#and that's why it's so frustrating for me :/ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ari-ana-bel-la · 3 days ago

Note

Hiii would you do Charles with a teen daughter who does a lot of music (piano but maybe other instruments as well) but she plays a sport like basketball and gets a nerve injury in her wrist and really struggles to play music again becusse she’s thinking it but her fingers just aren’t playing it and dad Charles just being super sweet when she gets frustrated and trying to help her? thank you!!

The Silence between Notes

The late afternoon sun poured through the tall windows of their Monaco apartment, casting long golden stripes across the hardwood floor. Yn sat hunched over the grand piano in the corner of the living room, her right hand hovering uncertainly above the keys. Her fingers twitched, reluctant and unfamiliar, like they belonged to someone else. Her left hand rested on her thigh, trembling slightly—not from pain, but from frustration.

Her cello stood silently by the window, its curves glowing warmly in the light, but untouched. Just the thought of trying to play it again made her stomach twist. She had tried two nights ago. It had ended in tears.

She struck a single note on the piano, her finger stumbling. Then another. But when she tried to begin the gentle entrance to Clair de Lune, the right hand lagged, stiff and unsure, and the melody fell apart like a house of cards. She slammed the lid closed, the sound loud and jarring.

“Ugh!” Yn groaned, pressing her palms to her eyes. “Why is this so hard? It’s like my hand forgot how to move.”

She didn’t hear him come in, but she felt his presence—gentle, quiet, always waiting for her to invite him in. Charles leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his soft eyes full of sympathy. He had been listening for a while, resisting the urge to come in too soon. He knew how much she hated being watched when she was struggling.

He finally spoke. “You used to play that piece with your eyes closed.”

Yn looked up, startled. “Papa, I didn’t know you were home.”

“I came back early,” he said, walking over and kneeling in front of her. “I heard you playing—or trying to.”

She looked away, embarrassed. “It’s not working. I can’t do it. My hand doesn’t listen anymore.”

Charles gently reached for her wrist, his thumb tracing over the thin scar that still curved softly near the base. “It’s not your hand that’s not listening, mon cœur. It’s your mind that’s scared.”

“I’m not scared,” she snapped, too quickly. Then sighed. “Okay. Maybe I am. I know the notes. I know the technique. But when I try to play, it’s like—nothing comes out. Like my fingers are... blocked.”

Charles nodded. “Do you remember when I crashed in Hungary? Back in 2021?”

Yn frowned. “Of course I do. You were so upset. You thought you had ruined everything.”

“I didn’t trust the car after that. Even when the engineers said it was fine, even when I was physically okay. I’d sit in it and feel like it was going to betray me again. My hands were ready. But my mind would tense up. And that... that made me slower.”

“Is that what this is?” she asked, voice small. “My brain making me worse?”

He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Your brain is trying to protect you from hurting again. But it’s using fear instead of trust.”

There was a long pause between them.

Then she whispered, “Mom said maybe I should just quit music. Focus on basketball instead.”

Charles blinked, taken aback. “She said that?”

Yn nodded. “She said maybe it’s a sign that music isn’t the right path. That basketball’s more practical, more... physical. That this injury proves I’m better suited to it.”

Charles sighed and sat beside her on the piano bench. “Your mom loves you. But she doesn’t know what music means to you. Not the way I do.”

“I yelled at her,” Yn murmured. “I got so mad. I told her she doesn’t get it. She said I was being dramatic.”

“Alexandra was wrong to say that,” he said gently. “You’re not dramatic, Yn. You’re passionate. There’s a difference. I’ve seen you with your cello. The way you lose yourself in it, how you breathe with every phrase. You don’t just play music. You feel it. That doesn’t just disappear.”

Yn stared at the piano, silent.

Charles reached out and opened the lid again. “Play something simple,” he said. “Forget Debussy for now. Start with something easy. Something you played when you were ten.”

“Why?” she asked warily.

“Because right now your mind is trying to perform instead of play. Go back to where it all started.”

She looked skeptical but nodded. Slowly, she placed her hands on the keys, searching for the old tune. “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” she muttered with a half-laugh.

“Perfect,” Charles smiled.

She began. The first few notes were hesitant. Her right hand fumbled at first, her pinky trembling with effort, but the left hand held steady. Halfway through, she messed up and hit a wrong note.

“Try again,” Charles said gently.

She did.

This time it sounded better.

She stopped. “This is so dumb.”

“It’s not dumb. It’s rebuilding,” he said. “Do you know how many times I went back to karting circuits after a crash in F1? Sometimes, you have to go back to remember why you started.”

There was silence between them again, but it felt softer now. Yn shifted slightly closer, leaning her shoulder against him.

“Thanks, Papa.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I’m always here, ma chérie. We’ll take it slow. One note at a time.”

That night, she didn’t touch the piano again—but she sat on the floor with her cello, cradling it in her arms like an old friend. She didn’t play. She just held it.

And Charles sat beside her the whole time, not saying a word.

The next day, she tried one note.

And the day after that, she tried two.

And Charles? He never missed a single practice.

Not even one.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-♡○♡

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ceramini · 22 hours ago

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YOU DONT KNOW ⋆˚࿔ WHAT YOU DO TO ME

pair dom!jungwon x afab!reader ͡ ͘◡ ꫶᳝᳜᳝᳜᳝᳜৯ tags jealous jungwon, rough sex (w/ emotion), fingering, protected sex ✿ scene At his own party, Jungwon sees you flirting with someone else, and snaps. One heated argument in his room turns into rough, jealous, long-overdue sex ────── library ⊹ ࣪ click to join taglist

like + reblog appreciated <3

You know exactly what you’re doing.

You’ve been doing it all night, laughing a little too loudly, leaning in just a little too close to that guy from your class. You knew Jungwon was watching, and maybe that was the point.

The party is at his house, but he’s barely spoken to you. He’s been sulking in the kitchen, arms crossed, jaw tight. Meanwhile, you’ve been hanging out in the living room, letting another guy refill your drink and inch a little too close on the couch.

It’s petty. You know it.

But then again, he started it.

He’s been hot and cold for weeks. Flirting with you when it’s convenient. Glaring at any guy who even looks your way. But he never says anything. Never acts. Just looks like he wants to ruin someone, then disappears like none of it matters.

So tonight? You make it matter.

You’re half laughing at something some guy says when you feel a presence behind you, warm, tense, unmistakable.

Jungwon’s voice is low, quiet, and cold.

“Can I talk to you?”

You turn, your mouth parting, but before you can answer, his hand wraps around your wrist, not hard, but firm, and he pulls you off the couch, out of the crowd, down the hallway, straight into his room.

He slams the door shut behind you.

The silence hits like a wave.

“Are you kidding me?” His voice is low and dangerous.

You cross your arms. “What?”

He stares at you like he doesn’t even recognize you. “You really think I’m gonna just stand there and watch you flirt with him? On my fucking couch?”

“We were just talking—”

He laughs, humorless. “Don’t insult me.”

You take a step back, pulse rising. “Why do you even care, Jungwon? You act like I’m invisible half the time.”

“I care because he had his hands on you.”

“Maybe I wanted him to,” you lie.

He moves before you can flinch, not touching you yet, just stalking toward you, something raw burning in his eyes.

“You’re not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be.”

“Then what are you trying to do?” His voice drops lower. “Make me jealous? Humiliate me? What?”

You breathe out, shaky. “I don’t know. Get a reaction. Something.”

“You want a reaction?” he says slowly. “Fine.”

Before you can speak, he grabs your waist, walks you backward until your spine hits the door. His face is inches from yours.

“You really wanted him to touch you?” he murmurs. “To put his hands all over you? Is that what you want?”

You blink up at him, chest rising fast. “No.”

“Then why?” His voice breaks, just slightly. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“Because I didn’t know how else to get through to you.”

He stares at you, the kind of look that strips you bare. Then, like something in him snaps, his mouth crashes against yours.

It’s rough. Messy. His hands dig into your waist as his lips devour yours, teeth catching your lower lip, his body pressing into yours like he’s finally, finally letting himself feel everything he’s been holding back.

“You drive me insane,” he growls into your mouth. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

Your fingers are in his hair, tugging, nails grazing his scalp. You kiss him back like you’re starving.

When he pulls back, your lipstick is smeared, lips swollen. He stares at you, panting.

“You want me to stop?”

“No.”

That’s all it takes.

He lifts you by the thighs, carrying you to the bed like he can’t wait another second. His mouth is back on your throat, biting and sucking until you whimper.

“You’re mine,” he says roughly, dragging your top off, pulling your bra down with a frustrated tug. “Say it.”

You gasp as his mouth wraps around your breast, licking over your nipple before sucking it hard. “Jungwon—”

“Say it.”

“I’m yours—fuck—I’m yours.”

His hand is already between your legs, fingers pushing your panties to the side and dragging through your soaked folds. “So fucking wet,” he groans. “From him or from me?”

“You.”

“Damn right.”

He fingers you fast, rough, curling deep as his thumb circles your clit. You’re already close, your hips grinding helplessly into his hand, but he doesn’t slow down.

“You like pissing me off?” he murmurs. “You like being bad, making me jealous?”

You nod, breathless. “Only because I wanted you to do something.”

“Well,” he says, ripping a condom from his drawer and rolling it on, “you’ve got my attention now.”

He thrusts into you with a groan, burying himself to the hilt. You cry out, the stretch hitting perfectly, his pace relentless from the start.

He pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other gripping your thigh as he slams into you over and over, his name falling from your lips in broken moans.

“I’ve thought about this,” he pants against your neck. “So many fucking times.”

“Me too—Jungwon—”

“You’re mine. You hear me?” His voice is desperate now. “No one else touches you like this. No one.”

“I know,” you gasp. “I know—only you—”

And when you come, it’s dizzying. Your vision blurs, your body shakes, and he’s right there with you, fucking you through it until he’s gone too, collapsing over you with a strangled moan.

The room is quiet now, but it’s not awkward. It’s heavy with everything you couldn’t say before, all the tension, the longing, the wanting.

After a minute, Jungwon kisses your cheek. Your shoulder. Your wrist where he’d held it.

“I don’t want anyone else,” he whispers. “It’s always been you.”

You smile, pulling him down into your arms.

“Then next time,” you murmur, “maybe just say that.”

He huffs a soft laugh, presses his lips to your temple.

“Yeah. Next time.”

🪷 ─── @gxwesn @gyarumindd @somuchdard @ssanhwatto (join the taglist guys..)

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alexanderwales · 24 hours ago

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Game Review: Underhill

Note: This review contains no screenshots, because this game doesn’t actually exist.

The dwarves are mining, the bugbears are lumbering through the mushroom farms, the imps are scurrying to and fro, and all the traps at the entrance to the dungeon are armed and ready. From a bird’s eye view, it seems as though everything in the underhill is humming along, but that’s only because the problems are invisible from far away. The dwarves have found a new vein of moonmetal, which they’re taking to their infernum foundries to melt down and make better tools and weapons. Unfortunately, the moonmetal has a waste product, and the imps have been transferring that to the midden rooms. Normally there’s a garbage troll that loves to feast on all kinds of scraps, but the moonmetal byproduct is toxic to him, and in another two days he’s going to wind up in the infirmary, which will cause the middens to overflow. That, in turn, will result in general disorder and work stoppages, and the dungeon will find itself on the verge of collapse.

This is Underhill, the newest and most ambitious game from Kyle Mormont. He describes it as ‘a left turn from Rimworld’ and claims heavy inspiration from Dungeon Keeper, though anyone who goes in expecting their experience with those games to help might find themselves frustrated.

Take the case of the poisoned garbage troll. In a Rimworld knockoff, you might expect that you would designate a midden zone and assign a garbage troll to it, then check a box to make sure that the moonmetal byproducts are sent somewhere else. In Underhill, there’s nothing like that level of information or control, and trying to avoid the poisoning, if you even know that it’s coming, takes a much different sort of work.

Excavation

The game starts with a single ability, ‘Dig’, and gives you a side of a hill to dig into. The UI is essentially non-existent, with only two small Diabloesque orbs in the lower left and lower right to show your mana and power, and a very small selection of powers that accumulate over time, but which stay very small throughout the entire runtime of the game. While the UI is minimal, it’s clearly had a lot of work put into it, particularly in the way that new buttons are added: when there’s a new power, the UI shifts to accommodate it, making it feel slightly uncomfortable, like a mole that you weren’t sure was there the day before. At every stage, it looks as though that will be its final form, but it’s always difficult to be sure if you’ve seen everything there is to offer.

The game is also cagey with the information, especially at the start. You’re not told what to dig, though the hill is the only thing in front of you, and you’re not told why you should dig. But unless you’re particularly stubborn, you’ll dig, and once you have a tunnel dug out, you’ll get your first visitor poking their head in, almost always a goblin, the most basic and least specialized of the dungeon inhabitants. If he finds things to his liking, he’ll make it a home, and the first trickle of power will start coming in.

“The game is meant to be played blind,” explained Mormont, who flagged me down when I joined the game’s small but vibrant Discord. “You’re meant to come in knowing nothing and experiment to figure things out. That’s supposed to be the joy of it. The goblins come in, and you don’t know what they want, so you have to watch them and figure it out. It’s a watching game, a learning game.”

Goblins like tunnels that aren’t much bigger than they are and rooms that are about three goblin heights across. There are no rulers or grids, at least not when you start the game, but the initial option to dig has a standard width, and that’s just about as wide as a goblin tunnel should be. Nothing in the game communicates that this is what a goblin likes except watching what the goblins do. On my second playthrough after an untimely collapse of my dungeon ecosystem, I understood the game a little bit better and did some of the research work that it seems to want, which meant creating eight different rooms of various sizes to figure out which ones that goblins would go to. They prefer to be close to the things they need, which in the beginning means being close to the dungeon entrance, but my notes eventually filled up with details on the proper height, size, and shape of a goblin room.

Mad Scribblings

Underhill loves that sort of thing. There’s an in-game book that’s unlike any I’ve ever seen before, a blank journal that fills in with drawings and details, especially with regards to the ecosystem components, but is completely idiosyncratic. One of the design goals for the journal was that it look like a real journal, something that someone was slowly filling with their own observations, rather than being an encyclopedia with lost pages. For that reason, the journal is dynamic, filling up as you go, the notes stretching across pages. I’ve only had a few hiccups with it when the unseen writer wrote down a detail or two that I hadn’t figured out on my own.

