#You Should NOT Be Dating If THIS Describes You...

[httpsserene]

I love your entire page, so I was thrilled to see that your requests are open. May I request a story with Daniel Ricciardo x Reader? Perhaps something where the reader is experiencing a moment of low self-esteem, comparing herself to his ex, and feeling down since they've recently started dating, yet the fans want his ex back. When Danny is dominant it makes me melt so perhaps a smut that is center on body worshipping yet leads to crazy back shots/missionary. He made you come multiple times and despite you trying to tap out , he’s not stopping anytime soon creating a big creamy mess 🫠

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝟐

Summary: She’s the least favorite Formula One WAG. At first, she was optimistic, the fans would eventually get over it and maybe even start liking her—but she now knows that was a pretty naive thought. She’s constantly compared to Daniel’s ex-girlfriend—she’s not as pretty as her, she’s not as supportive as her, she’s not as popular as her, etc. Unfortunately, in a moment of low self-esteem—she breaks and thinks maybe the fans are right. Daniel, with a sixth sense of knowing when you’ve lost your mind, comes home and sees you gathering every belonging of yours that’s migrated to his apartment like you’re breaking up with him. He tries to change your mind with his words, but that doesn’t quite reassure you completely; so he has no choice but to do it with his actions, too. Pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!black-coded!reader (her skin is described as brown) Content Warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. no beta we die like men. no srs it’s barely edited. angst with a happy ending. hurt/comfort. dom/sub undertones. arguing. breaking up/making up. those three little words. attempt at humor (a lil bit). implied subspace. insecure!reader. body worship. vaginal sex. oral sex (female receiving). online hate. overstimulation. protected sex. aftercare. this is dirty, i am so sorry. Word Count: 5k words.

Author's Notes: okay it's a couple hours late, but i was hit with a little creative genius and i think you guys will really enjoy this one! and it's the longest one too! an entire five-thousand words wow. aren't you glad i added more to this masterpiece.

let me know what you think! xxxxx

prev 2k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents next ↻

You’re trending on Twitter. No—not for one of your TikToks that you hope went viral, but under the hashtag #breakupwithherdaniel. Fans have decided to start a movement to make signs to take to the next Grand Prix, with pictures of your face posted next to that hashtag. In all of the tweets, they’re commenting on how they wished Daniel and his ex were still together, or comparing you to her, and saying that you’re toxic—you! In this situation, where none of the people online personally know you and take to bashing you on the internet; you are the toxic one! And that’s the last straw. You start packing your shit up into bags and whatever boxes you can find. A large amount of your belongings have migrated to Daniel’s apartment, even if you don’t officially live with him. You’ve been dating him for just over six months, and the entire time your relationship has been public his fans have harassed you.

They prefer his ex over you, it’s that simple. It probably doesn’t help that you’re not like one of the white models everybody thinks f1 drivers should date, but enough is enough. It didn’t bother you at first, you thought with just a little time everyone would calm down but the opposite has happened. They’ve only gotten worse and things have escalated to the point where it’s affecting your career and—you can’t take it anymore. And, maybe they’re right. Daniel doesn’t deserve to date a girl who can’t take the harsh eye of the media and fans. He’d be better off without you, and he might certainly be better off with his ex. She was there in his darkest times and his brightest successes. They ended on good terms so with a little charm, Daniel wouldn’t have a problem with getting back with her, surely. 

You’re throwing your bags on the living room couch, pulling a suitcase you left here from when you last traveled with him to throw your shoes into. And then, you hear the door open. 

Daniel’s happy voice carries to you from the entryway, “Baby, I’m home! I stopped at the store to pick up a slice of your favorite cake, because I know you’ve been needing some cheering up—”

You hear his steps halt as he sees you in the living room, bags and boxes filled to the brim with your stuff. 

“Baby?” Daniel asks, “What’s this about? This is late for it to be spring cleaning.”

You shake your head, swallowing softly as you turn to meet his eyes, “I’m leaving, Daniel.”

“What?” Daniel says confused.

“Don’t make it any more difficult than it needs to be,” you start, unable to fight back your tears any longer, “Just let me get my stuff and leave.”

Daniel rushes to you, pulling you to look at him, holding your arms still when you try to push him away from you.

“You’ve got to give me more than that. You’re leaving—why? Is it something I did? Did I say something? How long have you felt like this? I could’ve—I can fix it, baby. Don’t leave me,” Daniel pleads, his own eyes radiating how hurt, confused, and disbelieving he feels, “I thought we were strong? We’re the closest to being perfect, I thought. We barely argue; and even when we do it’s resolved properly. I don’t yell, I don’t talk to other women, I don’t ignore your calls or messages, I’m not possessive, I’m not crazy–what can I do? For you to stay, what can I do?”

“Nothing, Daniel. You can’t change my mind. But—it’s not your fault, okay? It’s me,” you cry harder when Daniel scoffs at your response, “I’m serious, Danny. It’s my fault.  I can’t take it anymore okay? You’re better off without me; I’m a distraction, I’m not as supportive as I should be, I’m not your type–you’d just perform and be happier without me, okay?”

“Fuck no,” Daniel emphasizes, “Who the hell is telling you that? Because I know you seriously don’t believe that. You’re the best thing to happen to me in my entire life, baby. You’re not a distraction, you support me tirelessly, and you sure as hell are my type. I can’t keep my hands off of you, you scold me all the time for that so, how can you say that ‘you’re not my type?’ I’m the happiest I’ve ever been with you, ask anybody, baby.”

You groan angrily, “Not anybody! Have you asked your fucking fans? They sure as hell think that I’m the devil reincarnated. I can’t do anything publicly without being verbally harassed for it. I can’t dress the way I want to, I can’t act the way I want to, and I can’t even go to work! Your little fangirls are affecting my career—and I can’t do it anymore. They’ve won. I can’t take the judgment anymore, not for me just existing. You’d be happier with your ex, just like they want you to be.”

You and Daniel stare at each other silently, the air tense. 

“What do you mean,” Daniel pauses, his jaw tightening, “What do you mean they’re affecting your career?”

“They’re threatening to fire me because of my image. They’re saying I’m smearing the company's appearance,” you sigh out, picking at your cuticles anxiously. Daniel grabs your hands, stopping you.

“I’m going to kill them, baby–”

“Daniel!” you cut him off, aghast.

“No, I don’t care,” He dismisses, “The nerve of them to convince you that you’re not good enough for me. I should’ve kept asking you if you were bothered by the negative attention, but ever since you told me that you could handle it, I never checked in. And, I failed to see that it was getting worse. Worse enough to make you think that you need to leave to escape it. I’m going to embarrass those fans publicly and I’m going to get the team to back me up. As far as your job, I always hated them anyway. I never liked how they would deny your vacation time even though you had the days—you should quit.”

You stare at him deadpan, “Daniel Ricciardo. I’m not quitting my job and I am also still leaving.”

“Mhm, no,” Daniel scoffs hysterically, “You’re not breaking up with me. And, you would have a better reason to quit, if you stayed with me. I’ll retire you and make you my trophy wife, please.  Seriously, babe. Don’t leave. I should’ve dealt with the fans earlier, I know—it’s my fault that it even reached this point. Please, just stay with me.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur, crumbling into tears again, “They all seem to think your ex is a better fit and…I think I agree with them.”

