in this state, hoping to remember this forever. He kisses your cheeks as a not-so-guilty look fills his eyes, “I’m sorry honey, don’t want you to be too sensitive” he mumbles as he pulls off his belt and pants, leaving him in his boxers. You practically droll at the sight of his cock through his boxers, he was huge and you didn’t know how you’d be able to take him.

He sees your wide eyes and whimpers and chuckles, “don’t worry baby, I’ll be slow” he says softly before pulling off his boxers and climbing over you, cooing as he kisses away the sneaky tears that spilled from your eyes. “Are you okay; we can stop right now if you want to” he says cautiously, looking at you seriously. “No no, I want to - just be gentle please” you say softly making him look down at you in awe

“Wouldn’t be anything else with you” he says as he kisses you sweetly, pumping himself a few times before grabbing a condom and slipping it over his dick before asking you if you were ready and kissing your head. After you give him one final confirmation he pushes into you slowly, you wince at the pinching feeling, your eyes watering. He coos and rubs your cheek with his thumb, “shh shhh it’s ok, I’ve got you” he says, nothing but affection in his accent filled voice. He stays still for a few moments, kissing all over your face and mumbling words of encouragement and reassurance in your ear.

He finally speaks up with a genuine tone, “can I move now?” You look up at him and nod, he raises his eyebrows and smiles at you. “Y-yes, you can” you confirm verbally, he lets out hum of approval before slowly moving in and out. A shakey groan leaves his lips as his mouth falls open as he holds onto your waist, pressing soft kisses on your nose, forehead, and closed eyes. You whine and squirm under him as the feeling of pain slowly disappears and turns into pleasure.

His touch, his eyes, even his voice is gentle, as his dick moves softly inside you. The sound of skin slapping together along with moans and groans fill the room, he whispers words of praise in your ear and makes your heart feel full along with your body. “Your taking me so well Schatje, so so good” he moans out as he interlocks your fingers with his, his body embracing you in every way he could. Your moans get more high pitched, making him smile down at you, kissing your head. “J-joost I-“ you can’t find the words as you feel a weird sensation throughout your body before your eyes squeeze shut, tears flowing from your eyes

Joost thrusts a little faster and deeper, making you whine at the feeling of being so full. You feel a spark of pleasure fill your body as you squirm under him, letting out a loud moan. His thrusts continue but gently making you dumb on his cock. He follows shortly after, the hand that interlocks with yours squeezes as he cums, his brain short circuiting at the feeling of you around him. He mumbles words in his language you can’t make out as he holds onto you tightly.

He holds you in his embrace for a few minutes, both of you trying to catch your breath as you look at one another with adoration. “Are you okay baby?” He asks, making you smile at the pet name, “m’okay” you mumble quietly as he pulls away from you, your body suddenly felt empty and cold at the loss of warmth. “I’ll be right back” he speaks as he heads to the bathroom to grab something to clean you with, he returns with a washcloth and wipes you clean. His lips find your clit once more as he presses soft, loving kisses all over the swollen bud. You whine and he chuckles, “sorry schatje, couldn’t help myself” he speaks as he lends you some of his oversized clothes to wear

You both dress lazily before he pulls you into his warm bed, his arms wrap around you as your face is buried into his chest. His fingers rub your back soothingly as he whispers loving words into your ear, but the only thing you could think about was where this relationship would go from here. You wanted to see him again after this, you didn’t want this to be a onetime thing - neither did he….

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹

[iwantkirkhammett]

thinking about older (current day) kirk being like ur dads best friend and there’s an undeniable tension between the two of u that both of u try to ignore until finally it becomes too much and u guys secretly fuck behind ur dads back MMM i love older men

STOP THIS IS SO GOOD OH MY GOD??!!! also sorry for the delays i’ll have more fics tn :p

𝐍𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐲, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

𖤐-------------------------------------------------------𖤐

I brushed my hair in the mirror, sighing in content from the refreshed feeling after my long shower. I had just gotten off of work not too long ago, and there was no doubt that showers always relaxed and comforted me after a difficult day. I finished getting dressed and brushed my hair, scrunching products into it and then putting the slightest amount of perfume on and sliding on some leggings and a tank top. I hung up my towel and opened the bathroom door, heading into my room but then stopped when I heard conversation and chatting downstairs.