“It’s messy, it’s organic,” says Mormont. “That the aesthetic. There are numbers in the background, but you should never see them, and they should be very difficult to intuit. I want people to be thinking on the non-number level.”

This is one of the reasons given for using a system without a grid, though the trade-off is that it gets difficult to get anything looking nice and ordered. Digging out a goblin home in a square that’s three goblin lengths across is an exercise in frustration. In theory this encourages messiness and a ‘let it be’ approach, but in practice it can be hard to embrace the organic mess that the game is trying to encourage.

Once the goblins have settled in, you can watch them go about their lives and see what they need. The process of discovery is one of the game’s main selling points, and as you watch, you’ll see that goblins form themselves into families, which form into clans. Goblins have biological needs in the form of water, food, and waste, and also seek shelter, which is why they move into your dungeon in the first place. If the dungeon is cramped with goblin families, they’ll throw their trash just outside the dungeon, but if there are enough rooms, the goblins will designate one of them as a ‘midden’ and start throwing their food scraps, broken tools, and other waste there.

The game doesn’t tell you that the room is a midden, just as it doesn’t tell you most things. The midden is one of the things you’ll learn about over time by watching. And it’s from one of those early middens that I got my second dungeon denizen: the garbage troll.

The Age of Discovery

I don’t want to spoil everything in the game, because it’s a game of discovery, but it would suffice to say that the garbage troll took care of one problem and created another. The garbage troll has his own needs and wants, and if those needs can’t be satisfied within the dungeon itself, he’ll either go out into the wider world where he might create all kinds of problems, or conversely, create problems within the dungeon by eating things that aren’t trash — an example being goblin possessions.

The game rolls on like this, with more monsters slotting themselves into place as it goes on. The ability to dig is your only tool for what seems like slightly too long to me, but as more creatures come to occupy your dungeon, your power slowly grows, and new abilities do eventually make themselves manifest. Water is one of the early ones, and comes up more than I had expected from the start, being one of the primary tools you have to shape the dungeon and its inhabitants. There’s a dungeon species that can’t cross running water, which means that it can be kept to one side of the dungeon and out of trouble by having a small stream trickling through. Similarly, water is one of the main ways to keep a dungeon clean, and helps to automate the movement of sewage down into somewhere a colony of garbage trolls are living. When the dwarves move in, they use the water for their own fastidious cleaning.

Part of the joy is in watching all the elements interact with each other. Even right at the start, there’s joy in seeing the goblins go out hunting beyond the range of your vision and come back with food, which they clean and prepare before eating. The animations are crude but evocative, done procedurally, and the game has a lot of clutter even when the dungeon is still developing, whether that’s fast-growing moss that creeps over the rock walls or the tiny mushrooms that grow in the midden (and can be cultivated by a druid later into a permanent food source). Surprisingly, everything is procedurally driven, even when it doesn’t feel like that would be necessary, and this is used to full effect to allow different varieties of creatures to have different motions to them. The goblins come in different sizes and body types, and can even grow from children to adults.

Obsessing Over the Depths

Sometimes, all this work leaves me scratching my head. One of the later game creatures, the nibbler (named after pen nibs, not a Futurama reference), goes around your dungeon and counts things, which are recorded in its notebook and exposed to you through a special button in the UI. In a different game, this would just show you the internal count of everything that the game knows the dungeon contains, but in Underhill, the creature has his own modeled understanding of the dungeon, and will only report on things that he can directly count. If you want to know how many goblins there are, and don’t want to count yourself, you have to wait until the accountant goes to take a peek into the goblin warrens. If the number of goblins changes, you’ll have to wait until he checks again to get the updated number.

I was watching the nibbler take stock of one of the dungeon storerooms, and noticed that he was using his finger to count the boxes, which was a fascinating detail. What was more fascinating was that he apparently lost count and had to start over while in the middle of this. It was such an immersive detail that it seemed like few people would ever notice, and had to have taken a lot of time. But as I watched more, I saw that he was losing his place while counting far more often than I thought he should, sometimes twice a room.

When I asked on the discord whether this was a bug, Mormont responded within a few minutes asking me whether I had dwarves in my dungeon. When I replied that I did, Mormont had an answer ready to go. “The dwarves like to brew alcohol, and if you have nibbler, you’ll see him drink some ale when he stops by there doing his count. If he’s drunk, he has a harder time counting. There aren’t that many mitigation strategies for that yet, since it’s hard to restrict the nibbler’s movement.” When I suggested that the behavior could be triggered a little less often, Mormont had a rant ready to go.

“That’s not how it works,” Mormont wrote. “There aren’t triggered actions. There’s not some variable in the game that passes a certain threshold and says to play a confusion animation and restart the count. The nibbler is actually counting. I had wanted to do a full vision system for all the creatures, but there’s too much overhead, so it’s just simulated instead. It counts with its finger because that makes the process go faster. It gets lost in the counting when it’s a bit tipsy because it can’t see its finger as well and its internal count of how many objects there are is more likely to be wrong.”

The obvious question was why you’d choose to do it that way when you could just have the nibbler report the actual numbers.

“Because it’s funny,” said Mormont.

There was a long pause where I think I was supposed to agree that it was funny, and then Mormont started typing and posted a wall of text five minutes later.

“One of my formative memories in gaming was when I was playing Oblivion,” he wrote. “I was trying to steal from this woman, and she saw me, and that was fair play, but then she started attacking me, so I thought to myself ‘wait, I can just kill her’, and so I did. I went out of the house and into the countryside, then to a major city, where a guard stopped me and asked me to answer for the crime. He had no way of knowing that it was me, and I found it really frustrating, because it didn’t make any sense. Obviously what was going on behind the scenes was that there was some kind of hasMurderedSomeone flag that was triggered, and it instantly went to every guard in the whole world the moment the murder happened. As a game designer, why do you implement things that way? Because it’s easy. But it has an impact on how the game plays, and I think you either have to make that a part of the story the game is trying to tell — psychic guards — or work to make sure that all the little moving parts work together. This is a game of moving parts.”

These are the kinds of rants that Mormont likes to go on. He’s more of a preacher than a game developer sometimes, and it’s the small things that seem to get him going.

Does this make for good gameplay? I think it does, with the right mindset. There’s a risk with the opaque approach to information that a player might not be able to tell quite why something is happening or how to stop it. If you view your job as being that of an investigator and scientist, the oddities are engaging rather than frustrating. However, if you’re trying to build the perfect dungeon that has all the creatures working in concert with each other, it can hurt to have it all spiral out of control and not be able to diagnose the problem after the fact.

The Secrets, Cataloged

After I had put in twenty hours, I opened up a channel on the Discord for veterans of the game, which turned out to be a mistake. I won’t spoil it, but there were entire aspects to the game that I had been missing out on simply because there were some conditions for attracting certain dungeon denizens that I had never thought to try. From reading through the different comments people have, that’s not an uncommon experience, and “there are witches in this game?” is a common sentiment. Much work has been put into cataloging all the game’s secrets, and there are three different spreadsheets that seek to track the interrelations of the different elements.

“I don’t like the spreadsheets,” Mormont says in a post below each of the pinned spreadsheets. “Making your own notes and discoveries is the game. Understanding and watching is the game. The game isn’t about making a perfect dungeon from instructions that someone else left you, it’s about being surprised and seeing what happens, using the scientific method to get an intuitive understanding of what’s actually going on. As soon as it’s all numbers and figures it becomes dead, like a butterfly nailed to a corkboard. This isn’t meant to be a team game. It’s not meant to be a game that you watch someone else play on Twitch. It’s a personal journey of growth and discovery. It’s balanced around a regularity of discoveries, so the average person keeps on hitting them. It’s digging in the science mines and continually hitting new veins.”

I didn’t delve into those documents. Instead, I did as was suggested and added to my notebook, both the one in game and the one that I kept beside my mouse. When Underhill hits, it really hits, and there’s something immensely satisfying about understanding these little creatures that move around in your dungeon, going about their business. By itself, that might almost be enough, but aside from the note-taking and investigation, there are the fresh injections of newness that come with new denizens, deeper depths, and new materials.

(Never) Ending

The dwarves were a turning point in my game, but apparently they come much later for most people. Their habitats need to be square, and they’ll spend a lot of time with chisels making sure there are as many right angles as possible. Dwarves will take over if you let them, because unlike goblins, they can dig on their own and see to all their own needs. They want to live in the dungeon and seal themselves off from the outside world, and so long as you don’t get in their way, they’ll develop their own city that meets its own needs.

My first reaction was that this defeated the whole point of the game, but after some time sitting there watching them work, I realized that it was just another way of underscoring what the game had wanted me to get from it all along: I was supposed to be learning from the dwarves, learning about the dwarves. Eventually, I was learning all the things that dwarves won’t do for themselves, all the ways that they would naturally make a society that was worse than the one I could help them make. It was a variation on a theme, in a way. As it turns out, the game is full of those.

I’m fifty hours in now, and still seeing all the ways that the game is developing its core ideas, stumbling through different lessons and trying to figure out the inner workings of all the creatures, materials, and substances. But if I were a goblin, this would be a hole that was just the right size for me.

#reviews #non-existent media #videogames #underhill

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simplylov3ly · 2 days ago

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pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader

summary: you had a party and you came home very late knowing that Max was going to punish you.

warnings: smut, lots of smut, dirty talk, vulgar language, hot swearing, oral sex, punishments, flirting, spanking, breast massage, rough kissing, tongue kissing, neck kissing, doggy style, p inside v, blowjob, spanking, hair grabbing, lick clitoris, jealousy, couple and more.

words: 1.8k

You'd just gotten home from the party, kicking off your heels so you wouldn't make too much noise when you walked in, knowing you'd never told Max you were leaving at midnight.

He wasn't the toxic type, but sometimes he'd have his jealous rages, asking where the fuck you were, even prostrating you on the pillow to lick your wet pussy and make you realize you were his.

As you closed the front door as gently and slowly as possible, you noticed out of the corner of your eye that the kitchen light was on: that's when you knew you were in serious trouble.

With nothing else to do, you walked to the kitchen, nerves rattling every part of your body. You felt Max's pure, overpowering presence, and when you reached the corner, you saw him sipping a glass of wine, leaning against the marble countertop with his back almost hunched over.

"What a sexy man," you thought to yourself.

Max looked up at you with a stern expression that screamed from the rooftops: i'm going to fuck you up and keep you from walking for a whole week, you fucking bitch.

"I can explain," was the first thing you said after the long silence.

"Oh, yeah? What the fuck are you going to explain, huh?" He asked in an angry tone, a little loud, but he sounded frustrated, as if you had slipped through his fingers for hours.

"Max..." You whispered, trying to calm him down.

"Shut your mouth! You're not supposed to go out to parties unless you ask my permission," he said, setting his glass aside to stand up straight, moving from his perch on the counter and demonstrating authority.

"You're not my fucking father to be asking your permission," you said, placing your heels on the kitchen floor and crossing. "I just went out to have fun with my friends! I came back at two in the morning, so it's not like anyone's death."

"I almost died when i didn't see you home," he emphasizes.

"Don't be so exaggerated."

"Exaggerated? Don't call me something i'm not," Max points at you. "Why the hell didn't you ask my permission, huh?" You didn't want me to find out you were fucking someone else, did you?"

You couldn't believe what Max was telling you right now. He's calling you a whore looking for another cock to sit on, and you know better, because there's no other cock that can beat your man's big one.

Having a 5.9-inch cock satisfying your hormonally charged moments is something you've always enjoyed. During the four years of your relationship, you never turned down a moment of good sex, knowing that Max gave you a lot of sex, mornings, afternoons, and/or nights.

"You're not answering now, are you?" He asked, placing his hands on the edge of the counter in front of him, pointing out the small veins on his forearms.

"I'm not what you think, Max," you replied, almost indignant. "I spend my time enjoying your damn cock, and you call me a whore? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"So why the fuck didn't you ask my permission?" Max asks, his tone somewhere between calm and serious, making you want him to fuck you against the damn marble countertop. "Answer the question or i swear to god..."

"Or what? What are you going to swear to, huh?" You challenged him with those words. Maybe you were going to finish the shit and ask for more, but right now you were too horny to think twice. "Are you going to punish me, Verstappen?"

"You want that? "Punish you for being a disobedient, rebellious little bitch?" Max asked in a tone that, god, sounded too sexy to be true. "Mmm, tell me, liefje."

"I don't know. Maybe you want to, or maybe i'm bored in bed, like always." You provoked him, wanting to pressure him to find his breaking point.

You reached for the wine glass, but he didn't let you. He grabbed it faster than you, and all he did was throw the contents of the alcohol in your face. He pulled you towards him by the neck while he kissed you roughly on the lips, devouring you and using his tongue to part your lips, opening your mouth a little wider and showing you that right now, he was always the one in charge of the relationship.

You gasped, unable to resist the urge to caress the bulge in his pajama pants. Unfortunately—actually, good luck for you—he decided to kneel down and pull your hair towards you.

He wanted you to look at him, so he felt powerful having you at his mercy, his control possessing every inch of your mouth and body.

"Now be a good girl and suck my damn cock, liefje," Max murmured, gently patting your cheek.

You didn't hesitate at all; you used your hands to pull down his pajama pants and make his 5.9 inch cock bounce a little. The best part was that Max always got hard; in less than a minute, he could already feel his damn cock exploding between his legs.

You looked at your man and stuck out your tongue to lick from the base to the tip in a torturously slow manner. You decided to use your skills, licking the tip of his cock in circles, listening as he let out several short, raspy moans.

Feeling your hair being squeezed means many things: Max wants you to take it all, no matter if you cry or anything. He wanted to see if you passed the test of being the little whore he loves so much.

You didn't even look at him as you took his entire cock into your mouth, feeling the soft, silky skin on the walls of your mouth. You threw your head back and forth, causing a few spasms in Max, who had his head thrown back, his eyes closed, and his hand buried in your already messy hair.

"Bottom, bottom, bottom," Max whispers, lowering his head to look at you and watching you roll your eyes, feeling a bit of the tip against your uvula. "That's it, look what a good girl you are, it's hard to tell you're a fucking whore."