Daniel gathers you into his arms, tucking you into his shoulder, “Baby, I broke up with her for a reason. And, I’m glad I did. All of those chronically online fans have no clue about why I broke up with her. I couldn’t imagine going back into that relationship, especially now that I’ve found you. Let me prove it to you, baby.

You sob, “How are you going to prove anything to me right now? Can I just be dramatic for a little longer?”

He laughs, giddy at the sound of your usual antics, “Well, I am going to set the media on fire with the language I use to address how the world has been disrespecting you. But first, I’m going to take you to bed and remind you what you’d be missing out on if you left. What other man could learn to know you as intimately as I do, hm? C’mon, baby—let me prove it to you. Let your body decide.”

Leaning back to look at him through your tears,  you think,  fuck it, why not?

Daniel presses you into the bed; you whine out desperately when he breaks the kiss, your eyes focused on the plush warmth of his lips as you try to chase them. The eagerness of your actions only dawns on you as you see his lips shift into a smiling laugh then, the embarrassment washes over you; honestly, you think, you can’t act like you can’t live without having his lips touching yours—he might find your yearning repulsive. Did his ex act like this for him? What if that’s why he broke up with her—

“Heyheyhey—don’t hide from me, baby,” Daniel coos concerned, his hand gently coaxing you to turn your head and meet his eyes, you didn’t even notice when you moved to hide your face with the pillow; he continues, “Where’d you go just then, pretty girl? Please tell me, baby, don’t hold it in.”

You meet his troubled gaze, and the love and care you see pouring out causes fresh tears to dance across your waterline. Through your blurry sight, you see Daniel’s brow furrow saddeningly as he carefully pulls you up into a sitting position and holds you tightly as you cry into his shoulder. His left hand massages the back of your neck, and his right hand finds a calming rhythm as he rubs your back. Your tears taper out quicker, and you wonder if you’ve exhausted their supply from the crying you’ve done today.

You draw back from his embrace, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand, and your voice shakes and cracks as you begin to speak, “I’ve never been this insecure about myself. I couldn’t give a single fuck about what people say or think about me. But, today? It was just too much, Danny. Seeing all of your fans tear down every aspect of me; my personality, my looks, my body—why? And, they’re doing it under the reasoning that, I’m not good for you. Like, you’re not a grown man, who can decide who he wants to date? I support you quietly and loudly and’ll do it forever, but that’s not enough for them. And, today, it felt like it would  never be enough.

“So, when I saw them making signs, t-to…to encourage you to break up with me,” Daniel muffles a sound of hurt in his chest, “I was humiliated. I-I, didn’t want that sort of attention for you, they should be focused on your racing, not your undeserving girlfriend. And, I thought I’d make it easy for you and leave.”

“Baby, no…”

“You’re such a good boyfriend, Daniel. It would be so much easier for you to end this relationship and go back to your ex, or date some other girl that satisfies you and your fans—”

“Babe, no,” Daniel cuts you off, his tone hardened, “The only person that needs to be satisfied with you is me. And, I am. The opinions of those fucking idiots don’t matter to me, and they shouldn’t matter to you. Because that’s all they are: opinions, and they’re absolutely stupid opinions, at that. They’re comments have done the complete opposite of convincing me to leave you. They’ve shown me that I need to let you know how much I want you with me—they’ve made me realize that I need to let you know that I love you.”

Your eyes widen, your breath stuttering. It’s the first time, he’s said it.  Daniel loves you.

Sobbing softly, you murmur, “I hope you’re not only saying those three words because you think it’s going to make me happy. Because, I do love you, too.”

Daniel laughs wetly. “I’m saying that I love you now because you need to know that. I would’ve preferred to say it under different circumstances but, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m ridiculously in love with you. And—fuck everybody who’s saying you’re not good enough for me. If anything, I’m not good enough for you. I haven’t even won you a trophy, yet.”

You stare at him in disbelief, “Shut the fuck up. You’re everything to me. You could be driving the slowest car on the grid and I would still be celebrating your last-place finishes like you’ve won the championship.”

Daniel stares at you silently and you nearly fear that you’ve broken him. He sighs out lovingly before, leaning down and pressing kisses across your entire face to wash away your tear tracks. He finishes with a barely there kiss to the tip of your nose and asks quietly, “Let me show you that I love you. I don’t think saying it is enough.”

You look at him. You find what you’re looking for because you agree, “Okay.”

Daniel perks up, “Okay?”

You nod, slowly sliding down to rest on your back against the bed like you were before. “Yes.”

Your boyfriend shifts to kneel in between your legs, his hands slipping beneath the hem of your sweater, and once he gets confirmation from you, he smoothly pulls it off of you, dropping it off the bedside. His hands spread across the expanse of your abdomen and move to rest on your waist as he buries himself in the length of your neck. He nips kisses and presses of tongue along your brown skin, surprising you often with the ache of teeth and suction to bloom bruises. When he slides downwards, he paints your collarbone and decolletage loosely, the irritated flesh only sends flares of pleasure across your nerves. Daniel huffs in frustration as the straps of your bra disrupt the smooth skin across your shoulders, and he pulls you upwards to arch into him as he slips his hand underneath to unclasp the closure. You’re brain comes online to help him remove the offending fabric as you shrug out of the straps and desperately fling the bra to a corner of the room you can’t care to look at.

Daniel hums thankfully and resumes tracing along your shoulder, down your arms, and to the bones of your wrists and tips of your fingers with gentle hands followed by his lips. 

He swallows before speaking, “Whenever you’re splayed out so prettily underneath me, I forget how to act. The cloudy look in your eyes, your chest covered with my love, the muscles in your shoulders and arms relaxed and syrupy—so fuckin’ sexy, baby.”

You can’t find the words to respond to him because your entire body sings out when Daniel’s lips suction around your nipple. You feel his tongue swirl around, wetting it before his teeth join in and scrape softly against the sensitive bud. He releases you and even though your eyelids have fluttered shut at the feeling, you feel him watching you as your back rises off the bed and your head falls back. His hand finds its place right underneath your breasts, and he pushes you back down into the mattress and holds you there as he continues the assault of his lips on your chest. You can only cry out with every tug of his teeth, every suckle of his lips on the surrounding skin, whimpers choked down as his mouth ravages you entirely. Your hand flies to Daniel’s hair for purchase, and to press his head further into your chest, but he pulls away.

“Forgive me—but I love your chest, baby. I love how you let me take naps on them and play with my hair, I love the feeling of them in my hand, I love making you scream every time I play with them. And, you taught me that the only answer to ass versus boobs is both of them. Because, I would willingly suffocate in either of them, and all of you.”

Your chest heaves as you try to regain some air in your lungs, but Daniel doesn’t let you breathe for a second, “One day, I hope you let me fuck your pretty chest.”

Your mouth drops open, as you flounder for the air and words required to respond to his statement.

“Another time, though. May I take off your pants, baby? I  need to fuck you.”

“Yesyes—please, hurry up,” you rush out, already moving to shimmy out of your bottoms, Daniel tugging them off roughly when they get caught around your ankles. The strength he uses slides you down the bed a little, and you can’t help but muffle a gasp underneath your hand. 