I got curious, especially considering I didn’t know my dad was having company over, not that I minded. But a small amount of desire and hope resided in me that it was his best friend, Kirk. I always have been obsessed with him, I’ve always watched old replays and shows and interviews of him, he was just the most perfect man I’ve ever met. Especially with his long curls, and he even looked so sexy and handsome now, it was almost unbearable to not throw myself at him.

I heard another laugh and I almost right away knew it was Kirk, and embarrassingly enough, I rushed to my bedroom to put a small amount of makeup on and a bit more perfume go enhance my appearance. I had to admit, there was an undeniable tension between me and Kirk. I always caught him staring at me, and I couldn’t hold myself back from staring at him, and we even made small flirtatious comments and gestures when my dad wasn’t around.

I giggled excitedly and went downstairs, greeting my Dad and Kirk, and Kirk smiled sweetly at me as I strut into the kitchen. “Hey sweetie, how was work?” Kirk asked, glancing at my tits that were obviously pushed up in my tank top for the slightest second, then going back to making eye contact with me. I shrugged, getting a glass and putting some ice in it, before grabbing some juice from the fridge. “It was okay…how was your show yesterday Kirk?” I asked, giving him a slightly suggestive look, and he cocked an eyebrow a bit, but not noticeable to anyone unless they were looking for it. “You know, long and exhausting but badass and fun.” He chuckled, to which I responded with a giggle and he went back to chatting with my dad.

I then sat on the couch, eavesdropping as much as I could on their conversation, before my dad came around to the couch a few minutes later, his keys and jacket in hand. “Hey…I’m gonna run to the liquor store and the grocery store, you want something?” He asked softly, to which I shook my head but thanked him anyway. “You’ll be okay here with Kirk?” He asked, teasing me a bit. “Dad I’m not 12 anymore…I’m fine.” I responded, and he patted my shoulder and left.

I went back to watching my show, sprawling out on the couch a bit and trying to ignore my racing heart and butterflies in my stomach, feeling nervous and excited that it was only me and the Kirk in the house, even if just for a few minutes.

He came over to the living room, sitting down on the couch behind me and patting my leg. “Hey sweetness…whatcha watching? Why you all the way over here by yourself?” He teased, taking a swig of his beer, his eyes trailing down to my plump ass. I gulped thickly and nervously. “N-Nothing…just exhausted haha, work was busy today…kinda stressful….” I mumbled, and Kirk hummed in sympathy, moving his hand a bit higher up my leg. “Aww…poor thing, you’re all tense too.” He said, chuckling a bit and reaching up to push my hair out of my face while I repositioned.

He stared down at my thighs, his eyes slowly trailing up my body before making eye contact with me. “Has anyone ever told you how good you look honey? You have such an amazing form, pretty face too.” He said, smiling softly at me. My cheeks turned bright hot, and I immediately got flustered and crossed my legs to try and ignore the wetness and desire growing between them. “Oh Kirk, that’s so sweet of you, I’m honestly flattered, thank you.” I stuttered out, and he set his beer down on the table beside the arm of the couch, and crawled over me so his body was above mine. “Don’t pretend you don’t know that baby, I see those glances you give me and the way you stare at my face, my abs, between my legs…” He spoke in a low tone, rubbing soft circles around my hips.

I gulped again, my breathing picking up and my cheeks getting more flustered. It took me a moment, but I finally was able to whisper out a response. “You noticed…?” I asked, and he just nodded, leaning down to gently kiss my cheek. “Of course…I go crazy over you too. Especially when you walk around in these tight ass leggings with your tits sitting all pretty, makes it hard to keep self-control.” He said, moving his mouth to my neck, leaving soft but seductive kisses, nipping and sucking ever so slightly. I gasped a bit in surprise and pleasure, and looked up at him with lustful eyes. “Kirk…my dad will be home soon…” I mumbled, though not that I cared. I was living out my wildest dreams right now, I didn’t want them to end.