For seven minutes, Max dedicated himself to fucking your mouth with his member, making you let out a couple of gurgles and squeeze his thigh for air.

He made you breathe a few times, then stood up and turned you around as he placed the front of your body on the cold marble countertop. You gasped at Max's abrupt and ardent gesture.

One thing you also didn't hesitate to do was to buck your hips, wanting him to fuck you right now, but you know Max, you know him so well, that he'll do anything to make you beg and give you what you like, what you crave for life.

"How do i ask?" Max asked, slowly hiking up your shiny black dress.

The worst part was, you weren't wearing your damn panties... And that was going to unleash the best damn rough sex of your entire existence, because you could hear Max's grunt when he realized that his bitch of a girlfriend wasn't just a whore, she was a whore who didn't wear anything between her legs.

"What the fuck does that mean?" He asked, gripping your hips tightly. "You didn't wear any underwear? What's that supposed to mean?"

And as always, you were going to set all the loose firewood on fire.

"I admit it, i've fucked someone else."

"Fucking hell, liefje," Max whispered against your ear, pressing his chest against your back, covered by the fabric of your dress. "I'm going to have to fuck your little pussy to know that whores like you get punished, you understand?"

"No," you answered without thinking and felt a hard spank on your left buttock.

It burned like hell, but you loved being spanked by him. You loved that Max made you his, knowing your blatant lie. You wanted him, you wanted him so much that you couldn't help being a rebellious little girl right now, feeling your ass burning from the rough, hard spanking he gave you. You could sense that each cheek was redder than when you blushed over something stupid.

But that wasn't the least of it. You heard your dress being ripped and Max grabbing your neck to press you against his chest, leaving you both straight. He pulled off your torn dress, leaving you completely naked while he massaged your breasts with a perversity and deep obscenity that you loved. You loved that he was just the way you liked him.

Max lowered one of his hands to begin masturbating your clitoris. He didn't do it hard, but he did it at the exact spot that generated an adrenaline-filled ecstasy of pleasure. You arch your whole body from those sexy, gentle movements in your core, feeling yourself getting wet, feeling yourself starting to soak your man's fingers a little, as he enjoys having you like this.

"Did you have fun with him?" Max asked.

"Why do you ask?" This time you answered with a breathless question.

Your moans were filled with deep, pure passion; you looked like a screamer, a screamer who wanted to be fucked right now.

"I'm asking because i don't think that idiot knew how to touch you the way i'm touching you, my little slut," Max murmured, moving his fingers a little faster, making you moan even more and squeeze his arm tightly, digging your nails into him. "I've touched you in less than thirty seconds and you're already wet."

"Because you make me wet like... Like that, Max," you said, panting like a dog looking for a bone. "Oh god, Max, don't stop."

"Oh, don't think i won't stop," he says, pushing you against the counter, putting you on all fours again, and now you feel the cold marble pressed against your damn breasts. "I'm going to fuck you all the way down and remind you not to pretend to be a rebellious little girl when you can't even lie properly."

"Max..."

"What? You thought i didn't notice? You're a fucking liar, liefje," Max declared, giving you one last spank to remind you that the best part of the action is yet to come. "And this time, i'm going to fuck you with a condom, because it doesn't satisfy me to finish inside you like every other time."

Now you feel like you're literally in heaven with the Sex God, because, despite what you thought he was going to fuck you right now, it was a lie: he's on his knees, eating your pussy while you're reading on the counter, on all fours, and Max is using his tongue on you. On your wet pussy, what the fuck... I was doing so well.

And the best part always comes in the second batch.

Okay, this is my second os/fic and i love it. I had a sequel, but i didn't like it that much, so i don't know whether to upload it or not. ୨ৎ

#max verstappen smut #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x female oc #max verstappen x y/n #red bull racing #f1 x reader #f1 red bull #f1 imagine #smut #carlos sainz #charles leclerc #oscar piastri #lando norris #franco colapinto

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culticterror · 2 days ago

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So... It's entirely actionable. I do this kind of thing with IRL hypno all the time tbh. Hypnosis isn't as much of a fantasy as you'd think. Taking away the control of someone's bodily autonomy without doing anything else is one of my favorites. One of my current partners has a trigger that lets' me move her body around simply by telling her I'm using my hands to do it. her reactions are the best too, she'll complain and whine, and her face will get red. But of course, she can't pull her hands away from her face when I'm holding them there. Or even better, I can just pull them down and hold her hands on her thighs instead. Stuck under my grip. The frustration is delicious~ But body betrayal specifically is so hot. Especially if have it so that they can't understand why it's happening. Sometimes it's fun to have them not even realize it, until the perfect moment for maximum embarrassment.

Today in unactionable fantasy fetishes: I really want to be body controlled. Not mind controlled, I still get full use of my brain, but I want my body turned into a puppet that doesn’t listen to me.

You say “Bounce your tits for me,” and while my brain says this is demeaning my body bounces to make my breasts jiggle. You say “You can only walk on all fours now,” and while my brain knows that I can walk on two legs my body can’t figure it out.

I don’t know I think it would be hot

#hypnok1nk #hypnosis #People say stuff like this all the time without realizing people already actually do this #Hypno ain't just fantasy #You haven't seen anything until your sitting in a room with someone you've frozen for minutes and it dawns on you how wild that is #Then it keeps going #I've done some wild stuff #I've yet to do a lot more

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kissbyoon · 3 days ago

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“on your way to love.” ₍ teaser ₎

( ✉️ )。 "On your way to your new apartment, you would've never thought that your dreamy neighbour next door would be your department team leader. However, it didn't take long for him to become the reason for your headaches and bad days. But now, on your way to love, you find yourself seeking warmth in his presence. Worst of all, you think you are falling for him."

GENRE/CONTENTS: fluff, humour, heavy angst at a point, frenemies to lovers, office romance au, neighbours au, brief fake dating, konglish with translations, romcom, mutual pining (idiots in love), slow burn (until the slowness starts to burn)

PAIRINGS: neighbour/leader!jeonghan x fem/employee!reader (ft. seungkwan, chan and joshua)

WARNINGS: mild cursing, mentions of (drinking) alcohol, painfully obv hannie (& reader), seungkwan and chan are two little silly goose, overworking (?), heart-fluttering cute scenes, FLIRTY jeonghan, reader wears makeup, rude blind date (not reader's), sharp objects (shattered glass), minor injuries, confusing and unspoken feelings, dramatic angry love confession

WORDCOUNT: 1.6k (teaser) // 30k (full fic)

♡ A/N: OH MY GODDD ITS FINALLY DONEE!!! This took me straight up two months, and I'm SO proud of the results!! Literally the biggest thanks to @hanniescookie, this wouldn't have been possible without her unconditional support ς(>‿<.) comment down on this post to be added to the taglist. Pls show this love + it's my first long fic !! [release date: 16th June (my bd!)]

You strongly believe that Yoon Jeonghan’s sworn enemy is your peace.

And the way life was unkind enough to keep the devil himself as your neighbour and your department team leader at the same time always ruins your perfectly fine day.

Whether or not it was work hours, he was always around the corner, just waiting for the opportunity to test your patience.

Waking up in the morning and having an absolute normal day with no stress only lasted until you reached your company building. Or worse, only until you stepped out of your apartment. Because the moment Jeonghan came into sight, you knew you were not having a peaceful day.

He has the audacity to smile at you so sweetly after he manages to say the most nerve-wracking thing ever. It makes your stomach do this weird twirl that you can't explain.

You hate him and he hates you. Well, that should be obvious by now.

In your list of all the ways your team leader has made you frustrated, your brain ticks off another point.

Following your every move with an intense gaze.

Something that's making you want to scream at the top of your lungs right now is the way Jeonghan's eyes are following your every move while you are presenting your idea in front of your team. Almost as if judging you for every little mistake you might make.

It was a team meeting that was supposed to happen last Friday, but got delayed because of the poor weather, so it was taking place today. You had told everyone about an extremely helpful idea you came up with that might be a good plan for the company's sales to rise.

You had activated every single one of your professional bones before the meeting had started. Because you knew, in one way or another, your team leader would be bothering you.

But you never thought that it would be this way.

“And it would be a big advantage for our company, assisting the finance team as well.” You explain, turning around to face your team for a brief second, catching Jeonghan's focused gaze on you before shifting your attention to the projector again.

Why is he looking at you?

“Sorry to interrupt,” you hear the familiar voice that always drives you insane. In a good or bad way. You pause for a moment, gathering the courage to look him in the eye and then turn your head to shift your attention to him.

He sat on the extreme corner of the long table, arms folded as he leaned on his chair. Everyone present in the room turned their attention to him, holding in their breath as they could feel the tension crashing between you two.

The way his dark black hair fell on his face, his expression professional and concentrated as he read the file laying on the table in front of him—made him look so fine.

No matter how much you despised his guts, you could never deny the fact that he was one of the most charming and attractive men you have ever laid your eyes on. Maybe even the most. But you wouldn't admit that.

Your eyes stayed fixed on him, but they were quick to flicker to the person sitting beside him—Joshua—when he lifted his gaze again to look at you. Even when your eyes were on Joshua, you could see from the very corner of your eye that Jeonghan’s lips curved into the slightest bit of a smirk before he started to scan the file again.

Oh no.

You knew his next words would be basically telling you to lose your temper.

“What was in section four?” He asked, pressing his pointer finger on a specific part of the file he was reading, then turned to you for an answer.

“Our team’s contribution to the latest product launch.” Joshua responded, eyes darting between you and Jeonghan. Your eyes shift to Joshua then again at the man sitting at the centre, noticing the way his eyes narrow at him when he answers his question instead.

“I was asking her.” Jeonghan deadpanned, but the man next to him just shrugged it off like dust on his clothes.

“Same thing.”

Even during a meeting, the years of friendship they treasured was always palpable, earning a few giggles from your coworkers.

Jeonghan briefly glanced at you as the coworkers giggled among themselves at their antics, checking if you were finding this amusing as well. But your mind was too busy trying to come up with the worst sentence Yoon Jeonghan can possibly say to make your blood boil.

It was a known fact—except for Hong Joshua, his bestfriend from highschool (and you, his long-time rival), nobody really dared to mess with a serious Jeonghan although he was a pretty liked and sociable guy.

Probably because of the demeanor that he carries while working is a complete contrast to that of when he is off work. But you disagree with that to a certain extent. Whether on work mode or not, he still finds every possible way to get on your nerves.

You watch as Jeonghan huffs, his cheeks puffing out in the process. ‘cute’ you think, but quickly slap that thought away.

“Well,” he clears his throat, sending a side eye in the direction of where his bestfriend sat, then sets his eyes on you. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and a hint of amusement he always carried when looking at you returned.

You gulp down the lump in your throat, gripping on the pen in your hands a little more tightly as you maintain eye contact with him with the same narrowed eyes, but yours really didn't carry the amusement like he did. It carried agitation that Jeonghan caught immediately.

He was intentionally taking a lot longer than usual to complete his sentence, and it was frustrating.

“I need you to repeat it again. From the beginning.”

What the fuck. You were currently on the 9th section, and he wants you to go four sections back just to explain it all over again?

Your lips parted as you gawked at the man who stared back with an annoying grin. The room filled with gasps and concerned looks shared between your coworkers, including Joshua.

Joshua shot a look of disbelief in Jeonghan's direction, stepping on his foot to grab his attention. Jeonghan yelped and jumped, but managed to maintain his composure.

At this point, your mind absolutely went blank due to the rage building up in you. Jeonghan made no attempts to break the eye contact that was growing intense by each passing second, and neither were you going to back out. His eyes didn't only carry amusement, but now it looked like he was challenging you.

Your right eye twitched. This was it. You were not letting him win.

“Mr. Yoon, isn't that too mu—”

“I'll do it.” You cut your colleague, Chan, off. And in an instant, everyone's head snapped towards you as their jaws dropped in sync.

With an eye roll, you finally look away from Jeonghan and turn back to the projector behind you, tapping on the button aggressively as if you are letting out your anger on it to switch the slides back to section 4.

You could still feel his eyes on you, and you also knew that if you turned around right now, you would be met with an annoying smirk plastered across his face. Taking a deep breath, you look down at the presentation file you had prepared while pulling an all-nighter and flip the page backwards atleast twenty times before you finally reach section 4 again.

Your blood was boiling. You wanted to yell at your team leader. You wanted to let him know that he was annoying. But you somehow calmed yourself down and managed to stay professional.

“Okay, section four.” You began, jotting down all the basic important points on the small whiteboard beside the projector that needed to be revised.

“In detail, please.” A voice interrupted. You didn't have to turn around to know it was the same annoying menace.

“Alright.” You bite back without turning around, your tone firm.

Meanwhile, Joshua let out a deep sigh, purposely making himself heard by Jeonghan so he could be aware of the fact that he was stretching this out too much.

“Why are you acting like that?” Jeonghan leaned to his side, arms folded as he asked in a quiet whisper; careful not to disturb your explanation.

“Ask yourself, buddy, I don't know.” Joshua sighed again, his eyes fixated on the projector across the room.

“에이… aren't you caring too much?” He leans away, returning his gaze on you. “Don't get too attached. Stay professional.”

Joshua let out a quiet laugh, reaching up to cover his mouth with the side of his fist. He glanced at Jeonghan, observing his expression before teasing, “Shouldn't I be the one saying that?”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes ever so slightly, scoffing as he unfolded his arms and leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table. He placed his chin on his palm, giving Joshua a glance from the corner of his eyes.

“I am very professional, thanks.”

“That is. I was talking about the ‘attachment’ part.” Joshua quipped, mirroring his best friend's actions.

“...shush and focus.” Jeonghan nodded towards your direction as you stayed focused on explaining. With a snicker, Joshua flipped back twenty pages of Jeonghan's copy of the presentation file and nudged his arm with his elbow.

“Focus on this too.” He ribbed, trying his best to hold in his laugh at the sight of an incredibly provoked Jeonghan.

Well, to some extent, Joshua was the only one who could annoy Jeonghan just like how Jeonghan annoyed you. So it was fair to say that he made it up for you, even without knowing it.

