#I've hit rock bottom again

[abysmaldukh]

[yansurnummu]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by @captain-of-silvenar!

tagging @sigma-el @caliblorn and @daggerfall

the next chapter of Drals' fic is basically done at this point, but I haven't finished outlining the rest of the next batch so I've been hanging onto it. but here is a preview :)

-

The abyss stretched before him as he looked upon the interior of the cave. It made him dizzy and sick, and he worried he might lose his balance. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? The comfort of the familiar. No matter if the familiar was a solitary prison cell.

He reckoned with the ghosts of the cave. Old journals. Long-abandoned experiments. Someone once lived here, but it wasn’t a man he felt like he knew anymore. He had tasted kinship and kindness, and it poisoned his heart. He had caught a glimpse of something better, and now, in its absence, he was suffocating. Drowning.

How foolish he had been, to think that he could be allowed to want something more. To dare hope. He deserved this, he told himself. He deserved the nagging, maddening silence, to be surrounded by nothing but ghosts. To be, himself, a ghost. 

He glowered at his desk, piled and cluttered with things he couldn’t bring himself to care about. Looking upon them brought about a deep, seething frustration. With the circumstance, or with himself, he couldn’t say. He needed it all gone. He needed the past out of his sight.

It didn’t feel as good as he thought it might to shove everything onto the floor. Tools and books clattered as glass inkwells and vials shattered and broke. A sob wrenched from his throat as he collapsed in his chair, holding his head in his hands. He succumbed once more to the pain of being alone. 

Are you happy, Dralvayn?

[drop--pop--candy]

everyone keeps saying it gets better and technically things have gotten better i guess but it doesn't feel like they have. it feels like i was doing alright when i was like 9 and then one day i tripped and fell and i've been in free fall ever since

[berrryparfait]

lick my conch ! 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼

— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: sylus, caleb, rafayel, zayne, xavier x fem-afab!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: "beach day", or so he said. little do you know that he's about to eat you out to the point of tears! 「i can't take this anymore... his tongue—!」

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: [nsfw] pure smut, cunnilingus on the beach, squirting, cl*t stimulation, intense orgasms, semi-public, dubcon on reader's part

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: cherry – lana del rey

✧ a/n: reader singlehandedly spawned another ocean with her c*m and that's okay! #peaceandlove happy reading! <3

“The beach is quiet today, sweetie.” Sylus rests a calloused hand on your thigh, the warmth of his touch surprising you. “Uhuh…” You don’t quite know where he’s going with this. Looking around, there’s not a single person in sight, but you can hear voices coming from somewhere behind the giant beachrock you’ve been leaning against. You eye him suspiciously as his hand travels further up your thigh, a familiar glint in his eye that tells you you’re in deep, deep trouble. “Relax. no one can see or hear us.” Not here, Sylus!—you want to yell at him, but the pad of his thumb on your clit effectively silences you. He massages you gently through the thin fabric before pulling your thong to the side, your pussy already moist with arousal. “Well, look what we have here…” he muses, positioning his face between your legs and admiring your wet folds. “We’re in public—“ you begin, stopping short when his tongue pokes out to tease your clit. “Mmpfh—“ You try your best to suppress your moans, but he’s lapping at your cunt now, eagerly as a man starved. “Fuck, kitten—you taste so good…” He licks and sucks at your needy pussy, every inch of you begging for his attention despite the fact that you’re quite literally committing a felony right now. The thought flies right over your head, your entire being consumed by the quick, wet movements of his lips and tongue against your sensitive heat. As you feel your pleasure spiking, you grab his semi-wet hair and arch your back, attempting and failing to muffle your moans as you cum all over his mouth, the sensation crashing over you so hard you see stars. He smirks at you annoyingly while you writhe in pleasure, taking in the beautiful beach scenery that is now you. “Return the favor for me, will you, darling?”

Perfect weather, perfect day. The cool breeze brushes against your skin as you sip from your glass, the sour sweetness of the sparkling mojito dancing on your tongue. "This is so good," you remark, carelessly tipping the glass towards you and spilling a bit on your bare stomach. Caleb looks down at the mess you've made and tuts, as if wholly unsurprised. "She strikes again. Good thing I've got a way to clean that up." He brings his head down to your navel, then begins trailing small kisses down your stomach, cleaning the sweet liquid off your skin as he goes. When he reaches the waistline of your bikini bottoms, a lopsided smile twists his lips. "Caleb, we're out in the open right now—" you protest, but he pulls them to the side and begins licking at your folds anyway. You whine in surprise, frantically looking around the beach for signs of other people. His tongue is on your clit now, caressing your core with slow, languid movements at make your toes curl and knees buck. "You're wet for me, Pips..." he groans as your arousal coats his tongue and drives him wild. The friction between his mouth and your cunt is overwhelming, and you rock against his face out of your volition. "Ugh... Ahh—!" Propping yourself up with your elbows, the rough sand digging into your skin while you're consumed by the euphoric feeling that is Caleb's tongue between your folds, you hear footsteps approaching in your direction. "Quick, come for me, baby—" A wave crashes in the distance, mimicking your climax. You shake with pleasure as the orgasm hits you, squirting in Caleb's face as he massages your trembling thighs. "Quite the clean-up job, if I do say so myself."

"The water's so peaceful today," you muse, leaning your head on Rafayel's shoulder. "It might be a sign," he replies, the cryptic answer puzzling you. He chuckles at your quirked eyebrow, then shrugs. "All I'm saying is that we wouldn't want the calm tide to go to waste." Before you can make sense of what he's trying to say, he grabs you by the waist and hoists you up over his shoulder, balancing your weight with one hand. "Put me down, Raf! What are you—" With a splash, he tosses you into the water, jumping in right after. Treading, you look around, but can't see him anywhere. A pair of hands grips your thighs, and you gasp in shock, wondering if you should be fearing for your life right now. But the way the waves instantly calm, the way the sea suddenly looks bluer—you know it's him. He gently pulls your legs apart, and you instinctively search the shoreline for watchful eyes. Thankfully, there are none—for now. He pulls your swimsuit bottom down and in a split second his mouth is there, planting soft kisses on your clit. You bite your lip and rest your legs on his shoulders, unsure of what else to do. His tongue laps at your cunt, which has now grown wet independent of the seawater all around you. You can't hear him, but you can feel him groaning against your pussy, the warm vibrations buzzing through every nerve in your body and drenching you in ecstasy. "Ahh—ahh..." you moan out loud, hoping no one on land is able to see or hear your lewd expressions. A stronger wave sways you then, and his tongue hits your g-spot at just the right moment. You come undone with his mouth around your heat, crying out as your shake uncontrollably with nothing to grab on to but his hair. You can feel his dirty grin between your legs. He rises to the surface, face flushed and eyes heavy-lidded. "I may be a sea god, but I do love drowning."

You both decided to embark on this beach getaway to get your minds off work—something the two of you are pretty much constantly drowning in. Despite your dedication to the task, it's to ignore the fact that your inbox hasn't been checked in hours... "Zayne, maybe we should check our emails. Just the emails! I hate the thought of missing something important..." He smooths a hand over your arm. "We both assigned perfectly capable stand-ins, remember? Try your best to relax now that we're here." He pauses then, thinking. "I may have something in mind that could help. It's common knowledge that reaching orgasm is incredibly effective for relieving stress." You gape at him. "Reaching what now?" He smiles at you, gently, then gets on his knees before you can stop him. "Zayne! We're in a public space!" He ignores your feeble protests and spreads your thighs apart. The next thing you know, his mouth is on your bare pussy and you can think of nothing else. He starts off slow, worshipping your cunt with smooth, unhurried strokes. But it isn't long before he responds to your sweet verbal sounds, picking up the pace as if knowing exactly what you need. His lips firmly latch onto the area around your clit while his tongue straight up abuses the swollen nub, flicking it with such unrelenting speed that you cry out for mercy. "Fuck— Zayne—!" You clamp your thighs around his face, squeezing hard. Back arched and feet curled, your mind is no longer on emails, that's for sure. "Fuck, fuck—!" you wail before the orgasm hits you and you cum all over his mouth, squirting warm, transparent liquid onto his glasses and down his throat. He massages your pussy for a while longer, drawing out your climax as you spasm around his fingers. "There, better?"

