#and yeah didn't find shit so uh

[the-acid-pear]

I'm a paradoxical man in the sense the more I improve at socializing the worse I get at socializing anyway let me go beat up some shit up with my friend Ennard and then I'll redeem my soul or something like that

[heavenlybodies333]

Love Bites -S.R

Spencer Reid x Hotch’s daughter!reader

Spencer Reid was many things—profiler, genius, human encyclopedia—but subtle was not one of them. Especially not when it came to hiding the fresh constellation of hickeys scattered down his neck like some kind of prize.

He walked into the bullpen with a file in one hand and his satchel slung awkwardly over the other, already rambling to Morgan about geographical profiling. Which made it all the more entertaining when Derek stopped in his tracks mid-conversation, eyebrows shooting up.

“Hold up.” Morgan squinted, leaning closer, his expression a slow grin of dawning realization.

Spencer froze with his tablet in hand, blinking. "Yeah?"

“Is that—Reid. Are those hickeys?”

"I—uh," Spencer stammered, adjusting his collar like he could somehow will the bruises away. "I didn't—it's not—"

"Oh my god," Penelope gasped. “Did our baby genius finally get laid?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hard, to keep from laughing. Raising your eyebrows in your best imitation of wide-eyed innocence. Morgan's already circling like a shark. "Damn, kid. Didn’t know you had it in you."

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Reid stammers, tugging his collar up. That only makes it worse. One purplish mark is now clearly visible beneath the edge of his shirt.

Rossi walks by, takes one look, raises an eyebrow, and says nothin—Emily snorts audibly from behind her monitor. Reid sputters. “What—look—I—this is entirely inappropriate workplace behavior!”

“Oh, so you did get laid,” Prentiss grins. You rest your chin on your palm and bite the inside of your cheek to keep your smile from giving everything away.

“I’m not discussing my personal life with you,” Reid says quickly, shifting in his chair and tugging his collar up with a flushed, nervous hand.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t warned him, last night—his hands in your hair, your mouth on his neck, your breath hot and teasing: You’re going to have to explain these, you know. And he’d groaned, hands tightening on your hips, whispering, Worth it.

Guess he wasn’t so sure now.

Morgan wasn’t done. He leaned over Spencer’s desk with a shit-eating grin. “Oh, come on,” He laughs. “Don’t leave us hangin’. Who’s the lucky lady? We didn’t even know you had a lady!”

You slid your gaze toward Morgan, who was watching Reid intently—too intently. His eyes drifted from Spencer’s flushed face to you… and then back to Spencer. And then to you again.

A pause. Then Morgan’s smile stretched wider, far too knowing. “Oh. Oh. No way,” he said under his breath. “No way.”

You raised your brows, feigning innocence. “Something wrong, Agent Morgan?”

“Oh, hell no.” He laughed, backing away with his hands raised in mock surrender. “Hotch is gonna kill you, man.”

Hotch chose that exact moment to walk in, flipping through a file. “Morning,” he muttered. “Briefing in ten.” Everyone straightened. You took another sip of your coffee and shot Reid a knowing smile.

You got up and headed toward the briefing room, but not before leaning in, just enough, as you passed his chair.

Voice soft. Lips close. “Maybe next time,” you whispered,"you’ll wear a higher collar, genius."

“Reid,” comes the sudden, sharp voice from the stairs.

All heads snap toward Hotch, who descends into the bullpen like the Grim Reaper in a suit.

Reid jumps to his feet. “Yes?”

“I need that Georgia file you reviewed yesterday.”

“Uh—yes, yes, right here.” Spencer bolts to grab it from his desk, pushing his chair out with a screech.

Hotch pauses halfway down the stairs. Eyes looking over, your father’s eyes land on you. “You alright?”

You smile. Bright. Innocent. “Peachy, Dad.” He frowns slightly, then keeps walking.

Yeah, there was no way your dad wasn’t finding out.

a/n: spencieeee

⋆•★⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆★•⋆

[pseudowho]

"Yuuji-- if you don't mind, can I ask you something?"

Yuuji looked up from his phone, feeling so grown up to be in the Jujutsu High staffroom with Kento. He raised his eyebrows, the scar across his lip tugging up.

"Uh...yeah, sure. Go crazy."

"What is scary dog privilege, exactly?"

"Scary dog privilege? Huh, well...let's see, uhm...so it's like..."

Yuuji explained, all peaches and wide eyes and animated hands. Kento nodded occasionally, listening intently. His mind, naturally, strayed to you; you were what this was all about, after all.

As with any thought of you (you being his blossoming latent obsession), Kento's stomach flipped, his grip tightening fractionally around his coffee.

Kento remembered.

He remembered when he dropped you home. You checked over your shoulder, again, and again, and again, before you unlocked your door and hurried inside.

He remembered how he had once walked up behind you without much thought, and you spun with panic in your eyes. Kento recalled how quickly you had relaxed, to see it was him, and how high his hope climbed as a result.

He remembered how you had spilled the contents of your bag. You snatched your pepper spray up in the hope that his keen eyes had missed it.

He remembered how you headed to the subway after a staff night out. Your keys had been curiously gripped between your fingers, a weapon that wasn't a weapon.

He remembered, how just the day before, he and you had walked together through central Tokyo to get lunch. You had sat on a park bench together, and Kento had been so overwhelmed by the need to hold it together, Kento, keep it together, that he barely registered the relief written on your skin.

You had eaten in comfortable silence, then leaned over to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek on the way to the bins.

"Thanks for the scary dog privilege, Kento. It's the first time in a long time that I've relaxed in public."

Kento's eyes had drifted closed for just a few moments too long, with the warmth of your lips on his skin, and he stuttered, fumbling, unlike himself.

"Ah...scary...dog privilege?" He asked, quiet. But you were already gone; throwing your crumbs to the ducks.

Yuuji's voice snapped Kento out of memory, and back to the staffroom.

"Dunno if that makes sense, Nanamin?"

A molten pit of spite and rage ignited in Kento once he put two and two together. Scary dog privilege. He gave you scary dog privilege. Why was walking the streets in safety a privilege? Shit. Kento kept his voice level, patting Yuuji on the shoulder as he left, his steaming coffee abandoned.

"Thank you, Yuuji. Stay safe out there this afternoon, and call me when you're finished, please."

If Kento hadn't already felt dirty enough with the knowledge that he pleasured himself to thoughts of you every night, he felt worse, now. He stalked through the corridors of Jujutsu High, calling Ijichi, calling Shoko, determined to find you.

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

Once you noticed how one man's gaze lingered on you, you noticed them all. To you, almost all seemed to do it, and to every woman, be they 18 or 80, tall or short or curvy or lithe or gay or straight or anywhere in between. Then, when you began to notice the gazes on 16 year olds, or 12 year olds, or--

You had nauseated by the time you turned the corner to grab lunch. Simultaneously built up and dragged down and accused, you were a madonna and a whore and a bitch. You wondered, vaguely, how deeply, how incurably the disease ran, as you entered the bustling café. You didn't want to think about it. You'd just grab food, and go, and--

"Ah. Good afternoon."

You blinked, to see Kento before you in the queue, and felt a warm burst of joy from your tummy to your toes.

"Kento, I'm...happier than you know, to see you, actually."

A satisfied hum. "I had a feeling you might be. Now...about something you said yesterday...."

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

Nanami Kento didn't immediately strike one as a scary dog. He was built, yes, but his suits hid it well, and he was only a little taller than average, and really quite mild, but--

-- oh.

The way his glares could frost a soul. The way other men bounced off him, a stone wall, when a shoulder 'accidentally' hit his. The way his eyes found wayward gazes like a sniper, with the dulcet loading of a bullet behind his sneer. The silent commanding respect. The dares that other men would not dare.

It was no wonder, then, how you and Kento, became you and Shoko and Kento, became you and Shoko and Maki and Nobara and Kento. While individually able to fight your own fights, feeling Kento's scary dog privilege melt threats with acid, was a burden blissfully relieved.

With Kento's protective Midas' touch, your daily lunches turned to gold, unsullied and unmolested. Still...he was there for the whole group.

So why, then, in such a large group, did you look up to find his gaze on you, and only you? How could his eyes caress without staring? It was sorcery, surely.

Kento sequestered you one day, throwing his crumbs to the ducks alongside yours, as the others chatted on the benches behind you. You looked up, shooting him a sideways smile, and wondering how you could ever be good enough for him. He spoke quietly.

"I always believed a dog to have just one owner."

You felt your stomach twist with insinuation. You laid the thread.

"...oh?"

"And while I'm happy to offer my privileges to the benefit of a group, I...would like to be in the position to make such a privilege exclusive."

You swallowed hard, looking sideways again with hope against hope against hope against--

"Are you...saying you'd like to be my scary dog?"

"Very, very much so."

[shotmrmiller]

johnny dates your friend and then asks her if she's got any friends (you) for his friend (simon). but simon freaks you out. he can't hold a conversation— or won't, you're not sure; you're lucky if you get monosyllabic grunts out of him as if he were a neanderthal. the only times you've seriously heard him talk is to bark out words at either johnny or the bartender.

he walks around with a poorly concealed weapon on his hip, almost like he is expecting trouble. he wears all black, which is completely fine, but then a skull balaclava that he refuses to take off, even to drink his liquor. you don't try to hide the grimace on your face when you watch him sip through the thick fabric. he's got skeleton gloves on his hands too, like some sort of shit cosplay to match his mask.

and he fucking stares, unashamedly so. it is unblinking, scrutinizing, intense— his dark eyes, pools of midnight, keen. he stares at the people walking in through the door, stares at johnny when he takes your friend to the dance floor, and when you tell him out of courtesy that you're going to go get another drink, you can feel him boring holes into the back of your head as you walk away, piercing flesh and bone.

the phantom fingers of his gaze trace icy paths along your spine, erupting your skin in goosebumps. you find him immensely creepy, and you thank the fucking stars you're only here as a favor for your friend. you don't think you want to do this again. he's either a wanted serial killer or just a goddamn freak.

a heavy arm wraps around your shoulders once you're at the bar, and with a sneer on your lips, you turn to the owner of said offending limb, only to come face to face with johnny. he leans into you, close enough to where you can feel his stubble grazing the shell of your ear. (back up, brother.)

"listen, bonnie!" you wince; it's really not that loud in here for him to be yelling like that. "ah ken, ghos— er, simon, might no' be yer average man. he can be a little off-puttin'—" a little? if he doesn't follow you home and skin you alive, you'd be incredibly fortunate— "but ah promise ye, while he may no' be boyfriend material, he's an incredible fuck."

excuse me? he's got to be positively pissed. "maybe you should slow down, yeah? you might already be three sheets to the wind if you're gassing up your unsettling friend's cock. no offense."

"naw! ah'm tellin' ye. long ago, we had a mission tha' ran everyone tight, 'n so we relieved tension the only way we could— big, strong guy like him had me limpin' for a few days after."

you're about to ask for an angel shot because there is no way in hell that your friend's boyfriend is making casual conversation about him getting absolutely railed by—

"give 'em a try. jus' the once, i swear he don't bite," johnny pauses-- the rosy flush on his nose and cheeks vibrant, "unless ye ask nicely. yer friend said ye needed to get laid, anyways." oh, you're gonna fucking kill her, that long-tongued cretin.