He pulls your hand from your mouth in an instant, “No. Not tonight. I let you get away with hiding your sounds from me before, but I need to know how good I’m making you feel,” he pauses to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist and continues, “Be as loud as you want, love.”

You nod jerkily, and Daniel lowers your arm to rest against the bed carefully, before he shuffles down the bed, resting on his stomach and spreading your legs to drape along his shoulders. He starts with your right leg; nipping at the bone of your ankle before following with a soothing touch of his lips, and moving upwards, biting and kissing along the muscles of your calf, the inside of your knee. He slows when he reaches the plush meet of your thigh, taking his time biting the muscle and laving over the teeth marks he leaves with his tongue. He repeats the treatment along your left leg, ignoring how he can see the wetness dripping out of you, darkening the fabric of your panties. 

“Love your legs, baby,” Daniel breaths shakily, “Calves, and thighs, muscle, and all plush skin. If I could choose how to go out, it would be in between them. Doesn’t matter if they’re around my waist, or my head—it’s fucking paradise, baby.”

Your thighs shudder as if they’ve heard his words, and Daniel notices immediately. His hands move to grasp them and let his thumbs dig into the fresh marks he’s added against your brown skin. You keen airily, your thighs attempting to shut, but Daniel’s hands keep you spread with little effort. He leans down and hides his smile by pressing his mouth to your panties. He proceeds to noisily kiss along your covered cunt, dragging his tongue and nose through the soaked fabric, humming amusedly when your hips buck down onto him, one of his hands shifting to press your pelvis to the mattress.

You’re mortified. Daniel’s pretty much making out with your cunt over your panties, and he seems to be enjoying it as much as you if the way his hips are rocking along the bed is any telling when you raise your head to stare down at him. His eyes shut as he loses himself between your legs; he looks blissed out and you drop your head back against the mattress, bringing your hand to tangle in the mess of his curls. He pulls away with a grunt and you tug at his hair annoyed, sitting up slightly to see what he stopped for—

His eyes are wild, drenched with lust. Daniel doesn’t waste time pulling your panties off, roughly tugging the fabric covering your cunt to the side, tucking it in the dip between your groin and thigh. You see his eyes roll back slightly at the sight of you before he shuts them and dives forward to bring his mouth down on your cunt. His tongue pushes inside of you sloppily and his nose makes sure your clit is always receiving attention. The only option you have is to choke on your moans and grasp for stability in his hair and the sheets of the bed. Your tummy undulates at the pleasure racketing up your spinal cord, it’s too much to process already. And in a split-second, Daniel’s tongue is exchanged for two of his fingers, your cunt thoroughly soaked with a mix of your wetness and his spit, and the stretch is mild, more of a welcomed soreness than pain. Daniel’s eyes open to watch your face closely, you’re too busy moaning to verbally assure him to continue, but he understands (the continuous desperate roll of your hips against his grasp is a helpful clue). 

He massages his fingers into you rapidly, brushing along the sensitive wall along the top of your cunt—and it dawns on you very quickly that you are going to cum. He must see the realization wash over your face, or through the signs of your body, but he avoids your g-spot to scissor his fingers inside of you to stretch you out, a third joining the rest when you huff down at him angrily. The new stretch quiets you, loud whines and moans hushed for a moment as you savor the ache. Yet, you quickly hunger for more, unapproving of the sudden gentleness Daniel exhibits.

“Danny, please,” you cry, “C’mon—fuck me, already. ‘m gonna cum.”

He pulls his fingers from the grasp of your vagina and manhandles you onto your front, stomach flat against the bed. With firm hands, he pulls your hips upwards, one hand sliding down your back to deepen the arch and push your ass further out. The insecurity and shyness you had earlier have dissipated; you’d like to be fucked, now. You spread your knees wider and rock back even more.

“Fuck,” Daniel croaks out, and he rushes to grab a condom from the nightstand. You’re sure he’s relatively quick about the entire ordeal; of losing his pants, grabbing the condom, and rolling it on himself, but it feels like ages, and you can’t help but huff out angrily. Thankfully, you feel his left hand come back to rest on your ass and feel the head of his cock tap along your cunt. 

Your hole parts for him prettily and Daniel sinks in smoothly, not stopping until your ass meets his hips. You whine softly, the ache of him finding a home within you will never lose its luster. Daniel shudders behind you, the grip of his hand on your ass shaking—his breathing heavy as it echoes around the room. 

“Fuck,” Daniel moans again, “Love your cunt, pretty girl. Hot, wet, and tight,” he falls forward, and nuzzles into the hair at the nape of your neck, before pressing a kiss at the back of your neck, and rising again, “‘s so good…I-I can’t find the words right now.”

You giggle softly into the bed and Daniel takes the green light when you press back against him. He begins to thrust into you, hard enough to punch the breath out of your lungs. He’s never fucked you this forcefully before; his motions are erratic, yet somehow he’s nailing the spot inside of you with every other pass of his hips. The sound of your skin meeting manages to be hidden by the screams and moans you manage to release when you find enough air in your lungs. Daniel’s other hand wraps around your front and presses down on your pelvis, tightening your inner walls. And, your vision whites out.

Your legs give out and you feel yourself slouch into the mattress, but Daniel is quick to hold your hips up for you and continues to rail into you, not allowing you any respite. You can hear yourself babbling, but you can’t make out what you’re saying. The heat of Daniel’s chest radiates over your back and you feel his breath wash over your spine, his endearments and praise you hear but can’t understand as the pleasure has blinded your senses. What you can feel, is how his thrusts continue and don’t slow. 

You regain control of your body when he rotates you onto your back, he only pulls out briefly while he grabs a pillow to shove underneath your hips before he falls back inside of you. At this angle, Daniel feels larger than life, knocking against buttons inside of you you’re sure he’s only ever discovered. It’s too much. He fucks into you slowly, the press of his cock slow but strong, the motion pushing you up the bed slightly.

You gasp, moans erupting out of you when you attempt to speak. You manage to keep your eyes open long enough to look at Daniel and see the pleased smile on his face. He moves one hand from your hip to cradle your cheek and swipes a tear that escaped from the corner of your eye away. 

“Oh,” Daniel hushes you softly, “Gone for me already, aren’t you?”

“T-t-oo much,” you stutter, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth, “ feels s’good.”

He chuckles quietly, the noise fading into a moan as your cunt clenches around him, “Too much or it feels good, pretty girl? You’re going to have to pick one.”

Daniel’s thrusts get rougher, and he stops pulling out nearly all the way and focuses on digging into you deeper; making sure to drag himself along that place inside you with every thrust. Your scream breaks as soon as it leaves your mouth, the unyielding stimulation feels white hot. You take a shaky hand and drag it down Daniel’s chest, from his tattoos to his abdomen, and push against him while simultaneously trying to raise your hips away from his.

“No, baby,” Daniel coos down at you, knocking your hand away from his abs, and continuing to press inside of you, pulling your hips down, “Don’t run from me. Take it. You know what to say if it’s too much for you.”