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keeryhours · 12 hours ago

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Customer: @losingmygrasponreality

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“You sure you want to do this?”

Eddie’s chest was heaving, like he couldn’t calm his breaths. His brown eyes were half lidded, pupils blown. A cigarette dangled from his pointer and middle fingers as he leaned back against his headboard, the smoke trailing up and up into his bedroom. Music played from his stereo, background noise.

Eddie, shirtless with his tight jeans low on his hips. You, already stripped down to your lingerie, sitting on your knees between his legs. Looking up at him, taking in the view.

“Yeah,” he said, voice gruff.

The corner of your lips quirked up in a small smirk.

Your best friend had asked you to take his virginity, and who were you to say no? Especially when he looked this good.

“Are you hard?” you asked him, your voice a mere whisper.

“So fucking hard,” he whispered back. He took another drag from his cigarette and his right hand slid down his body, so slowly, until he was rubbing over the straining bulge in his jeans. His eyes never left you once.

You licked your lips. God, you wanted a taste of him. You were so wet already, panties clinging uncomfortably to you. You just wanted Eddie to take them off already. Nipples hard in the confines of your bra, clit throbbing with how badly you wanted him.

“Y’want something?” he asked you pointedly, voice still so low, the smoke pouring from his lips.

You nodded, biting your bottom lip. “Mmhmm.”

“Well, you gotta tell me, baby,” he drawled. “You gotta tell me what you want.”

Your hands danced up his thighs, sending chills through his body even though the thick material of his jeans. “Wanna see your cock.”

Eddie grunted as your hands reached his lap. Your palm lightly rubbed over his bulge - he really was rock fucking hard - and he let out a low groan, more smoke coming from his mouth.

“Go ‘head then,” he mumbled. He ashed the cigarette in the ashtray on his bedside table, long finger tapping against the filter. Then he was bringing it back to his lips, his eyes moving back to you.

You rubbed your hand over him one more time before your hands moved up to the metal handcuffs on his belt. You fumbled with it at first - why does he have to wear this stupid thing - but finally worked it open. The button and zipper were much easier, but pulling the tight jeans down his legs with his cock this hard was its own struggle.

Eddie lifted his hips off the bed, helping you get them down. The denim tossed onto the floor with a clang from his belt and chain, you turned your attention to the tent in his boxers.

You leaned forward, Eddie’s breathing becoming more shallow the closer you got to where he wanted you. You saw another cloud of smoke pass by just as you nuzzled your face against his clothed cock - his hardness contrasting against the soft skin of your cheek. Eddie let out a little gasp that turned into the softest moan. His cock twitched against your face as you rubbed against it. You stuck your tongue out, licking over his head through the material, already wet from his precum.

His hips jerked up unintentionally. “Fuckin’ tease,” he mumbled, cigarette sitting between his lips.

You hummed, mouthing at his cock through his boxers. He was big, that was obvious. How had he been hiding all this from you for so long?

Eddie’s head tipped back against the wall as he groaned - you weren’t sure if it was pleasure, frustration, or both. The muscles in his soft stomach flexed.

“That’s enough,” he muttered, his right hand coming down to lightly pull at your hair.

“You don’t like it?” you asked, all wide eyed innocence although you were anything but.

“Doing this shit on purpose,” he grumbled. “You know what I want.” His thumb caressed the side of your cheek. “I think you want it, too.”

You did. You slid your hands up his thighs until you reached the waistband of his boxers. You didn’t need to ask for permission - the desire was obvious. You slid them down so slowly he gave you a look - you smiled, finally pulling them all the way off.

His cock was pretty. It slapped against his lower belly, the tip ruddy and slick with precum that dribbled onto the skin of his stomach. You took in the vein lining the underside, the way his balls tensed as he watched you looking at this part of him.

“You’re staring.” He tilted his head, looking at you with way too much confidence for a virgin. “Y’like what you see?”

“S’big,” you commented, although you didn’t think he needed the ego boost. He looked like he already knew.

“Can you take it?” he asked quietly, bravado mixed with genuine concern. He ashed his cigarette again, distracted as he never took his eyes off you, some of the white ash spilling onto his table.

You wrapped a hand around his thick shaft, drawing a gasp from him at the first real contact. “I can take it,” you promised him.

He watched you closely as you stroked his cock slowly up and down, spreading the precum along his shaft. He was throbbing in your hand, pure need coursing through his veins. He let out a shaky breath before bringing the cigarette back for another drag.

“Are you gonna-“ he asked from around it, but cut himself off with a moan that pushed its way out of his lungs the second you wrapped those pretty lips around his tip. “Shit!” he cursed, nearly dropping his cigarette.

You nearly laughed, if your mouth hadn’t been busy. He was warm and heavy on your tongue, the salt of his skin mixed with the precum dripping from his slit. You worked your mouth down, opening your jaw wide to take his thick girth without scraping him with your teeth. When your nose touched the course curls at his base, he was so deep down your throat, the most pathetic whimpers coming from the man above you.

“Oh, that’s…” he drew in a quick breath. “Oh.”

You could hear him dragging on the cigarette again as you started bobbing your head along his length. You looked up at Eddie, eyes locked on you with his expression pained as the cigarette burned between his lips. He watched your reddened lips wrapped around him, slick with saliva that dripped down his shaft.

His breathing was ragged, quick. He wasn’t sure what to do with his free hand, so it was balled tightly in the sheets, white knuckled. Your movements were making him light headed, intoxicated. His heart pounded, blood rushing in his ears. You swirled your tongue around his tip and he cried out, head falling back against the wall again.

“You…” he gasped out, almost like he was accusing you of something. “Oh, fuck.”

You pulled him from your mouth, licking long, languid strokes from base to tip. You cupped his balls in your hand, feeling them tense at the contact before relaxing again. He watched you carefully as you placed soft kisses down his length until you reached his balls, sticking your tongue out and licking at them.

“Oh, oh-“ Eddie gasped, his body jolting, cigarette fumbling from his mouth and landing on the bed. “Shit,” he cursed, quickly grabbing the cig and dropping it in the ashtray, forgotten. A dark burn mark was left behind on his white sheets.

You moved back to his cock, still massaging his balls in your hand. You enveloped him in the warmth of your mouth once again, taking him until you were gagging, tears welling in your eyes and dripping your mascara down your cheeks. Eddie brought his hand to the side of your face, placing his hand against your cheek.

“Fuck,” he let out in a rush of breath. “Fuck yeah, Jesus, just like that. Right there- yeah-“

You hummed, swallowing around him, and he bucked up hard, cockhead hitting the back of your throat, making you choke on it.

“Jesus!” he cried, voice strained. “You gotta- baby, you gotta stop if we’re gonna keep going, I’m-“

You pulled off of him quickly, squeezing the base of his cock in your hand, just barely staving off his orgasm. He let out the most choked, pained moan, cock throbbing hard in your hand, tip red. He had been close, so close.

“Christ,” he breathed. His thighs were shaking, whole body flushed. “Come up here.”

You slowly climbed up his body, taking your time. You straddled his waist and carded your hand through his hair, pushing it back from his sweaty face. He looked up at you like he was seeing God.

“Can I…?” he asked, hands roaming over your body down to your ass over your silk panties. He licked his lips, eyeing between your legs.

“This is supposed to be about you,” you reminded him. You kissed across his cheek, to his ear, biting lightly on his earlobe. “Let me make you feel good.”

“But…” Eddie’s hands rubbed over the roundness of your ass, the plush of your thighs. “I wanna eat your pussy.” He looked up at you with those doe eyes that probably got him most things he wanted.

“Next time,” you promised him. His neglected cock twitched against his stomach at the thought of that - next time.

His hands slid up your back, slowly feeling the smooth skin beneath his calloused hands. He reached your bra, fumbling with the clasp as he placed kisses all over your chest. You let him try for a while - you were just about to ask if he wanted help when it came undone and the bra fell from you, exposing your bare tits.

“Oh my god,” Eddie groaned. “You’re- you have the perfect tits.”

You giggled, but it turned to a moan when he stuck his tongue out and licked your nipple, then wrapped his lips around the bud. He flicked it with his tongue as he sucked, his hand massaging the other breast, thumb rubbing against the nipple.

“Eddie,” you moaned quietly. “Feels good.”

He abruptly flipped you over, surprising you, a little squeal coming from your lips. He pinned your wrists to the bed, kissing down to your neck. “Wanna fuck you now,” he mumbled.

“Yeah?” your eyes fell closed, breathing hard as Eddie sucked the skin of your neck, his teeth biting down just hard enough.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for years,” Eddie muttered. “And I’ve never been so fucking hard in my life.”

You could feel the proof of it pressed against your clothed core. Your cunt was clenching around nothing, just the thought of Eddie inside of you enough to drive you crazy.

He kissed down your body, trying to take his time but too eager to go slow. He kissed down your stomach, dipping his tongue into your bellybutton as he went. You gasped - you’d never had a guy do that before.

He hooked his fingers into the waist of your panties and looked up at you. You nodded once, and Eddie turned his attention back to the main event as he pulled the clothing down your body.

When they were discarded onto the floor, he slowly ran his hands up your legs, from your ankles to your knees. He spread them wide, his lips parting in awe as he looked down at your pussy - finally, finally.

He traced a finger through your folds, looking at the obscene amount of wetness coating his finger. In a moment of impulse he popped it into his mouth, closing his eyes and groaning as he sucked it clean. “I knew you’d be sweet.”

Eddie may have been a virgin, but everything he was doing was turning you on more than any other guy ever had. You weren’t even sure he was trying.

He leaned over you again, the warm weight of him covering your naked body, slotting his knee between your thighs. He kissed you then, slow and passionate and conveying every ounce of desire. You licked the seam of his lips and he opened with a moan. He was a little sloppy, totally inexperienced, but when you started massaging his tongue with yours, he melted right into it and let instinct carry him.

His cock was prodding at you, just as eager as Eddie was. He reached down and grabbed his aching cock, tracing it through your folds. He placed another single kiss to your lips, then sat up on his knees. He looked between your legs as he lined himself up, tip pressing right against your hole.

He drew in a deep breath. This was really happening.

“You ready?” he asked you softly. He gripped your thigh with his free hand, rubbing your skin with his thumb. He was looking at you tenderly - your best friend.

“I’m ready,” you nodded. You were a little nervous - you’d never been with a guy as big as Eddie, and what if this changed things? - but you wanted this.

Eddie nodded once back at you. He looked back down between your legs, then he was pushing in.

“Oh,” he breathed, that first push into your tight heat nearly taking his breath away. You inhaled sharply as he sunk in, slowly, carefully. When he was seated in you, he let out a long groan.

“It’s- you’re tight,” he rasped, hands trembling where they held your thighs. “So tight. And wet.”

“You can move,” you told him, slowly rolling your hips into him - which made his eyes go wide and a strangled moan crawl its way out of his throat.

But he pulled his hips back, pulling out of you until only his tip remained, then rolled back into you. He did that a few more times until his thrusts turned a little more shallow and he found his rhythm.

“Fuck, I’m- I’m in you,” he gasped out. “I’m fucking you. Christ.”

“Yeah, baby,” you purred. He was so cute. “You’re fucking me really good.”

He leaned over your body again, resting on his arm on the side of you while his left hiked your thigh up around his waist. “I am?”

“Yes,” you moaned, his cock so deep inside of you you could hardly breathe. You could feel him all over, your skin prickling with the electricity between you.

“Do you like it?” Eddie panted, hips snapping into yours, his balls slapping against your ass. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes, yes,” you gasped, fingers tightening in his sheets. “Oh god, yes.”

Eddie pressed your foreheads together, looking deep into your eyes as your hips rocked together. Your lips were a breath apart, just swallowing each other’s moans.

“I love seeing you like this,” Eddie murmured. His eyes were so dark, pleasure written across his face. “Never thought I would.”

“Me either,” you huffed a laugh, and Eddie returned your smile. Yeah, you definitely never thought you’d get to see what your best friend looks like when he’s inside of you.

“Can I-“ he stopped, eyes darting down to your tits before looking back at your face. “Fuck. Can I…can I fuck you from behind?”

His question surprised you - but you wanted it, too. “Yeah, we can do that.”

Eddie let go of your thigh, pulling out of you slowly. It was a loss, his thick length pulling out of you. But then he flipped you over into your stomach and you arched your back, sticking your ass up for him.

“Holy shit,” Eddie said in a mixture of a moan and gasp, his shaking hands coming down to caress over your cheeks. “Your ass, Jesus Christ-“

You turned to look over your shoulder in time to see - and feel - Eddie sinking back into you. “Oh, shit, yeah,” he breathed. When he was fully in you again he held himself there for a second, just feeling you wrapped around him.

“Please,” you begged. “Fuck me, Eddie.”

His hips involuntarily jerked at your words - “Shit,” he hissed out - but he turned his uneven movements into another quick rhythm, pulling your hips back against him for the extra momentum.

He splayed his hand across your lower back as he fucked you, admiring the look of your body, the jiggle of your ass, the bounce of your tits. Every rut of his hips sent you sliding against the mattress, your mouth open, drool pooling on the sheets as he fucked you stupid.

How was he so good at this his first time?

Eddie’s hands were locked on your hips as he lost himself in the pleasure of your body. You were a whining, moaning mess as you babbled beneath him. “Yes, Eddie, please please please, more, don’t stop, I can’t, I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum, Eddie, please-“

“I’m gonna make you cum?” he asked, breathless and amazed. “Fuck, yeah, baby. Cum on my cock, wanna feel it. Wanna feel you cum on me.”

He dug his fingertips into the skin of your ass, leaving marks behind. He scrunched his eyes closed, trying to hold on, just a little longer until you could finish. But he was so close, his denied orgasm from earlier building back up with a vengeance.

You reached underneath you and rubbed at your clit. It only took a second of the extra stimulation before you were pitching forward, crying out with a loud moan as your cunt clenched and throbbed around Eddie’s cock, soaking him.

“Shit!” Eddie cursed, losing his rhythm, just holding onto you and slamming into you with frantic desire. He could feel you pulsing around his cock, and it was too much, too much-

Eddie gasped out a yell of a moan as it all shattered - shockwaves pouring through his body like he’d never experienced, his hips jerking against you as he came ropes of his spend inside of you. You could feel the warmth of him filling you, his sweaty body practically laying over yours, heavy breaths and moans of your name against your back.