"right!" you drink the remainder of your cocktail in one big gulp, liquid warmth trailing down your throat, before not-so-kindly shrugging him off. "i'm gonna go, you, uh— we didn't have this conversation, for the sake of my friend." you gesture at the bartender. "one more, please. i'm gonna need it."

-

damn. now johnny's got you thinking about getting your back broken by simon. maybe you really are just down horrendously, or maybe it's the alcohol in your system that has decided to toss all self-preservation out the metaphorical window because now you can't stop noticing him.

he's real tall— enough to have him slightly tipping his head to walk through a doorway. his shoulders are mountainous, his hands the size of a bear's paw. his physicality is undoubtedly impressive and well, you've always been weak to burly, commanding men.

you make eye contact with johnny from across the room, his bright blue eyes alive under the dim light of the dingy bar, and the bastard shifts his gaze from simon to you, giving a cheeky wink.

lifting your glass, you drink the last of your liquid courage— the taste of it bittersweet. it has been a long time since you've gotten laid.

double damn.

"hey." you lean slightly toward simon, cupping your hand around your mouth. "you and i both know why we're here. take me home?" the way he looks at you has you shifting restlessly in your seat. did you perhaps make a mistake? oh, fuck. did you just throw yourself cunt-first at someone who is not interested? your face burns with embarrassment, heat licking up your cheeks. maybe the earth will split open, right here ri—

"let's go then." oh thank fucking god. you don't know what you would've done if he'd said no. shrivel up and die, probably. "uber'll be here in 4."

when it arrives, he places his leather jacket around your shoulders, cocooning you in its warmth— the heady scent of nicotine clings to the garment— and leads you outside with a hand on the small of your back.

-

the world outside the car blurs into a hazy painting as the driver navigates the streets. colors blend together, once sharp outlines now dissolved. the rain gently taps on the window, a soothing sound that could easily lull you to sleep until you start when a roughened palm suddenly glides along your thigh— fingers slowly tracing intimate patterns on your skin.

simon's hand is hot, and it only burns hotter the closer it gets to your center under your least favorite skirt. he cannot be serious right now. you place your hand over his, short nails biting into him because there is no way you're about to be fingered in an uber—

his voice is deep, a deliciously thick rumble, right by your ear. "nice kitty." you've never been one for pet names or anything else for that matter, but the pulse of arousal that shoots up your spine has a shaky exhale leaving your lips, a ghostly breath fogging up the window.

the tips of his fingers tease the seam of your knickers, a generic cotton fabric that clings to your dampening cunt like a second skin— desire trickling onto the gusset. your whimper is drowned out by the terrible music the driver is currently playing when his small finger grazes over your slit, featherlight.

"so wet already? i've barely even touched ya, love." again with the cunt-clenching nicknames. he has no business purring them out like that. "i can smell your sweet pussy from here. you really must be achin' for it." of course the time he chooses to be vocal, it's to spew filth. "don't worry, i'll treat ya good."

somehow, you actually manage to choke out a response. "i'm sure. johnny-" you hiss through clenched teeth when he slips under your knickers, a finger brushing along your slick entrance, "said you had him walking side to side once." you buck your hips, seeking the friction you need, but it only makes him pull away a bit; how unsurprisingly cruel.

"only because he was bein' a brat. you're not a brat though, are ya? gonna be good f'me?" your tongue is heavy in your mouth, words lodged in your throat— all you can give him is a slight nod. "i expect verbal answers. i'd hate to spank your arse raw. how would ya sit down after?"

the idea of being bent over his strong thighs, face pressed into his couch as his firm hand takes you into the needy subspace you crave is too much, or maybe not enough because you're tucking your face into the side of his neck in an instant. "please," you warble, unsure of what you're even begging for.

he curls his finger, slipping between your lips, and when he finally brushes your clit— a fleeting, tantalizing touch— your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head. "needy little thing. i bet there's a damp spot right where you're sittin'. drippin' all over my fingers—" your breath is ripped from your lungs when he abruptly pulls his hand out and away, the sodden material of your knickers snapping against your heated skin. you're about to snarl out a vicious what the fuck, but the once-blurred scenery outside sharpens into focus.

the driver parks and looks at you from the rearview mirror. "we're here." you mumble a muted thank you, stepping out with quivering legs and a drenched cunt. a crisp breeze dances across your skin, a refreshing contrast to the stifling heat from inside the car.

as soon as the car drives off, you're hoisted onto a broad shoulder. the world tilts, and you fist the back of simon's shirt for stability. "highly unnecessary. i can wa—" you let out a squeak when he slaps the back of your thigh, the sharp bite of it sending a jolt straight to your throbbing center.

"hush."

you sputter indignantly as you hold on tighter, breaths coming out in short gasps, syncing with each step. "i beg your pardon?"

you yelp when he gives you another slap, this time closer to your cunt. "then beg." you're rendered speechless.

wow. maybe you've actually bitten off more than you can chew.

the wet cement under you is a blur, the texture lost in the rush of his movements until he comes to a stop, and you hear a familiar jingle of keys. he bursts through the door, the hinges groaning in protest, and you're staggeringly planted on both feet.

"nice place." a lie. it looks unlived in— brand spanking new. you vaguely hear the lock behind you as you take in your surroundings. a perfect, leather couch, not a crease in sight. the rug under it is pristine and bland, a cream color that matches the rest of his flat. impersonal. not an ounce of real personality anywhere. you begin shrugging off his jacket when you're suddenly pressed against the cold door, simon bent at the knees in front of you, his dark eyes— sharp as blades— lock onto yours.

"gonna beg?"

the fire in your lower belly reignites at the sight of his unmasked face. ash-brown hair in a simple crew cut, thick brows with the right one bisected by a pink, gnarled scar. slightly crooked nose, broken one too many times, and thin, pale lips. a countenance to match his rugged personality.

you're pulled out of your thoughts when he licks a hot stripe over your covered slit and you mewl at the sensation. "i asked you a question."

the words rush out of your mouth before you can even think of stopping them. "yes, yes! please, god, i don't- just- please let me come! i-" his thumbs hook into the waistband of your knickers and tug them down slowly, strings of arousal sticking to the gusset, smearing on your inner thighs.

"alrigh', since ya begged so prettily." your vision goes white when he throws one leg over his shoulder, and his slick tongue slides through your folds, the tip flicking your clit lightly. he laps at your cunt like it drips milk and honey— nourishing and sweet. simon groans into you, the sound crawling up your vertebrae and into the base of your skull.

he begins to draw lazy circles around your pearl, every swirl of his tongue has your back bowing as if winding it, inching you closer to the precipice. your toes curl in your shoes, hands finding purchase in his coarse hair, knuckles staining white as you start the feel the familiar tightening in your lower belly.

and then he pushes one thick finger into you, down to the scarred knuckle, and crooks it. the squelching noise your dripping pussy makes when he presses on the tiny patch of rough skin inside is loud and obscene; practically echoing off the dull, ivory walls of his flat.

"gonna come f'me? make a mess all over my hand?" simon adds another finger, a slight burn nipping at the heels of the pleasure coiling under your navel.

"c'mon. give it to me, pet." his lips encircle your clit, giving it a light suckle and it's—

the coil snaps, a sudden release of tension. it is violent and oh, so exquisite. white noise in your head, your ears, coursing through your veins. it prickles, it stings; it's pleasure and pain. your soul sinks back into your body— like a feather returning to its nest— and you blink, momentarily unbalanced.

"ya with me?"

you breathe deep— the taste of salt in the air, the scent of sweat-slick skin, your heart pulsing with life. "yes. i'm here." the man took you to the stars and laid you on them. jesus.

"good." the room spins, and you're weightless, nestled in his arms. it'd seem innocent if it wasn't for the stickiness in between your thighs, or the prominent bulge in his jeans occasionally pressing into your arse.

simon kicks a door open, knob bouncing off the wall with a crack, and quickly places you on the bed before tugging his shirt off. the belt and jeans come off next, and—

"you don't wear pants." why would he let that monstrosity just hang like that?

"good observation. is water still wet?" he asks, tonelessly. you narrow your eyes at him, pushing your tongue against the back of your teeth.

"fuck me for having eyes and using them as intended, i guess," you mumble under your breath. he grabs you by the ankle and tugs the skirt off, then your shoes, "ouch, i like my feet where they are, thank you," and literally rips your shirt in half. "you'll be giving me on of yours before i leave as recompense."

he holds himself up with his arms over you, your thighs burning as they cradle his hips.

his cock is a heavy, hot weight on your stomach— ruddy, leaking tip right under your navel. you're not small by any means, but he's going to tear you in half. there's no surviving such an onslaught. he's not just leaving you with a limp, he's going to turn your two smaller holes into one big one.

he tears into a golden wrapper with his teeth, and expertly rolls the condom on. simon lowers down to his elbows and nudges your jaw with his nose. "i'll stop the moment ya call it. tap on me if you're feelin' overwhelmed."

that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you, and the fact that it comes from a massive creep who stares at people like they owe him money has you a bit dumbstruck.

his stubble grazes the side of your neck as he glides his cock along your slick folds; once, thrice, until the head catches on your swollen entrance. simon pushes in slow, agonizingly slow— you don't know if it's better or worse because you feel every devastating inch of his length as it forcibly wrenches your walls apart.

your senses are solely focused on him: his body enveloping yours completely. his breath, sweetened like malt, wafts gently across your skin. his thick waist that you can't fully wrap your legs around. everything about him is big— his physicality, his presence, his cock.

"take a deep breath for me, pet. feel everythin' i'm givin' you."

your lungs expand as you do, and when you exhale, your muscles slacken. rapturous pleasure begins to bleed through the delicate membrane that separates it from the bite of pain, until boundaries are blurred and—

and he sinks into you like a rock breaking the surface tension of still water, bottoming out in one, smooth stroke. you can't help the mewl that falls from your lips nor the way your walls clamp down around him.

"fuck, there it is. so bloody tight, this greedy cunt is takin' my cock like it was made for me."

there isn't a single coherent thought in your head and you're glad for it. finally, someone to fuck you stupid.

simon gives you an experimental thrust, dragging his length along every single one of your nerves, and then another— desire overflowing from where he stuffs you to the very brim. "good. ready?"

he takes your tiny nod as an answer this time and begins to fuck you in earnest. it takes everything in you to not black out from how perfect it felt.

simon puts his weight behind every thrust, a steady pull out, and a spine-jarring push in. you can feel him deep in your stomach, a delicious pinch of discomfort each time he presses against the plug of your womb.

"so fuckin' wet, your cunt's droolin' all over me." he hooks an arm under your left leg and lifts, the angle he's put you in tittering dangerously on the tightrope of rapture and ache.

it's so good, so fucking good, your slick walls fluttering as he carves himself into you, your soul, your cunt when you feel a tight snap inside.

simon pulls out in an instant, taking your breath with him as he does. you look down at his cock and notice that—

"the condom broke. i've got another in the drawer, gimme a sec."

there is some weird thing that lodges in place somewhere deep in your sternum when you realize that he's been nothing but considerate and attentive to you since he brought you home and hasn't fussed over anything once. it's an extremely low bar, you are aware. rewarding what should be the bare fucking minimum is sad, but you're not completely altruistic in your motives anyway. you want to feel his bare cock inside as he rearranges your insides.