You do know what to say. But, the knot inside your tummy starts tightening again, and the overwhelming amount of pleasure isn’t too much. You can take it. Daniel rocks down to kiss you, but you’re too out of it to exactly figure out how to make your lips work, and his eyes shine. He moves to bite at your neck, you feel him speaking against your skin and it takes a few listens to realize he saying, “I love you,” over and over again. His thrusts get choppier and you know he’s close when his hand slips down to play with your clit. This orgasm feels different than the first. It feels like it burns your nerve endings with just how powerfully pleasurable it is. You can vaguely feel Daniel collapse against you as he rides out his climax, but you’re more concerned with the absolute ecstasy you find yourself floating in.

You blink a few times and you fail to adequately process what’s going on around you. You feel Daniel pull out of you, rubbing soothingly along your hips and thighs as he massages any soreness away. You can’t make out his words, but they sound warm and loving making you feel light and fluffy. You don’t recall him moving from the bed, but he suddenly has a warm rag pressed against your inner thighs to clean you up, and your ruined panties are gone. When he tries to wipe against your cunt, you slam your legs shut, jerking away from him. He doesn’t force your legs back open, but he eventually manages to clean up enough of your wetness that he’s comfortable to wait until you’re clear-minded. 

Daniel pulls you onto his lap and continues murmuring words of affection into the air, you feel them vibrate through his chest. You begin to rise out of whatever state you were in and shift in his lap, “Danny,” you try to speak, but your voice cracks roughly. He’s quick to grab a bottle of water on the nightstand and opens it for you, helping you drink as your arms are still too shaky. 

“When did you grab the water?” you question softly, you down nearly the entire bottle, and move to snuggle back into his chest, bringing your shaky hand up to trace his tattoos. 

“You don’t remember?” Daniel questions calmly, watching as you shake your head in dissent, “I think you were a little out of it after that orgasm. You melted into the bed—I couldn’t get you to say anything.”

“Oh,” you offer, looking up at him to read his face. You find nothing but love, so you figure it can’t be a bad thing.

“Do you know what subspace is?”

“No?”

Daniel nods understandingly and changes the subject, “I got this piece of cake for you earlier at the store. Can you eat it for me now and drink a little more water, baby? I’ll put on that crime show you like too.”

You agree to eat and drink as long as Daniel does too. Your hand shakes as you try to bring the fork to your mouth so you let Daniel feed you, he seems more than happy to do it for you. You kind of like it anyway, him taking care of you. You feel like your normal self halfway through the second episode of the show playing on the TV. You slide off of Daniel’s lap to sit beside him and focus on the show, pulling the blanket up to cover your legs, the plot of the show finally being processed by your brain.

“I’m going to go grab something from the living room, okay?” Daniel checks in on you, waiting for you to answer affirmatively, “Finish up that cake for me, love.”

You hum, grabbing the container from him and continuing to munch along as Daniel does what he needs to. He reenters the room with one of the boxes you had packed away. Daniel doesn’t look at you, he just opens up the box and starts putting all your belongings back to where they used to be. He pulls one of your heavier sweaters out of the box and moves to hang it up in the closet.

“No,” you say, voice scratchy. You watch Daniel turn to face you slowly like he thinks you’re going to tell him that you’re still leaving, 

“That sweater doesn’t belong in the closet. It gets folded and placed in the bottom row of the dresser.”

Daniel sighs relieved and smiles at you, “Okay. What about this one too, where does that go?”

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© httpsserene 2023

[18250mm]

She Kicks Ass | N. Romanoff

Gif not mine, credit to creator

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x GN!Super-Soldier!Reader

Word Count: 1,122

Warnings: None

Summary: You save Clint’s ass when Natasha gets angry at him, but not before reminding everyone just how good she is at kicking ass.

---

“Who the hell ate my sandwich?!” Natasha’s voice echoed through the Avengers Compound. She’d just come back from a tough morning at the gym and she was, without a doubt, ready for lunch.

When the redhead opened the refrigerator to grab the food you had so graciously prepared for her before heading off to fulfil your own duties at S.H.I.E.L.D., it was gone.

Pissed wasn’t even enough to describe how she felt right now.

“What are you yelling about, baby?” you asked, walking into the kitchen since you were on your lunch break too. “How was your training this morning?”

You and Natasha had been together for about two years now, having started dating a few months after you joined S.H.I.E.L.D. as an agent. You had defected from HYDRA — although… to be fair, you never really agreed with their ideologies in the first place — after being born to parents in the organisation. With your expertise and skill sets matching that of a high-ranking agent, you worked closely with Maria and Natasha as the second Deputy Director.

You weren’t small either, making you useful for certain field missions. Since HYDRA loved to experiment on their troops, it came as no surprise when you were eventually chosen to test their latest version of the super-soldier serum. It wasn’t an exact replica of the one Steve Rogers had coursing through his veins, but hey — at least it didn’t kill you.

“It was good up till the point I found out that someone ate the sandwich you made for me,” Natasha replied with a pout before resuming her stoic expression. “And when I find out who it is–”

She didn’t even finish her sentence before storming off (not without giving you a quick peck on the lips, of course) — but you knew exactly what she was going to say. You weren’t the most religious, yet you found yourself saying a silent prayer for the culprit.

You chuckled, turning around to grab the same ingredients you had used to make the first sandwich. Whatever happened to the last one, you didn’t know; but you weren’t going to let that spoil your girlfriend’s mood for the rest of the day.

…

A good 10 minutes had passed since you last saw Natasha. You’d finished preparing and bagging the second sandwich, and was awaiting the redhead’s return before lunch was over.

You had also brewed a fresh pot of coffee, mostly for the two of you to enjoy, but in good nature, the rest of the team too.

“Y/N! Y/N, help me!” came an exasperated whisper from across the room.

Turning around in confusion, your furrowed brows quickly softened when you saw Clint running into the kitchen with… a sandwich in his mouth.

Natasha’s sandwich.

He had taken it. And your girlfriend was hot on his tail.

“You really should know better than to take Nat’s food, Hawkeye,” you told him, but stepped aside anyway for him to climb into the vent above you. “She isn’t the kind of target you’d wanna mess with. You know that.”

The blond rolled his eyes and nodded, mumbling quick apologies you couldn’t even make out. “Mmank hyou!” he said — and that was the last you saw of him as he disappeared somewhere into the inner spaces of the Avengers Compound.

“I don’t care if you’re my best friend, I wouldn’t even let my sister eat that sandwich! Y/N made it for me!” you heard your lover’s voice as she made her way towards you — she had definitely seen Clint turn the corner here — with Wanda, Yelena and Kate behind her.

By now, a small crowd had formed — with all the shouting and vent-climbing, how could it not? — around you two.

Natasha came to a halt and looked around. “Detka, where’s Clint?”

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “I haven’t seen him, I thought he was with Kate,” you met the tall brunette’s eyes, subtly motioning for her to go along with it.

At first, Kate didn’t catch on, shaking her head before glancing up and spotting her mentor directly above her as he watched the scene unfold while chewing on the sandwich. Her eyes widened and she went into a coughing fit — causing all eyes to turn to her for a brief moment.

“I’m fine, thank you,” the young archer assured everyone. “Uh, yeah. Clint was just with me, ‘Tasha. I think he went to the armoury to grab more trick arrows…”

“I could’ve sworn I saw him come in here with my food,” Natasha mumbled, sighing. You immediately wrapped your arms around her comfortingly. “I really wanted that sandwich.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” you cooed, stepping aside to reveal her newly-replaced lunch and a cup of coffee. “I made you another one. Now, how ‘bout you eat before our break’s over?”