He didn’t want to move, but he didn’t want to crush you, either. He pulled out of you, some of his cum dripping from your pussy and down your skin. He stared.

You flattened, laying down on the bed. Your body felt used, aching, sore, but still tingling from the best orgasm you’d ever had. You heard Eddie leave before he came back and started wiping your skin with warm washcloth.

“Is that better?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah.” You turned over, smiling up at him. You’d never had someone take care of you after sex before. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He was quiet now, seeming a little shy for once in his life. “Did you…like it?”

“I loved it,” you promised him - and you had. “Did you?”

Eddie’s eyes widened at that. “Are you kidding? That was fucking incredible.” He crawled over you, kissing you again, his lips just barely brushing yours until they pressed firmer. When he pulled away, he nuzzled his forehead against your neck.

“So…when’s that next time?” he asked, eager smile on his lips.

Right now, if you had any say in it.

as always, comments & reblogs are so appreciated!!

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pkmatrix · 3 days ago

Text

This also highlights why trying to deconstruct Captain America into something darker and more cynical falls apart as well, because at the core Captain America is the same concept as Superman: the idealized American, the good and decent man who truly believes in all those high minded virtues America claims to stand for, not only exists but has been granted the power and strength to do what he thinks is right. And guess what, Fascist? He really hates people like you.

This is what's made watching DC screw up Superman so frustrating. Captain America is right there! You can't tell me Superman doesn't work in today's world or can't be made to work in the present - Disney has been doing it with fundamentally the same character for over 15 years!

not to shit on zack snyder again but it's really funny that he tried to make a big, grand, complex moral quandary on where superman should stand when he saves people around the world and then james gunn is like "he wants to do it because he thinks it's the right thing to do". sometimes going simpler means you get to the crux of what the character is all about much more efficiently. like wow it's really that easy

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buckyys-babydoll · 2 days ago

Text

Yours, with body and soul

Pairing — Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary — Denying. The worst he can do when Sam annoys him about the relationship between Bucky and you.

Warnings — secret relationship, hurt/comfort, angsty, Bucky being known as fuckboy, roommates au, fluff

Wordcount — 4.832 Words

Authors Note — Written for the “Hot Bucky Summer” by @buckybarnesevents [Week One | “Mind your own damn business, secret relationship]. Beta’d by @elixirfromthestars. Divider made by me.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky groans loudly as Sam steps into the living room with a wide grin. Fuck him. Fuck it.

He’s never on time. Never! Except today, one time in like forever. The shit eating grin on his face saying everything Bucky has to know. Everything he doesn’t want him to know.

“If you’re busy, we can reschedule,” Sam laughs, plopping down on the couch. His legs are crossed, his arms thrown over the backrest of the couch as he watches the brunette standing like a lost puppy in the middle of the room.

Bucky shakes his head. Glad you didn’t notice Sam when you walked out of the room and back into yours.

“Why are you on time?” Bucky groans, running his thick fingers through his brown locks in frustration. “You’re never on time.”

Never.

In the years they have known each other, Sam has always come late. One minute. Two minutes. Or maybe half an hour. But there wasn’t a meeting he was early for or on time.

Except today. Of course, today!

“It’s nice to be on time. You’re always complaining when I’m late,” Sam shrugs. The smug grin on his lips never leaves, only increasing when he sees Bucky’s frustrated but also slightly flustered expression.

Of course, Bucky had complained in the past. Either the movie at the cinema already started. Or they didn’t get the best seats at a concert. Even at parties, the girls they took out were so impatient, Bucky had to deal with all of them.

But today? Today there wasn’t any rush. No annoying girls to demand Bucky’s full attention. All at once.

Today, it was just lunch with Sam to get through some presentations for college. But there was no rush. They could eat at twelve. Or they could eat at one, Bucky doesn’t care.

“You’re never on time, idiot,” Bucky mutters under his breath. He throws himself next to Sam on the couch, throwing his head back against the backrest. “I hate you.”

Sam laughs, turning his head toward Bucky. The grin still plastered all over his face. But the sparkle in his brown eyes. Dangerous.

Bucky shakes his head. Sam laughs.

There was nothing funny about it. And he had the audacity to not just appear early but also smirk at Bucky like a damn idiot.

He hates him. So much.

The silence between them is thick with tension. Bucky keeps running his fingers through his brown locks, refusing to look at Sam. Sam, though, keeps watching his friend closely. Closely!

Taking in the small redness on Bucky’s cheeks. The nervous habit of his hand running through his hair. And the anxious bouncing of Bucky’s leg.

Bucky’s not the anxious kind of guy. He never was. Except with you.

And Sam knows. He watches the known fuckboy becoming such a puppy around you. His best friend. His roommate.

“So what’s going on between you and her?” Sam asks after a while of silence. He’s enjoying Bucky suffering because of all the tension in the air too much, using every opportunity he can get to leave his friend suffering a moment longer.

“Nothin’, so shut up,” Bucky groans, getting off the couch. His blue eyes are darting throughout the room, looking for his pants.

He knows he threw them somewhere in the living room yesterday. Where the hell were his damn pants? Then he catches a glimpse of dark blue fabric behind Sam’s back.

Bucky’s eyes narrow, his head tilting slightly. “Gimme my pants, dickhead.”

“Woah! Be nice, sweetheart,” Sam teases, using the pet name Bucky often uses for you. Next to Babydoll, Princess, or Baby.

He loves them. Loves to see the flustered, almost shy smile appear on your lips whenever he calls you one of these pet names.

Though, when Sam uses one of these names — using them for Bucky is worse. So much worse.

“Anyway,” Sam says, pulling Bucky out of his thoughts as he claps his hands together. “You sure, huh? So, you say, there is nothing going on between the two of you?”

“Sure as hell!” Bucky mutters. “Now gimme my pants, dickhead.”

Sam laughs, but pulls Bucky’s pants from behind his back to throw them at the other man. Bucky catches them, glaring at his friend.

The glint in Sam’s eyes is still visible, his lips curled upward while he wiggles his eyebrows.

Nothing's going on.

Oh, he will have so much fun making jokes. Teasing Bucky about the nothing is going on situation.

Bucky might now be known as someone who’s spending more than one night with a girl. Maybe two nights, but never more. He doesn’t want to be addicted or want them to fall in love with him.

“So,” Sam starts again, ignoring Bucky’s annoyed huff and the roll of his eyes. This man just can’t shut up. Not once. And of course. Not in such a situation. “The little peck to the corner of her mouth. Or that soft smile when you look at her, it means nothing, you say?”

“Just shut up and mind ya own damn business,” Bucky barks at Sam. Changing into his jeans, he throws his sweatpants on the couch next to Sam.

Taking his phone and keys off the table, Bucky nods toward the door.

He can’t have more of this conversation right now. Sam won’t get it anyway. Won’t believe him anyway. So there is no sense in arguing with him about something he saw.

“Misinterpretation,” Bucky shrugs. “Can we go now, or does ya lazy ass want to stay on the couch all day?”

Sam rolls his eyes, sighing dramatically as he gets off the couch. He’s the one who’s always in the gym with Bucky. Who’s at every party with Bucky when he asks. Always. And now he’s a lazy ass?

Hormones. Worse than a girl!

“Ouch!” Sam whines playfully. His hand finds its way to his chest, and he squeezes the muscle underneath his shirt with a fake sob. “What do you all mean, now? It was just a peck on her lips, nothing special for the man you are.”

That stings. You didn’t mean to overhear the conversation between them. Nothing special. Nothing at all.

Tears well up in your eyes. How could you be so dumb? Dumb enough to fall for Bucky's tricks. For his charm.

You should have known. His only goal was to have you in his bed, writhing underneath him. For a bet? For his satisfaction? You don’t know. You don’t want to know.

Your heart breaks into tiny little pieces. One by one, making you fall apart. Every word hits you harder, hits a part of you that you didn’t know could be reached so easily.

Bucky’s your best friend. Your roommate. And yet. There was more. You thought there was more. But maybe there never was, there never will be. For him, you’re nothing but his next one-night stand. The next girl at college he has fucked.

That’s what you are. A meaningless fuck.

“Mind. Your. Own. Damn. Business,” Bucky groans in frustration. He’s shifting slightly, his gaze lingering on the wall behind his friend.

On a picture, to be exact. A picture of you and him. Happy. Laughing.

His heart skips a beat as he takes on every little detail of your smile. The slight curve of your lips, the sweet crinkles around your eyes.

You’re so beautiful. So sweet. And yet, so smart. Attractive.

Bucky never had a girl like you before. He had never met someone so sweet, loving. Your heart is so full of love. Love for everyone who needs it, for everyone who deserves it.

So full of love. So full of second chances for everyone who wants to prove themselves. Who wants to prove that they can be better than they were.

He doesn’t deserve you. Never did. Never will. No one does.

You’re way too sweet, too forgiving. Offering everyone a sweet smile. Even on bad days. Even when they lash out, that smile never leaves your lips.

You’re like the sun for him. Always bright and shining. Even on rainy days, you’re there, somewhere — smiling.

“There’s nothing going on between her and —“ Bucky interrupts himself as he takes in your smaller form. His ocean blue eyes settle on your face, a worried expression rushing over his face as he freezes.

You heard it. You heard it all!

“Babydoll– Fuck!” He mumbles, taking a step closer to you. But you step back, red rimmed eyes, tears leaking down your cheeks as you shake your head slightly.

He wants to reach out. But he doesn’t. He wants to hold you. Comfort you. Kiss you. But he doesn’t. He stops mid-track, running his fingers through his thick hair.

Just the way you love to do it. Just the way you do it. Twirling your fingers around his strands, pulling them softly when you massage his scalp.

His heart aches at the sight of your tear strained face. Don’t cry, babydoll. Please, don’t cry.

Bucky tilts his head slightly, his eyes soften. “Babydoll—“

“Leave it, James,” you say, swallowing down the pain that’s pulling at your heartstrings. It hurts so bad. “I get it, don’t worry, I get it now.”

You turn on your heels, grasping your jacket before you run out of the apartment. Fuck, you hate it. You hate him. But you also love him.

“Babydoll! Please, wait, please-“ Bucky pleads, but you’re out of reach. So far away.

His heart sinks. Yours shatters.

No. It can’t end like that. He never wanted it to end like that — never wanted it to end at all.

But there he is. Standing in the living room of your shared apartment. His eyes still focused on the place you stood before rushing out. His heart is heavy. His mind is empty.

He didn’t mean to.

“What the—“

“Fuck,” Bucky mutters, turning to Sam. His eyes darken as he sees his friend who’s casually walking toward him.

Like nothing happened. Like nothing happened.

“Nothing, huh?” Sam asks, once again. He shrugs before he passes Bucky. His shoulder pushes against Bucky’s, nudging him to follow, but he doesn’t.

Bucky remains where he is. His eyes are dark. His focus once again on the spot you stood.

His actions slowly sink in further. He hurt you. He hurt you so badly. Fuck.

His stomach turns, clenches. His heart is ripped out of his chest, shattered on the ground, and no one is there to help him pick it up again. No! You’re not there to help him put it back together.

Bucky should never have said that. He should have been honest with his feelings.

But now. His heart is shattered. And he doesn’t even want to imagine how you must feel with the pain he caused. He doesn’t want you to feel the pain he put you in.

Your face, tear-streaked cheeks. Red rimmed eyes. So hurt. So hopeless. And yet the glimmer of love in your orbs as you looked at him.

How could he hurt you?

“Just… shut up,” Bucky growls. But there’s no anger in his voice. It’s only filled with pain. With regret.

He looks up, facing Sam.

Bucky takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his locks, pulling them down his forehead before he lets them go again. His eyes filled with tears, trying to blink them away.

“Can we talk about this shit later?” Bucky asks, referring to the presentation they wanted to go over during lunch. “Gonna have to find her. Need to talk to her.”

Sam shakes his head, placing his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. His brown eyes are softer, his expression not teasing or amused anymore. He’s serious.

“No. You have to calm down. It doesn’t help when you run —“

“I can’t calm down! Sam, I fucked up. Like fucked up,” Bucky mutters under his breath.

He leans his head back, staring at the ceiling. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry! His Adam’s Apple bobs harshly. Blinking rapidly, he tries to get rid of the tears in his eyes, but it doesn’t work.

Never worked. Not when it comes to you.

His feelings are too deep. Too real.

“I have to—“

“Calm down! Yes, you have to calm down, Buck,” Sam says, keeping a firm grip on Bucky’s shoulder. He doesn’t budge when Bucky pushes slightly. Weakly. “C’mon. It doesn’t help you or her if you run after her. You're too emotional right now.”

He’s right. But Bucky can’t. He can’t risk losing you. Not over that. Not over anything.

He takes a shaky breath, shaking his head. Bucky has to follow you.

“Please, if I don’t talk to her now, she will never forgive me, Sam,” Bucky mutters, pushing Sam harder until he finally budges slightly. His hand still on Bucky’s shoulder.

He knows it’s not true. Hopes it’s not true. You’re so forgiving. Always.

But he fucked up. He can’t risk it, not when it’s about you. He needs you more than he needs air. Bucky would never forgive himself — or Sam — if you don’t forgive him.

He hurt you. Bad enough to not even deserve forgiveness. Of course, he doesn’t. But he needs you. And if there is the slightest possibility of saving your relationship. To earn your forgiveness, he will do it.

He would walk around the Earth. He would dive into the deepest ocean. He would do anything for you.

“And what would you say to her if you run after her now?” Sam asks, trying to make Bucky understand.

Bucky shrugs. Sam nods.

What would he say? Sorry. He didn’t mean to. Sorry. He loves you. But would that be enough? He needs to apologize, genuinely.

“Sorry.”

“And you think that makes it better?”

Bucky shakes his head again. Of course, it doesn’t.

If you have a glass and let it fall on the ground, it will shatter into pieces. You can say sorry, but it’s still shattered. Because in this case, no words help.

The same with your heart. He can say sorry. But it doesn’t help when he doesn’t show you that he means it. He has to prove it. Prove that he deserves your forgiveness. Deserves your love.