He nodded, removing his shirt and revealing his tattoos, kissing my neck again as he started to remove my tank top. “Guess we should hurry up then huh? Unless you want your dad to know you’re on his couch fucking his best friend.” He chuckled, and I quickly shook my head while I peeled my leggings off. He sat up a little further, still propped on his elbows but looked down, a smug smirk on his face. “Shit, I knew I wasn’t imagining how fucking hot your body is…just look at you.” He said, tracing his hand up to my swollen tits and gently caressing my nipples, earning a soft whine from me. The own tent in his pants was painfully obvious, and I just got even more excited and wet at the sight. I looked up, already out of breath and panting. “Kirk…we need to hurry please, I wanna be able to feel you.” I whined, and he ripped off my panties in response, gasping at the sight of my dripping cunt. “Fuck….you’re so fucking beautiful…” He groaned, sitting up on his knees and dropping his belt on the floor, unzipping his jeans and pulling them down.

He ran his fingers along my slit, and I whimpered and whined in pleasure. “O-Oh my god…K-Kirk…!” I gasped and moaned as he started to rub gently on my clit, and he smirked down at me. “You’re so wet, you’ve been waiting for this haven’t you? Waiting for me to fuck you huh? For me to make you mine?” He growled, inserting two fingers into me and I moaned, his fingers curling and hitting that one spot so perfectly. I nodded desperately in response, squirming and whining under him. I moaned and grabbed at his bare back as he worked his fingers. He was so skilled, rubbing my insides and thrusting at a perfect pace, years of guitar playing really helped him practice for instances like these I’m assuming. He pulled them out with a whine in protest escaping my lips, and he brought them up to his mouth and sucked my juices off, before he pulled his boxers down to reveal his cock.

He was so huge, so pretty too. Perfect color, length, width, curve, all of it. He lined up with my slit, rubbing back and forth to lube himself up a bit and I jolted in pleasure. He looked down at me, smirking. “You want this sweetheart? Gotta use your words.” He chuckled smugly, and I nodded. “Please fuck me Kirk, I’ve been waiting so long, please daddy!” I begged, to which I was immediately met with the intrusion of his huge cock, earning a loud and pleasured moan from me. He hissed as he entered, immediately starting at a rough and quick pace as we did have to be rather quick.

“You’re so fucking tight baby, so wet too. So good, fuck-you like it? Does my cock make you feel good?” He asked, letting out his own groan of pleasure and throwing his head back. I nodded, gripping desperately onto his back and the couch, moaning out. “Yes! Fuck yes it’s so good! Kirk oh my god!” I moaned, and I was honestly in heaven. He hit that one spot so good, filled me up and hit every sensitive spot inside of me. “M-More! Faster please!” I moaned through gritted teeth, the couch already soaking wet from my juices. Kirk chuckled, leaning down and taking one of my tits in his mouth, leaving a dark purple hickey. He let out low moans and groaned in pleasure, his hips snapping back and forth faster and harder, chasing his release.

“You’re such a naughty girl you know that? Getting fucked and sopping wet for your dad’s friend’s dick.” He grabbed my throat, squeezing a bit and I moaned, wrapping my legs around him and my gummy insides contracted around him even more. “K-Kirk! Fuck! I’m so close! Don’t stop! Please ahh!!” I croaked out, moaning and gasping. He groaned and tightened his grip on my throat. “M-Me too baby-fuck! Go ahead, let go, cum all over my dick princess.” He grunted, his thrusts getting sloppier. I moaned, a drooling fucked out mess as my mascara ran down my cheeks. I moaned even louder as that knot in my stomach finally snapped, and my juices dribbled all over Kirk’s cock and the couch as I finally released. I whimpered and moaned through the process, scratching and gripping Kirk’s back so hard I left marks. His own thrusts finally stopped, and he let out a low, guttural moan as he filled my insides up with his release. We both panted for a moment, enjoying the afterglow before he released my throat and pulled out, pulling his pants up.