"no!" he quickly turns to look at you, "no. it's okay. i'm clean and i'm also on the pill. if that's okay with you, of course."

a man his stature should not move as fast as he just did, blinking from one side of the room to the other. he quickly throws both of your legs over his shoulders, heels resting on his back when he sinks back in, this time letting out a guttural groan as he does.

you can feel the ridge of his flared head, the warmth of his cock seeping into your tender walls— a new level of intimacy. he fucks you with fervor now, a precise snap of his hips that has your teeth clacking with every thrust.

your climax takes you by complete surprise, crashing into you like waves on a rocky, jagged shore. burst after burst of blinding pleasure threatens to consume you whole, and when your limbs are loose and syrupy— body limp— only then do you realize that he came just as fast. thick white ropes of viscous spend cover your stomach and trail down to your abused cunt.

your hamstrings already hurt with delayed onset muscle soreness. you might actually need a wheelchair to go back home.

(thank god your hips held out, and no, you don't care that it's essentially sacrilegious of you to even think that.)

his breathing comes out in ragged bursts, beads of sweat dripping onto the valley of your breasts.

and he's back to the fucking staring. "simon."

"pet."

"please stop looking at me like that."

he huffs and dips his head to flick your hardened nipple with his tongue, making you hiss with over sensitivity.

"make me."

-

as dawn breaks, the world begins to stir awake. hues of pale pink stain the sky, the first blush of morning. light and shadow begin to blend in the bedroom.

your phone vibrates under the pillow, simon's arm tightening around your soft waist at the buzzing sound. his lips press a light kiss on the sensitive skin by your ear, and his large hand begins to weave its way downward, pads of his fingers gathering the evidence of last night (or early morning) and gently parts your folds, brushing light strokes on your clit.

when he places your leg around his hip and sinks into you from behind, your phone buzzes again-- alone and forgotten.

good morning!!! i expect a full, detailed report by lunch or so help you god.

sent 5:30 am

about time you got laid, you're not you when you're horny.

sent 5:49 am

[windownextdoor]

RENOVATIONS

sfw + nsfw + plot + simon riley x fem!reader wc: 1.3k wanting independence, you buy a home. yes, it was a fixer-upper. but, who said your neighbor couldn't help? pt. 2

home depot was...

something else, you described it.

could barely look around without a man coming up and seeing if you needed help or wanted to ask you what you were doing that you needed such tools; just a sander and a bauer drill.

"sugar, what are you doing with such tools? your man ain't here to help ya out?" the employee said condescendingly.

fucking men and trying to mansplain shit.

you were trying to be polite, "uh, sir, i'm fine. just trying to look around-"

"how about you come back with your man? he'll know what to get for whatever you're doing, alright sugar?"

you just stared at him. stared at him because who has the audacity to be misogynistic in the 21st century?

see, you were about to tell him off, shout loudly that he should go fuck off and stick his fist somewhere where it doesn't shine.

until a very familiar, a very deep voice was directly behind you.

"honey, you find what you needed?"

simon.

you turned around to find him, a little too close for people who just met the day before. shoulders directly in front of your face and his eyes on the employee who just wouldn't leave you the fuck alone.

also, honey?

your mouth was slightly ajar, but you closed it and nodded your head. "yeah...i did." you said, looking back at the employee.

the employee who was as stupid as ever, decided to start talking again. "you must be her husband! see, i told her to wait for you to make sure you got the right tools and whatnot, but-"

"now why the fuck would you do that?" simon's voice was dangerous, but oh-so tranquil. like he knew the employee wouldn't think about doing this again.

the employee just blinked and stuttered his next words a little.

"what was that? because the next words out of your mouth better be an apology to my wife."

my wife. goddamn did that sound good coming from his mouth.

"a-ah, yes, i'm so sorry ma'am. very sorry, my apologies." that apology was quick and certain as he walked away from both of you.

a breath you hadn't known you'd been holding left you as you turned around to your neighbor. "god- thank you so much for that. he would not leave me alone."

"just being a misogynistic prick." simon rasped, his eyes went to the two tools in your hands.

"drill and sander? fixing that porch o'yours?"

you smiled up at him, "yes sir, that i am. i know we only exchanged a few words but you were right. i am really excited to fix this house." his eyes darkened ever-so-slightly at the 'sir'. you didn't know what that was about.

you looked at his hands; empty. "what are you here for, then?" you asked.

"nosy neighbor." he said gruffly, but there was an upturn in his lips. "just here for trash bags. out of them."

you nodded, the silence filled the isle. a comfortable one. until- an idea struck you.

"want to help me out a little, simon?" you asked, a pleading tone in your voice.

"oh lord." was all simon said before getting swept up in your home depot shopping spree.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

he helped you put the planks of new wood into your small car, along with the two tools and nails you'd purchased.

"i'll meet you back at your house." simon said, closing your trunk.

you raised an eyebrow.

"you wanna help with this home renovation?" you say, perplexed at his assertion.

"wouldn't be good neighbor if i didn't help, would i, love?"

jesus fuckin' christ, his accent and rough voice could probably make you come on the spot-

you just laughed a little, "whatever you say, simon. i'll make us some coffee, because lord knows we are going to need it."

he gave you a look, his eyes. they say a lot. they're pretty, and tell a story. you just don't know what story.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

back at your house, you stepped through the door with simon trailing behind you. you both got home at about the the same time, since his car was basically following yours.

the sigh that left his mouth was disgruntled.

"jesus christ, woman, are you sure you're livin' 'ere?"

you planted your hand at your chest, a mocking shock of offensiveness. "don't be mean to my house! it's a work in progress. she just...isn't furnished yet."

he opened your fridge. "nor stocked with food yet." he said, closing it and looking at you with a look as he tilted his head.

you tilted your head back at him, hands on your hips. giving him the same look.

"don't get bratty with me, honey." he said, using the nickname from earlier on you, the way he said it was rough. "get some food in here." he said before walking around your island to sit on one of chairs you did have.

you rolled your eyes and started making coffee.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

music played from your speaker sat on your driveway as you and him pulled the old, rotten boards up and threw them in a pile.

after that, the real work started. fresh, new wooden boards, nails and your drill and hammer. sweat dripped down the sides of your temple as you and simon worked hand in hand, surprisingly. he needed nails, you knew which ones. you needed a piece of wood, he was already handing you one.

you and him were about seventy-five percent done, when you went into the house to wet two rags and came back out with them, handing one to simon. "i underestimated how fucking hot it would be out here." you swore, putting the cold, wet rag on your forehead, which felt absolutely heavenly.

simon laughed. a small, but full laugh, as he put the wet washcloth also on his forehead, standing up to see the progression. "oh, look at that. almost done, aren't we?"

you smiled at him then looked at the porch, yes, the porch was almost done. first home change and it looked pretty fucking nice.

you spoke, "20 bucks says we get this done today."

simon immediately retorted, "how about a beer says we get this done today? cause i ain't takin' your money, love." he says with a small smirk.

"but, i was going to pay you for helping me-"

"and tha' money would end up back in your hands. not taking money from you. today was nice, and i offered." simon said with a tilt of his head.

you sighed, your shoulders shrugging a little. "okay, if that's fine with you." you stretched and put the washcloth back on your forehead, letting it rest there for a moment before pulling it off. "let's get this porch done, then." you said with a small, tired smile.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

the sun was setting before simons and yours eyes. what a pretty view. you and him shared one last beer of yours as you promised to get more at the store later on in the week.

you and him sat on the two steps that lead up to your new porch. you gave the last of the beer over to him, "thanks for your help today, simon. it was really fun. very neighborly of you."

he laughed and shook his head as he downed the rest of the beer, "no need for thanks, just happy to help. don't do much, so it was a nice change of routine for an old man like me."

you rolled your eyes, and shoved his shoulder lightly, "bee-keeping age." you reminded him.

as he gruffly chuckled at your statement, your phone pinged. you grabbed your phone out of your pocket and saw it was from one of your friend from college, ava. a simple text of 'how's that house doing?'

you smiled at your phone and opened the camera app. without asking him, you took a picture of you and him with the new porch in the background, you smiling and simon holding the empty beer bottle as his forearms rested on his knees. catching simon off-guard.

"thanks." you said before sending the picture to your friend, a small brazen smile on your face.

simon just laughed, mumbling the words, "cheeky girl."

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

pt. 3 (soon!)

[suiana]

yandere! bully who is your boss at work and you think he lowkey hates your guts. lowkey? no, he absolutely hates your guts.

he steals from you every single day. your laptop, your pens, even your goddamn coffee cup. he doesn't even give you anything back! like what the flip dude!

oh and it gets even worse.

so get this, not only does he steal from you, he also has the audacity to mess your shit up and act like this is high school! what the actual freak.

of course the whole office knows this and they sympathize with you, they really do! but what can they do when it's their boss that's bullying you? the most they can do is offer words of comfort when he goes cackling away while holding your pens hostage.

"dude i need my laptop to work."

"oh do you? so you can't just conjure up the report? fucking loser."

"bro."

what you didn't expect to find when you ransacked his office the other day though, was a shrine full of stuff he stole. your pens, the multiple coffee cups you got from aliexpress... hey wait, aren't those your underwear? like, specifically the ones you've started losing recently? how the hell did he get those?

"you weren't supposed to see that, why'd you break in here? 𝖞𝖔𝖚'𝖗𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖉."

"dude is that my limited edition minecraft movie middle aged man action figure toy?"

yeah and you're fired. woohoo! what do you do now? well lucky for you your boss or ex-boss has a better idea.

since you want to be so nosy and stick your head in places they don't belong, why don't you explore his house? yeah, he bets that you'll love exploring his big and empty house... that for some reason has even more of your stuff. look, it's even full of pictures he's secretly taken of you!

"wow your house is really big and empty if i ignore the countless pics of me on your walls..."

"don't worry, you'll decorate it, won't you?"

"what? why would i?"

"because you're mine now :3 oh also, here's this collar i have for you, look how pretty it is on your neck! bark for me doggy!"

annnndd he's got you locked up now. oh well, uh, you feel like his dog to be honest. especially with this collar he snapped onto your neck... um... hey, at least he's giving you your stuff back! haha... ah...

you're screwed.

[urmum-lovesme]

Toxic!Rafe when he gets jealous. . .

The night had been a blur of music and laughter, a house party filled with people she didn't really know. Y/N was just being polite, talking to the new guy in town- someone whose family her parents had mentioned working with- and she felt like she had to. Her parents had spoken about how nice the guy’s parents were, so Y/N did her part, listening to him babble about things that didn’t matter, keeping the conversation going.

She wasn’t flirting, just being nice.

“So, have you lived here your whole life?” Logan asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“Yeah,” Y/N said with a small smile. “Not much changes around here, but I guess you’ll find that out soon enough.”

Logan chuckled, “Good to know. So, what do people even do for fun?”

Y/N opened her mouth to answer, but something in the air shifted- like the atmosphere had thickened, weighed down by a force she couldn’t ignore. She knew before even turning her head.

Rafe.

Her eyes flickered across the room, and there he was- leaning against the wall, arms crossed, staring at her. His expression was unreadable, but his jaw was tight, his fingers flexing at his sides.

He was pissed.

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably, and she quickly looked away, refocusing on Logan. “Uh, well, the beach is a big deal here,” she said, trying to push past the way her pulse had suddenly started to race.

“Boating, parties, stuff like that.”

But even as she spoke, she felt Rafe’s eyes burning into her. She glanced back and he was still staring, but now his expression had darkened- his jaw clenched so tight she could see the muscle twitch. She knew that look. Her breath hitched as he suddenly turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

Shit.