"I like this one." He points to a baby blue seashell by your foot, eyeing it curiously. You laugh, trying your best to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs. You've been horny for the past hour, but don't want to say anything to ruin the innocence of your date. "You're ovulating, aren't you?" he asks, waking you from your stupor. "How did you know?" He grins sheepishly, then mutters something about how he always knows. "It's not a big deal, you know, me being like this. We don't have to do anything. I'm happy just sitting here with you—" "Ride my face." It sounds more like a command than a suggestion, and you waste no time following his orders. Making sure there's no one around, you slide your one-piece bathing suit off and position yourself right above his face, where his mouth is already open and waiting. "Fuck, you're so wet..." He grabs your thighs and pulls you down onto him, and the feeling of your cunt settling onto his lips is heavenly. You begin to rock against his tongue to a steady rhythm, waves of pleasure filling your body as your clit rubs on his chin and nose. "Mmmpfh..." he sighs into your pussy, prompting you to fuck his face harder and faster than before. You grab a fistful of his hair and jerk your hips against his mouth, the both of you grunting with every thrust as the pressure builds and builds deep in your core. "Yes—right there, right there—!" you scream as his tongue hits that sweet spot, sending your heart into orbit. It's as if your hips have a mind of their own as you hump his mouth, the wet suction noises intensifying— You burst all over his face, squirt and cum leaking out of your pussy in violent spurts that he promptly licks up. Panting, you slump onto the sand and fall into an exhausted, satisfied heap. "Back to counting seashells, are we?"

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[tjerra14]

me, in april: winter's over and you never fully slipped into your usual depression, surely nothing can happen anymore--

also me, 4 weeks later: you fool

[sadiesdoll]

GRIND ‘TIL YOU CRY.

contains: sevika x virgin!reader, strap-on usage, size kink, dumbification, dacryphilia, clit play, finger sucking, cum play, praise kink, gentle dom!sevika, cockdrunk!reader, neck biting (no blood), light spanking, orgasm denial, aftercare

enjoy ♡

You were already straddling her hips when the nerves hit you.

Your palms rested lightly on Sevika's chest, her warm brown skin flushed gold in the lamp glow, the sheets under your knees soft and rumpled. 

You were naked—completely naked—for the first time in front of her, and the only thing separating you from her strap was your own hesitation.

"Hey." Her voice was rough, quiet, but steady. One hand stayed on your waist, thumb brushing lazy circles just under your ribs. "You okay?"

You nodded quickly—too quickly. "Yeah. I just... I don't usually—uh, I mean, I've never-" You laughed breathlessly, embarrassed.

"I've only ever touched myself."

Sevika sat up a little, her good arm sliding around your back to support you. Her face softened.

"You wanna stop?"

"No." Your voice cracked. "I want this. I want you. I'm just... I don't know what I'm doing."

A beat. Then her lips curled into the tiniest, cockiest smirk. "Don't worry, baby. I do."

You bit your lip as heat shot between your thighs. That voice alone could ruin you.

She leaned forward, kissing your collarbone—slow, open-mouthed, warm. Her tongue flicked against your skin. 

"We'll go slow. I'm not gonna rush you. You just move how you need to. I'll be right here."

You nodded again, this time slower, more sure. Her strap pressed up under you—thick, firm, intimidating—but god, you were wet. Soaked, actually. You could feel it dripping down your thighs already.

Sevika noticed. She always noticed.

"You're so fuckin' wet, sweetheart," she murmured, sliding her hand between your legs to guide the strap. "All that from just thinking about it, huh?"

You whimpered, barely able to meet her eyes. Her gaze pinned you down anyway.

"You been touching yourself to this? Wishing it was me?"

You nodded. "Y-Yeah. So many times."

She groaned low. "Fuck. You’re adorable."

You braced your hands on her shoulders and finally—finally—started to lower yourself down. The head of the strap nudged your entrance, and you gasped, thighs trembling.

"Easy, sweetheart. Just a little at a time." She kissed your neck, sucking gently—just enough to leave a mark. "You're so tight, baby. Feels like your pussy's never letting go."

You shuddered as you sank down, inch by inch, breathing hard. It was so much. So full.

Not painful, just overwhelming. Sevika's hands gripped your waist to steady you, grounding you with every low, patient whisper.

When you bottomed out, your nails dug into her shoulders. You were panting.

"You okay?"

"Y-Yeah," you whimpered. "It's so—mmngh—“

“None of that whimpering. Say it. Use your words, princess.”

“It’s so—full, Sev.”

"I know, baby. You're doing so good. Look at you."

You started to move. Slowly. Rocking your hips in tiny circles, easing yourself into the stretch. The friction lit something up inside you—something deeper than your fingers ever reached.

And then, without warning, your hips jerked forward a little too fast. You gasped. It hit just right. Right on that aching, swollen spot inside you.

"Oh my god—" you moaned.

Sevika chuckled darkly. "There she is."

You started moving again. A little faster. A little rougher. The way it rubbed against your clit every time you sank down made your whole body twitch.

It felt too good. Too much. You'd been so pent up, so desperate for something more than your own hands—and now you had it.

Her. This. 

The drag of her strap inside you, the warmth of her skin, her voice in your ear saying, "Fuck, look at you, baby. You're addicted already."

You were. It showed.

You were a mess—whining, grinding, moaning into her mouth. You grabbed her hand, sucked her fingers into your mouth without thinking. 

Sevika froze for a second, then let out the filthiest growl.

"God damn, you're really gone, huh?"

You drooled a little on her fingers. Couldn't help it.

She tilted her head, watching your blissed-out face with a lazy, hungry grin.

"Sweetheart... you're drooling."

You looked down, dazed, saliva slipping past your lip while your hips kept moving. You whimpered around her fingers.

"Fucking adorable," she muttered. "You're cockdrunk already, and I haven't even fucked you yet."

She kissed you hard, biting your bottom lip.

You moaned louder, needy and mindless now. You felt her reach between your legs again, rubbing slow circles on your clit while you kept grinding—grinding like your life depended on it.

"Don't cum yet," she warned. "Not yet. I wanna see you lose it first."

And you would. You were. A drooling, clenching, wet fucking mess—and Sevika wasn't done with you yet.

You didn't even realize how loud you were until Sevika growled, "You hear yourself, baby?"

Your hips were moving faster now, grinding down on her strap like it was the only thing keeping you alive. Your soaked pussy squelched with every roll of your hips, and your breathy moans came out high and broken and endless.

"I—fuck—I can't stop," you whimpered.

Sevika's fingers moved back to your clit—slow, torturously slow—and circled it while you ground down.

"You're so fucking sensitive." Her voice was wrecked, almost shaky. "Didn't know it'd feel this good, hm?"

You shook your head frantically. "No-I mean yes—I mean I can't—please-"

And then she spanked you.

It wasn't hard—just a quick, firm slap to your ass. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make you jerk and moan and clench so tight around her strap that she had to bite back a groan.

"Yeah?" she rasped. "You like that, sweetheart?"

You nodded so fast it made your head spin.

"Yes—Sevika—I like everything—please, please-"

She hissed through her teeth. Her hand stayed on your ass, squeezing tight, grounding you. Her fingers never stopped circling your clit—slick and slow, not giving you enough, teasing you right to the edge.

Your thighs were trembling. Your belly was tight. Your breath was all over the place.

"I'm close," you whimpered. "I'm—I'm gonna—“

But Sevika stopped.

You sobbed.

"Shh." Her voice was low, gentle, but firm.

"Not yet. Not like this."

You blinked, dazed, drool still clinging to your lip. "Wha...?"

"I want your first time cumming on my strap to be perfect, baby," she murmured. "I want you to remember it. I want it to stay on your mind forever. So not yet. Not until I really give it to you."

Your pussy clenched again. Your whole body shook.

Sevika looked up at you—and something changed in her expression.

You were dazed, panting, spit-slick around the mouth, grinding down like you were in a trance. You were a fucking vision.

And the second she saw the way your lip quivered when she took her fingers off your clit, something snapped.

"Jesus fucking Christ," she growled.

She surged up and bit your neck.

"Ah—!" you gasped, the cutest, neediest little cry slipping out as your body arched.

"S-Sevika—!"

She didn't draw blood. Just sank her teeth in enough to make you feel it. Enough to make you moan and cling to her harder.

Her hands gripped your ass like she was holding herself back from flipping you over and fucking you into next week.

"You feel too good," she whined against your throat. "You're driving me fuckin' crazy, baby—You're so perfect."

You whimpered, grinding harder, your pussy slick and messy against her strap.

She kissed the spot she'd bitten—then her tongue soothed it, slow and loving.

"Still with me?" she whispered.

You nodded, tears in your eyes now.

"Mhm..."

"Good girl." She cupped your face with her good hand. "Just keep going. Ride it slow. I'll get you there. But I want you cockdrunk and shaking by the time I let you cum."

You moaned helplessly.

Her fingers slid down again, teasing your clit while you moved.

"I love how sweet you sound when you get desperate," she muttered. "You sound like you need it so bad."

"I do," you cried. "I need it so bad—please—please—“

"You drooled all over my hand," she teased.

"What, baby? My cock too good?"

You nodded, crying and grinding. "Too good. So good. I can't—I can't think—“

"You don't need to think, sweetheart." Her voice dropped low. "Just fuck yourself dumb on my strap. I'll take care of you."

You were gone.