“Let’s have lunch. No talking about college, just some distractions. You won’t make it better if you rush after her, all panicked and confused,” Sam mutters, letting go of Bucky’s shoulder and walking toward the door.

Bucky sighs, looking over at him before he nods.

Fine. Sam won’t leave him alone until he agrees. So he does. Following after his friend, leaving the parts of his heart shattered behind him in the living room.

He has to put them back together. He has to put yours back together.

Bucky’s heart is heavy, his mind reeling. But he has to follow Sam, otherwise he will stand there for hours. Panicked. No apology. Just sorry.

———————————————————

You walk around town. Lost. Broken.

He didn’t love you. All the words. All the touches. The soft kisses. They meant nothing to him.

What’s left is a broken heart, pain and longing.

Longing for something you can’t have. Something he doesn’t give you. It hurts. So bad.

Bucky’s wide-eyed expression, the shock on his face. It's still visible in your mind. Like he’s still standing in front of you. Like, he didn’t mean to say those things. And yet, he did.

You walk. Further and further. Just away from him. Somehow, the memories of the softness, the love, the adoration, you carry it with you. Heavy on your shoulders, clinging to your body like it belongs there. Like the pain you feel has to be felt.

And maybe it does.

You’re not sure how long you walked. Or where you walked. Surroundings don’t look familiar anymore, and the cool of the night makes your exhausted body shiver even more.

You just want to go home. Hide under your blanket and hope Bucky is at Sam’s or maybe–

You shake your head. No other girls. Please, no other girls. He promised it. But maybe it doesn’t mean anything now either.

Empty words. Empty, broken promises. Is that it?

The three months of dating happily were nothing but a lie?

You sigh, looking around. Where did you come from? What path had you taken?

A cold shiver runs down your spine when you don’t recognize anything around you. The sun goes down, and the sky darkens. The air is fresh, promising a cold night.

You shouldn’t have walked this far. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your breath becomes heavier. Panic fills your veins. Why didn’t you hear Bucky out?

Because you were hurt. You still are! But it could have saved you from getting lost in nowhere.

Your hands start to sweat. Tears form in your eyes, and every rational thought is thrown out the window. Your hands shake as you try to reach for your phone in your pocket.

It’s not there. And not in the other pocket. Panic rises, taking over everything that’s left of your thoughts. You can’t stay outside at night, you can’t!

“Babydoll!” A rough, hoarse voice comes from behind you.

So soft, so worried. And so familiar.

A hallucination. He wouldn’t have followed you. He wouldn’t even know where you are. And yet, his soft voice sounds so sweet and caring, filled with so much love.

“B-Bucky?” You ask quietly. Afraid he wouldn’t be real if you spoke any louder. Then you turn around, slowly. Carefully.

Facing the broad man you love. His piercing blue eyes filled with worry and regret. His hands shaking, his lips trembling. Bucky’s eyes are red-rimmed, filled with tears.

A soft, almost soundless sigh escapes his plump lips. “Fuck. Babydoll, I was fuckin’ worried.”

You want to throw yourself into his strong arms. Make him hold you tightly, softly. But you don’t, afraid he doesn’t want to. Scared he would push you away.

Not wanting to break your already broken heart further, you look at him with wide eyes. Your mouth slightly agape, but silent.

“Babydoll, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he mutters over and over again.

Sam was right. He doesn’t have the right words to apologize. Not even after hours of thinking about it.

“Why, Bucky?” You ask, your voice broken but so soft. So forgiving.

You should shout at him. Punch him. Tell him you hate him. But you don’t.

He deserves it. He tells himself he deserves all your anger, all your hurt.

But you’re just too good. Too sweet.

“What?” He asks, confused. He takes a step closer, cautions. Bucky doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he can’t stay away from you either.

“Why did you say that? I-I thought I meant something to you. I thought we meant something to you?” Your voice breaks, just like everything inside of him.

Bucky hates to see you cry. But he deserves it. He’s the reason for all these tears.

He takes another step closer, lifting his calloused hands, but he doesn’t touch you. Waiting. Watching. His heart beats fast, his fingers twitching, but he doesn’t move further unless you allow him to do so. And you know.

Bucky might be a fuckboy. But one thing about him: he respects women. He doesn’t touch unless he has permission, not even innocent touches.

“Please, can I- can I please touch you?” He whispers, his voice soft but so pained. He takes a shaky breath, his Adam’s Apple bobbing. “I know I don’t deserve it. But please, I need to feel you right now.”

You nod slightly, just enough for him to notice. Bucky immediately brings his warm hands to your cheeks, framing your face and pulling you closer against him. His breath hitches, a sob vibrating through his chest before it slips past his lips.

“I’m sorry. So sorry, sweetheart. I promise, I didn’t—“ another sob wrecks his body. Your heart aches, and whatever happened before, you can’t stand there and pretend it doesn’t rip your heart out when he’s crying like that.

His whole body is shaking as you snake your arms around his waist, leaning your head further into his warm touch.

For a while you both just stand there. On the sidewalk, tangled in one another. You’re both crying. Holding and comforting one another while the moon rises.

Everything is painted in the silver light of the moonlight. Even though the wind gets colder, you both keep holding onto one another like warm blankets.

With every passing second, you feel the pieces of your heart being put back in place. Slowly but steadily. Your body is filled with a warmth that only Bucky provides, the softness and love you fell in love with.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I promise, I didn’t mean it,” Bucky whispers after a while. His voice is rough from crying, and you can still hear it tremble.

He’s so soft. Like a lost puppy for you. Only for you.

“What did- what did you mean with there’s nothing going on?” You whisper. Another tear rolls down your cheek. Bucky’s fast, catching it with his thumb to immediately wipe it away. “Our months of dating. Did they even mean anything to you?”

“Everything!” He blurts out, his eyes soft. He means it. Genuinely means it. “I shouldn’t have said what I said to Sam. But I—“

Feel unsure? Feel insecure? Feel like you deserve more than what he can offer?

You wait patiently until he’s ready. Until he’s formed the right sentence in his mind. Though for him it still sounds wrong.

How can he possibly describe his feelings for you with simple words?

“It’s— fuck,” he whispers. Desperately searching for the right words, for the right way to explain.

He shakes his head, leaning his head back like he always does. Not thinking, but to stop himself from crying.

“Buck, look at me, please,” you whisper, running your fingers up and down his back.

His face drops, his eyes finding yours. Teary, vulnerable eyes. He’s bare for you. He always is.

“Shh, take a deep breath,” you mumble, leaning closer to press your lips to his cheek, kissing away the tears. But instead of crying less, his tears flow freely. “Please, take a deep breath for me, Buck.”

He does, inhaling slowly. Then he holds the air for a moment and blows it out through his mouth again. Repeating it a few times, you can feel his heartbeat calm down as well as his shaking.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your forehead. A soft sigh escapes him as he takes in the sweet smell of your shampoo. His favorite. “You should shout at me. Be mad at me. Hate me. But you’re just too good, and I don’t deserve ya. But, baby, I want to, I will do everything to deserve ya, will earn it.”

He takes a deep breath, shaking his head.

He fucked up. He doesn’t deserve you. Never did. Never will. And yet, he wants to deserve you.

“Why did you say it, Buck?” You ask softly. Way too soft for his liking. Like you already forgave him. But he hasn’t even forgive himself.

Your thumbs stroke softly over his spine. The feeling is warm and familiar. Whenever he’s feeling down, you do it, you massage the muscles of his lower back, let your fingers trace over his spine.

“I–it’s just.. Sam and the others—“ he breathes out, voice shaking. “It’s all so new. I–I want it to be perfect. Babydoll, please, I–I try. So hard, promise.”

And you believe him. Of course, you do. You’re just too understanding. Too lovely.

But he doesn’t want you to understand it. He doesn’t want you to forgive him. At least not immediately. He wants you to shout, to hate — so he can drown in the pain for a moment longer. A pain he caused. A pain you have to feel because of him.

“But it’s as perfect as it can be. Nothing is perfect in a way that everyone sees it as perfection. But it doesn’t matter,” you whisper, pecking his nose. “It doesn’t have to be perfect for anyone but us.”

“I know… I know, but—“ he whispers, closing his eyes to enjoy the softness of your lips lingering against his skin a moment longer. “It’s just… for them I’m just that fuckboy. Every night, another girl. Never a girl more than a fuck. But not for you. Never for you, babydoll. For you, I’m just Bucky.”

“You’re not just Bucky for me,” you growl slightly.

He’s everything than ’just’ for you. You feel anger boiling inside of you. But also understanding.

He’s known for who he was. And no one knows the man you know. So, of course, it’s new to him and it’s natural he wants to make it special — make it perfect.

Unfortunately, he misses the imperfection of perfection. Nothing will be perfect for everyone, but for you, the relationship with Bucky is perfect the way it is. He doesn’t have to impress you, he doesn’t have to prove himself — because he already did. But somehow, he’s missing that part in his thoughts.

“If you don’t want them to know, that’s fine. But please talk to me. I don’t wanna find out the way I just did, Buck,” you mutter. And he nods. Taking in everything you say.

He knows he fucked up. But you’re not mad, you’re not mad at him.

“I want them to know. I want the world to know. But—“ he takes a shaky breath, his fingers that still frame your face tighten slightly. “But what if they all know and ha-hate it? They won’t like it, I’m no good for you, and they might hate me because… you’re so sweet and I’m so me. I don’t want that bubble we are in to pop because they make you realize that I'm not enough for you.”

Your heart was broken before? Yes. But now? It’s literally shattered into a million pieces like sand in the desert.

Another sob wrecks his body as he hides his face in your neck, muttering against your skin how sorry he is. So you just stand there again, letting him cry as you comfort him with your hands stroking his back softly.

It’s what he needs. It's what you need.

After a moment, he kisses your neck, not pulling away. But it’s enough for you to know that he is calm enough to keep talking.

Your heart is heavy with all the pain he’s feeling. Forgetting the pain you felt yourself, you only want these ocean blue eyes to brighten, and these plump lips to twitch upward in that cute, charming smile of his.

A smile he reserves only for you. A smile that belongs to you.

“I don’t care what they think. And they won’t make me realise something that’s not true–“

“But—“

“Let me talk first, Buck,” you whisper softly, and he nods, taking a deep breath before he slides his tattooed fingers along your neck.

He just needs to feel you right now. Needs to feel your softness and maybe your forgiveness is enough for him to forgive himself, too.

“I know who you are. I knew about your history with girls. But I decided to be with you. Because you showed me a side of you only I get to see,” you mumble, kissing his temple. “I love you, Bucky. I don’t care what they say. Never will. But please, talk to me next time. I shouldn’t have run away, though.”

“I will. Promise. Will talk to ya, babydoll. I will make it up,” he whispers against your neck, kissing his way up to your jaw.

His lips are soft, warm. And you can almost ignore the cool night surrounding you. Because right there, with Bucky’s body pressed so tightly against you, you’re so warm.

“I love you, sweetheart. Love ya so much, so fuckin’ much,” he whispers, inhaling your scent before he pushes back slightly.

His eyes meet yours. Piercing blue eyes, still red rimmed, but behind the regret and pain, you see the softness, the light that’s shining so bright for you. Only for you.

“Can we go home now? It’s cold,” you giggle softly. “But I don’t know where we are, and uhm… I’m glad you’re here, Buck. Thank you.”

“No! I-I’m the one, baby. I have to thank you. For bearing with me! For loving me. Thank you so much, my babydoll. My precious babydoll.” He hums, leaning closer to kiss you before he remembers what you said.

You’re cold. You were lost. But not anymore. You will never be lost, he will make sure of it.

“I will run after you whenever you wanna run away. Will never let you get lost ever again, sweetheart,” he whispers before taking off his jacket and putting it over your shoulders. “Let’s get home, it’s freezing. And we don’t want to turn into popsicles, do we?”

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@armystay89 @rogersbarber @firelilyfox

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zerosomnia · 1 day ago

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Thunderbolts John Walker x Reader Scenario: Napping together

Summary: When John naps, you also have to nap. He is the kind of guy that will pick you up and take you with him, regardless of what you're doing. He’d never admit it, but he just can’t fall asleep without you by his side.

Author's Note: I'm probably going to do these scenarios based on my own headcanons with the other characters at some point, but I just had such a clear image of John doing this that I had to get it out. I hope it scratches other people's brains in the same way it did mine.

Word count: 1208

John Walker was a military man, through and through. Routine was his bread and butter. He couldn’t function without it. This meant that he wasn’t the type to nap often, his days were preplanned and rigid, there was little room for the luxury of a nap. That was, until you came along.

With you came space, room to breathe – permission to just be. And that was where John was introduced to the wonder of napping. He, however, was particular about his naps. And not in the ‘I must be in a bed, with the pillows at the right angle and this specific temperature’ kind of way. No. He was a simple man, and he had one, very specific, requirement for his naps. You.

That was precisely why he was awake, despite the irritating prickle of sleep pinching at the corners of his eyes. You weren’t here. In fact, you weren’t just missing, you were late. You had promised to be back by 2 PM, which is why Walker sat on the common room couch at 2:15, staring at the lift like he was trying to will you into existence behind its doors.

It must have worked, because soon the elevator dinged and you glided into the room, mid-laugh as you bantered back and forth with Bob. You both wandered towards the minibar, placing the stack of books you had bought down on the countertop. Your conversation was lively and bubbly, and you continued like you hadn’t even seen Walker in the room. He rose from the couch, wandering over to wrap his arms around your midsection and rest his chin on your shoulder. You acknowledged him by rubbing his forearm, never breaking away from your conversation – that wasn’t what he wanted.

Bob awkwardly shifted, still enjoying your conversation but struggling not to stare at the unusual sight of a cuddly John Walker. Especially when said John Walker was staring him down with such a fire in his eyes that Bob thought he was willing him to combust.

Eventually, John tired of not being the focus of your attention – and his subtle hints were not working. He had tried gently running his fingers down your arm, with hopes of interlacing your fingers and leading you away but was brushed off so that you could act a statement out using rapid hand gestures. Utterances of your name fell on deaf ears, and deep sighs with puppy dog eyes were ignored.