She excused herself quickly, barely even hearing Logan’s response as she pushed through the crowd, her heart hammering. She knew better than to let him leave like that.

She called out to him, but he was already halfway to his car. Her heart started to pound, a cold knot of dread forming in her stomach.

“Rafe!”

She called, jogging after him. He didn’t look back. By the time she reached the car, he was slamming the door shut with a force that echoed through the quiet street. Without thinking, Y/N grabbed the handle and yanked the door open just as he was starting the engine. She could hear the engine rev, and the headlights cut into the darkness as his hands gripped the wheel. “Rafe, please wait,” she said, her voice shaky,

“I- I was just being polite.”

“Get in the fucking car.”

He didn’t even look at her, his voice flat and laced with venom. Her heart pounded harder, her hands trembling as she slid into the seat, buckling her seatbelt as quickly as she could. She could feel his anger radiating off of him, thick and suffocating. He wasn’t going to let this go easily. As he slammed his foot on the gas, the car jolted forward, tires screeching against the pavement. Y/N’s grip tightened on the handle of the door, the fear mounting inside her. The street passed in a blur as they drove down the road, and Y/n couldn't stop herself from gazing over at the speedometer,

“Rafe… slow down,”

She said, her voice shaky but firm. She could hear his heavy breathing beside her, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel. “You think that shit was funny?” His voice was low, seething.

“You think you're funny, huh? Talking to him like that?”

Her stomach twisted as she realized what was happening- he was high. She could see the haze in his eyes, the way his pupils were dilated. The anger was consuming him, and she was at the center of it. “Rafe, please,” she said softly, trying to calm him down.

“I was just talking to him. I didn’t do anything wrong, you know I’d never-”

“-no,” he interrupted, his voice cold and sharp.

“You were being a cheating fucking whore.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, the sting of his words cutting deep, but she wasn’t surprised anymore. He’d said things like this before. He always did when he was angry or high. Still, hearing it from him again hurt like hell. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away.

“I wasn’t—”

“The way you smiled at him? The way you touched his arm?”

“I didn’t touch him, Rafe”

She responded, voice rising. She bit the inside of her lip, she’d never touched the boy, she knew she didn’t. She cautiously looked at him, he looked enraged, that almost psychotic look in his eye, she knew exactly why he was imagining her actions, exactly why his pupils were so blown.

“Bullshit,” he growled.

“I saw it.”

His laughter cut through the car like a blade, dark and humorless.

“I do everything for you, and this is what I get?”

His voice was shaking now, not with sadness, but rage. His knee bounced restlessly, fingers drumming against the wheel in a twitchy, coked-up rhythm. He was spiraling, completely lost in his own head.

“You’re so fucking ungrateful, Y/N. Do you even realize what I do for you? Huh? DO YOU!?”

Her throat was tight, hands trembling in her lap.

“I keep you safe, I give you everything I have.”

He let out another sharp laugh, shaking his head.

“And you just—what? Smile at some random guy like I don’t fucking exist?”

He sniffed sharply, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. His pupils were still blown wide, making his normally piercing blue eyes look dark and dangerous. He was wired, running too hot, unable to slow down.

“You like the attention, huh? That’s it, makes you feel good? You like making me look like a fucking idiot?”

Y/N opened her mouth, but he didn’t give her a chance to speak and he angrily spat out.

“Because that’s what you did, Y/N. You made me look fucking stupid.”

His voice was shaking now, but not from hurt. From rage. From pure, untamed fury.

The speedometer climbed and the road outside the window blurred. The car shot forward, and her heart slammed in her chest. She could see a deer in the distance, its eyes glowing in the headlights.

Her stomach dropped.

“Rafe, slow down, you're gonna hit it,” she pleaded, voice rising in panic.

“Yeah? So what?”

He didn’t slow down. She could feel the terror creeping into her chest as she began to beg.

“Stop, Rafe, please- what are you doing?”

But instead of slowing down, he pushed the pedal harder. The car sped towards the deer, and Y/N’s heart raced, her breath catching in her throat.

“Stop! Please—”

At the last second, she reached out and grabbed the wheel, swerving the car to avoid the deer. The tires screeched in protest, the car veering off course. She could feel the panic and adrenaline coursing through her veins as Rafe’s hand jerked the wheel back into control; the range rover came back onto the road, but the air was thick with fear. She was crying now, her hands trembling, and her voice was barely a whisper.

“Please, Rafe. . . you're scaring me.”

He didn’t answer at first, the tension in the car suffocating, until he suddenly slammed on the brakes. The car jerked to a sudden stop, throwing Y/N forward so hard that her seatbelt snapped tight across her chest, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her hands flew to the dashboard, bracing herself against the impact. Her ears were ringing. Her heart was racing. The silence that followed was suffocating. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she turned, terrified, to look at Rafe.

He sat completely still, hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were bone white. His chest heaved, his nostrils flaring with every sharp inhale and his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might shatter. She could feel the rage rolling off him in waves. She whispered, voice barely there.

“You’re scaring me.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose.

And then- he moved the action so sudden it made her breath hitch. His hand shot out so fast she didn’t have time to react. Fingers wrapped around her jaw, hard. Y/N gasped, her head snapping toward him as he forced her to look at him. His grip was bruising, his fingers digging into her skin.

“Don’t ever- ever -fucking do that again, d’you understand me?”

He growled, his breath heavy and uneven. Her heart thudded in her chest, fear and adrenaline mixing with the sting of his touch. She couldn’t stop herself from trembling, the tears streaming down her face now. She nodded frantically, the words caught in her throat.

“I said” he repeated, his voice cold and booming in the silence of the car

“D’YOU FUCKING HEAR ME!?”

“Yes- yes! I hear you”

Y/N barely managed a nod, the words caught in her throat as she whimpered out. He let go of her face with a sharp shove, his anger still simmering beneath the surface, her head snapped back against the seat, leaving her gasping for air. Her hands trembled in her lap, fingers digging into the soft fabric of her dress as she tried to steady her breathing.

And then—

BANG

His fist slammed against the steering wheel.

Y/N flinched.The sound echoed through the car, raw and violent.

“You fucking embarrass me like that again, I swear to God—”

He cut himself off, breathing heavily, Y/N sat frozen, her heart hammering, her body still trembling. He exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair before a small sound rang out in the thick air of the car.

The click of his seatbelt.

He leaned over towards her causing her to stiffen and soon the slow creak of the glove compartment opening was heard. A rush of nausea hit Y/N’s stomach, her body locking up as the air turned suffocatingly thick around her. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She didn’t want to look- she knew she shouldn’t look but she did and that was when she saw it.

The gleam of cold metal in the dim light.

Her breath hitched so sharply it felt like a blade to her lungs. A noise- small, fragile- escaped the back of her throat, but it barely filled the silence. The fear was instant.

Crippling.

Her fingers dug into the seat, her nails pressing so hard into the leather she thought they might tear through. She knew she should move, open the door of the car and just get out, but her throat had closed up, her body locked in place by something deeper than terror- helplessness.

Rafe didn’t even look at her at first.

He sat there, fingers running over the handle of the gun like it was something precious, something sacred. The weight of it in his palm seemed to calm him, his chest rising and falling in an almost steady rhythm. His expression was unreadable and then- he turned his head, eyes met hers with that cold, calculated look. The kind that made her stomach drop, the kind that told her he wasn’t just trying to scare her. The gun was heavy in his grip, the black steel gleaming under the glow of the dashboard lights. It looked too big, too real, like something that shouldn’t belong in a moment like this.

Then- he clicked the safety off.

The sound sent a jolt through her body and a small, broken sob tore from her throat, her entire frame shaking as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. But Rafe? He barely blinked, his movements were slow.

Deliberate.

She hoped that he was just trying to intimidate her, scare her so she would shut up, but when he raised the gun her prayers stopped. Her stomach plummeted and a desperate, breathless noise pushed from her lips, her body tensing so hard it hurt, but she still couldn’t move.

The barrel of the gun was cold when it pressed against her forehead.

Her breath stopped. The pressure was light, almost teasing, but it was enough to make her entire world stop spinning.

Rafe studied her.

Watched the way her body locked up, how her chest barely rose, how her lips parted just slightly- like she was afraid even breathing too hard would set him off, it was as though he enjoyed it. Some sick and twisted part of him liked having control over her, having her so powerless.

His thumb brushed lazily over the trigger.

“I do everything for you”

He murmured, voice low. Soft. Almost gentle. It was like he wasn’t holding a loaded gun against her forehead, like he wasn’t watching her fall apart right in front of him.

“And this is what I get?”

Her bottom lip trembled, but she didn’t dare move, didn’t dare blink, she was so terrified.Tears slipped down her cheeks, her vision blurring, her breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. She wanted to beg him, to scream in his face, to move and run.

But she couldn’t.

Rafe tilted his head, still watching her, eyes following the tears that slid steadily down her cheeks, some dripping off of her chin, others rolling down her neck. Studying her, he pressed the cold metal against her skin slightly harder.

“Tell me who owns you.”

Her stomach twisted violently as he opened his mouth. The words sent a deep, horrible kind of dread crawling down her spine, settling in her bones like lead. She tried to breathe past it, but her lungs weren’t working. Her hands clawed at the seat, desperate for something- anything- to ground her, but there was nothing. Rafe’s thumb brushed over the trigger again and her breath hitched sharply.

“Say it”

He ordered, yet his voice was ironically calm. Cold. Y/N’s lip quivered, but her mouth wouldn’t move. Her throat was so tight she could barely choke out the words.

“You do”

She finally whispered her voice shaking. Rafe’s lips twitched. A slow, satisfied smirk curled at the corners as her wide pleasing eyes looked at him.

“That’s right.”

And just like that—

The gun disappeared.

Like it was never there in the first place.

is it bad I lowkey have a thing for psycho season 2 Rafe...

part 2

[prlssprfctn]

Batfamily get tired of Bruce and Jason's insanity and as true hypocrites buy them monthly sessions to the therapist that they cannot ignore, like, at all. That ensues some troubles.

Jason: *sprawled on the couch in the Batcave* Bruce: *brooding around* Jason: What's up with you? Bruce: I am dreading over the upcoming therapy session. Jason: Oh, lmao, they forced you, too? Bruce, irritated: That's a ridiculous waste of time. I don't even need it. Jason: Yeah, same. Wanna tip, though? Gaslight the shit out of your therapist. Bruce: ...What? Jason: Lie to them. Forge fake stories. If they are a good therapist, they will catch you. But you know what? Mine believes me. Can't wait to find out just how far it can go. Bruce: That's wrong on so many levels. Bruce: ...I'll try.

Of all things that could mend Bruce and Jason's relationship, this makes a trick. They start discussing their therapy sessions all the time. But not because they receive some kind of useful feedback, but because they keep giggling about gaslighting their therapists.

Bruce unleashes his full Brucie Wayne potential on that poor therapist. Like, yeah, he will discuss his traumas... No, no, not his parents' death! He, of course, meant that one incident with Oliver Queen, when they were seventeen and drunk, and-

Bruce: I think I genuinely didn't have so much fun since forever. Therapists truly can help. Jason: I have an amazing idea how to make it even more hilarious. This one is a little insensitive, but hey. Whatever makes it funnier. Bruce, squinting: ...Jason. Jason: Are you in or not? Bruce: ...