Absolutely out of your mind—drooling, whimpering, and still rocking your hips like Sevika's strap was the only thing keeping your body alive.

Your thighs were trembling. Your hands clung to her shoulders, nails leaving faint little crescent marks in her skin. And your mouth—god, your mouth was open and leaking spit, little strings of it slipping down your chin while you babbled incoherent little moans.

"Look at you," Sevika murmured, brushing her fingers over your tear-damp cheeks.

"You're drooling and cryin' on my cock, honey."

You whimpered, a fresh wave of tears prickling your eyes, even as you kept grinding.

"Is it that good?" she asked, smiling crookedly. "So good it's makin' you cry?"

You nodded so fast it made you dizzy. "Y-Yes—I c-can't—I wanna cum—p-please-"

Your voice cracked on the last word, and the second it did, you sobbed.

Your face crumpled. Your whole body jerked like you couldn't take it anymore. And Sevika immediately pulled you down into her chest, shushing you as she cupped your pussy with her palm—warm, strong, steady.

"Hey, hey. I got you," she cooed. "You're okay. Just feelin' too much, huh?"

You nodded, sniffling. "I need it—need it s'bad..."

"Yeah, I know you do." Her thumb circled your clit so slow you almost cried harder.

"You've been so good, baby. So fuckin' perfect. I'm gonna give it to you. I promise."

"Please," you whispered, tears dripping from your chin. "I wanna cum—I need to— please, Sevika-"

And then she fucked up into you.

Her hips lifted. Her grip on your ass tightened. And her strap slammed into the deepest, most perfect spot while her fingers rubbed your clit in the exact rhythm you needed.

Your mouth fell open.

You made a choked, broken little noise.

And then—you screamed.

Your orgasm ripped through you so hard it hurt. Your body locked up, your thighs shook, your pussy gushed so much it splashed against Sevika's lap, and you collapsed forward, shaking, sobbing, whining her name over and over like a prayer.

Sevika caught every second.

"Fuuuuck," she groaned, watching you ride it out. "That's it, baby. That's how I wanted it. Just like that. Scream for me. Fuckin' soak me."

You sobbed harder, body twitching, your voice all high and shattered and full of relief.

"Y'feel that?" she murmured. "That's what a real orgasm feels like, sweetheart."

You could barely breathe. Barely think. You were slumped over her chest, drooling, twitching, tears still running down your face.

And Sevika was so sweet with you after. 

Her hand never left your pussy—just soft, gentle strokes, too slow to overstimulate. Her other hand brushed your hair, kissed your temple, held your shaking hips down when you whimpered again.

She looked down at your soaked thighs and smirked.

"Goddamn," she muttered. "You made a mess, baby."

You giggled.

And then she dragged her fingers up your slit, scooped the dripping slick from your folds, and showed it to you.

"See that?" she said softly. "That's what it looks like when I fuck you right."

You stared, eyes glazed, lips parted—and when she brought her fingers to your mouth, you didn't even hesitate.

You sucked them in with a needy little whimper.

Sevika's jaw flexed.

"Yeah," she whispered. "That’s it, sweetheart."

You were still trembling when Sevika pulled the strap out.

You whimpered, your body jolting with the aftershocks, and Sevika shushed you instantly, one arm curling tight around your waist to keep you grounded.

"Shhh, I got you, baby. It's okay. I'm right here."

Your head lolled against her shoulder. You were spent. Crying, shaking, drooling a little—and completely boneless in her arms.

And Sevika? She looked at you like she was in awe.

"You did so good," she whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. "So fuckin' good. You were perfect, sweetheart."

You let out a soft little whimper, still not fully back yet, and Sevika cradled the back of your head like you were something precious.

"Hey," she said gently. "Can I clean you up, pretty girl?"

You nodded weakly, and she was already moving—careful, slow, so fucking tender it made your chest ache.

She laid you back on the pillows with her arm still around you, pressed one more kiss to your jaw, and then grabbed a warm, damp towel from the drawer.

It wasn't rushed. It wasn't mechanical. She cleaned you softly—like she was scared to hurt you. Every wipe was followed by a kiss. Every wince got a murmured "I'm sorry, baby." And when she finally pressed the towel between your thighs, she paused and whispered:

"You okay?"

You nodded, tears still on your cheeks.

"Mhm... just tired."

Sevika smiled.

"Yeah? That cock put you to sleep, huh?" she teased, but her voice was full of love.

She finished wiping you down, tossed the towel aside, and came right back to you-pulling you into her arms, wrapping the blanket around you both.

You buried your face in her neck. Your body was sore, aching, still tingling everywhere—but you felt safe. Warm. Loved.

"Did I do okay..?" you mumbled sleepily.

Sevika froze for a second.

Then she pulled you even closer.

"Baby," she murmured, her voice low and steady and soft, "you didn't just do okay.

You were the best thing l've ever touched."

You let out a tiny, broken breath.

She cupped your cheek, thumb brushing the dried tears from under your eyes.

"You're mine now," she whispered. "All mine. No one's ever gonna touch you like that but me."

You blinked, slow and dazed.

“…Okay," you whispered.

Sevika smiled like she'd just won the lottery. 

She kissed your lips. Kissed your forehead.

Kissed every little tear-stained inch of your face before pulling you into her chest again.

And then, as you drifted off to sleep, she murmured—

"Next time, I'm making you cum twice."

thank you so much to @anonymousgirl23456 for this amazing request <3 i hope u like it !!

[cosmicsproutcake]

People smugly blocking parking spots with their body to save them for someone else is why I'm glad I don't drive.

Catch me with that shit on a bad day, and you're going home in a body bag, sweetie, life in prison be damned idgaf

[pseudowho]

"So, you go against the hairs...that's right...and then with the hairs..."

"...is-- is this right?"

"Mmm. Now, clean your blade..."

You pretended to tidy the bedroom, sneaking glances up to Kento, and Yuuji, stood shirtless at the bathroom sink. Both had thickly lathered faces, and sharp razors, examining their faces in the mirror with absolute precision.

Sshhhhick. Swshswshswsh. Shhhhick-ck-ck. Swshswshswsh.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Peach fuzz.

"...and so anyway, I said to Fushiguro, shadows are great but sometimes you gotta just hit a guy..."

Kento listened, quiet, his mind always calculating several threads while mentoring Yuuji; yet, he was distracted. The old school corridor bathed in orange evening light, setting Yuuji's hair aflame, to coral in rocks. With Yuuji's nattering profile illuminated, the edges of his cheeks blurred from their usual sharp relief.

Fuzzy.

"...like, Kugisaki gets it, but she's like, just a bit feral and..."

Kento wondered if Yuuji had noticed. Kento recalled he only noticed, when his grandfather brushed his jaw with one clawed-over old hand, softly mocking Kento's furry scowl in lilting Danish. Kento's eyes lowered to the floor, counting his own steps and thinking in one, two, three and thoughtful on four, five, six.

"...Gojo's great but it's hard to learn from a guy who's that far out of my league, y'know? So--"

"Itadori-kun."

Kento had stopped, straightening his glasses, looking out onto suburban skyline. Yuuji stopped with him, inquisitive. A train rattled through, distant, splitting through the sunset. Kento looked back to Yuuji.

"It's important to look tidy, at work. Professional."

Yuuji raised his eyebrows, elbows rounded as he held his arms out, looking down at himself. He shot Kento a bashful smile, rubbing the back of his head.

Fuzzy peach.

"...ah-- yeah...guess I've always been a bit scruffy, huh? My grandad used to tell me I'd never get a job with hair like this."

Kento hummed. He stepped forwards, and raised one long-fingered, broad hand to gently grasp Yuuji's jaw, tilting it back and forth in the amber glow. Yuuji's bottom lip drew up, his eyes wide in surprise.

"...Nanamin?"

"Has anyone taught you how to shave, Yuuji?"

Yuuji blushed, his eyes flicking away from Kento in a mortified little scowl, his jaw still clasped. Kento released him, clearing his throat and checking his watch.

"I think we're finished up, here. Do you have any evening plans, Itadori-kun?"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"If you need to go over an area again, get more shaving foam-- not that much-- and repeat the steps..."

"...this is...tricky..."

"With regular practice, you can improve any skill, Itadori-kun. Unless you'd like a beard, which still needs management, you'll be shaving every few days, or more."

"...you always...look so tidy..." swshswshswsh.

"It takes effort." Shhhick. Swsh.

"Yeah right. I bet you wake up like that. Tie and all."

A deep, rumbling laugh. Yuuji's foamy, surprised face, looking so boyish.

You slid past the bathroom. You pulled your phone out, surreptitiously clicking a photo. Kento and Yuuji, leaning over the sink while Kento steadfastly instructed him, became your new phone background, and stayed as such for a full year.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Took a lot of portions to send him to bed with a full tummy."