You were so frustrating, couldn’t you see that he was tired? He let go of you, not that the action affected you. You kept nattering on – intent on discussing a plot twist in your favourite book with Bob, who was nodding earnestly at every shocking reveal. Walker returned to glaring at Bob, fists clenched and jaw set, hoping that if he could remove the obstacle, then you would return your focus to him. Bob, of course, did nothing except stare back with wide eyes.

Goddammit.

Walker rubbed his face, a tired sigh escaping him. Drastic measures were going to be required. He positioned himself next to you and bent down to wrap his arms around your waist.

“John, what are you – oof!” A shriek escaped you as he picked you up, tossing your body over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You smacked his back in protest. “Bob! Help me!” Bob looked at your grabby hands, starting to move towards you. But one sideways glare from Walker was all it took, and he backed down, arms held up in submission.

“Sorry,” Bob chuckled. John walked you both into the lift, leaving your books scattered about in the common room – you could sort them later.

“I was in the middle of a conversation, John.” Your voice was matter-of-fact but not angry.

“It’s nap time.” You could hear the edge in his voice, how tiredness knawed at the corners of his words. So, you quietened and stared at the wall. Once you reached the living quarters, John beelined past his own door to your room.

See, John didn’t just want to be with you when he napped. He wanted to be surrounded by you, enveloped in your scent, in your warmth. And your room, well, that was just an extension of you.

He knew your door code, of course he did. He had memorised everything about you, meticulously, as if he was going to be tested on it. Because that was just the type of man he was.

Once you were both hidden in the privacy of your room, he placed you gently on the bed. When you tried to get up, he softly pushed you back down. An order without a statement. Stay. You obeyed, watching as he closed your curtains over and found your softest pair of pyjamas. He handed them to you before he pulled his own shirt up over his head. You ogled him, the taught stretch of his muscles as he removed his clothes, stripping down into his underwear. He was a well-built man, with wide shoulders and big arms that allowed him to toss you around like a ragdoll. Yet he was always surprisingly delicate with you, like he’d break you in an instant if he didn’t restrain himself. You followed his lead and changed into your pyjamas, then you scooted back onto your side of the bed, lifting the covers invitingly to him with a warm smile.

John clambered in, body sluggish and slow with fatigue. His head found purchase on your chest, and a low rumble of content could be heard from him as he wrapped an arm around you. His hair tickled at your chin as he settled, and his leg was slung over your thighs; you were effectively pinned. You didn’t mind, though; instead, a comfortable sigh left you while you reached up to run your hands through his hair. You scratched your nails gently across his scalp and down the back of his neck, feeling the muscles of his toned back before you traced your fingers back upwards to repeat the action in a soothing, cyclical fashion. All of his muscles relaxed, like he was a spring that had just uncoiled.

“Can you talk to me… like tell me about your day or something? I like hearing your voice.” His volume was low, like every syllable was a massive effort. You felt a smile rise to your cheeks. You kept your own voice quiet and lilted as you started to tell him about your morning shopping trip. How you had nearly missed your bus to the shopping centre, how Bob had been too polite to escape someone handing out brochures and had gotten stuck talking to them for well over 20 minutes, how you had bought a bullet journal because it had reminded you of him and his routines. You kept talking, even though you had noticed the way his breath slowed barely two minutes in, and the way that his weight had increased like all the resistance had left his body. You stopped, enjoying the feeling of your human weighted blanket. Exhaustion tugged heavily at your eyelids and your vision went hazy. One final thought stood out as you also succumbed to the depths of sleep.

God, you loved nap time.

#fanfic #writing #x reader #thunderbolts #john walker #us agent #scenario #headcanon #fluff #john walker x reader #thunderbolts*#walker thunderbolts

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gold-onthe-inside · 22 hours ago

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northern attitude

who? spencer reid (s3) x tough!reader summary: after your friends with benefits arrangement comes to an end, spencer's persistence gets him to the bottom of your fear to commit to him, especially when all signs point to you liking him back. content warnings: hurt/comfort, r's insecurities (not being good enough for spencer, not being a particularly romantic person), r yells at spencer word count: 1.4k a/n: sequel to orbiting around you. find more tough!reader here <3, dividers are by @saradika-graphics

It’s like withdrawal, being cut off from you, and it hurts. It hurts watching you act like nothing had changed between the two of you. His mood flits from hurt and sad to angry and frustrated. He wants to beg on his knees, wants to put his fist through a wall. It doesn’t help that he can’t sleep at night, his mind replaying that day at the high school, in the mens’ room, begging the man with a shotgun not to kill the boys who assaulted his daughter, trying to argue over the voice of the girl who egged him on.

Usually, he could turn over, use you as a distraction, hand skimming soft skin, sliding under your cami, tucking you closer as he pressed his lips to your shoulder until you stirred. Or, if you weren’t already there, he’d cross the distance between motel rooms, knocking on the door, barely waiting until the door shut to crush his lips against yours.

But he’d ruined it. He’d wanted more. Pushing your guard down with each kiss, each ramble, falling in love with your soft smile, your quiet sense of humour. Not a week went by when he wasn’t catching your wrist in his hand, his grip loose, asking the same question: “Why does it have to be one or the other?”

And every week, you’d give the same answer: “I’m no good for you.”

Unanswered questions keep him up all the time, you keep him up all the time. Every day, he dragged himself out of bed, going to work, facing you and your schooled expressions, rivalled only by Hotch. And yet, a coffee would appear on his desk, made just the way he liked it, and the ache would return. Pending case files would mysteriously disappear from his desk when he came back from the bathroom. It comes to a head when you argue Derek down from the ledge of dragging them all out clubbing to a quieter bar which he’s eternally grateful for, and it’s when it clicks for him.

“You’re afraid,” he murmured, sidling up to you, the now-empty glass of wine making him more confident. Your back’s against the wall, watching the rest of the team play pool, in your leather jacket and maroon tee, black Levi’s and sleek boots.

“I’m sorry?” you asked, caught off-guard as he leaned against the wall beside you.

“You’re afraid,” he repeated, adding, “of how much you like me. That’s why you don’t want commitment.”

You’re good at pretending, too good, but he’s gotten better at seeing the chinks in your armour now. “That’s a stretch,” you said, raising a delicate brow.

“No, the stretch is you assuming what’s good for me and making decisions for me like I’m not a grown adult,” he shot back, and judging by how your jaw twitches, it lands. You moved, draining the rest of your glass of whiskey before setting it down, fluidly grabbing your bag.

“I think that’s it for me tonight,” you announced loudly, the rest of the team murmuring ‘see you’s and ‘goodbye’s, and Spencer doesn’t bother with niceties, simply following you out.

“Stop running away from this conversation,” he demanded, walking out onto the curb.

“Oh, because you have me all figured out?” you scoffed, glancing at him before starting to walk to the nearest Metro station.

“Why is that so bad?” he asked, easily catching up with his long strides, turning on his heel to look at you as you both walk. His hair’s getting longer, a dark blue shirt contrasting pale skin, sleeves rolled up to veiny forearms, a striped tie that had been bothering her all day with how he’d done it unevenly, the end of it reaching his belt. He’s insistent, eager to please, an irresistable combination in the sheets, completely irritating outside of it. “I mean, your excuse is that the problem is with you, right? So, let’s talk about it,” he demanded, almost bumping into a lamp-post.

“I’m not doing this with you, Reid,” you told him, focused on getting to the subway entrance a couple feet away. “And especially not in public.”

“There’s no-one out here,” he contradicted, standing in front of you. “Would it kill you to be honest with me?” You let out a frustrated sigh as you find yourself blocked by his chest, his gaze laser sharp. “I deserve to be more than just a distraction, and so do you,” he continued, determined to get under your skin.

“Spencer, stop,” you snapped at him and he narrowed her eyes.

“Is that what it is?” he probed deeper. “You think you don’t deserve a relationship?”

“Jesus Christ, would you stop?” you almost shrieked, if not for the fact that you were on the street.

“No, because we’re talking about this!” he cried. “I’m done shoving this under the rug for whatever reason, and you— You will hide behind whatever excuse you can find to not confront this, which is really contradictory considering you��re the last person I’d call a coward—”

“Spencer, shut the fuck up!” you yelled at him, unrestrained anger lashing out at him, and he actually flinched. He stopped talking, watching you breathe heavily, sinking back against a wall and sliding down to a seat. He tried not to think about all the germs and bacteria that infest the street, sitting down next to you. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, your hands laced on your knees, pressing your thumbs to your forehead.

Spencer simply shook his head. “I pushed you to it.” He watched you breathe, catching your breath.

“I’m not good at being a girlfriend,” you said softly, looking at your callused hand. “I’m not… romantic, or whatever.”

“Says who?” Spencer asked, his brow furrowing, looking at you. “You make me coffee almost every day. You stole my case files so I wouldn’t work too late. And you know my favourite food, and you keep candy in a drawer for when I have sugar cravings. You listen to everything I have to say, even when you have no interest in it. That’s plenty romantic.” You met his gaze, earnest hazel eyes, turned amber by the streetlight, looking down at you fondly, and it terrified you, your eyes flitting back to your hands, lips pursed. He bumped your shoulder lightly. “What are you so scared of?” he asked you gently, watching you lean your head back, tongue darting out to wet your lips.

“Not being good enough. Or what you expect from a girlfriend,” you answered eventually.

“How can you say that without knowing what my expectations are?” he asked, his brow furrowing in concern as you looked back up at him. “I mean, I want you to be you, and I want you to be comfortable, and to be honest, if you weren’t yourself, I wouldn’t like you half as much as I do.”

You take a beat to just process what he’s said, and then shake your head with a scoff. “This is what I mean. You’re just… effortlessly sweet, Spencer. And I’m not. I can’t… It doesn’t come as easy to me.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Spencer countered, shifting to look at you better. “I mean… sure, maybe it’s hard for you to say it, but… I do think you show it. You show it every day.”

“That’s hardly enough, Spence—”

“It is for me,” he insisted, placing his hand on yours. “All I’m asking for… really… is the chance to return the favour. The only thing that has to change, if you think about it, is that we get exclusivity. That I get to call you my girlfriend.” He watched you mull over it for a moment.

“I think I’d like that,” you said eventually, your voice slightly small, and it’s the first time he’s smiled in weeks. Suddenly, he’s all energy, pulling you up by the wrist.

“Good, cause I have so many plans and places I want to take you, and they’re doing Othello this weekend at the Shakespeare Theatre Company—” You let him ramble on all the way to the subway, your brain fuzzy simply from holding his hand all the way, and he finally lets you fix his tie once you’re in the train, headed to his place.

#dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #my fics

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sweetshuga · 2 days ago

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𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝟐 ✧ 𝑴.𝑺

𝒃𝒔𝒇.ᐟ𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕! Teasing him about it before giving him head like in his fantasies. "Ooh, fuuuck-- You’re such a good girl. Such a good girl for me... Taking me so—mmph—deep."

𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂. «𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝑽𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏» «𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕» «𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒅 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕»

𝒘𝒄. 𝟏.𝟏 𝒌

𝒂𝒏. Yeah, so here’s the second part ☺️

𝒑𝒔𝒂. English is not my first language! || Every part can be read as a standalone!

The drive home was rather quick thanks to Matt’s driving skills and the road being almost free of cars.

Everything blurred together as Matt’s brain zeroed in on the feeling his cock twitching helplessly in his pants. He desperately swallowed down the whimper forcing its way up his throat, not wanting you or his brothers to hear it.

The moment he walked in through the front door almost felt like a reward—something he earned through resilience and patience. Which was just surviving having a hard-on for almost an hour long, but to him it felt like he endured severe physical pain.

Matt briskly walked towards his room, shouting something about having a bad headache and needing a nap. When in reality, he was just going to jerk off.

No one suspected a thing. No one except you.

𝑨 𝒇𝒆𝒘 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓

Just as Matt pulled out his dick and was about to give his poor swollen member some relief, you opened his bedroom door and nonchalantly walked inside, closing it behind yourself.

He quickly pulled the cover over himself, startled by your sudden appearance, his cheeks flushing a rosy hue.

"Don’t you know how to fucking knock? And can’t you see that I’m busy?" He tried to sound frustrated but his tone lacked any real anger, sounding more embarrassed than pissed off.

"Sorry," you said, but it definitely didn’t sound like you meant it. And the way your lips curled up at the corners further proved to him that you were enjoying seeing him embarrassed.

He watched intently as you walked over to his bed – where he sat, leaning against the bedframe, still half naked under the covers – and the way your hips moved with each step you took made him want to grip them tightly and fuck the living daylight out of you—

"So," you began, making him snap out of his fantasy, "What exactly were you "busy" with before I came in?"

Your innocent question almost made him groan out loud but he held himself back and instead took a deep breath, exhaling shakily before he muttered out a gruff response.

"You know exactly what I was doing."

Your smirk widened slightly – almost teasingly – at his words, and you leaned forward, your eyes locked onto his heavily dilated ones.

"Yeah, I do." You admitted with a soft chuckle, the sound making his dick jump.

"Since I know why you’re this hard and aching... Why don’t I lend you a hand..." You trailed off, your smirk widening further, turning into a wolfish grin as you said your next words, knowing exactly how much it would affect him.

"Or a mouth."

Matt’s breath hitched in his throat at your offer to help him jerk off and potentially give him head.

He’d be a fool to refuse your generous offer now wouldn’t he?

𝟓 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓

Matt’s chest heaved with ragged breaths as he watched you position yourself between his spread legs, you gaze locked onto his cock. The sight of you looking so intently at his length made it twitch.

His tip was flushed a deep shade of red, a fresh bead of pearly cum forming on his slit before slowly sliding down the head of his cock and towards his base, his length twitching at the sensation.

Your fingers gently wrapped around his base, slowly stroking up towards his tip, tightening your hold on his shaft subtly as you did so. You gulped softly when you felt his dick throb in your hand, hearing his soft groan doing wonders to make you soak through your panties.

Slowly picking up pace, you leaned down, making Matt’s breath hitch in anticipation of what’s about to come.

Your tongue darted out to lick the precum dribbling down his cockhead. Matt hissed softly when you licked a long stripe up the sensitive underside of his shaft next—from base to tip.

His head fell back against the wall with a soft thud when you wrapped your plump lips around his cock, his eyes fluttering closed briefly before snapping open, not wanting to miss your pretty eyes looking up at him as you took him deeper.