*a few hours later, in the living room of the Manor, with all family members gathered*

Bruce: Jason and I asked you to come since we have news for you. As you know, we had been visiting therapists for a while, and it was an immense help to our mental health. As it was expected, in the middle of the sessions we came to the topic of our relationship. Jason: Yeah, uh. We kinda decided to get a separate therapist for this. Like, family one. For us to go together. And fix things. Bruce: Yeah. We just wanted to update you on this. All support would be appreciated. Dick, wiping his tears away: Guys. Guys, I am so proud of you. Jason and Bruce: *high-fiving each other behind their backs*

Do they actually go to the family therapist? Yeah! Do they still continue creating fake ass stories to test their doctor? Yeah! Do they actually by the accident start oversharing their own emotions during acting by an established scenario and actually get a whole mental breakdown in front of terrified therapist? Yeah...

Therapist: So, uh... *checking scribbled notes of a messy drama that Bruce and Jason rehearsed a night before* ...H-how about we think about where it brings us now? Mister Wayne, do you feel guilt about what happened? Bruce, answering automatically, out of prepared lines: Of course, I feel guilt. I always do. Therapist: Okay, why won't you try to apologise before your son? Bruce, stammering: I-I don't know, I am a prideful person Jason, also abandoning their script: Oh, wow, and I am not?! Therapist: O-okay. Uh, mister- Jason: Like, not saying, but it would be nice to see you discarding some of your pride, when all I do is to stomp on my own to please you! Therapist: Okay, okay, how about... Jesus Chirst, mister Wayne, mister Todd-Wayne, are you crying? Jason and Bruce, sniffling: NO!

[cherrygirlfriend]

─── YOU'VE GOT MAIL .ᐟ

...or "holy shit. you're him. you're MalachiConstant."

★ pairing.ᐟ frat!rafe x nerd!reader

★ summary.ᐟ rafe cameron is the golden boy of kildare university; certified frat boy, captain of the football team, relentless party animal with lines of girls to sleep with.

reader couldn't be more different; while she has the best grades in the whole school, she suffers from social anxiety disorder, and her social life is limited to her three best friends and the cat she secretly snuck into her dorm room.

both of them decide to join the anonymous chatroom for their campus, and start talking to one another, a friendship starting to form between the two; but neither of them know how different the other is.

★ author's note.ᐟ i made a community for you’ve got mail! join it and share your thoughts on the chapters <3 i made this chapter two chapters long because i promised i’d post two chapters this week but couldn’t so hope this makes up for it!! <3

YOU'VE GOT MAIL!

you'd been standing at the fountain for about ten minutes when the clock struck eleven, tapping your foot against the marble underneath your foot, looking around. for some reason, you couldn't help but get there early, to possibly catch a glimpse of your online penpal off guard.

but your eyes widened and your brows furrowed so harshly it hurt when you saw who was approaching you; surely it was an accident? surely he wasn't MalachiConstant.

"dodge?"

"hi."

"you're MalachiConstant?"

little did you know, the real MalachiConstant had frozen up in his spot only a few meters away, staring at the interaction between you and dodge.

"i think you've gotten me mistaken with someone else." dodge chuckled softly, "your scarf's coming undone." the boy mumbled, getting closer to you as he wrapped the soft red knitted scarf tighter around your neck, a small smile on his lips, "are you waiting for someone...?"

"no, no." you mumbled, clearing your throat, "i was just… i, uh, needed fresh air." you feigned a smile, looking around awkwardly, trying to see if there was anyone nearby. "well, i was heading towards the cafe. you wanna join me?" you looked around again, only to find that there was no one there.

"yeah, sure." you mumbled; you'd apologize to MalachiConstant once you got back to your dorm room, starting to walk towards the campus cafe; but as you were walking, you finally noticed something.

in the distance, a boy was walking away from your direction.

he was wearing a red shirt.

YOU: i'm sorry i didn't show up.

you stared down at your phone screen, the tip of your thumb caught between your teeth as angel snored away next to you, cuddled up to you.

MalachiConstant: it's cool

YOU: is everything okay between us?

MalachiConstant: yeah MalachiConstant: why didn't u show up tho?

you let out a small sigh, glancing between your phone screen and angel, "what do i tell him?" you mumbled, bringing your hand to stroke her soft, snow white fur. on one hand, you just happened to run into a friend. on the other hand, telling a guy that you ditched him for another guy could give him the wrong idea. You let out an irritated groan, turning back to your phone and mumbling softly, "whatever..."

YOU: i just got cold feet... YOU: i'm really sorry.

rafe looked down at his phone, letting out a scoff and shaking his head. cold feet? sure, like he hadn't seen you leaving with one of his friends. he couldn't believe it, that he'd actually, even for a moment thought that you might have feelings for him, meanwhile you were probably hooking up with dodge of all guys. if you weren't, why would you lie to him?

MalachiConstant: yeah it's whatever

YOU: it's whatever? YOU: is everything really okay between us?

MalachiConstant: yup

YOU: alright... goodnight, vonnegut boy.

MalachiConstant: night

rafe let out a humorless cough of a laugh, before switching from KildareUChats to regular texting.

RAFE: yo RAFE: lets do sumn huge tmrw

TOPPER: damn bro you not whipped anymore? TOPPER: king rafe is back TOPPER: what were u thinking

RAFE: stfu id never get whipped by some chick RAFE: im not a fucking loser simp like u RAFE: lets just fuck shit up idiot

YOU: hii, how's it going? sent 8:31am YOU: you have any plans today? sent 10:57 YOU: i'm going to a cafe with my friend :) sent 11:13 YOU: you here? sent 01:31pm

"hello, earth calling." vivian waved her hand in front of your eyes, brows raised. "what's up with you? you've been staring at your phone the entire time we've been here. is it mystery frat boy? MalachiAlways or whatever?" you pursed your lips, finally putting your phone down and letting out a sigh. you'd sent MalachiConstant messages all morning, but all of them had gone ignored, even though usually he'd message you good morning every morning.

"yeah, it's him. MalachiConstant" you sniffled, biting the inside of your cheek, "lord, what is he doing now? ignoring you again like the little bitch boy he is?" "viv!" you groaned, making the girl roll her eyes, "i don't know. i think so..." "you need to drop this guy, babes. he seems like a complete manwhore." "he's not. he has a reason to ignore me..." "yeah, and what reason would that be?"

you pursed your lips, "we were gonna meet yesterday..." you mumbled, vivian's eyes widening and a gasp leaving her lips, the girl slamming her palm against the wooden table separating you two, "what?! you met mystery frat boy and you didn't tell me?!" "i said we were going to meet yesterday. not that we met..."

"what?!" she slammed her fist against the table, "did he blow you off? was he a no-show? because if he was, i swear to god, i will find him no matter what and i am going to strangle him and cut his little-"

"i was the no-show."

"what?"

"well... i went to our meeting place, and i saw dodge. and i thought it was him, but he wasn't. but there wasn't anyone else around, so when dodge asked me to go to a cafe with him, i accepted, because i couldn't come up with a reason why i couldn't... but as we were leaving, i saw a guy wearing a red shirt walking away."

"a red shirt?"

"i told him to wear something red." you took in a deep breath, "and i think he might've seen me with dodge..." "it isn't that big of a deal! you have guy friends, so what? if you just explained it to him, i'm sure he understood."

you avoided vivian's gaze, the girl narrowing her eyes in suspicion, "you didn't." she cocked her head to the side, "don't tell me you lied-"

"i lied to him." you interrupted, a tight smile on your lips, "when he asked why i didn’t show, i told him that i got cold feet..."

"why would you do that?" vivian sighed, her brows furrowed in slight concern as she reached her hand out to place it over yours, "i'm worried about you."

"i thought... i thought that if i told him i ditched him for another guy he'd get the wrong idea. that something's going on between me and dodge."

"look, i know you're not a liar. i don't want you to become someone you're not for some guy."

"he's not just some guy, viv-" "you don't even know what he looks like!" "he gets me!" you let out a groan in exasperation, "do you know how rare that is for me? i don't get along with every guy i come across and go into bed with them when i don't even like them!"

your eyes widened at the words that you'd let out vivian letting out a shocked laugh, "wow." the pink-haired girl shook her head in exasperation, starting to get up from her seat, "viv, i'm sorry, i didn't mean-" "you know, i've done everything i could to help you with people. i've gone out of my way to look after you, to introduce you to people, and you want to shit on me for getting along with guys?" your best friend snorted, your bottom lip caught between your teeth, "it's not my fault that you can't function around people without popping pills. you're not the only person in the world who has anxiety. put on some big girl pants, find ways to cope with the fact that you're not the only person on earth, or stop whining so much."

vivian threw a ten-dollar bill onto the table, walking right past you, the bell above the entrance ringing as she slammed the door shut behind her, and you were left there hating yourself, once again wondering what the hell was wrong with you.

music was blaring, the fraternity filled with people, most of who rafe didn't even know, his head buzzing with all the alcohol he'd been drinking for the past few hours. his arm was strewn around some random girl whose name he couldn't care to remember, who kept babbling at him and the group of people surrounding them, but everything around him was just... background noise. no matter how many shots rafe threw back or how many girls clung to him, he couldn't get his mind off of her.

the stupid smile on your face as you'd texted, the way you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you bit down on your lower lip, the soft sound of your laughter, the way your eyes glimmered as you looked up at the sky...

"gonna get some air." mumbled to no one in particular, finishing his drink in one, ignoring the small whine the girl he'd been with let out as he made his way upstairs, slamming the door shut as he got into his room and made his way to the balcony.

"fuck!" rafe shouted, slamming his fist against the stone railing over and over, the booze numbing his senses so much he couldn't even feel it even when his hand started bleeding, drops of red staining the stone he'd beating his hand against, a humorless chuckle leaving his lips.

"what'd that railing ever do to your dramatic emo ass?"

rafe whipped his head around to see a pink-haired girl standing in the doorway with her head cocked to the side and brows raised as she took a chug from a bottle of vodka, the girl wearing a dress that just about reached her thighs, the color matching her hair. topper's perpetual situationship and the best friend of the girl he couldn't stop thinking about.

"the fuck you want?"

"don't worry, i'm not here to interrupt your brooding time." the girl rolled her eyes, stepping closer to the railing, rafe's eyes narrowing, "just needed air." "what, topper or some other guy obsessed with you not giving you attention?"

"god, you sound just like someone i know." the girl chuckled, starting to draw patterns on the railing, taking a chug of vodka before holding it out to rafe, the boy taking it without saying a word, taking a large swig before giving it back to the girl, "i fucking hate fighting with someone i love."

"i get the feeling." rafe shook his head slightly, "what'd you have a fight about?"

"one of my friends pretty much told me that i'm a slut." vivian chuckled humorlessly, "well if the shoe fits." rafe mumbled, the girl punching him on his arm. "i know i'm promiscuous. i know i'm a party girl and i fuck a lot of people. but the thing is, it feels like a confirmation that the person you care about the most in the world agrees with the worst thoughts you've ever had of yourself." vivian took another large swig from the glass bottle before passing it onto rafe, in turn taking his own swig, "i said some shitty things too and i regret it. i just fucking hate all of this. it tears me apart."

"well, if it makes you feel any better," rafe took a large swig of vodka again before passing it on to vivian and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, "i'm also a huge slut."

"tell me something i don't know." vivian snorted, taking another drink.