Kento chuckled at you, his hair mussed and soft. Legs crossed in bed, with a book on his lap, he read to the sound of soft snores in the guest bedroom next door. The lamplight, low and warm, illuminated Kento's face in the gloom.

Stubbly.

You reached a hand out, brushing across his jaw, feeling its sandpaper rasp across your fingers.

"I think you were so busy teaching Yuuji," you whispered, scratching Kento's chin as he crumpled his lower lip up, "that you missed some patches yourself. C'mere."

You stood, walking to the bathroom and sitting on the counter, grabbing a razor and shaving foam. Kento's eyes twinkled at you, feigning annoyance. He walked to you at the sink, looking straight into the bones of you. He grasped your thighs, pushing them apart before settling between them, chuckling again as you lathered his face.

Shhhhick. Swshswshswsh. Shhhick-ck-ck. Swshswshswsh.

You felt a growing pressure between your legs as you focused on shaving Kento's jaw. Kento fidgeted, pyjamas tight and tenting. You bit your lip, smirking.

"...Mr.Nanami. I am trying to concentrate."

"Mmm, so am I, but it's...hard."

"Yes. I can feel that."

Another deep rumble of a laugh. Kento grasped your thighs tighter, pressing forwards into you. You gasped, taking the razor from his face as Kento nuzzled shaving foam into your giggling neck.

"Don't stop." He whispered, a crooked smile on his lathered face. "Concentrate, please, Mrs.Nanami."

[81pastrys]

Juno

Summary— Oscar has a meeting, she felt risky, juno pose was used in bed.

Warnings— smut ; unprotected sex (don’t do this) ; pull out method (also don’t do this) ; fingering (f!recieving) ; face down ass up ; aftercare ; talk of Landoscar threesome ; oh they’re both teases

A/N— I KNOW IVE BEEN ABSENT I APOLOGIZE FR (college kept me captive with all the exams)

Oscar One Shots

Request— Hi, You said you wanted more smut with oscar so I've got an idea. Maybe she could send him a pic of her in a juno position while he's outside, and he'll come home really fast. Then they could try it out. - 🦋

The phone rang and she was completely not expecting it. She sent a risky photo, while Oscar was in a meeting. She answered and immediately started teasing. “Hey pretty boy, get my picture?”

She heard a breathy chuckle on the other end followed by, “You better be in that pose when I get home.” Chills ran down her spine. She squealed and he continued on talking casually about his meeting and his day. “Oh, I ended my day early so I could come home so I’ll be there in 5 minutes.”

At that she got up and scrambled for lingerie to wear as he kept on talking. She was barely listening, something about Lando being Lando and then his bosses saying things for the track. She just wanted to find the right pieces to set him ablaze when he walked in.

She found what she wanted, simple black matching bra and panties to wear. “I’m unlocking the door now.” He dragged out teasingly. She giggled and laid on the bed, hands and knees for him.

“Okay.” She said low and teasing. He ended the call and she heard his bags drop aggressively and the door to their room open, his face was surprised she actually listened. Considering how vanilla Oscar had been this was a new position.

“Fuck.” He said under his breath. He made quick work of his clothes and got on the bed with her. He laid beside her, which confused her. Her brows furrowed and he smiled. “I want to kiss you and love you first baby.” He whispered, turning her face to kiss him.

His hands roaming over her body before he decided that it was enough and he would indulge in the new position. He admired her and took a deep breath. She wiggled her hips and he gave her light slap.

“So fucking hot baby.” He breathed. He moved her panties to the side and slipped a finger in. She moaned out, his finger hitting all the spots in this position.

She cursed under her breath and he chuckled as he slipped another finger. She groaned into the sheets at the pleasure he was providing for her. “I’m close.” She whined out.

“That was quick baby.” Oscar said feigning a mocking tone. He kept his fingers moving, teasing her by slowing down. Oscar was a tease, that was probably the most he did. He removed his fingers and her panties slid back in place. “Take these off for me.” He said. His voice was such a turn on, he was made for freaky sex and she would break it in.

She took them off and wiggled her hips again teasingly. “Please, Osc.” She begged. His cock jerked and he lined up. Slowly but surely pushing in. Oscar was in no way small, so it was always a stretch.

“Easy now baby.” He cooed when she tried to push back but his hold on her hips kept her in place. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” With that he continued the slow pace. Fully bottoming out inside her before snapping his hips back in as an experimental thrust.

“Oh, fuck- fuck-“ She choked on a moan and gripped the sheets tighter. He moved his hands to her lower back and questioned if that was a good response or not, he got his answer without asking. “Do that again.” She said batting a hand back towards him.

He grinned and did a slower thrust getting a muffled groan out of her— face was now smushed into the pillow. “Is that good my darling?” He teased as her noises continued throughout the slow thrusting, his hips rocking rhythmically.

“Yes- faster please- harder, something.” She half groaned, half whined to him. He complied, his thrusts becoming more insistent and erratic as his body caught up to the pleasure. Her body went slightly lax and began shaking from the intense pleasure.

Her hands now filled with loose sheet fabric and her moans muffled by her pillow now collecting saliva. She was so fucked out now that her orgasm surprised her and she gave no warning. Oscar hissed at the pleasure of her walls tightening and his grip on her hips became painfully firm.

His hips stuttered as he finished, pulling out in enough time to spill on her back. She collapsed forward onto the bed, breathing heavily. Oscar came back to his senses quite quickly and rubbed her back soothingly— taking note not to smear his cum around. “We’re doing more of that.” She said, head now turned to face the Aussie.

“Yeah? You don’t want a break?” He said teasingly. She rolled her eyes and turned her head to the opposite side, now feeling icky from the mess made. “Tomorrow night we can try whatever you said- another Juno pose was it?” She chuckled as he got off the bed and headed towards the bathroom.

He was now in her line of sight again as he dampened a wash cloth to clean her up. “A juno position?” She giggled, lying still as he returned to wipe up the sticky cum from her. “She has tons, we can try all of them.” She teased.

“Really? Well I would have to ask someone to help wouldn’t I?” He heard of the stupid pose before, it went viral. What she didn’t know- nor was able to keep from him- was that he had seen the ‘Paris’ edition pose.

“Of course you’ve seen that one.” She groaned into the pillow.

“I’m sure Lando will be up for it.” He joked with a smile as he cleaned her.

Hope the length is acceptable 🫶🏻

@il0vereadingstuff @pandabiiissh @itznotsophia @angelluv16 @kallanfiona @justaf1girl

[thepitlanepress]

A BET NOT SO BAD [1] –

↳ lando norris + singer!piastri!reader

⌗ :: masterlist

⌗ :: a/n: my first smau (series)!!! also i'm using random songs/artists bc im not creative or strict enough to find or stick to one artist lol. there is also no face claim js a mix of pics i found :)) and ik lando's insta handle rn is js "lando" but im not putting that, bc no i dont want to

–

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ynofficial

liked by oscar piastri, mclaren, lando norris, and 253,000 others

ynofficial congrats to my big bro!! i lost a bet so you suck ! i hate you so much kidding not really <33 great job to lando though cause he didn't make me lose a bet

view all comments

user1 she's so chaotic wtf i love it 😭😭

user2 i wanna know what bet she deemed good enough to take up (then lose) after swearing off betting last year 😭

user3 sameee last year's accident was .... yeah

user4 she's like an actual photographer that last pic is perfection

oscarpiastri i told you i would win the bet, the grid is going to love you

user5 WDYM OSCAR??? WHAT ABT THE GRID???

landonorris thanks 😉 liked by author

mclaren we can't wait to see you in the garage next race y/n

ynofficial im never losing a bet again 😭😭

user6 more info on this bet?!?!

user7 never LOSING a bet again??? what happened to never making one???

user8 usually i would be sad that we're not getting tour updates for a bit while shes on break but im loving this

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ynofficial

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, landonorris, gracieabrams, and 1, 572,000 others

ynofficial and since im wonderful while ur not getting tour updates, 2 hands welcome to the world! everyone go watch the mv now bc there are hints in there abt so close to what in case it wasn't already glaringly obvious from this post- [coming soon..... $p0rt$ (4r]

view all comments

oscarpiastri i am uncomfortable

ynofficial good.

user1 stop i just came from the mv and like?!?!? the imagery??? the dancing??? the f1 references????

user2 i stopped breathing when i saw the car

user3 no because the f1 references through out the mv have my jaw on the floor

mclaren nice car choice 😉 liked by author

madisonbeer i cant wait till the album is out omggg

user4 i am no longer functioning after that-

user5 SPORTS CAR COMING NEXT?!?!?! YES!!!!

landonorris we should hangout sometime...

oscarpiastri no.

landonorris you didnt let me finish - we should hang out sometime.... with oscar

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landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, ynofficial, and 6, 842, 956 others

landonorris recently.....