The way Natasha’s eyes lit up was the reason you wanted to do everything in life that would make her smile like that.

“Thank you,” she whispered, kissing you on the cheek as you tightened your grip on her.

“I’m just glad she won’t kick Barton’s ass today,” Tony laughed. “Though I’m sure with Rogers and Barnes around, that won’t be too easy for her.”

You merely scoffed at the billionaire’s statement. “My girlfriend can totally kick their asses! She can kick anyone’s ass. Hell, she can even kick my ass. And she has, many times. It was hot.”

Natasha watched you lovingly and casually sipped on her coffee as you rambled on. The other Avengers laughed, some shaking their heads while others looked away nervously because they saw no lie in what you said.

“Thank you for coming to my sister’s rescue,” said Yelena. “But I feel the need to clarify that I am still better than her.”

“Yeah, okay. We’ll see about that,” your beloved redhead replied sarcastically, finishing the rest of her food and putting the dishes in the sink. “Come, sestra. Let’s put that to the test.”

As the two made their way to the gym — with Wanda shaking her head and mumbling something along the lines of ‘here we go again’ — and the rest dispersed to either have their lunch or resume whatever task they had been doing, you sat alone by the island and took a bite of your own sandwich.

You smiled to yourself, thinking about how good you had it despite having to risk your life every day. You were absolutely in love with Natasha Romanoff, not to mention the amazing family you’d made with the Avengers.

Your thoughts were briefly interrupted when a blur of purple darted past you, but not before giving you a kiss on the head.

“Thanks for saving me back there, Y/N/N!” Clint waved, making his way to the armoury to actually get some of those trick arrows so Natasha wouldn’t be suspicious.

[greenbergsays]

Sense8 never addressed the creepy homophobic voyeur girl fetishizing hernando and lito :/

I don't know why you thought this was a safe space to hate on Dani but it's not and you should put respect on my girl's name

Daniela is a voyeur, yes, but since Lito & Hernando know she's there when they have sex, the voyeurism is clearly consensual and therefore a non-issue. their kink is not your kink and that's okay.

I disregard every other word you used to describe her because none of them are accurate.

Daniela genuinely loves both Lito & Hernando and they genuinely love her back.

Did she make a mistake by taking intimate photos of them without their permission? Yes. And that's bad. But she tried her best to fix that mistake and she did it to her own detriment, let's not forget.

She put herself in ACTIVE danger to protect Lito's secret and was ready to condemn herself to a lifetime of abuse rather than let Lito be outed against his will.

Her "I love gay porn" when she first finds out isn't eloquent or particularly mature, but Dani as a character is supposed to be a little silly, a little immature, a little bit of an impulsive, fun-loving girl

She doesn't think a lot about consequences or implications, she's very much an in the moment kind of person

She had just found out her casual dating partner is actually in a committed relationship with another man and that dating partner was freaking out about it because he's not out yet and in her mind, "I love gay porn" was the way to reassure him

She might be impulsive and sometimes silly, but she has a good heart. She's coming at things from a good place even when she gets it wrong.

In other words, she's human.

[lovingly-dedicated]

Hey, everyone!

Marxolor Ship Week (#Marxolor Week '24) is happening in just over a month (July 9th ~ 16th) and here are the rules you need to know!

Additional Q&A:

"Why is the cutoff date in September?" -To give people participating in ArtFight a little more time. Also, September 5th is Super Kirby Clash's release date, another important date for Marx + Magolor (and the origin of this blog's name.)

"If I don't ship them romantically, do I still have to call it 'Marxolor?" -You only have to tag your work with #Marxolor Week '24 (so we can find it!) No other relationship tags are necessary! If you don't mark them as romantic/in a relationship, we won't either!

If you want your submission to be treated as both romantic AND platonic/non-romantic (ie: interpretable) we recommend including both the #Marxolor tag and the #Marx + Magolor tag, which are the tags we'll be using to sort things on the blog!

"What's the difference between 'canon-compliant gore' and 'disturbing content' that needs to go behind a read more?" -Marx splitting in half and dripping green goo or Magolor showing off Master Crown scars, or even one of them becoming melty like Fecto Forgo is all considered "canon-compliant" and is fine.

Realistically depicted violence (w/ bones, viscera, etc) content that goes into excruciating detail or that references something disturbing (child abuse, medical horror) should be placed behind a "Read More."

"What if I'm not good at any creative stuff?" -There's no skill threshold! This is a celebration, after all! Even the rule about meme redraws doesn't require you to be some kind of master artist, we just ask that you spend time personalizing it! ^_-

As long as it fits the day's prompt, you can doodle something in the corner of a notebook or on your phone, submit a playlist for them, or even plan a fake vacation itinerary and describe what they'd do!

"TLDR please?" -There are a lot less rules than it looks like. Have fun!!

[sincerely-sofie]

ACT tells Torrent that it’s not his fault— that he’s not a bad Pokémon, but he knows better. He should have known Calypso would never be the one to cause the world such dismay and fear. He should have known Calypso to be kind and sweet at heart. ACT didn’t know her like he did — they have more of an excuse. He was Calypso’s friend — her only friend. The one she trusted the most. The one she opened up to and stuck by his side thick and thin. He was supposed to know her for who she really is. He should have known — it should have been obvious — that Calypso wasn’t a cruel, evil monstrosity that Gengar described.

He believed a flimsy lie from a known liar instead.

Yeah I just. Yeah. 🥲 Torrent will hate himself for all of time for who he chose to believe at that horribly vital juncture. It’s something he’ll carry with him always.

Years down the line, he’s a successful feraligatr who can’t move past the guilt he’s borne for decades. He stops in a small town and decides to look to a restaurant for a meal on the anniversary of his betrayal of Calypso— not to celebrate, Legends and Life, never to celebrate. It’s because he can’t stand the silence of his own kitchen in the face of the memory of his old partner humming nonsense tunes to herself whenever she cooked.

It’s a tiny eatery— fitting for such an out-of-the-way town. There’s a young Pokémon taking orders and waitressing in a busy flurry, and his own order is received with startling speed and accuracy. Her haste doesn’t seem to fit such an empty building— everyone else is out enjoying the festivities that torturously fall on with this wretched date. The Festival of Lights is a celebration of life and hope, and yet Torrent has never felt so dismal. Yet the food he’s served tastes like a friendship he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

The waitress asks if he’d like to meet the chef, her mother— it’s a slow day at the restaurant, and they’re both bored out of their minds, and she’s sure her mom could use the distraction. She always gets really sad this time of year, and a conversation with an interesting stranger would do her some good, she’s certain of if. He agrees, and the pokemon who begrudgingly exits the back of the restaurant, complaining to the waitress about how she needs to mind the dinners she’s making for them, makes Torrent stop short.

She looks so tired. He almost didn’t recognize her thanks to her unexpected evolution, but he’d know those eyes anywhere. Calypso is surprised to see him, but she doesn’t turn tail and run like she used to, and she doesn't threaten him with a fight if he didn’t leave. Instead, she gives him a weary, sorrowful look, and sighs.