He helped pick up my clothes off the floor and handed them to me, both of us rushing slightly to get dressed knowing my dad would be home any minute now. I sighed contently as I leaned back into the couch, and he smirked at me while wrapping his arm around my shoulder, placing a soft kiss on my cheek. “I always knew you’d know how to show me a good time sweetheart…” He said softly, before the front door opened and we both flinched away from each other. My dad set the groceries and packs of beer down on the counter, looking into the living room. “Did you take good care of my girl Hammett?” My dad called out from the kitchen jokingly, and Kirk just gave me a smug smirk, calling out into the kitchen. “Yeah…real good care of her.” He responded with a whisper, chuckling a bit as he slapped my ass to go back into the kitchen.

[snipersfucker]

As someone new to transformer fics, I'd love a fic where Mirage and the reader learn what the others name for body parts are (hand/servo, etc.) And obviously Mirage uses it as an opportunity to put the moves on the reader.

yall are so creative with these i legit opened my mouth when i read that...... such a good idea omg lets go (im so deep in that shit i legit remember most robot names for these body parts without having to look em up lmao)

"That's a chassis."

You let out a sigh as Mirage pointed at another part of his metal body. You knew you wouldn't be able to remember all these ridiculously strange names, but still wanted to be a good student, especially because you asked him to teach you.

"Mine's a bit bigger than the ones your little boys have."

And there it was. His constant bragging, showing-off, comments that indicated he was damn aware he was better than humans.

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him, not having to look up that much because he was sitting on his... aft. Or something.

"Helm, face plate, optics, pedes, tank..." He kept pointing at random body parts of his, naming them as fast as he could just to get to the most interesting ones he could use to finally rizz you up.

"'m surprised you don't have a diploma for being the best teacher ever, Mirage," you muttered under your breath shamelessly, sarcasm dripping from your tongue as you stood there with your arms crossed on your chest.

He liked the way you said his name, even if it wasn't in a particularly nice tone.

"No speaking unless you're being spoken to, miss," he reprimanded you like a strict teacher would, using his best Optimus Prime voice. Then, before you could talk back, he extended his left arm, putting it right in front of your face. He made a fist but allowed his middle finger to stay up, "What's this called?" he asked you, even though you haven't gone through this particular body part yet.

"Flipping someone off, sir," you answered in an overly eager, sweet tone, as if you were trying to sound like the teacher's pet.

You calling him sir made his spark skip a beat or two.

"Wrong." He lowered his hand and placed it on his metal thigh with a soft clang. He shook his helm in fake disappointment, letting out a long sigh. "It's a digit. And what do we do with digits?" he continued in a teacher's voice, making a specific motion with his servo to encourage you to answer his question, even though he automatically did so in his mind.

We put them inside disobedient girls.

"We flip people off, sir," you responded in a fake innocent, childish tone, straightening your back and smiling widely as if waiting for praise for giving him a good answer. It made you cringe internally but you also thought it was funny so the choice whether to continue talking like that or just leave was easy to make.

He snorted at your words, shaking his head in amusement once more as he brought his servo to your body and flicked your arm gently with his two digits.

"That's what we do with 'em."

"Oh, fuck off." You smacked his servo before he could pull it away from you. Even though you could barely feel the flick of his robot fingers, you still massaged your arm, hoping it'd make him feel at least a little bit bad, and he'd stop bullying you.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" He raised his optical ridge at your words, not being able to fight back a teasing smirk forming on his lips.

You could kiss me with that mouth.

As soon as the thought appeared in his mind, he immediately got rid of it, not letting it distract him.

"Tibulen, cadulen..." he began naming other body parts, and there was no way in hell you'd be able to remember those. "Glossa..." He stuck his metal tongue out, pointing at it lazily with his index digit.

A question popped up in your head, "You got saliva?"

For the first time, you were actually curious about something, expecting an actual, truthful response, but instead you got what Mirage was best at. Sarcasm.

"Oh, yeah, our saliva's made out of corrosive acid actually. Cool stuff." He shrugged nonchalantly as if what he just said was nothing. "Want me to spit on you so you can get the drill?" he asked overly casually, already slightly leaning in your direction.

He was having so much fun...

You grimaced at his question, even though you knew he was most likely joking. Most likely.

"Pass," you murmured under your breath.

"...But there are other ways you could... feel it."

His time to shine has come which he was very much aware of.