view all comments

user1 screaming crying throwing up what is happening these days

user2 im actually in shambles behind the scenes photos of something and yn posting and lando liking and lando posting and y/n liking and just everything i want it all give me it all

user3 real

oscarpiastri have a good day?

landonorris it was super fun 😏

oscaripiastri what did you do?

landonorris nothing!

oscarpiastri .... lando?

user4 i'm actually dying until this news comes out why is everyone being so secretive 😭😭

user5 well its safe to assume the bet and or y/n's news are f1 related

ynofficial r u majik how did u gess

user6 ... are you okay?

ynofficial oscar was missing out fr

landonorris that he was

user7 OH UM!?!?! EXCUSE ME?!?!

user8 IM SORRY WHAT

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f1unofficial

liked by 469,200 others

f1unofficial behind the scenes of something....

view all comments

user1 if you had told me last month that i would be eating up crumbs from a f1 gossip profile that has had that many problems its a known fact to avoid it i would not believe you oh my god

user2 no bc same i've hit rock bottom

user3 just tell us wtf is happening PLEASE

user4 im desperate i want to know anything pls

user5 u know ur desperate when you come here

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ynofficial

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, landonorris, oliviarodrigo, taylorswift and 11, 648, 752 others

ynofficial since im incapable of keeping a secret... and i lost a bet, here we are. so close to what coming out 13th of november!! also we go back on tour soooon cant wait to see you england <33

view all comments

user1 y/n releasing an f1 themed album on lando's birthday was not on my bingo card for this year

oscarpiastri hahahahaha

ynofficial you suck ass

user2 an f1 themed album???? YES PLEASEEE

user3 LANDO'S CAR BEING THE ONLY ONE ON THE COVER??? SOMEONE EXPLAIN RN

ynofficial oscar was a lazy ass and had a date w his girlfriend so only lando could make

oscarpiastri i believe what you mean to say is: "oscar had a meeting that he couldn't get out of so only lando could make the shoot"

user4 mclaren are real ones for agreeing to be on the cover

user5 its her brothers team ofc they agreed and plus shes extremely famous any of the teams would've agreed

user6 im an officially a lanyn shipper

user7 i saw this coming and yet im still shocked

user8 EXCUSE ME??? DROPPING IT ON LANDOS BIRTHDAY?!?!?!?!

user9 oh my god lanyn is setting sail

user10 THE NAMES OF THE SONGS IM OBSESSEDDDDD

user11 i cannot wait until she comes to london for the tourr

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landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, ynofficial, charles_leclerc and 8, 276, 949 others

landonorris i would make an excellent model

tagged: ynofficial, oscarpiastri

view all comments

user1 you would in fact make an excellent model

user2 wtf is happening in the house of commons rn

ynofficial u guys made me sick all afternoon

oscarpiastri how???

ynofficial the heart eyes were disgusting

user5 oscar and lando giving each other heart eyes confirmed

user3 yn drops an album announcement and then lando drops this im not okay anymore

user4 lanyn shippers where are youuu

charles_leclerc you need to upgrade your company maybe next time come to the better team

ynofficial i'll be seeing you soon charlie darling dont you worry

user5 screaming what is happening?!??!

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ynofficial posted

landonorris posted

charles_leclerc posted

and 18 other notifications

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2025 © thepitlanepress | please do not steal, use, translate or repost any of my works

– comments and reblogs appreciated

[pomefioredove]

Hello! I hope you feel better soon :) remember to drink lots of water!!

Could I request a one-shot with Idia, where reader brings him a meal they cooked themselves since he hasn't had much to eat in the past few days? (Sorry if this is too vague I've just been having thoughts of taking care of Idia)

no this is perfect! <3 actually just what I needed to write rn

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ you have that effect on him

type of post: fic characters: idia additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, food, mentions of eating and not eating, depression👍, actually cute, reader is not there much sorry,,,

One breath in. One breath out.

Idia has been counting the snicks and scorches on the ceiling all weekend.

They're mostly his. Haywire robots and Ortho mishaps, which he always takes the blame for. One dark smudge is from his shoe, when there was a bug on the ceiling and his brother was out of the room.

Each like a star in his own sky, memories of the days he could get out of bed.

This is not one of them.

Nor was yesterday. Or the day before that.

Just one of those weeks.

One breath in, one breath out. Idia feels painfully aware of the rise and fall of his chest.

He'd sent Ortho on some pointless sidequest for the day. He needed to be alone- well, not really. He just didn't want his brother to worry about him.

He gives up sleep, and lies on his side instead, opening his phone to doomscroll again. The harsh blue light makes his eyes water in the dark of his room.

It feels like he's been locked in an unskippable cutscene all week.

What would you think of him if you could see him now?

He doesn't want to picture it. Idia feels pathetic enough as a cringey, awkward, social reject, even if you like him that way.

There's no going up. When he hits rock bottom, he starts digging.

Knock.

Idia cringes at the sound. He was hoping to be asleep before Ortho came back.

Knock, knock.

"Come in,"

But he doesn't. Idia finally looks up, at the door. Ortho will give the compulsory three knocks, then wait for a verbal command, and then come in. He was programmed that way. He usually talks, too.

But, nothing.

Not Ortho, then.

Idia cozies himself back up in bed, dressing himself in blankets as if they were... well, a shroud.

Another hour goes by. At nine PM sharp, Ortho's melodious knocks, his happy chiming, and the light from the hall follow.

"Find that thing?" Idia asks. He can't even remember what he asked Ortho to get.

"Yep! And guess what! You have a present!"

Psh. Wut? Idia looks up from his phone.

Ortho hovers to the edge of the bed and hands Idia something lukewarm, in a covered glass dish.

"Whatsit?"

His brother giggles. "Can't you guess? You don't even need a scanner for it!"

Idia can't help but crack a smile at that, and he slowly sits up. He peels off the lid of the dish. It's soup.

"Did you make this?" he asks, inspecting the lukewarm dish.

Ortho gives a negative chime. "It was by your door when I returned. Would you like me to heat it up for you?"

"Uh..." Idia hums. "...Yeah. That'd be good."

Within a few minutes, it's back in his lap, hot again. Idia cautiously takes a bite. It's rich, filling, and good, clearly homemade. Not some cheap junk out of a can. One spoonful is more filling than any of the garbage he'd eaten in the past week.

"Your hormonal levels and body language indicate that it's satisfactory. Do you know who left it?" Ortho asks.

Idia shrugs. "Someone came by earlier, but I didn't get the door. Who'd leave me a home cooked meal, anyway?"

He eats some more. It's hard not to enjoy himself, if only a little.

"Well..." Ortho says. "...I may have mentioned to the Prefect that you've been unwell."

Idia almost does a spit-take. "WHAT?! WHA- WH?! This is- th-"

"Calm, Idy! I just said you weren't feeling well! They must have thought you were sick!"

He almost collapses on his bed. His hands are shaking. How humiliating. And he already looked lame enough as it was.

One breath in, one breath out.

"They came all the way out here..." he mutters, stirring the soup around the dish.

"They must really care about you, Idy!"

Idia's face goes bright red. "Don't say it like that..." he mumbles.

But he'd be lying if he wasn't secretly hoping that was true. The thought of you having made something like this just because he felt bad... well... it's a nice one.

You care.

Idia makes a mental note to send you a DM later. As thanks. And to ask if you have any soup left. It's pretty good...

Maybe the promise of you coming over will motivate him to get out of bed.

You have that effect on him.

[thedevilsoftruth]

Denial.

Congressman Barnes x f! Reader

Smut!!! Porn no plot. Daddy kink. Bucky is a mean dom. Not beta read. MDNI!

"Buucky," you groan, your bare pussy desperately moving against his slacks with the heavy rolls of your hips. You're gripping on the sleeves of his undershirt, trying to leverage yourself as your hips unsteadily rock again his thick thigh. "Need to cum. Need your cock daddy, please--"

"No." Is all he says, gruff and almost annoyed. He leans back in his chair and slides his hands down your shaking thighs. "You've been a bad girl. Keep riding and maybe I'll touch you."

You make the best mistake to groan at him and roll your eyes. He's quick to pat your cheek with his hand, firm and but not strong, just enough to serve a reminder to you.

"look at me," He says, wrapping his hand around your jaw, forcing your gaze upon his. You gulp hard and your hips still. "Do I need to spank that attitude out of you again?" He quirks a brow at you. The threat makes you squirm and you shake your head in response.

"No, daddy." You respond, chewing at your lip. Bucky smiles and leans back into his desk chair, letting go of your jaw. The glint in his eyes was playful and almost knowing.

"Good girl." He says, bouncing his thick thigh against your drooling cunt. You gasped at the sudden friction, your hands scrambling towards the red wine tie around his neck. His slacks fold and nudge against you just right as he bounces his leg against your core.

"Oh--daddy, fuck. Mm." Your head tips back and a loud, almost gutteral moan leaves your mouth as he moves. You adjusted your hips a bit just so he could hit you just right--and god almighty, he fucking did. His black dress pants slid right across your throbbing clit, and the moan that came out of you was utterly embarrassing.