"well, something you don't know is that i actually thought i found someone who got me." rafe shook his head with a quiet laugh and looked up at the sky, "we actually talked to each other for the first time right here. but it turns out she probably doesn't give a shit about me."

"what do you mean?" vivian looked up at him with furrowed brows.

"i was gonna go see her, but when i went to our meeting place, she was there with another guy, and left with him. then when i asked her about it, she lied. so i'm pretty sure he's hooking up with him and i'm the biggest fucking idiot on planet earth."

the gears in vivian's head turned, until the small smile on her lips slowly vanished when she finally realized why the story was so familiar. "holy shit." she mumbled, eyes as wide as saucers, "you're him."

"what?"

"you're MalachiConstant."

TAGLIST: @yktayy9669 @tinythebunni @dywho @melalsworld @akobx @samwinchesterisawhore @st8rkey @jjasmiineee @ltristessedureratoujours @a-lovers-card @uselessnewt @lunaleah @letstryagaintomorrow @cinnamqnnlatte @papapoy @kay133sposts @wtfisastiles @butterfly1c @emmiesummers @melodyyybubbles @toomanywhitelies @littl3loveydovey @scne-vampire @alwaysmaybank @mysticbby2009 @luna443 @drewstarkeyswife-7 @flowerluvr @kisselxoll - cont. in com

LEAVE YOUR OPINIONS HERE!!

[littleapplle]

take it off!!

you love your boyfriend's dog tag, but it's really starting to get on your nerves. - 851 w. not proofread... again.

cw.: NSFW. the stupidest mention of sex, it's like. well, yeah, sex but it's fucking stupid. missionary, p in v. caleb is fucking stupid and I hate him (affectionate.)

note: I wrote this in 50 minutes and didn't use a single bit of my brain. this came to me in a dream (tiktok), and I had to write something down so I wouldn't forget. trust me when i tell u this is pretty bad.

You love Caleb's dog tag. An innocent gift of yours with the cutest apple pendant that you’d never imagine would make him 100% more attractive.

You notice he nibbles on the cold metal when he’s in deep thought, reading boring reports on the couch. Or when you both fight, his hands fidget with the little apple, staring at it like a kicked puppy lost in a storm. He kisses it, too. When he has to leave for work, he refuses to take it off. Before putting his uniform on and leaving his apartment, his lips place a loving kiss to the cold tag before securing it hidden in his expensive white button down.

It’s sweet, you love how he cherishes the gift but it’s starting to piss you off in bed.

Caleb refuses to take the damn collar off.

Don’t get me wrong, most of the time, Caleb has you on doggy style, a personal favorite, so you don’t even notice at first.

But during nights where the both of you are tired from work, he insists in taking care of you and fucking into you in missionary. That’s how it started.

Your eyes flutter shut at the yummy feeling of his thick cock dragging on your velvety walls. Caleb leans down to face you, both arms supporting his weight on top of you while his hips move in messy, slow thrusts to test the waters and get comfortable, finding a pace enjoyable to both of you.

A quick peck is pressed to your forehead, a silent way of saying ‘i love you.’ before he fully gives in on the feeling of your drooling cunt pulsing around him.

“S-shit- y’er tight, pips” He groans — Tired Caleb is always so hot. His voice is raspy, lower, and exhausted from his busy workday. The melodic sound makes your head spin.

You don’t pay attention to his words. You hum in agreement, but that’s it. The feeling of his fat tip kissing your cervix is more important right now anyway.

Caleb pants on top of you, his eyes dazed with sleep and arousal, hair sticky on his forehead thanks to the hot summer night air. Yeah, it feels really nice. You’re moaning. He’s moaning. Uh huh. Very nice.

Until it hits you for the first time.

Something thin but hard hits the bridge of your nose and you don’t even realize at first, whining with your eyes shut under him, more focused in no obnoxiously loud than whatever that was.

A minute later, it hits your chin when you throw your head back in a particular angle. Ouch, but fine.

The third time, it actually pisses you off. Another slap on your nose, and then you realize it’s the damn dog tag. You love it, you know you do, the tag is cute, he looks hot with a collar that basically branded him and shows everyone he is, in fact, taken but for fuck’s sake, can’t he take it off to sleep at least?

“C-caleb-” You start.

“Hah- Shhh, i know, baby, you feel so good, mhm?” He moans unaware of the situation before him. You try again.

“Caleb no-” You’re shut down by an open-mouthed kiss. You kiss him back, of course, but for god’s sake, can he pay attention?!

After he pulls away from the kiss, a thin web of saliva connects both your lips for a last moment before breaking, you open your eyes, and everything happens so quickly-

“Caleb- Argh-! My eye, Caleb!” You cry out in pain, shivering under him and covering your face with your sweaty hands. That finally snaps him out of thought, stupid man he was, you thought in momentary anger. Caleb pulls out in a second, sitting beside you with the stare of a kicked mutt and pulls you to his arms.

“Pips-? Is everything okay? Are you hurt, baby? Did I hurt you?-” He shoots you with questions, his clammy hands trying to find any sore spots in your skin.

“For fuck's sake Caleb! Take the damn collar off!” You shout, not too loud, but it's clear that you're upset.

Oh. Ohhhhhhh. Wow. Shit.

That's when he realizes what happened. If you had your eyes open, you'd definitely see the pair of imaginary, fluffy, doggy ears on top of his head getting floppy with sadness. “Pipsqueak, ‘m sorry- does it hurt? Lemme kiss it better f'you.” He insists, peppering the hand that covered your eye with kisses.

"I'm so sorry, baby, didn't hear you. Oh- yes, you're right, I'm an ass- yes, I know, baby, I'm sorry. Forgive me, pipsqueak." He purrs nuzzling on your cheek in affection, in attempt to butter you up.

In the end, he got so alert with your cry that he didn't notice his cock softening as soon as you complained in pain. You, on the other hand, pissed and still horny, was left with a 6’2 whiny man spilling his heart out with apologies in your arms. Stupid dog, your brain remarks and you chuckle to yourself.

He learned his lesson, though! No collar in the bedroom.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

[allllium]

Comfort

~ Some Sappy Jason Todd x Reader

~ Playing with Jason's Hair

~ Fluff, a little overthinking, WC: 981

- You play with Jason's Hair -

You are usually very good at understanding things about your boyfriend, Jason. It took you no time at all to find about his nightly activities and everything about his family. But on the other hand, you can't seem to understand him at all.

You've tried not to ask him about certain things because based on hints from his family, he's had some bad shit happen in his life.

However, the more questions you don't ask, the more that seem to pop up.

You haven't asked him why sometimes he flinches away when you touch him but other times he leans in.

You haven't asked him why his hands make fists when you're trying to sleep at night.

You haven't asked him about the scar along his chest or his aversion to certain foods.

All because you're too scared to make him uncomfortable, or maybe because you don't know if you could stomach it.

You're laying bed and waiting for him to come out of the bathroom. Somehow, you take less time getting ready for bed than he does. You suspect it's because he needs a couple minutes to process everything that happened during the day.

As usual you have a million thoughts running through you're head all at the same time. 99% of them are about him.

When he finally comes into your shared bedroom and gets comfortable in bed, you're debating whether or not to talk to him about some of the things you can't get out of your mind.

You decide against it. The last thing you want to do is make him uncomfortable or bring up any bad memories that might affect his ability to sleep through the night.

He can obviously sense your unease, you don't hide it very well.

"What's wrong?" His raspy voice cuts through your thoughts.

"Nothing, sweetheart." You try to play it off.

"Uh huh." He says blankly.

"I'm just thinking about things, is that a crime?"

"Depends on what they are." He pulls you closer to him and wraps his arms around you.

"Nothing bad."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"If someone's bothering you, you should tell me."

"Why is that?"

"Well I have an ability of getting rid of people."

"Oh my God Jason you can't joke about that." You look at him in amused shock.

"Who says it's a joke?" He asks, face completely serious.

"Okay no killing people on my behalf." You chuckle and he copies. "I'm just trying to figure you out more."

"Why?"

"Cuz I want to know more about you?"

"Like what"

"Right now I want to know what you want." You pull away from him in order to sit up a little bit.

"I don't want anything at the moment."

"Yes you do. If you didn't want anything your fists wouldn't be clenched and your eyes wouldn't have that look. Like you want to say something but can't."

"You really want to know?" He asks.

"Yeah I really do." You immediately reply.

"A couple months ago while we were watching a movie on the couch, you played with my hair and it was very comforting. And the best sleep I've ever had."

"That's it? I've been driving myself crazy trying to think of explanations and you're telling me you just want me to play with your hair." You question him in disbelief. It's been months of overthinking thoughts and random mind rampages for something you haven't even noticed you were doing.

"I didn't know how to say it." He shrugs, not looking into your eyes. "It sounds childish."

"No it doesn't. Everyone has different ideas of perfect comfort and I happen to agree with yours. Jason, if you want something from me all you have to do is ask."

You lean over to give him a quick, sweet kiss.

"I'm not used to that."

"Well you better get started."

"Fine, would you play with hair so I can go to sleep, Angel?"

"Only because you asked so nicely."

It takes a second for you both to get rearranged so it's comfortable. You're now laying on your back with Jason half on his side, half on top of you with his head on your chest.

It's almost amusing how quickly he falls asleep but above all else you feel a sense of pride at the fact that you're the one giving him this feeling.

He said this was comforting. He said this was the best sleep he's ever had.

And you're the reason he's having these things.

You stay up longer than you probably should have. This time the thoughts running through your head aren't worrying or overwhelming.

They make you happy. Happy enough to fall into a very sound sleep.

You wake up to coffee on your nightstand and a missing Jason.

"Jason." You call out and he quickly comes running.

When he walks in the room, you immediately begin questioning him.

"What is this?" You ask with an ounce of suspicion. You're worried it's a repayment of some sort.

"It's coffee. A hot caffeinated drink."

"Why?"

"Because you like it and it makes you irritable for far less time in the morning."

"Jason you don't have to do things for me just because I did something for you."

"Yes I do. Because words won't let me explain how grateful I am for you."

"Since when are you so sappy?"

He sits on the bed next to you.

"Don't be mean to me right now, I'll take it away."

"Fine. Continue your speech."

"I know it's a small thing for you but I haven't felt comfort like you give me in a very long time. Maybe even ever. And I need you to know that."

"I can't tell you how happy I am to give that to you."

The next thing you know, you both have giant grins on your faces and you're both happier than ever before.

[on-the-clear-blue]

So yall know that the League of Assassin's are like, an eco terrorist thing right? Well I just had this idea.

Sam, coming into Danny's room and just face planting on his bed: Ugh...

Danny, who was sleeping, awoken as his friend who had gone missing 6 moths ago flopped onto of him: OH SWEET-NOCTURN IF THIS ISNT REAL I AM GONING TO SOUP YOY SO HARD...

Sam, reaching up and slapping her hand on his mouth:Shhh, less screaming, more sleeping, escaping murder cults takes more energy than I thought.

Sam produces to pass out and sleep for three days straight.

---

Tucker, lookingnup from his PDA: so...you joined what you thought was a peaceful protest and some how ended up in a eco terrorist death cult of assassins? I mean...shit now I have to do something interesting...

Danny, choking on his drink: Nuh uh, your the normal one Tuck, I died and now have a magical girl transformation and Sam got kidnapped by ninjas and somehow even more bad ass, you...you can still get out of this and just be a normal person.