His unnecessarily mysterious tone made you snort quietly, an eyebrow involuntarily raised as you asked him with amusement dancing on your tongue, "Care to share?"

He tilted his head with a very, very sly smirk on his lips, which partly gave you an answer to your question. The realisation almost made your face drop but you contained yourself, and just rolled your eyes at his silent offer, pretending not to notice the heat spreading across your own cheeks.

"No."

"I didn't say anything," he responded in an amused, innocent tone, raising his servos in a defensive gesture.

"Yeah, but your eyes said a lot," you argued, the sudden shift in your confidence making you unable to find the situation as funny as before.

He made an unbelievable amount of butterflies awaken and fly around in your stomach, and as pleasant as it felt, you couldn't show him that.

"Optics," he corrected you immediately, playful superiority in his tone coming back just in time to crush you once more. He leaned in, making the gap between your faces a lot smaller than before. "And I'm pretty sure you're just imaginin' things," he added teasingly, the smirk almost challenging you.

His plan was working.

"Am I?" You tilted your head slightly to the left, your gaze never leaving his blue optics.

The intensity of your eye contact made him back off just a bit, before he shook his head in both amusement and surprise at the sudden comeback of your confidence.

"We're not done yet," he just said, which may have sounded like a warning but you felt like he was talking about something else than this game you were both playing. "I didn't show you everything," he explained, even though this lesson about his anatomy was the smallest thing occupying his mind at the moment.

You refrained yourself from frowning, feeling pretty sure that he'd already named every single body part of his possible, but you didn't want him to notice how little attention you were actually paying. So you just nodded, getting ready to hear more of that very interesting stuff.

"...Ever seen a metal dick?"

Your jaw almost dropped when your brain registered his shameless question. You couldn't even say anything to that, just unsurely shaking your head to show him that you, in fact, have never seen a metal dick.

And you thought he was about to offer to present one to you just now, but he just let out an amused noise. "Too bad."

And with these words, he transformed into a silver Porsche and drove past you towards the exit of the garage, leaving you confused, breathless, and wanting something more...

might make a part 2 for this with smut if you want

[floralcyanide]

⊹ when in copenhagen

request: a basic one to start! shower sex with carmy? in which you and Carmy argue your way into showering together.

↝ pairing: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Fem!Reader

↝ warnings: spoilers for The Bear (kinda?), smut (mdni!), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, brief nipple play, fingering, arguing (a lot), shower sex

↝ word count: 2k

↝ author's note: finally watched The Bear!! so guess what that means lol (I hope you all enjoy this!! I didn't edit lowkey but oh well)

masterlist ⋇ divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

There’s not a lot of room on this boat.

It’s your first thought as you take time to tour where you’ll be residing for a while. You’re in Copenhagen, Denmark, for some cooking lessons, but not alone. You’re with your fellow chef and another student of Andrea Terry’s, Carmen Berzatto. You aren’t quite sure why Chef Terry sent both of you here simultaneously, but you have a few ideas. One of them is that the two of you solve the weird tension you have going on while you’re here. The other is to obviously kill two birds with one stone and send more than one chef to learn new ways to create. But the first idea seemed the most likely. The houseboat where you and Carmen, or Carmy, as he preferred to be called, are going to stay for the foreseeable future is fairly dinky and barely has room for two beds. One of them is technically the couch that pulls out into a full-size bed. You and Carmy will probably argue over who gets which bed. The two of you argue a lot over just about everything. Chef Terry is probably ecstatic that she gets a break from it for a while. 

It isn’t long before a disagreement on who gets to shower first begins. There’s also a side banter on who is making dinner or whether or not you’re ordering in and who is doing the ordering. It’s sort of your dynamic to never agree on anything, ever. You wish you had taken this trip separately, but of course, Chef Terry had to deal you a bad hand. Enriching your palettes is one thing, but your stress levels are another. You can’t see the tension between the two of you resolving any time soon, so you fear this supposed adventure isn’t going to be as enjoyable as you thought. 

In a moment of pressed anger, a sarcastic comment leaves your lips, “We could always just shower together and shut the fuck up about it.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Carmy rubs his chin before turning around and grabbing two towels from the linen closet.