"fuck, look at how messy you are, doll." He cooes into your ear, his cold, metal fingers snaking down between your legs to rub your aching clit. Your thighs clenched around his thigh, your grip on his tie slipping out of control until you fell on him. Your hands scrambled for his chest, then his shoulders--anything, anywhere, you just needed him.

"you're so fucking pathetic." He laughed--fucking laughed at you. "Such a dirty little whore; riding her daddy's thigh in his office and soaking his slacks." He growled, his lips nipping at your earlobe as he rubbed harsh circles against your clit.

"Daddy--" you choke, your moans becoming strangled and your mouth going dry as you pathetically humped his leg like a bitch in heat, like you would fucking die if you didn't have it. And Bucky? Smug bastard; looking up at you with those fucking eyes like your humiliation turned him on. Spoiler alert: it did.

"'Daddy' what?" He cocked his head at you, mockingly mimicking your voice in a high pitched ton that purposefully sounded nothing like your actual voice. "'Daddy, I'm gonna cum?'"

"yes!" You breathed desperately, throwing your head back and grabbing his tie again, wishing it was tied around your wrists or it was being smacked against your soaked.

"Fuck, daddy, wanna cum so bad, please. I've been good, right? Please." You begged, your eyes closed tight, your hips moving just a bit more desperatly as you panted heavily. You'd never believe that Bucky was looking at emails in his computer while you rode his thigh, but then again you were used to things like this.

"Aww.. look at that." He clicked his tongue in disappointment. "I have a press conference I need to attend in 10 minutes." He stuck his bottom lip out to you in a fake pout, his thigh stilling it's movement against your thigh. Your mind was immediately sent into panic, and you held him down in his seat forcefully. You could not allow him to leave you like this.

"Bucky," your voice strained, rough and breathless. His eyebrows furrowed.

"Daddy." He corrected.

"Daddy, please." Was all you could say at that point, wrapping your shaking arms around his neck, terrified he would leave. Your pussy rubbed against the little wet spot on his pants and you moaned into his ear. Bucky smiled and slowly, deliberately unbuckled the silver buckle of his black leather belt. Your eyes lit up and your mind went blank at the sight.

"okay," he sighed, pulling his slacks down a bit and letting his thick, hardened cock spring free for you. He smiled at you, soft and innocent like he didn't just deny three of your orgasms and call you a whore while doing so.

"Take what you need, then. You have nine minutes."

[rainrot4me]

Yo I've been a fan of your art/writing for a while now and I am really excited to see more of your work!

So I was wondering (for I am a slut for angst/hurt with comfort) how you imagine the characters like Jeff (my fav), Toby, Jack, etc. to be when they hit that breaking point? Like tears, snot, can't breathe, can't talk, kind of breaking point. And how they would act once comforted (or on their own)?

P.s. What animal, alive or extinct, would you want to be and why?

WOOO, I’ve never really been the best at writing angst, but I’ve always loved consuming it letting it rip my soul apart, so here’s my take:

P.S. I’d love to be a timber wolf! They’re gorgeous, and I’ve always had a serious love for them!!

── .✦

✦ . jeff the killer

Breaking Point: It’s not loud, it’s violent, toward others and himself. Blood under his fingernails from clawing at his scalp, his mouth twitching in a broken grin he can’t stop. He laughs hysterically, wet and ugly as tears track down his scarred cheeks. But eventually, it cuts off. Just silence and trembling. He curls in on himself like a wounded animal, too proud to ask for help, too exhausted to push it away.

Response to Comfort: If you touch him, really touch him, gently, it short-circuits him. He jerks like he’s been struck. But if you don’t back off? If you just hold him? He breaks all over again, but softer this time. Barely whispers out,

“Don’t look at me.”

But he doesn’t move away.

✦ . ticci toby

Breaking Point: It starts with the stuttering, then the twitching worsens, hands shaking uncontrollably, gasping breaths like he’s choking on air. His mind overloads and the tics spiral into chaos. He’ll collapse into a corner, pounding fists into his legs or slamming his head back into the wall. He wants to scream but can’t form words. Just sobs through gritted teeth. He’s virtually seizing, absolutely at the mercy of his overworked body finally taking its toll on him.

Response to Comfort: He doesn’t know how to accept it. If you try, he’ll resist at first, flinch away, say,

“I’m fine! I’m fine, I’m—”

But if you stay, if you’re calm and quiet and real, he’ll eventually melt into you. He doesn’t speak, just grabs onto your sleeve like a lifeline and holds until his body is finally too tired to hurt itself any more.

✦ . eyeless jack

Breaking Point: It’s rare. But when it happens, it’s silent devastation. He hides it at first, locks himself away, curls up in the dark with blood on his hands and nothing left to justify it. There are no eyes to cry, but the tremor in his breath and the stillness of his body tell the story. Sometimes he tears off his mask, clutching it like a broken relic, like it’s the only thing left of his long-gone humanity.

“I’m not even human anymore…”

Response to Comfort: He won’t ask for it. But if you offer, not with pity, but with understanding and compassion, he’ll sit beside you in silence. Eventually, he’ll lean his head against your shoulder, and it’s the first time in years he lets himself believe someone might not flinch.

✦ . masky (tim wright)

Breaking Point: Explosive. Rage masks the grief. He yells, throws things, punches walls, and then just collapses, chest heaving, vision blurred. His mind loops between past trauma and the present until he hits the floor, crying so hard he can’t breathe. Hyperventilating. Only The Operator himself could handle the devastation he’d cause if he got around other people.

“Make it stop. Just make it—make it STOP.”

Response to Comfort: Physical touch works, but only if it’s steady. Too fast and he’ll lash out. He needs you to ground him, press a hand to his chest and say his name firmly (if you can derive which one is fronting at the time). If you can keep him from spiraling, he’ll eventually grip your wrist tight and fall apart in your arms like he’s got nothing to be ashamed about the next day.

✦ . hoody (brian thomas)

Breaking Point: Doesn’t allow people to see it. If he hits rock bottom, it’s behind a locked door. Tears are silent, shoulders shaking, fists clenched, rocking back and forth like a man trying to hold his insides together. He talks to himself under his breath, trying to reason his way out of a mind that’s far too loud to be heard in.

“It’s fine. You’re fine. No one has to know. You can fix this.”

Response to Comfort: He doesn’t want comfort, would much rather ride out whatever anguish he’s in than have someone he knows see him in that state. But if you refuse to leave, he’ll try to hide his face in your shoulder and quietly say,

“Don’t… don’t say anything. Just stay.”

It’s not trust, not yet, but it’s close.

✦ . laughing jack

Breaking Point: Utter meltdown. Laughter turning into hysterical sobs mid-sentence, his colors flicker, his body glitches, and he crumbles into a heap of striped limbs and smeared makeup.

“Why won’t they love me? Why do they scream when I try?!”

His clown exterior is shattered, and underneath is someone aching.

Response to Comfort: If you reach out with genuine affection, he doesn’t understand it at first. He cries harder, buries his face in your chest and sobs like a lost child. The moment is short-lived, but real. He’ll pretend it didn’t happen, but part of him remembers.

✦ . clockwork

Breaking Point: Hers is quiet devastation. She’ll try to act normal until she’s alone, then she just sinks. Slumped against a wall, fingernails biting into her thighs, eyes wide but seeing nothing. The tick of the clock embedded in her face becomes the only sound. Her tears are angry, full of shame, and inconsolable.

“You’re weak. You’re weak. Stop it.”

Response to Comfort: She fights it at first, tries to joke, to deflect. But if you sit beside her and just say “You don’t have to do this alone,” something in her breaks. She might whisper,

“I don’t know how to stop.”

If you stay, she’ll finally let herself cry with someone.

✦ . ben drowned

Breaking Point: Like a glitching program, he paces in circles, muttering code and fragmented memories, tearing at his hair. He doesn’t cry, he screams, digital distortion cracking through his voice.

“They deleted me. I was never real to them.”

He spirals into identity collapse, unsure what’s code, what’s emotion.

Response to Comfort: At first, he thinks it’s a trick. But if you show real warmth, like holding his hand or telling him he matters, his entire demeanor flickers. He softens, cries like a corrupted file: broken audio and blinking static, but it’s still a cry.

✦ . slenderman

Breaking Point: Almost incomprehensible. He doesn’t sob, he trembles. His tentacles writhe uncontrollably, psychic static screaming through the air like a storm. If he’s hurt enough to break, reality around him starts to fracture, trees bend, clocks melt, and time warps. Every person within a mile radius has a splintering headache worthy of tears.

Response to Comfort: No one would dare comfort him… but if someone did—touched his arm, whispered they weren’t afraid, the static would dim. He’d pull them into his arms, not for violence, but to hide the quaking of his form. He wouldn’t speak. Just hold them in an impossible silence, grateful but never saying a word.