Sam, nodding sadly: Yeah...don't conform to our standards Tucker, be your true, weak little boney self.

Tucker, sniffing:I am so going to not do that.

---

Just the idea that Sam not only got League training but also got out is hilarious to me, like yeah, that is the kinda bs that would happen.

Alsoni can just see her dropping random lore shit.

Sam, bored as the boys study: Did you know thst the Demon Head dunks himself in corrupted ecto? Yeah it's gnarly man, didn't taste good.

Danny, going to speak before pausing and thinking, before sighing:Yeah I would have licked it too.

Tucker, frowning as he finishes his "Evil invention-enator": You both have so many issues.

---

Sam, trying to teach Danny the basic league hand to hand:Come on dude! It's not that hard!

Danny, falling flat on his ass after not even touching Sam: Ow ow ow...fuck yeah it kinda is!

Sam, rolling her eyes: If not only the Demon Heads six year old grandson can learn but also Ellie? You can too.

Danny, mutterinf under his breath before pausing completely:ELLIE? What was she doing with a murder cult? I thought she learnt her lesson after the last one!

Sam, shrugging before putting kicking at Danny on the floor: I don't know she was following a guy around who was catatonic, said something about being angry at him for not answering her pen pal messages or whatever, I was more busy training to really care...like you should be doing!

---

Years later Sam is joining Danny and Tucker in Gotham, Tucker because he was scouted by both WE and Lexcorp, he wanted to choose the evil company because poorer work place regulations and the likely hood of him getting a powerbost was much higher, but was bullied by his friends/partners into choosing WE.

Sam, coming to the R&D labs late one night bringing Tucker dinner so he doesn't starve working a late shift, blinking as she sees a short boy sneaking out of the lab: Biraeam? (Sprout in Arabic) what are you doing here.

Damian, blinking right back, experimental tech Bruce has yet to clear for the field clutched under one arm and the blueprints for a new type of explosive batarang in the other: Manson...I-I could ask you the same.

Sam, raising an eyebrow and staring down Damian: bringing dinner to my husband...who works here...and I can only think that you do not. So I ask that you put those things you have down and tell your bastard of a grandfather not to step back in this place.

Damian, eyes squinting, he hadn't been around his grandfather for ages at this point but still felt offended at her tone: I don't think I will.

---

An epic fight produces where they both try not and spill/destroy the things that they are carrying until either Tucker or Tim find them and explain everything.

The everlasting Trio gets invited over for dinner (mostly because Bruce is a paranoid bastard and dislikes thst one of his employees is dateing/ is partners with an ex-LoA member) and it's a bit of just pointing at each other and shit

Sam, slamming her hands down on the table as she stands: Kindly Mr Wanye, Shut the fuck up, I know your batman, we all fucking know it so if you are going to try and interrogate us at least do it properly!

Danny, sipping his wine: I mean...I-I didn't know but I um...haven't been paying much attention to the bat dude...Rag man is cooler.

Sam, glaring:And you! Fucking Ragman? You can do so much better.

Danny, offended for his hero: Oi! He does good work!

Bruce, frowning as this night has gotten away from him: He kills people.

Sam, waving over at Bruce: Exactly!

Danny, rolling his eyes: Exactly she says, while having a kill count that's still growing, Exactly she says when she was the one that pushed that oil tycoon off the 50th floor.

Sam wincing,: Maybe not in front of batman babe?

Danny, looking over to Bruce that is looking ready to fight: Shit...imma call Tuck and tell him to start packing...

[amaranthineghost]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🥥 ꒱ TWO WHEEL DRIVE: CROSSWALK COLLISION ( lando norris. )

lando norris x biker!reader

it's race week in miami, but instead of being on four wheels, lando has some two wheel trouble. he feels bad enough to where he turns to twitter to help find the girl he nearly caused a collision with.

authors note: I love bikers so I had to do this (and I know that lando didn't help oscar win his sprint, but she doesn't know that! yet!!!) second and third part will be out in the next few days or so!

2 3

ynusername

liked by yourbsf and 2,947 others

ynusername sunset ride and almost hitting a guy on the crosswalk core!! 🤗🤗🤗

view all 96 comments

yourbsf always so fun to ride with you 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 maybe next time don't almost hit a pedestrian? 😅

user this is the girl lando was looking for?! SHES STUNNING

⤷ ynusername who's lando? 😅 and thanks babes 🫶🏼🫶🏼

⤷ user oh lando? we go way back, he helped rescue my cat from a tree!

⤷ user yeah, he's a real one, he gave cpr to my goldfish after it flopped onto the carpet 🤗🤗🤗

user hello??? SHES SUCH A BADDIE

user thanking lando for helping us discover this gorgeous woman

⤷ user right like maybe she did us a favor by almost running him over...

user the internet becoming his wingman so he doesn't fumble this baddie 😭😭

⤷ user lando norriz and nowins better prove one of those statements wrong soon 🙌

user nahhh because what's wrong with her?? nearly running him over and then posting with a stupid caption about it?? 🙄🙄🙄

⤷ user this girl clearly doesn't understand who he is 🫣

user i need to see lando on a bike, he'd rock that shit

ynusername

liked by landonorris and 6,037 others

ynusername safe to say i won't be falling asleep tonight 🫶🏻

view all 174 comments

user HELLO??? IS THAT LANDO

user OH MY GOD

user bro's doing charity work out here

user LANDO NORIZZ HAS RIZZ?? (he rescued my entire family from a house fire)

user please LET THAT BE LANDO

yourbsf i thought i was your backpack 😕

⤷ ynusername you are bbg i just gave a man a short ride

⤷ yourbsf uh huh 🤨

user lando backpack confirmed

user lando actually rescued me from a desert island on his multi-million dollar yacht!

landonorris pretty sunset

❤️ by author

user im gonna faint, lando commented

user EVERYBODY STAY CALM!!!

oscarpiastri lando actually helped me win a sprint race

user she's clearly just using him

⤷ user stay mad

landonorris

liked by ynusername and 807,438 others

landonorris i think two wheels suits me

view all 6,273 comments

user omg that's the same sunset in ynusername's post??

user lando on a bike? YES PLEASE!!!

user i can barely handle him with four wheels, i don't know about two!!!

user oh my god the second picture is goals

ynusername what a cute cat! 😊

⤷ landonorris not as cute as you

user im not the only one who saw that comment from lando right?

⤷ user no i definitely saw that

user HE HAS RIZZ I FEAR!!

user i know my goat

user backpack lando has too much power

⤷ user lando anywhere near a bike has too much power

ynusername

liked by mclaren and 50,974 others

ynusername sorry i had plans <3

tagged alexandrasaintmleux, iamrebbecad, mclaren, landonorris

view all 1037 comments

user oh my GOD SHE WAS AT THE RACE?

⤷ user i bet lando asked mclaren to invite her 🥺

landonorris thank you for coming to support me on four wheels this time!

⤷ ynusername of course, i had so much fun and you deserve it so much! 🫶🏻

⤷ user smooth lando, smooth

⤷ user on four wheels this time...THIS TIME?!

user stop she was there supporting lando MY HEART

⤷ user i can't take it I LOVE THEM

alexandrasaintmleux so amazing to see you darling 🌺 can't wait to see you again

⤷ ynusername i had such an amazing time, i love you so much 🥹 i'll be waiting impatiently

user stop the other wags interacting with our new (potential) wag

user i need to see her with all the other wags now

⤷ user it's a must

iamrebeccad a pleasure to meet you! you looked absolutely stunning and i look forward to hanging out again!

⤷ ynusername i love you so much, you are drop-dead gorgeous! i would love to hang out again soon 🫶🏻

user the way everyone loves her

⤷ user i mean, can you blame them? she's a hot, incredibly stunning and badass biker who's insanely sweet and kind! who wouldn't love her?!

⤷ user i don't blame them, i fear i would gravitate towards her like a magnet if i ever met her 🥲

mclaren lovely having you at the hospitality! should keep you around if it means our drivers will win 😉

⤷ ynusername thank you for giving me this amazing experience and opportunity! i'd love to do it again sometime 🫶🏻

user MCLAREN'S COMMENT??

⤷ user please let this be a sign

⤷ user mclaren please we need to see them again

user they need to be together

⤷ user as much as i would love to see them together, she lives in miami and he's leaving 😭

⤷ user no shush i'm manifesting

⤷ user okay real i'm right there beside you

landonorris

liked by ynusername and 1,028,202

landonorris nowins and norizz? okay lol

view all 9,263 comments

user HELLO SOFT LAUNCH!!

⤷ user soft launch, but we already know its them

⤷ user let them have their fun!

user bro really said lol

user lando has a win and rizz??? is the world okay???

ynusername so proud of you! you deserve it 🫶🏻

⤷ landonorris i won because you were watching

⤷ user lando said "this one's for you" and SCORED

oscarpiastri congrats on the win mate

⤷ landonorris thanks osc!

user LANDO CALLING OSCAR 'OSC' MAKES IT EVEN BETTER

—

taglist (found here): @poppyflower-22 @sapphiccloud @darleneslane @decafmickey @slut4lrh @kaa12 @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @nhlfs @beskardroids @hiireadstuff @lorenica @delululeclerc @c-losur3 @casperlikej @soamericn @tellybearyyyy @geniusalpaca @namgification

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[flofaiiry]

why him? ; pope cody x reader

warnings: swearing, probably ooc pope & j

wc: ~580

i am so so sorry if this is extremely ooc for pope or j, i'm basing them off of the two episodes i've watched and a bunch of pope fanfic i've read! i'm imagining this taking place right at the beginning of the show (seeing as that's all ive watched!!)

"i dont want this to come across as like..." josh trails off, searching for the words so as to not offend you, "like, rude or whatever?" he squints, trying not to cringe at how awkward he's being. you smile, "spit it out, kid, i won't be offended."

he takes a beat, slowly nodding before he continues. "why are you..." he glances back to andrew standing inside the house, before turning back to you. "why are you with him?" you raise your eyebrows, "him? you mean andrew?" josh nods, "pope, yeah- andrew i guess."

you cant help but laugh. the sound mostly leaving as forced exhales through your nose. "yeah i guess we're not really alike at all, huh." josh shakes his head, "no, you're definitely not." a small smile coming on his face, now knowing you didn't take his question the wrong way.

you take a sec, honestly thinking about the answer. why were you: college educated, career woman, from a good family, with andrew pope cody of all people. you understood how the question could come up.

you shrug.

"why is anyone with anyone," you smirk. trying to sound philosophical, while also dodging the question. josh just stares at you, not quite getting the sarcasm. you sigh. "to be honest, j? i couldn't tell you why." you admit. "i don't know that there's a reason... i just-," another sigh, collecting your thoughts now.

"i know he's not everyone's cup of tea," you start. "i know he's a lot for some people, i know people don't really get him, i know he can be scary at first..." you're practically rambling now. "i know he's got a staring habit," you tease, earning a laugh from josh, "yeah he definitely does. that shit is unsettling as hell," he admits and you laugh, nodding. "it one hundred percent is but- you'll get used to it i swear."

"really though, j, why is anyone with anyone," you circle back to your earlier point, once filled with sarcasm, now an actual question. "why are you with your girlfriend?" you counter, not trying to deflect, just... curious.

he shrugs. "makes me happy." he says matter-of-factly, "i don't know, she just... gets me." you smile. "exactly."