"Juust like that..." Matt whispered huskily, his fingers tangling in your hair and scrunching it up, not pulling or guiding for now, just trying to ground himself from the pleasure.

He stared down at you, lips parted and eyes slightly glazed over and hooded, watching you in awe as you took him deeper.

"Ooh, fuuuck-- You’re such a good girl. Such a good girl for me... Taking me so—mmph—deep." Matt groaned softly.

The tip of your nose grazed his pelvis before you pulled away, gasping for air as your hand pumped his length—as if to replace your mouth while you caught your breath.

Your mouth was quick to be back around his cock, your eyes watering beautifully as you looked up at him, gagging subtly when his tip suddenly hit the back of your throat.

His hips slowly began to thrust up in rhythm with the bobbing of your head, beginning to fuck your mouth as he got lost in the pleasure you were giving him.

His hands held your head, now guiding it along his shaft in time with the rhythm of his thrusts. The knowledge that you were letting him use your mouth however he wanted made his dick throb urgently against your tongue.

Feeling his balls draw up tight, he quickly pulled out his length, wanting to see his release on your face as he fisted his cock furiously, and you quickly stuck your tongue out, realizing what he wanted.

"Shit--shit! I’m so close! Fuuckkk... C-cumming—mmph-ah!"

His eyes rolled back briefly as the pressure in his abdomen exploded, his vision blurring for a moment as white-hot pleasure prickled throughout his whole body.

Matt’s hips jerked in time with his orgasm, his hand blurring over his cock as rope after rope of sticky cum painted your face and tongue a pearly shade of white.

He watched as you swallowed the bit of cum that landed on your tongue, his breath coming in short shuddering pants as the last bit of his load spurted out.

Sated, Matt slumped back against the bedframe, his eyes closing briefly as he tried to catch his breath, subtle tremors still running through his body due to the aftershocks of his intense orgasm.

"That was- You’re so- I can’t even..." He trailed off, unable to even form a proper sentence, his mind still fogged with pleasure.

𝑨 𝒇𝒆𝒘 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓

You went to wash your face since he came all over it and he took the time you were gone to recover.

Matt turned towards you when you came back and sat on the bed beside him, his eyes glinting with lingering hunger as he looked down at your plump lips that were wrapped around his shaft earlier, before looking back up into your eyes.

What he said next made your breath hitch.

"It’s only fair that I return the favor, no?" He murmured as he gently pushed you down, making you fall back on his bed, your hair sprawling out on his silk sheets.

"It’s my turn to make you feel good, sweetheart."

𓆩♡𓆪

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ventique18 · 2 days ago

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Crude joke warning ⚠️ (and a 🐉🌸♀️ family premise)

Malleus, currently King of Briar Valley, is flawless in his duties; both as a ruler, and as a father.

However, even the mightiest get tired sometimes. His main go-to for venting is his wife, for she has the heart of a goddess and always knows what to do to make things right. Sometimes though, he feels guilt for using her as an emotional toilet. And so he dumps all his worries to his family instead.

That's what their group chat is for. For him to rant his stress away and for Sebek to greet his usual good mornings and good nights.

🐉: Sometimes I wish I could go back to the days when everything was peaceful. When I didn't have to worry about every problem you could possibly fathom. When I didn't have to think so much.

He is talking about before becoming king.

🦇: ✨ Suddenly you 🫵 turn back into a sperm ✨

🦇: Oh no Raverne don't flush that! That's going to be your son, the Progressive King of Briar Valley, Conqueror of What Was Once Lost, Father of the Nation, and Savior of the Dragon Race! Don't worry Malleus, I'll make sure your mother catches you!

🐉: Lilia, what is wrong with you?

⚔️: Father what is wrong with you

🦇: @/Malleus You're alive today because your father decided during that one night not to flush it in the toilet. But maybe you should have flushed it sometimes instead of popping an odd number of 5 kids. Remember when you asked me to look after them because you were going to get tacos really quickly? And then you come back 6 months later with a 'We are having our fifth child. 😁' You didn't even bring me tacos.

🐉: This is not about my children. And that was a vacation with my wife where we happened to wish to try out tacos-- not a jaunt to a restaurant.

🦇: You act as if you don't spam this group chat with 'Why do babies poop so much? My son just peed in my face why does he hate me so?' and then dumping them in my shabby cottage for every minor inconvenience.

🐉: Other than our vacations, I only specifically deposited them to your house one time because we were doing pest control at the castle. Most of the time you voluntarily fight with grandmother over who gets to take care of them today.

🦇: And you let your grandmother win because my cottage is so shabby.

🐉: So that's what you're angry about? Because grandmother calls your house shabby?

🦇: No. It's because she usually gets three of the kids while I get two. It's not fair.

🐉: I always offer to renovate your residence whenever you wish.

🦇: No way. I teach your kids to live humbly. How will I do that if they live in a mansion with a hundred servants at their paws 24/7?

🐉: Fine. Grandmother will get two of them starting tomorrow.

🦇: No! She'll smite me with lightning!

🐉: I can't possibly cut a child in half!

🦇: But you can make one more child to make it even.

🐉: Were you not just reprimanding me for having five children just a few minutes earlier?

🦇: I said that's because you have an odd number of children. You should always have an even number of children.

🐉 turns off his phone and goes back to his wife to vent his renewed frustrations.

#a bit long but i had this conversation playing out in my head while i waited for my dinner to cook lol #twisted wonderland #ventique rambles #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #malleus x reader

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reysdriver · 2 days ago

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Hi! Can I request Eddie Munson + Let me take care of you + fluff. Maybe he takes tipsy readers makeup off?

you come home tipsy after girls' night and Eddie is there for you, like always — eddie x fem!reader fluff

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking ofc, some sexual innuendo

words: 1.8k

a/n: i don't think I used the quote in the request but I think actions speak louder than words so it works lol, I hope you like it!

Eddie liked scary things, but not usually when he was a victim of them. He nearly had a heart attack when he heard the doorknob shake to his own trailer while he was home alone.

His uncle was working an overnight shift and wasn’t supposed to be back until morning, and he wasn’t sure who else would be coming to his place in the middle of the night with no warning or knock.

He walked quietly over to the window and cracked the blinds just enough to see who was outside, and his fear subsided the second he looked. He saw you fumbling with your keys—none of which would fit the lock—and looking slightly frustrated.

Well, he couldn’t have you getting upset, especially not at his house. He opened the door with a smirk on his face.

“I don’t think any of those are gonna work, princess.”

You looked up and a smile graced your face as all your frustration escaped you.

“Eddie!” You exclaimed cheerily. Then happily and slightly wobbly, you leaned forward and kissed your boyfriend after not seeing him in days.

When your lips collided, Eddie tasted all the cocktails you had downed throughout the night lingering on you. He connected the dots right there on why you were attempting to use your house keys on his trailer at 1 in the morning.

“You’re a little tipsy there, sweetheart. That’s why you came to see me.” He teased. “You only love me when you’re drunk.”

“No, I love you all the time!” You protested, twirling a lock of your hair between your forefinger and your thumb.

“I know, I was just kidding. Now, come inside.” He snaked his hand around your waist to make sure you didn’t fall, and ushered you inside. “Did you walk here?”

“No, I got dropped off. Robin called Steve from the bar and told him we’d steal a car and drive home drunk if he didn’t come pick us up.” You explained. You moved closer to Eddie as he closed and locked the door behind you both. “We weren’t actually gonna do it, though.”

Eddie wasn’t concerned at all, but he appreciated you clarifying anyways.

“I’m glad.” He said, not sarcastically enough for you to notice.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Steve came real quick after we called him, and I told him to drive me over here.”

“Why didn’t you just call me?”

“It was Robin’s quarter. She paid for the call, so she picked who was on the other line.”

“You walk around without any change? What if you needed to call someone?”

You rolled your eyes like his assumption was the most nonsensical thing you’d heard all day.

“Of course I have change, Eddie. You need it for gumball machines.”

Well, nobody could argue with that.

As Eddie helped you take off your jean jacket, you lifted your foot to remove the high heels that had been uncomfortable since your third drink. Doing so, you lost your balance and almost toppled over.

Luckily, Eddie caught you before the wall did and lightly scolded you as he helped you find your footing again.

“You’ve gotta be careful, baby. Don’t want you falling and breaking that pretty face.”

Your boyfriend dropped to his knees to make sure you could get out of your shoes without breaking a bone.

“Did you have a good night out, though?” He asked from down on the floor.

You nodded, watching as Eddie removed your shoe while you leaned against the wall to steady yourself. “The first bar sucked a little bit, but we went to another one and turned the night around.”

“That’s good.” He hummed. “You look nice. I like that colour on you.”

“Then I’ll wear it more often.”

Eddie placed your shoes neatly by the door, just next to his own messy pile of combat boots and dirty sneakers.

“You’re too good to me.”

“No, you’re too good to me.” You responded, slurring slightly.

He started walking you away from the front door, snaking an arm around your torso to make sure you didn’t fall every time you took a step.

“Well, then you can do something real nice for me, and then we’ll be even.” He mused. “Tomorrow, though. Tonight, I’m just trying to get you to bed.”

“Yeah, I bet you are.” You lazily chuckled.

He rolled his eyes, leading you into the tiny bathroom of the trailer. He didn’t bother closing the door, since he knew the room would be far too claustrophobic if you two were closed in.

“How much did you have to drink?” Eddie said, shutting the lid of the toilet seat and gesturing for you to sit down like he’s just prepared a throne for a queen.

“Just a couple drinks.” You said casually. “And then a couple more.”

Eddie shook his head, concealing a smile at your drunken words. He turned back with a washcloth, soap, and a Dixie cup.

“Now, your makeup looks great, but I’m gonna have to take it off for you.”

“Why?” You pouted, stretching the word sadly.

“You can’t leave it on all night ‘cause it’s bad for your skin.” He explained to the best of his knowledge. “And if you leave it on all night, you’re gonna complain. And you know who’s gonna hear about it? Me.”

You nodded solemnly, showing understanding. But Eddie still didn’t move, worried you’d still have qualms.

After thinking for a moment, you finally made a decision on the situation. You looked up at Eddie, tears pricking at your eyes. “Can we say goodbye first?”

Eddie blinked. He could see that you were drunk and emotional, so he tried to tread lightly when he responded. “Say goodbye? To the makeup?”

You nodded once more, and Eddie just went along with it.

“Okay, yeah. Why wouldn’t the makeup deserve a sendoff? Alright, let’s go to the mirror.”

Your boyfriend held out his hand and helped you get back up. He moved to the side of the tiny room so you could stand in the center of the mirror.

“Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.” Eddie said.

“Okay.” You said, gazing into the mirror. “Makeup, I had a fun night with you tonight. I’ll miss you. I love you. Bye-bye.”

You turned to face Eddie again, accepting his help washing your face.

“That was beautiful.” He added. You were just a bit too tipsy to notice that he wasn’t truly as serious about this as you were. “You ready now?”

After hearing your hum of acceptance, he added the soap and water to the washcloth and brought it up to your face. He swiped firmly but gently, trying to recreate how he had seen you do it yourself before.

“Let me know if I’m doing anything wrong, okay?”

You shook your head as much as you could with it in his hand. “You could never do anything wrong, Eddie.”

“You hold me in such a high regard, it’s nice.”

“You’re nice. You’re the best.”

“I think you’re the best, but we can do this back and forth all night.”

“We can do a lot of things all night, Munson.” You said with a raised eyebrow.

If you hadn’t just spent the evening at the bar, Eddie would have jumped through the window you just gave him, but he knew he couldn’t tonight.

“You get a little flirty when you’re drunk, huh?” He remarked. “It’s nice. I’ll buy drinks for our next date night. You can get flirty and I can get louder than usual.”

“Yayyy!” You exclaimed, quietly but sincerely.

Eddie wiped off the last bits of makeup that he could get, then handed you the cup full of water and instructed you to drink it. In one swig, you downed it all, so Eddie moved out of your way so you could appraise his work.

“Think I did a good job?”

“Very good job.” You affirmed. “How’d you get so good at that?”

He smiled, opening the door and allowing you to leave first. “I guess I had a good teacher.”

“It better be me.” You mumbled, slightly jealous but too tired to do anything about it.

You headed for the front door, ready to leave for the night, when you were stopped by Eddie’s hand on your arm. He steered you away from the door, much to your confusion.

“Pretty sure that’s the wrong way.” He said with a quiet chuckle.

“I gotta go home, Eds.” You whined.

“It’s the middle of the night. Just sleep over.”

Your heart swelled to twice its size. You were so touched by your boyfriend offering to let you stay at his place for the night that you smiled ear-to-ear. “Really?!” You asked excitedly.

Eddie was confused by your reaction. You’ve stayed over at his house plenty of times, and it was really nothing out of the ordinary. He just didn’t feel like driving you home in the middle of the night when he thought staying over would be just as good. Turns out, in your eyes, staying over wasn’t just as good; it was way better.

“Yeah, of course.” He said, once again trying not to laugh at you in your drunken state. “Now, let’s go get ready for bed.”

You basically skipped over to his bedroom, just so excited to sleep over.

“Alright, I’ll find you something to sleep in.”

You sat down on his bed, waiting patiently for Eddie to bring you clothes you could use as pyjamas.

Eddie started going through his drawers for something clean and comfortable that he could loan you for the night. Before he could find something, though, the bathroom light in the hallway caught his eye. He remembered how Wayne had been on his ass lately about turning off lights when he didn’t need them, so Eddie stopped his search and went to shut it off.

He took a few steps over to the bathroom, then turned it off for the night. He started walking back to his bedroom using only the moonlight coming through the blinds as a guide.

When he got back to his room, he noticed you were lying down now, and tried to keep his steps light while he walked towards you. Once he saw your eyes shut, he knew you were asleep and that it wouldn’t be good for either of you if he woke you up.

So Eddie let you sleep. He walked quietly around his room, grabbing a bottle of aspirin out of his drawer and leaving it next to your pillow in case you woke up with a headache. He kissed your temple and quietly said goodnight.

Eddie’s never had someone care for him in the same way you did, and so he was happy to have opportunities to repay that.

Even though he sometimes acted like taking care of you in moments like this was a chore, you both knew he was more than happy to do anything for you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fluff

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