꩜ .ᐟ

[kerink]

‘Fucked up that Bill is HAPPIER in Margaritabill than he is in Bill Wins lmao’ PLEASE ELABORATE!

one core feature of bill's character that is stable and consistent in my characterization of him is that bill does not compromise. he wants what he wants and he wants it exactly when he wants it and exactly how he wants it. i've said it before in another analysis but it's apropos so i'll repeat it: bill grew up hearing only no, being only ever denied and rejected, and now that he's the one in charge he refuses to ever hear anything other than yes ever again.

this is important for understanding how i conceptualize what is actually happening for bill's story in each au.

margaritabille follows canon exactly up until the next summer. this means bill has already enacted weirdmagedon, regained control over ford, begun evacuating the nightmare realm, had been defeated, and died. bill wins, however, only follows canon up until gideon makes his final deal with bill. in bill wins, bill is able to do all the things margaritabille is able to, except more. so much more. he doesn't just enact weirdmagedon, he successfully subjugates gravity falls and prevents any rebel faction from forming. he doesn't just regain control over ford, he is able to get ford to submit with minimal fuss and complaint, taking his family hostage to ensure ford is more or less compliant and amiable. he doesn't just begin to evacuate the nightmare realm, he makes tremendous progress doing so.

in margaritabille, bill has lost everything. he has lost the nightmare realm, the henchmaniacs, his kingdom, his control, his influence, his capture of those with the ability to harm him. he is vulnerable. but in bill wins, bill has everything he wants. (well, not everything, obviously bill has bigger plans than just coming to our dimension. but outrunning entropy and gaining a physical form are required for him to achieve the rest of his goals. and now that he's done it, he has no reason to doubt there's anything left standing in his way but time.)

this, however, means that in margaritabille bill has nowhere to go but up, while in bill wins the entire story revolves around not just dethroning him but killing him for good. bringing entropy to him.

in margaritabille, bill has a lot more than he actually thinks he does. he's on earth and out of entropy's reach. he has a physical form. the pines tolerate him and ford is sometimes even nice to him. bill may think he's hit rock bottom, but he hasn't! and maybe, this time, on his rise to power, ford really will join him willingly, maybe the pines will understand his goals and won't rebel against him. maybe there's a way for him to have his cake and eat it too.

while in bill wins, even though bill has peaked more than margaritabille ever did, it's not the life he envisioned. they're still trapped in gravity falls and it's hard to fit all the nightmare realm citizens into one tiny place. even if bill had been king of the nightmare realm there are still other gangs and warring factions that butt heads and challenge him. he needs to manage all the big personalities until he can break open the rest of the dimension and give everyone their space back. ford may play along with him but he's dead-eyed and bitter, obviously puppeteered, reciting the lines he's memorized. if bill had wanted ford this way he would have just rewired his brain in the first place! no, he wants ford to want it, and he can't figure out how to make that happen. the pines are constantly rebelling against him, so he's having to play 5-d chess and mind games with each of them in different ways at different times and it's a headache to keep up with it all. this isn't the party he wanted, he's on-call 24/7. (although, dw, he's still doing a lot of partying, but it's more coping than celebrating.)

there's a light at the end of the tunnel in margaritabille. in bill wins, bill is rapidly hurtling towards the ground without a parachute.

in margaritabille, bill is grieving a future he never really had. he didn't take the massive loss that he will in bill wins. he will never lose as much in the first as he does in the second. margaritabille is about how no matter the hardship, no matter the struggle, no matter the suffering, there is always a tomorrow for those willing to watch the sunrise.

in bill wins, bill is grieving a present he never got. it's a be careful what you wish for situation. he is fucking around and will soon be finding out. the more he tries to force things into their proper place the more they warp and misshape and try to wriggle from his grasp.

in acceptance and commitment therapy there's a framework for understanding acceptance that i think characterizes the two story lines well. in order to accept something you must be willing; we experience suffering because often we are instead willful.

willingness is the ability to say yes to life, however it comes. the example i give my patients is marriage: you know you and your partner will fight, you know you will both get sick, you know one of you will die first, but you marry them anyway because not having them at all is worse than having them bad parts and all. you are willing to live through pain in order to live through joy. i recently told a patient in order to have memorable experiences with friends you will also have funerals.

willfulness, on the other hand, is living life conditionally. it's trying to draw a perimeter and put up walls between you and what you will and won't accept. one metaphor for this i like is the shoe problem: you buy a pair of shoes online, they arrive and you discover they don't fit. if you are willing to accept the pain and frustration of this experience, then you're able to move forward to resolve it: can you return them? can you exchange them? if not, do you know someone they will fit you can give or sell them to? can you sell them online? can you donate them? if you are willful, however, then you will not admit there's a problem. in avoiding the disappointment of not getting something you really wanted and were looking forward to you force your feet into shoes that don't fit, you put them in your closet to collect dust.

in margaritabille, bill is moving towards willingness. not intentionally, not purposefully, but simply through conditioning. he's squatting in the shack and is unwelcome, he is aware of this. ford still has the means to kill or banish him, he is aware of this. if he toes too much out of line, the comfort and safety he has taken for himself will be his undoing. in order to live at the shack and be tolerated by the pines and build rapport with ford, bill must be willing to give up some of his control. he has to stop attempting to dominate the world and subjugate the pines, because if he does ford will just shoot him and that'll be the end of it. bill knows he has a good thing going here and he's not going to jeopardize it. he knows there is a future for him, he just has to grieve his loss and get back on his path.

in bill wins, bill is willful to a T. he will only accept the dimension, earth, gravity falls, the pines as he wants them. he doesn't understand why the nightmare realm citizens are behaving in ways that cause him headache, he doesn't understand why ford is faking it, he doesn't understand why he's trapped. he knows why, but it's not how this story was supposed to go and he will keep slamming the pieces on the table until they fit in the puzzle where he believes they're meant to be.

and he will lose everything, and he will suffer the whole time he does.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Congrats on 1,000 followers! Could you do Michael Kesselring + “test came back negative” please?

Oh, he'd get his hopes up too. That man is built to have a hockey team of kids who are all giants who terrorise the league and constantly end up in the penalty box cause they're too tall. This is....how to describe: starts as angst, ends up mildly nsfw 18+ MDNI, rollercoaster. TW: Fertility issues/struggles getting pregnant 1000 Followers Celly Currently ongoing 🥳🎉 (please read the rules) Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed at the moment but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

You're already dreading breaking the news to Michael. It's no secret that the two of you have been trying for a baby, and each negative pregnancy test felt like a blow, a physical hit to you both. You hated it, but you could handle it, it wasn't either of your faults...it was just the way things worked out. Getting pregnant wasn't simple, it was a science of sorts to maximise your chances. It would happen, it just might take a while.

But Michael? Michael took it hard each time like it was somehow his fault that you weren't pregnant yet. He wanted so badly to be a dad and you knew he was worried, wondering if it would ever happen. You couldn't pretend that you didn't have some of those worries too.

So to see another negative result staring at you from the bathroom sink? That was the worst news of your day.

He's waiting where you left him outside the bathroom, sat on the edge of the bed, knee bouncing up and down nervously. The moment he spots you he's on his feet, rising to meet you, that glimmer of hope in his eyes that you know is about to get crushed again.

“The test came back negative...”

You watch Michael's face drop as he sits back down on the edge of the bed, face falling into his hands as he hunches over and you know it's more than just disappointment before he even says a single word.

"It's my fault..."

"Michael..." You move to sit next to him, tugging at his arms until he looks at you, eyes wet with tears, guilt swimming in them like he's done something unforgivable.

"No, they keep saying male fertility is like declining or whatever...we know you're ovulating, you still get your periods...it's me. It's got to be me...I'm the problem. It's my fault..."

"Most couples struggle to get pregnant, it's not as easy as one time and we're done...even if it is your fertility it's not your fault, it'll happen when it happens." You brush some dark curls away from his forehead, pushing them back and out of the way. Maybe it might seem backward to some that you're comforting him, but you know how much this matters to Michael, you know how much he worries about it, how desperately he wants this. He's not immune to those feelings just because he's the man in the relationship.

"Then why do I feel like I've fucked up?"

"Because you care, because we both want this so badly...look on the bright side?" You smile at him, fingers brushing the stubble starting to grown across his cheeks as he looks at you like you've gone insane.

"Oh yeah, and what's that?" You choose to ignore the eyeroll, to forgive it knowing how he's feeling right now.

Instead you throw a leg over his lap until you're straddling his hips, grinning down at him as you whisper, "You get to keep fucking me until it takes..."

You watch the way Michael's eyes widen before darkening, how his tongue comes out to wet his bottom lip. You feel his hands reach to grip your hips tight, tugging until you're sat flush on his lap, his cock hardening underneath you.