“It’s been a while, Toro.” A pause that weighs heavier than stone.

Torrent can’t quite answer her.

“I missed you.”

It’s those three words that makes him crack, and the apologies pour out of him like blood from a wound. Calypso listens to them all, and her face screws up at one point like she’s disgusted with him— but then it’s gone, replaced by that exhaustion Torrent always sees when he looks into the mirror.

“We have a lot to catch up on. I don’t want to waste it on apologies.”

“But after everything that happened—”

“After everything that happened, I’m tired of waiting on apologies I didn’t want to hear. I just want my friend. Let’s move on. I’m sure you did that just fine after you joined Team ACT— so let’s do it again here.”

The words tangle up inside his throat. Tears prick his eyes.

“… Oh.” Calypso’s voice warbles. There’s no tears welling up for her, but he can hear how she chokes on the waver in her tone. “You… You never did move on, did you?”

A pause.

“Good to know. I didn’t either. We can meet each other exactly where we left off, then. There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time now...”

“… I’m sorry, too.”

[iaus]

okay I think it might skirt a bit past the 500 word limit but for the ask meme: the temple of the fallen sun scene from chapter 6 of epilogue fic, because it HAUNTS me and it's so excellently done. plz share and and all of your authorial thoughts/takes/secrets/truths!

CHAPTER 6 MY BELOVED.

I feel like I could probably talk for hours about this entire chapter because it's such a Huge Thing in my mind.

I wish I could say it was one of the driving scenes for writing this fic but it's just... not. It was almost an afterthought when I wrote it but now it's so. Central.

I almost even gave the chapter a name. Which is not something I wanted to do for this fic. But. Okay I digress. (I'm so long-winded all the time help.) Let's get into the The Scene.

(Oh my god I typed so much. I typed so much. I can't shut up. HUGE Wall of text under the read more.)

So, to preface I actually had some difficulty wrangling Jace and Porter to where they needed to be. There were some diversions I was going to do before this scene (including expanding on Jace's flashback to his... storied past).

But after some screaming and crying I realized that bridging the "sweet" scene of Jace and Porter hiking through the woods would be best bridged with "actual" Porter interacting with Jace. To add to the foreboding tone.

But this comes to this line:

To Ankarna, he thinks, the god he should worship. The god he won’t.

At this point, we know Jace is dreaming so it's time for his "meta" knowledge to come in. He knows he's about to die. He knows why (?) and he knows the goddess. (Also, this line is totally foreshadowing some upcoming choices and some choices already made.) I love this line. Jace has all this knowledge about his past and could so easily apply it to the present and he's kind of evasive about it when he's awake to this point. But here in the dream, where he has Porter again he can be so direct. He won't worship her. He is with the man who is about to kill him, but in this space he can be so truthful.

Then we cut into Jace speaking, saying these snarky little quips to Porter that we and Jace have context for:

“Romantic,” Jace says flatly. “Why are we here, Porter?”

And this little exchange

“Tragedies happened here,” Porter says, voice quiet, like an impending storm. “Took a lifelong bond and sundered it because their wife couldn’t handle the costs of conquest. Of war.” “Alarming; again, tell me why you decided here was a good idea to take me for… what did you call it? Oh, right. A date?”

All of us witnessing this moment have such horrible context for this. Including Jace! But we also know that the Jace of the past ignored these warning signs. Porter briefly mentions Cassandra's divorce as a warning: You are not doing that to me. I'm going to become this awful raging God, but you are not leaving me.

And Jace hand-waves it. I purposefully did not describe Jace's physical reaction to it, because it takes away some of his agency in a sense. We do not see if he rolls his eyes, if he shifts away from Porter, or if he moves closer. Jace, despite his knowledge, despite that this is his dream, does not get to say no to Porter wanting him to stay in this moment. That steel trap of devotion? It's already snapped shut. You are the tragic lover.

Then, we immediately set into the follow through. Jace does not get action, but Porter does. And what does he do after the acknowledgement that this romantic getaway is alarming?

He grabs Jace. He walks them to the altar: Both marriage altar and sacrificial altar. I have Porter move a lot in this chapter and Jace is mostly experiencing this standing still. Porter's moving the plot, he's got the tempo, Jace is just caught in the storm (in the story).

Then we get to some more Menacing Porter dialogue which. I will admit, I get a lot of how I write Porter from Hannibal Lecter himself from NBC Hannibal. He is deliberate, he is creepy. I actually do picture Porter as having high charisma, he just doesn't think of how he uses it so he just sounds like, well:

“Told you,” Porter says, he presses Jace onto the stone, hands grasping hard enough to bruise. He reaches one hand up, to grab Jace’s jaw. He pants into the touch, wriggles on the stone. “You can’t leave me again, sweetheart. Everything,” he drawls against Jace’s throat, “hinges on this. Plan like this has to have vows.”

This paragraph haunts me. I love it. It is everything I want Porter to be in this fic: Menacing, dangerous, but also... maybe a bit enticing? You can see this for the red flag it is, but if you've been lonely for so long and haven't been able to make connections... it's almost flattering? Here's this man that you perceive as someone who could have anyone (he makes sure you know that) but he chooses you? It's bad, it's scary, it's not something you should want but. BUT.

Also, I need to shout out this line:

Porter had kissed him that day as if he never quite believed Jace was giving him everything.

Because we don't get insight into Porter, but I think this line is damning for Porter. He is obsessed with Jace, he is sure that Jace is as obsessed with him; but there's that... doubt. I've established by now that Jace has left Porter multiple times. We never know why. But I think this line gives you a little taste, maybe, of what this horrible egomaniac feels underneath his toxic masculinity bravado. He has feelings for Jace and this murder he is going to commit comes back to this: He doesn't believe Jace. There is no trust in what he cannot control here.

But okay, back on track. We see Jace give into this and Jace also sees himself give into it:

As the memory washes over him, the heaviness of Porter’s tongue in his mouth, his palm on his arching spine, he remembers loving it. (He misses it.) After the cold loneliness that had gripped him for months as he researched and did everything Porter wouldn’t—to be greeted with such heat. With such longing. Jace loved it.

Jace even calls himself stupid for it. He gave himself to this dangerous man and he's like. I didn't stop it. (I enjoyed it.) He has this feeling that maybe he could have stopped the motion of things, but now that he's resurrected and watching it happen he has two distinct feelings on it: You are absolutely stupid for falling for this AND I miss him and everything horrible (and everything good) that came with it. He misses that unhealthiness, the danger. But he also just misses Porter (but we don't get to reconcile that right now).

And then we get to see into Jace's own view on things. For whatever reason, he likes this attention. He can see how unhealthy it is, but he likes that Porter (in his perception) is just as sick for this relationship as he is:

He had basked in the knowledge that he was the only one Porter was like this with. Others may have had him in their bed; known the devastating, delicious way Porter could make someone beg. But Jace was the one he kept coming back to. The one he growled at, grabbed, marked, and bruised—pursued. That was for Jace alone.

This whole thing is a culmination of a lonely, desperate man finding a toxic, possessive man that scratches all those deep down itches he has. We'll get more into Jace's own issues in further chapters (that flashback we saw was important), but this is just a little peek.