“What?” you laugh incredulously, “You can’t be serious right now.”

“Look,” Carmy rolls his eyes, “It’s better than standing here arguing all fucking night, is it not?”

You cross your arms and stifle a pout, much like a child, but meet Carmy’s eyes reluctantly, “Fine. Just don’t look at me while I shower.”

“That’s going to be a little difficult since we’re going to be right next to each other, but I won’t have to try very hard anyway,” Carmy rolls his eyes.

You’re slightly offended by his comment but recover enough to follow him to the bathroom without responding. Carmy pulls off his shirt before turning on the shower and tossing it onto the floor. You do the same as the two of you quickly undress, avoiding each other’s gaze. You frown at the somewhat weak stream of water coming from the shower and dare to glance at Carmy’s bare back. You aren’t blind by any means; Carmy is attractive as hell. He’s built quite nicely in a physical manner and has flattering features. Plus, you can’t help but be attracted to how quickly he can match your attitude. So, keeping your eyes averted from Carmy’s naked, sculpted body is a little difficult on your end. But it doesn’t seem hard at all for your fellow traveler to avoid staring, as you had asked him to. It’s a little disappointing, but at least you finally get to wash off the stale sweat you’ve been sporting for hours. The shower stall is small but spacious enough to some degree for two people to fit.

Once both of you find yourselves under the water, Carmy wastes no time scrubbing himself with the soap he brought with him. You do the same, keeping your eyes to yourself and trying not to accidentally nudge him with your elbow. The two of you struggle to rinse off without nearly slipping or bumping into each other. 

“How about one of us washes first and rinses, and the other one goes next?” Carmy turns to you, sighing in frustration.

“Who goes first, then?” you raise an eyebrow, expecting to argue some more.

“You can, by all means,” Carmy offers, and your jaw almost drops.

You furrow your brow at him, “And what do I owe you for this lack of fussing?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs innocently.

The reality is that Carmy just wants to watch you. Not in a creepy way, or maybe it is sort of creepy, but he thinks you’re attractive, too. The no-watching rule doesn’t count if you aren't caught, right? Carmy just needs to be slick about it. You hesitantly take up the offer to fully wash first, squirting some shampoo into your palm before lathering it into your hair. 

“If you need me to get your back, just let me know, sweetheart,” Carmy offers jokingly.

You snort, “I will. Thanks.”

You manage to wash and condition your hair in peace, unknowingly having the burning blue eyes of Carmy on you. When it’s time to wash everywhere else, you take Carmy up on his offer just to see his reaction. You turn around to face him, his gaze quickly averting away.

“Actually, if you could get my back, I’d greatly appreciate it, Carm,” you smile cheekily, offering him your loofah.

“Oh,” he says, “I didn’t think you’d actually take me up on it,” he scoffs, taking the loofah from you.

“Stranger things have happened,” you shrug.

“Hmm. Really?” Carmy starts to gently scrub your back, “Like what?”

“Us showering together is literally one of those things,” you say plainly.

“No need for sass,” Carmy leans into your ear, “We were doing just fine there for a minute.”

You fight back a shiver at Carmy’s closeness, “You’re right. I’ll be quiet now. Keep scrubbing.”

Carmy switches the loofah for his hand, spreading the suds around with his palm, massaging your tense shoulders. You let out a small sigh at the feeling of yourself relaxing for the first time today. Carmy snakes his arm around you, handing you the loofah back.

“Who said for you to stop?” you turn your head around at him, and you’re met with his eyes being darker than usual.

“I could keep going, but uh,” Carmy clears his throat, “I can’t promise I’ll stop.”

“Why’s that?” you ask curiously, borderline teasing.

“Don’t trek into dangerous territory,” Carmy warns.

You turn to fully face him, “I know your comment earlier wasn’t true. About you not having to try hard not to stare.”

“How so?”

“You stare at me all the time. Don’t think I don’t notice it, Berzatto,” you smirk.

Carmy runs a hand through his wet hair, wondering if he should be so bold to respond with what he wants to. Instead, he takes you by surprise and grabs a hold of your hips, his thumbs bruisingly pressing into the fat of them. 

“I told you not to trek,” Carmy mutters, his eyes serious but darkening more by the second.