"Oh..."

"Oh." Your grin only widens when you rock against him, his eyelids fluttering shut, eyelashes long against his cheeks at the feeling of you against him. It doesn't take much for him to become hard and hot between your thighs, already thinking of how it'll feel to sink in you again, to cum in you again until it takes, until you're finally carrying his baby. He can keep doing this a million times over, not a chore at all, maybe you're right...maybe this is a bright side, a silver lining.

"Cool, cool...fuck, baby, you trying to kill me?" You're kissing his neck, teeth nipping at his Adam's apple as he swallows, sucking hickeys under his jaw until his eyes are rolling as much as his hips, until he's gripping you so tight that you're going to have bruises.

"Not before you give me a baby, no."

[sha-n-dowbannedlol]

Miguel O'Hara — Love Sick

a/n: i've been slaving over genetics (and biochemistry) lately, and when i was scrolling on tiktok during my break i saw this one superbat imagine and thought of writing it with my favorite geneticist

cw: uh just fluff ig, miguel o'hara is not good with feelings, miguel o'hara is emotionally constipated

You haven't always had the best of luck in your life.

It wasn't so bad that it made you hit rock bottom, but you've had your fair share of moments where you ended up drawing the shortest end of the stick in the game we all call life.

And as you stare at Peter's hand balled to a fist, and yours with two of your fingers pointed out, his hand forming a rock and yours forming scissors, you quickly conclude that this is one of those moments.

Under normal circumstances, you wouldn't put losing to Peter in rock, paper, and scissors as top 5 of the worst moments of your life; however, this is different. To explain just how different it was, we need to go back to a few minutes ago, the reason why you and Peter had to play in the first place.

Not long ago, you received an alert from the Spider-Man 2099 himself asking for backup. You didn't bother to respond as Jess had already reassured you that she's got him—as it turns out, she, in fact, does not have him when she teleported back with an unconscious Miguel draped over her shoulder.

That, in itself, is already worrying enough. But what worried you more was Lyla's report on your boss' situation, relaying the information to Miguel's inner circle of most trusted Spider-people, including you.

"He's been hit with a love potion, an incredibly potent one at that," Lyla reports, her holographic form adjusting her heart glasses and typing away on her holographic computer. "It hasn't kicked in yet, but it will the moment he wakes up," Lyla adds before looking up from her computer, disappearing and reappearing in the middle of the huddled-up spiders

"And when he does, he'll be head-over-heels in love with the first person he sees," The AI informed them in a serious tone, before grinning like the mischievous rascal she is.

"So... Who will the lucky person be?"

It has been decided amongst your group that whoever loses shall be the unfortunate soul that needs to deal with Miguel's affection until Lyla and the other Spiders have concocted an antidote for everyone's admired boss.

And now, you stare back at your hand, then at Peter's, and back at your own hand again. Silence fills Miguel's spacious office as all eyes land on you, and you can feel your cheeks already starting to warm up.

"Can't we just blindfold him?" You spoke before anyone else could, looking over at the holographic AI, who seemed a bit too pleased with the results. "Or lock him in a room or something?"

"Don't be so barbaric," Peter spoke with amusement in his voice.

"Right. Besides, it can't be that bad!" Lyla spoke, her voice with a hint of something that you can't quite put your finger on. Mischievousness? Teasing? Hinting at something she knows but you don't? You didn't know for sure.

"I think Miguel would prefer being locked in a room than being lovesick for an entire day." You respond with a sigh as Peter practically drags you toward where Miguel is currently lying unconscious, and you have no other choice but to let him.

You were a person of your word. You can't possibly back out now just because you lost.

You tense slightly as your spider sense alerts you that Miguel is starting to wake up, feet glued to the floor when he starts to stir.

"You'll be fine," Jess tried to comfort you with a poorly hidden amused smile on her face, followed by Peter patting your back, and you didn't have to turn around to sense that he'd already whipped his phone out to record the whole scene.

The whole room was tense, or perhaps it was just you. Ice ran through your veins the more Miguel moved, and you could feel everyone's eyes on you as his hand moved to rub one eye before finally, finally.

His eyes flutter open.

Ruby red irises land on your form, and you can see a hint of your reflection from his intense gaze. The first person he saw as he awoke.

He stares at you in silence, gaze glued to yours, raking over your visibly tense form as you stare back at him. His face remains neutral, and you're already bracing yourself for his affection—may it be in the form of verbal affection or physical affection.

Miguel then leans forward to sit, before slowly standing up.

You watch as he takes steps toward you, his hand already rising and about to reach out. Your heart skips a few beats, trying to beat right out of your chest to meet his own halfway.

When he was closer to you, you tense up even more, ready to be pulled into his arms...

Except... he just slipped past you.

The hand he raised earlier ran through his hair, his eyes now on Jess.

"Mission report," Miguel demanded in his usual neutral, gruff tone as everyone looked at him with jaws dropped, all dumbfounded by his casualness.

The drowsiness seems to have left Miguel by then as he looks at everyone. He raises a brow in confusion as he notices everyone's stupified expressions and Peter's phone still pointed at him as if they were expecting something from him.

"What?" He asks, brow still raised.

"That's... This isn't how it's supposed to go!" Peter was the first to speak, begrudgingly putting his phone in his robe's pocket.

"Peter, I'm already not feeling well." Miguel responds, brow scrunched as he turns to face Peter, "I have no time for your antics, and that goes for you, too." He adds, pointing towards you on the last part.

Lyla's hologram hen shows up on Miguel's shoulder, bent over and examining Miguel's face, a hand on her chin as she hums. Her boss raises his brow again at this, trying to shoo her away, only for her to keep insisting.

"You were hit with a love potion, Miguel. Quite a potent one, too." Lyla informs the man who's looking at her with a skeptical look in his eyes as she continues, "I calculated its effects would include being down bad in love with the first person you see when you regain consciousness."

Miguel blinks at that, his eyes landing on you, and you recognize the flicker of understanding in his gaze as he does before looking back to Lyla and to the disappointed Peter and the less-visibly disappointed but still very much disappointed Jess.

"Well, it didn't work." Was his simple response, which caused a groan to resound from Peter and a shake of a head from Jess.

"Come on, not even a bit?" Peter asks, looking at Miguel with narrowed eyes. "Look at them, don't you feel like pulling them into your arms and kissing them until the sun sets?"

"First off, that's highly inappropriate," Miguel responds, his hand coming up to pinch his nose bridge in between his fingers to nurse a headache already starting to come up. He says your name exasperatedly, "Please don't mind him. You know how he is."

Before Peter can voice out the offense he took to Miguel's words, Jess speaks up with curiosity and a hint of suspicion in her voice.

"But how come it didn't work?" Jess asks, her brows furrowing in confusion, looking at Miguel, whose face remained neutral despite her questioning. "Lyla was so sure it affected you, and it affected you enough that you lost consciousness, and suddenly it just... didn't have an effect?"

Miguel clears his throat at that, subtly looking to Lyla to give Jess an explanation that would sate her curiosity and make her suspicions die down, but you suddenly spoke to his rescue.

"Perhaps it has something to do with his DNA?" You infer, humming softly to yourself, "His DNA is different from ours, and most of the time, he's immune to potions and poisons because he isn't human enough to be affected by them. Right?"

Your eyes meet Miguel's as you ask for confirmation, and your breath hitches at the sheer intensity of his gaze as he looks back at you. Still, this wasn't anything new. Miguel can be kind of intense and intimidating, even if he doesn't mean to.

"Pretty much." It was Lyla who confirmed your theory on behalf of Miguel, and before anyone could speak, Miguel swiftly interjected.

"Alright, the show's over." He spoke, looking over at everyone and individually giving instructions in order to get all of you off of his back.

"Jess, I need that report before the end of the day. Peter, weren't you supposed to go home early today? Look after your pregnant wife." Miguel spoke before turning to look at you, "And you, I have a mission for you."

One by one, the three of you leave his office, with you being the last one after he briefs you on the mission with Lyla's assistance. Miguel's eyes were glued to your back as you left, much to your obliviousness.

"It worked, didn't it?" Lyla coos suddenly, snapping Miguel out of his thoughts, making him jump slightly and snap his eyes from your figure and towards his holographic AI.

"What worked?" Miguel tried to feign innocence, looking away from Lyla as he turned toward his many screens.

"The Love Potion. It worked." Lyla continues to tease him, grinning at him knowingly as she lays on her stomach in the air, kicking her feet. "You're just so in love with them already that it didn't make a difference."

Miguel remained silent for a while at her teasing words, but the reddish tint blooming on his tan cheeks was enough of an answer to the AI already. Besides, she's the one subjected to Miguel's eyes, always following you around like a lost puppy whenever you're in the room.

"If you tell anyone, I'm shutting you down."

"No, you're not."

".....No, I'm not."