And now. We get to the scene that defines this whole fucked up tragic chapter:

“It’s always been leading here,” Porter growls against his mouth. The grin is back—that same curve of wild growing wider and crueler as he presses Jace fully back onto the altar: Spread out, gasping, chest exposed to the slowly sinking sun. Now, he knows the threat of Porter’s last harsh, needy kiss before he steps away, voice soft and heated, "'Til death do us part, sweetheart."

I have a very early draft of this chapter where there were no wedding vows. My first thought was to have Jace's death be so ordinary that it was insulting, but that ordinary death did not line up with as yet unpublished chapters. I was standing in another room doing something so mundane when this idea hit me. I like lunged at my phone to add in the vows. Originally, the only thing Porter was going to say was "It's always been leading here," which I felt was apt. It felt right. But I realized. Porter's obsession with Jace would not just end with that.

He would want to say something that left Jace as shattered as he was physically. So. He marries them in the worst way possible. He is now God and husband. They are bound in unholy, horrible matrimony.

In the past? Jace didn't think anything of it. Porter says creepy shit all the time, right? But. Now:

Now? Jace would lay upon the altar for Him willingly this time if given the chance. (Anything; anything to not be alone again.)

Porter has this perfect isolating control over Jace which is honestly horrifying. But all Jace can think about now is how he wants that back. A kind god has extended their hand to him, but no he wants the man who manipulated him. Who pulped his heart. The God who made him acolyte, saint, right hand, husband... Porter is the center of Jace's universe.

And now he's gone.

So, now, all he can do is remember that question: Do you want this life?

[ninyard]

hello I would like the kevallison smut ?? Please

The promised kevallison headcanons (aka how the two of them figure out what the other person is into + how they might go about doing it)

When they start hooking up it’s all pretty standard stuff. Allison gets him off after a game. Kevin eats her out if there’s ten minutes free in between classes and an empty dorm room. They’re a booty call before, during or after a night out, or a no-strings-attached way to get some frustration off their chest. Their friends-with-benefits situation is more often than not just a quick fuck when they’re bored. But it's kind of just… that? It's just fucking. It's a handful of different positions, in a handful of different places, but nothing more than fucking, finishing, and leaving. They don’t feel a need to bring it any further though, in some ways hesitant that the other will catch feelings if it gets too intimate. But from the get-go their agreement is clear - if either starts to get attached, or jealous, or even thinks that it might be worth pursuing, they stop. It doesn’t happen, of course, but in the beginning they really try to err on the side of caution until they know that for certain.

There’s one of two ways that their casual hook ups becomes more... interesting every now and again: one) accidentally. two) intentionally.

If it is accidental, I think they stumble upon the other’s kinks by the Grace of God. It's a quick fuck that turns into something more because one of them picks up on how the other's demeanor changes and they realise oh. oh. That did something for them. The moment when it happens is so intoxicating and sexually charged; So intense at the realisation of how turned on the other person is, that they’re just waiting for someone in the dorm room over, or outside the bathroom at a party, or in the almost-empty parking lot to ask did anyone hear Allison and Kevin fucking last night? For either of them, single and used to quick fucks with strangers that don't mean anything nor have the longevity for experimenting with, getting to dip into their fantasies is unparalleled pleasure.

If it’s accidental, it’s a pleasant surprise for them both, and Kevin and Allison have that in common - they are both incredibly, heavily turned on by their fuck-buddies feeling satisfied. It happens, where sometimes Kevin just wants to be blown without returning the gesture, or where Allison wants to come without having to put in the effort it takes to give back. More often than not, though, whether it be with each other or with other people, they're most satisfied when the other person is satisfied, too. So when the topic of kinks and turn ons is broached, or accidentally revealed, it doesn't matter that it's Kevin, or that it's Allison. When they've been fucking for long enough that they find themselves discovering these things, they're comfortable enough with each other to not feel embarrassed about what happens when they have sex. If it makes her wet, and it keeps him hard, then it doesn't matter. They don't talk about their sex lives outside of when or where it happens - a kink or two isn't going to change that.

For Kevin, sweet submissive baby boy who just lives to be praised - oh, when Allison finds out, it opens this door for changing their dynamics that she hadn't even realised existed. Kevin gets so turned on that he practically melts, and Allison eats it up like it's the hottest thing she's ever laid eyes on.

They've found themselves standing up against a wall in a bathroom at a party somewhere, too many suggestive looks across the room leading to a desperately desired handjob or two, and Kevin is fumbling with the buckle of his belt. He struggles with it for a second, before pulling the black leather out from it's square frame and Allison offhandedly says good job with a laugh as she trails kisses up his neck and her fingers down his stomach. She feels his reaction to her words before she notices how his eyes glaze over with the thoughts in his head; how he stills at her words, how he's yearning through his sigh when she follows with a knowing whisper of oh, you want me to tell you how good you're being?

Him in her hand, the long acrylic nails of her free hand dragging lines down his neck, Allison feels how needy he is and softly purrs in his ear to tell her how much he wants it. It's not lost on him how she plays with him like putty between her tender fingers, but still he looks into her eyes with his eyebrows knitted into each other, too close to argue; The please that escapes his lips trapped in between a gasp and a moan is rebutted with her sultry say it again. I want to hear that pretty voice beg. It takes the stalling of the rhythm in her working hand before he finds the ability to whimper out his desperate please, please, please. She's using her free hand to hold his face still, their eyes locked together, while he can barely keep himself in one piece. Her thumb is soft over his lips, brushing over little gasps and short breaths, holding him while she whispers a question and he falls apart in her hands.

If Kevin loves to be topped by strong women, Allison loves to hear a man moan. And she’s never heard him like this before, his lips drawn apart just inches from hers, one hand steadying himself against the wall and the other tugging and pawing at the skin of the small of her back. She doesn't let him look away as she guides him to climax with her soft words of gentle praise. How pretty he looks when he's trying his hardest to be quiet, how well he's doing at keeping himself composed.

Allsion doesn't care that she's accidentally unlocked this submissive side of Kevin; firstly, he's hot as hell when he's this desperate, and it's not as if she's going to be leaving that bathroom and calling him a good boy on the court, because that's not how this works. She's fucked him angry and she's fucked him needy - the passion of fulfilled fantasy only working on a different level to anything else.

(When he's caught his breath and started to clean himself up, she washes her hands and admires her work; his rosy cheeks burning up as she watches him in the mirror. She pushes herself up onto the vanity, and when he can finally bare to look at her again, she says I'm proud of you with a playful smile. Kevin covers his face to laugh in semi-embarrassment, his head shaking as he finds himself in between her legs. They don't talk about it too much before he returns the favour.)

Then there's, Allison, sweet Allison, who's interests work in harmony like a perfect composed song. We knows she loves to hear the men she sleeps with, but there's two things that really get her going that more often than not go hand in hand - rough sex, and loud sex. Living in dorms, it's hard to indulge, especially the second, but usually she'll just pull him close, with his lips to her ear or hers to his. Allison gets off on hearing the person she's fucking, and Kevin is not an exception to that.