“What if I want to?” you say, testing just how far Carmy would go.

One of his hands wraps around the back of your neck, bringing you close to his face so he can crash his lips onto yours. You find yourself kissing back, your fingers tangling into Carmy’s hair at the nape of his neck. He pushes you against the shower wall, his one hand still holding you by your hip. Carmy slips his tongue inside your mouth, taking more control of the embrace. He takes a moment to run both hands along your sides, pulling your body closer to his. You feel him hard against your stomach.

“Need some help, Berzatto?” you pull away from the kiss, glancing down at Carmy’s length at attention against his toned abdomen, “I’m already trekking far enough, so why not?”

“Only if you let me make dinner after this,” Carmy says.

“Deal,” you shrug.

You reach between your bodies and begin stroking Carmy slowly, to which he lets out a breathy moan. He has thought about this moment far too many times- you grasping him and getting him off. Carmy thrives off your anger toward him, and you thrive off of his, too. It only seems plausible it’d end up like this.

Carmy daringly grasps one of your breasts as you pump your hand along his shaft at a quicker pace, squeezing you and teasing your nipple with his thumb. You hum at the feeling, spreading around the precum on his tip. Carmy’s hand moves from your chest down your stomach and to your heat, where he cups it, hesitant to go any further without permission.

“Don’t get scared on me now,” you look him in the eyes, “I expect something out of this, too. So go ahead.”

Carmy wastes no time dipping a finger into you, wanting to make a dig at you for being so wet already just from touching him, but he refrains. Instead, he adds another finger, using the heel of his hand to press against your clit. He thrusts his fingers inside you, finding a spot that causes you to grip him harshly in response.

“Keep doing that, and we’ll have to fuck,” you whine.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Carmy says, his free hand now carding through your hair, his fingernails grazing your scalp.

You pull Carmy’s fingers from you, replacing them with the head of his cock, “Take this as a promise and not a threat, then.”

Carmy drags himself along your slit before guiding himself inside your entrance, wincing at how tight you are as inch by inch is taken by your needy cunt. Once he’s fully inside you, Carmy boxes you in with his arms, pressing them to the shower wall on either side of your head. You wrap a leg around his waist and brace your hands on his chest as he starts thrusting. Carmy’s eyes bore into yours, drinking in your sounds and facial expressions with every jerk of his hips. You move an inch forward to capture his lips into a heated kiss, moving your body along with every movement of his. You moan pitifully into Carmy’s mouth as he hits a spot inside you that makes stars appear behind your eyelids. 

“Do that again,” you say weakly, and Carmy repeats the action except a little harder this time.

“Taking my cock so well that you can’t argue about it, can you?” Carmy says in your ear, “Now I know how to shut you up.”

“I’ll do whatever you want if you keep fucking me like this,” you throw your head back against the wall, your back pressed flush to it as Carmy fucks into you as fast as his hips allow.

“I’ll take you up on that, sweetheart,” Carmy smirks, nibbling your ear playfully.

You feel the familiar tightness in your belly growing, “I’m close.”

Carmy sneaks a hand between you and strokes your clit with his fingers, urging you to cum. You teeter closer to the edge as he presses his fingertips harder on the bundle of nerves, rubbing tight circles. With one particularly angled thrust, you orgasm hard around Carmy, your walls clenching his length pitifully. The feeling of you coming undone then triggers his release, and he fills you up to the brim with a low, guttural moan. The water has since turned cold, and once you unwrap yourself from Carmy, you immediately turn the shower off. 

“How about that dinner, Carm?”

Carmy is busy catching his breath but replies, “Sure thing. Just don’t argue about what I’m making, and we’ll be fine.”

You grab your towel, “You make it sound like I argue about everything, which isn't true. Sometimes, it’s you who wants to whine and complain.”

Carmy purses his lips at you, smacking your ass with his towel, “Just be grateful I fucked you and am also making you dinner.”

Once bedtime arrives, the two of you decide not to fight over who gets which bed and opt to share the main one. It’s better than making a fuss. Plus, falling asleep with Carmy’s arms around you was worth all the pent-up tension you had dealt with for so long.