"is andrew a little... weird? absolutely he is. he's probably the strangest, most complicated person i've ever met but... when i'm with him? when it's just us? god, it's..." you try to find the words to describe how being with andrew makes you feel, but decide to use josh's own.

"he gets me," you say simply, "and i get him."

josh nods slowly, "i guess that's all you need, right? someone that gets you." you smile, "yeah it really is."

"what's all you need?" andrew asks as he emerges from the house, walking over to where you and josh sit on a couch by the pool.

"someone that gets you." you repeat, smiling at your boyfriend while he sits down beside you and drapes his arm across your shoulder. "kid was asking for relationship advice. told him all you need is someone that gets you. the rest will just... fall into place." you fill him in. it's not entirely a lie, but it's enough for andrew not to ask anymore questions.

"uh huh," andrew hums, "got my someone right here." he pulls you into him, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. you smile.

for the first time, in this moment, josh thinks he might be understanding why you two are together.

[mattslolita]

꒰ dealer!chris sturniolo ꒱ ⟡ headcanons !

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

꒰ SFW! ꒱

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ have met bambi at some house party — you was a friend of matt's, so he was only somewhat aware of your existence; real sweet and innocent, you don't know the first thing about any drugs. you're in the bathroom trying to escape the noisy atmosphere around yourself, when chris stumbles in on you, a joint hanging lazily at the edge of his lips.

"woah, can you knock next time?!"

"m'sorry didn't know anyone was in here...hey what you doin' in here, anyway? s'your friends at?"

"matt's downstairs talking to some girl, i don't know-"

"matt? you know my brother? wait, aht, i got it, know who you are, now...y'eyes, got like a uh, bambi thing goin' on, y'know? gonna call you bambi, yeah?"

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ never let bambi touch any drugs — he's dead set on making sure you prolong the innocence about you in that aspect.

"not even one hit? c'mon chris-"

"y'know the rules bambi, s'don't even try it. y'not takin' no hits of shit."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ chris keeps pink rolling papers, because bambi likes the color and it reminds him of your pink ribbons you wear in your ponytails.

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ have a specific playlist for when he takes bambi on deals with him — he's got dominic fike and marina playing throughout the car as you hum contently.

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ have a glove compartment full of lollies and other sweets for when you're on deals with him. the sight of bambi's lips carelessly wrapped around a cherry lolly has his mind whirling.

"got any suckers for me today?"

"y'know where to find em', doll."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ spoil bambi all the time — he's buying you clothes, perfumes, and any little thing that reminds him of you.

"this top is cute, but i don't-"

"yeah, put it in the basket."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ not have a label on your relationship — bambi's a little naive and thinks might call you his, but he's not trying to label what you have going on any time soon.

"yo, isn't she your girlfriend? she's always with you."

"girlfriend? s'not my girlfriend, nah...she's my girl though, y'get me? not datin' or no shit, jus' my girl..."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ always have bambi sat on his lap at parties — his hand drums in the innermost flesh of your thigh as he massages you, whilst the other hand diligently distributes to the awaiting palms of people.

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ mad dog the fuck out of anyone who looks at bambi the wrong way — especially when you takes you on deals, he's seething with anger when a customer gets particularly too close to you.

"nice to see you, sweetheart, hopin' i'll see you more-"

"get the fuck away from her man, or i'm knockin' ya ass out where you stand."

"chris, seriously?"

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ send bambi random fit checks + snaps to keep you updated when you aren't with each other. likewise, he makes you send the same back so he can keep track of where you are when he's not with you.

"new shirt, you like it?"

"it looks so good on you, baby!" ( he'd never admit baby drives him wild. )

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ be affectionate to bambi in the most random ways — he's either got his arm slung around her, massaging her shoulder or he's got your legs resting atop of his own, massaging those whilst you scroll on your phone.

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ always be kissing on bambi — forehead, cheek, arms, legs, anywhere he sees fit, really.

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ make bambi wear his clothes when you stay the night at his place — he'll never admit that he loves the idea of having you in them, yet he can't resist the urge to smile when you're giggling sweetly about wearing them.

"i love this jersey! can i keep it baby, please?"

"y'know what, go head' sweetheart. looks good on you..."

꒰ NSFW! ꒱

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ be extremely possessive in bed, especially if you're batting your eyelashes a little too much at a customer.

"he could never fuck you like this doll, could he?"

"f-fuck, no chris..."

"who's fuckin' pussy is this, huh? tell me who you fuckin' belong to."

"y-you, yours, fuck!"

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ love love love to give bambi backshots — you're at a party and he's horny? he's taking you upstairs to the bathroom, bending you over the sink.

"such a good fuckin' girl, takin' my cock like this..."

"look at yourself in the mirror while i fuck you, sweet girl..."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ finger bambi in the passenger seat if you're getting too whiny and can't wait.

"please chris, need to feel you inside me..."

"so fuckin' impatient bambi, jus' can't wait? s'all you get, my fingers...make a mess on em' c'mon angel..."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ definitely have a breeding kink — though, he knows damn well the idea of bambi getting pregnant scares him, so he keeps you with birth control.

"fuck, such a tight pussy...gon' make you a mama, yeah? wan' have my babies don't you, ma?"

"gonna look so pretty carryin' our fuckin' kids, fuck..."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ love high sex with you — he's lazily thrusting up into you while you ride him, head thrown back in pure ecstasy, or

"ridin' me so well ma, look so pretty on top of me like this..."

✦ his lidded eyes watch in anticipation as you're down below on your knees in front of him, looking up at him through your lashes while you suck him off.

"gah, shit mama, makin' me feel so good...keep fuckin' goin' thas my good girl..."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ would love doggy — when you wear those short shorts around him, all he can think about is having your ass up in the air while he's pounding into you like there's no tomorrow.

✦ love missionary, too — it's a more intimate position, but he can't help wanting to see your fucked out expression while he's deep inside you, watching your ever changing expression while you feel him deep inside of you.

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ be a little bad at aftercare at first, but he's slowly getting the hang of it the more time he spends with you — he's cleaning you up and massaging you after you guys finish, and ordering food for the both of you whilst he smokes a joint for himself.

( lilly's corner 💌 )

dealer!chris are my roots guys, i'm gonna start writing for him again. dealer!chris & bambi!reader are my literal babies & i hope you guys enjoy them! 💌

@muwapsturniolo @thenickgirl @guccifrog @fawnchives @cottoncandyswisherz

[miange1]

Dexter, Angel, Brian, and James with someone who has a baby face w/ a deep voice

head cannons, male reader, reader has high moans, brian is a freak, doaks is secretly a freak, being way too curious with someone, they don't realize it's cause they're turned on and have a thing for you, spanish speaking reader on angel, kinda based off me, reader can be shorter or taller i really don't care

— didn't expect that out of you, by any means. you were the person who had called him to the crime scene, and since he had never really met you, he didn't expect to see that you're the one behind the call.

"There any blood?"

He meant to speak to angel, yet you answered right behind him and scaring the hell out of him.

"It's over here." He caught himself looking around, that couldn't have come from you? Could it? You had the face someone would steal a lollipop from.

"Uh..yeah, lead the way." He was so fixated on your face. Big, doe eyes your pretty soft lips parting at every 'ah..' of understandment. His mouth went dry even looking at you, why hadn't he noticed you before?

— When the two of you got together, it was very clear he had a thing for your voice. Especially whilst having sex, and he surely didn't expect your moans to be so high? Guess something made up for that pretty face of yours.

— Each time he was inside, he loved the way low groans turned into such needy and whiny moans for him. It turned him on when you talked him through, slow sex had him crumbing to you.

"Fuck..Dexter.." He thrusted inside slowly, taking in every single 'yes' and 'so good' Dexter himself wasn't at all a quiet person in bed, grunting and groaning along with you letting your own voices mix. He was so damn lucky.

— Yeah, you creeped him the fuck out.

— He wasn't one to care on people's voices, but damn did you get surgery or something? He might have called you 'kid' or something if you didn't sound like death crawling from hell itself.

— He was told to go to you for some sort of files, finding you at your desk.

"You the one I'm looking for? I need those files." He couldn't lie, his heart almost melted at the way you looked up at him. Was his voice too rough? Did he hurt your feelings? Damn.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Holy fuck.. nevermind.

— He made a rule for you not to sneak up behind him and to randomly start speaking. Scared the shit out of him when you did that.

"Right, Morgan said the victim had put up a fight before she was hit in the head, and—"

"What happened?"

"Oh my God— never again! Never do that again."

"Hm? What did I do?"

— He weirdly liked your face. Well, the cheeks of your face. If you did something dumb you would feel his fingers harshly punch at the soft skin of them. It was cute, he wouldn't lie about that. Your face stretching out as you whined for him to let go. It made his day, it really did.

— Now sex on the other hand, he would never reveal that to anyone. He was a professional, but on his own he would think of it from time to time. The way you would moan out his name, making that voice of yours crumble just from slipping the tip inside of you. His head would be on your shoulder, his own voice soft and talking you through it. He did that on purpose, so his ear would be close to your mouth. He desperately needed to hear it.

(he's so glorious i love him.)

— Debra was having another situation in which a witness couldn't speak English well, or understand it too much and he had been busy with someone else. So they called you over instead.

"Entiendo señora, haremos lo mejor que podamos pero por favor debe calmarse." Damn. He got distracted, drowning out the voice of who he was supposed to be listening to. Watching your face go into a look of understanding as the woman in the front of you hyperventilated, your voice so deep yet so calming as you rubbed her back and soothed her the best you could.

— He loved when you spoke spanish, whether it be small curses, or exclaims of excitement. He loved it all. But when you were speaking to him, he went all still. He could admire your voice from afar, yet right in front of him? No, absolutely not.

"Morning Angel," He froze up, snapping out of it quickly so he could at least muster up something back. "Yeah.." Yeah. Yeah? Was that the best he could do, jesus..

— Never had he expected to get with you. Let alone be able to fuck you. He was nervous at first. What was he supposed to do? He knew what to do, but he didn't at the same time. It was mostly a matter of being nervous rather than you being the first guy he's done it with.

"This feel good?" Paying attention to every single sound or movement you made, looking at you as if you were the light of his life. Your little 'Mhm' as he held your body close, going inside slowly and letting his hands squeeze at your hips and waist, soothing them.

"Oh, Angel.." Your accent made him shiver, his eyes fluttering shut and rolling back the more he thrusted inside. "Perfect.." He muttered, kissing your skin softly. "So perfect."

— Overtime, he would develop a weird liking to your throat. Everytime you spoke, he'd pay attention to your Adams apple and watching it bob as you spoke. He just wanted to choke you.

— Though first hearing you, he didn't know whether or not to be surprised or turned on. He found you weirdly unique, obsessed with your voice and always gave you reasons to talk. He would learn about your interest, just to make you talk even more.

"Oh, and my favorite actor had played in this movie and I feel as if.." and blah, blah, blah..

"Mhm..yeah,"

— He was listening, he swore it! And if he wasn't listening he had gotten some sort of recorder, just so he make use of it later on.

His cock leaked the more he moved his hand up and down. Trying to force himself to be quiet enough so that he could hear your voice clearly.

"Fuck.." Imagining you riding him, moaning like you depended on riding him and like you absolutely needed him. Voice wavering to whimpers and high moans— hell, he needed that so badly.

— Next day, he'd face you like nothing happened. Greeting you with a smile as you walked through the station.

"Morning Rudy!"

"Morning.."