They've somehow had a stroke of luck - an empty house in Columbia and some time to kill. Kevin is on the edge of the bed, and Allison is facing Kevin while sitting on his lap, her knees resting on either side of him, in a skirt that is already so short that it's barely even there. They're making out, and Kevin isn't really thinking, but he slaps her ass - something he'd done once or twice before, but never that hard, never that loud. Allison sits back, hands on his shoulders with her mouth open wide. She doesn't get the chance to finish her questioning what are you doing? Before his mischievous smile curls around, what, this? as he laughs and does it again. When she stands up off of him in a half-protest, shaking her finger at how close he was getting to really getting her going, he follows her up. He stands in front of her with feigned apologies for his boldness. She leans into his kiss, with arms wrapped tight around her waist, but instead of pouting his lips, he picks her up and throws her back onto the bed while she scream-laughs.

Body over body, on top of her then, a hand finds it's way in between strands of shiny blonde. A hand that she takes into hers, guiding his fist to grasp a handful of her hair. When he doesn't hold it hard enough she tugs it gently, keeping his fist closed with her hand around it. Looking down at her, he purses his lips with an oh that pauses his other hand while it pushes up her skirt to touch her over her panties. Reading him while waiting for the laugh that never comes is agonisingly long, as she braces herself for the mortifying conversation that he was not going to be entertaining it. Instead he waits for her hand to trail away before pulling her head, hard, back into the bed. And when she shuts her eyes and parts her lips in pleasure, he is quick to bring his hand up to her chin, tilting her head back. The two smallest of his fingers fingers tuck themselves neatly behind her ear, the other two tight between her jawline and her cheekbone. The ball of his thumb is resting on her chin. She doesn't stop him when his thumb trails down from her cupid's bow and into her mouth. She doesn't stop him when he takes it out hold it around her throat, either. Kevin is careful to scatter wet bruises down her chest where they won't be seen. When he's standing back to take off his pants and she’s lifting her top over her head, he asks, you want it hard? and she responds do you even fucking have to ask?

Her skirt is up over her hips and her thong down her thighs. He’s on his knees with her legs over his thighs, maybe he’s pinning her hands down above her head with one big hand over her little wrists. Headboard banging, unrestrained volume, handprints on ass cheeks and scratches across spines. Allison gets sex-drunk when he manhandles her. It’s sloppy, it’s messy, it’s loud, it’s so hot that it’s on fire. It’s eye-rolling, being in a daze afterwards type of fucking. It’s mascara running down cheeks, how the fuck am I supposed to look anyone in the eye after having that done to me type of fucking. It’s needing to have a shower immediately afterwards type of sweaty, messy fucking.

(It’s probably one of the only times they almost/kind of get caught. Not because of the noise, or the sex itself but because of the aftermath. Andrew and Neil clock INSTANTLY the missing and changed details when they regroup - how Kevin’s hair is freshly washed, how Allison has taken her heavy makeup off leaving only a fresh coat of mascara and some lipgloss remaining. How they can barely look at each other in case it reminds them of what has just happened. Their puffy lips, their general daze. Yeah, they fly a little too close to the sun that time - not enough time afterwards to recuperate from an absolutely dirty, filthy, fucking.)

If it's an intentional thing, a discussion about what they're into, and they know before getting into it/it's a conscious choice/it's intentional/some sort of discussion/WHATEVER? There's a few ways I could potentially see it possibly coming up.

A game of Never Have I Ever or some other drinking game with the group and the discussions of kinks come up; Kevin drinks when somebody mentions a praise kink, or being dominated. Allison drinks when somebody mentions liking it rough. Their looks to each other are quick but knowing, Kevin's raised eyebrows when Allison drinks to say she doesn't mind being degraded, the flick of her eyes when he drinks to say he doesn't mind begging for it.

They don't hang around after hooking up, usually. Clean up, get dressed, and leave. That's the routine. But they're talking afterwards for a little while, and the subject of fantasies comes up, and while shes fixing her makeup and tying up her hair she asks him what's the one thing he'd go crazy for. he considers it for a little bit but then gets embarrassed because it's a way harder thing to talk about when you're not actively turned on or drunk. They offer each other tiny pieces as they joke about it, starting tame before they eventually just say it out straight. (she calls him princess when she's leaving and he calls her a slut before she shuts the door.)

They ask each other outright. Kinda similar to accidentally figuring it out but they ask each other for it instead of the other person just doing something and stumbling upon it. Maybe Kevin asks her to tell him how good he feels and she asks why, are you into that? and they like. talk through it . Do you like it when I ask you this? Can I call you this? Do you like it when I tell you you're doing such a good job? Talking through sex can be so hot and even hearing the questions out loud sets the imagination off on a fucking marathon. Maybe Allison asks can you choke me? and he asks her how she likes it before agreeing. Do you like it when I hold you like this? Do you want me to spit in your mouth? Do you want to shut the fuck up and listen to what you do to me? It's a much more thorough discussion than them simply going oh, i think the other person has [blank] kink, so i'm just gonna go ahead and do that. It's a request, instead. Both of them knowing what they want and knowing how to ask for it? Yeaaaahhhh

[somegrumpynerd]

Started reading The Bad Wingmen by @topazshadowwolf and @paddie-ut and it utterly possessed me for a few days so I needed to draw some of my favourite bits

[blueskittlesart]

profs will set the due date for the final as april 24 and then STILL NOT HAVE THE FUCKING ASSIGNMENT UP TO SUBMIT THE PAPER BY 11PM ON APRIL TWENTY FUCKING THIRD

[anirudhpisharody]

all of the info we've gotten recently about shannon and eddie's early days is so interesting like: they met when they were 14. got together at 17/18. shannon gets pregnant at 19, eddie immediately proposes, they get married, then he enlists. then we're at the start of eddie begins with an ~20 year old shannon and eddie becoming parents.

and it's like. why just bring all this up now if they're not planning on using it? i feel like they're starting to lay the groundwork for some eddie sexuality crisis introspection into his lack of experience exploring relationships and why he struggles to build a life and future with potential partners and why it has come so easy with one person

[11-eyed-rook]

they should invent a society that doesn't force its impossible and confusing social cues onto neurodivergent people.

[pa-pa-plasma]

look i'm gonna say it. some relationships are not queer, & that's okay. you don't have to cling to the idea that it's only okay if you can somehow make it queer. it's okay to be in a cishet relationship. the type of relationship doesn't make you less queer & it doesn't make cishet people inherently like. evil or something. chill out

[pluggedintosaverockandroll]

i love being queer i really do but my god it can be lonely sometimes

[seventh-district]

.

[jules-van-hering]

how the fuck do you calm yourself down from wanting to completely rip into those dudes on dating app who just saw the non-mono tag on your profile didn't read any further then texted you the most offensive shit and now you just wanna rip his head off

[xx-sharpfawngz-xx]

Man, at this point if I want to ship characters with people, I should like read a handbook or something on how to like. Flirt and shit

Like a week ago I went out with this dude from The Tindies and like we hung out for like 5 hours and at some point he was like 'he he I'm never sure if these things are dates...' and I was like 'hm, of course this isn't a date, I literally don't know you. The next time it'll maybe be a date if we decide that's, like, the vibe we're going for." and I thought I was so normal until I told that to my bestie and he did his little 'Man, I literally love you so much' thing that he does every time I do something stupid 😭