#but also..stop buddy...like...i can see u.

[otrtbs]

*me responding to ao3 comments with the same attitude and tone the original commenter gave me instead of ignoring/deleting/blocking*

"i'm in my evil era"

[manofthepipis]

I was rereading chapter 12 of system rebooting please standby and I found it just a little sweet that spamton was excited to see Kris (even tho it wasn’t them lol). tho he mostly was hoping for Kris to save his hide, I also think he was just happy to see his friend since he’s so lonely at that point

im rlly glad you liked that bit!! :D spamton will always have his more selfish motivations, and i've tried writing him so that if he ever does want/need something from someone else he goes into salesman mode, playing nice and innocent enough to get what he wants. But like they're his friend!! his buddy!! :D!! they're a puppet just like him and they helped to free him even if it was obvious he was up to no good in the first place! someone like that to return to him in his extreme loneliness and confusion would be a godsend, but he doesn't get those often. so whoops it had to be an addison lmao

I'd imagine if kris were to return, he'd be hanging around them and their friends to the point where it got annoying but only because he genuinely cares now and they've given him a new purpose in the world he's forever fated for. Though it would genuinely surprise me if he appeared again in canon (i think he's just gonna get the jevil treatment and be a quiet close-to-nonliving item in your inventory), but in this au hed be harder than hell to get rid of (akin to actual spam) hfjsksksk.

[bunnihearted]

🐰🌧️

[yongseungkim]

.

[leclsrc]

wanna be nearer ✴︎ mv1

genre: 18+, fuck buddies ahhhaha, smut, porn w/o plot basically...

word count: 3.6k  

It seems every time you tell yourself to stop, Max comes back into your life and all sense of resolve crumbles. title from this

auds here… hiii :) req'd by SO MANY PEOPLE i can't even start compiling all the asks hahah but if u asked for this here it is! writing's been tuff for me lately but this was the one thing i could continue daily (weird) also there is a case to be made re: max's hottest pictures being like 1 pixel in resolution... hope u all like it!!!

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, some vague sexting/a sex tape being watched, praise/dirty talk central, size kink, unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving), max being a meanie

It’s busy today. You haven’t seen him all day. 

To be fair, you weren’t necessarily looking—not at first, anyways. How many days had it been since the last time, now? The one in your hotel room? Almost two weeks, you think. The real answer’s blurry in your head, especially when you count the close calls, but this should be a record for you two at this point. Neither of you acknowledge that the only reason you’ve been so good at staying away from each other is because when you’re not roped into the same media junket, you avoid each other at all costs.

The media pen is full; everybody’s shoulder-to-shoulder because a few other networks bought their way into the space for the Singapore race. Right when your mind settles back into the focus of work, though—

“Here,” he says, his voice rough and tickling your ear. You nearly stumble forward, shocked at how his voice almost vibrates through you, a low trill that ripples top to bottom.

His hand settles at the small of your back, like his verbal confirmation wasn’t enough on its own; it’s big and his thumb rubs softly at the smooth strip of skin in-between your low skirt and your top. “Passing through.”

“Sure,” you say, dry. “Sorry.” You clear your throat and cant backwards into his touch—briefly, before you step forward and allow him to pass fully. Across you, Lissie looks up from her phone and you sense her trying to gauge why you’re so close to Max.

You blink and wait for him to disappear, wondering what you’ll tell her—how, more like. How the conversation even opens. How you’d phrase the truth, which in itself is a horribly grey area. Well, Lis, if you must know, Max and I have casual sex. A lot. It’s actually not very casual. We stopped now, but—yes, Max. That Max, yes. 

“What about Max?”

Your eyes snap upward and then to your left, where you can see Max’s figure disappearing into a crowd of engineers. They return to Lissie and you feign confusion to mask panic. “What?”

“You were spacing out and then suddenly said his name.” She presses the tip of her pen onto her chin, humming. She doesn’t look at you and you thank God for it—eye contact would’ve rattled the truth out of you in seconds.

“I…” You shake your head. “I was irritated with—I’ve been irritated with him all morning. It’s. Yeah.”

“Oh,” she says, nodding, looking away for a second but not pausing. “Oh, okay. D’you wanna go over this edit again?”

—

The stale air of his hotel room, alleviated only by the vaguely fragrant linen spray they use when he’s out, is what greets Max when he arrives in the afternoon.The first thing he does—the only task he’d even thought of en route here—after the door clicks shut is pull up his Messages app and type.

Just got to hotel. He tosses his phone onto the bed while he waits, tugs his cap off and rakes reckless fingers through his hair. His new stylist’s got him onto jeans that don’t “look painted on” (you once said, verbatim), but he’d rather die than lounge in denim, so he swaps them out for just his Calvins.

His mind’s lethargic, but even his version of lethargic is high-drive for others—his brain has the silly tendency to work in absolute overdrive. He itches for a drink and orders a Scotch on the telephone. He checks his phone, which is lying facedown still, and as soon as he picks it up it chimes with your reply.

OK, nice. Did u need something?

No, just wanted to let you know. He hits send, then adds another. You’re off @ 8?

Ended early, I’m in the car. He’s in the middle of drafting a response when you send a follow-up.

I thought we agreed no contact unless business

He scoffs out a dry laugh. Despite himself, he reads the text in your voice, his brain completing the image of the bossy tone with crossed arms and a wickedly arched brow. In response he types: Can’t even update a friend nowadays? I am very tired you know.

Rules are rules, he reads. Then, Get some rest.

Yeah. Got a drink.

I said rest, not drink. Even then he can hear the exasperation in your voice.

How was work? I hurt a muscle doing training. That’s why I’m at the hotel early.

Feel better soon, you send. Had some press stuff today. Boring shit

Yeah? I missed you today.

Really?

A lot. He hums and leans backward, lets his head settle into the pillow, the smell of the linen spray consuming his nostrils. He waits for his phone to buzz, vibrate softly on the hard surface of his chest. It does, after a few minutes, after he’s let his eyes shut and let himself rest them for a bit, after the room service comes knocking and gives him the Scotch he’d requested while ago.

He’s back sitting on his bed when it vibrates. He picks it up and reads: How much?

You’re awfully easy to rile up. He smiles around the rim of his glass—he knows exactly where this is heading. 

So much I think I’ll watch some videos of us.

The only caveat of casual sex as two people who essentially dislike each other is the fact that it’s all under wraps—which means if you two try to sneak off together, or are even caught in the same vicinity, people raise suspicions. And that means there are weeks where you barely get to fuck.

And that means you both grow antsy for it. He makes fun of you for being needy, when you’re tipsy and palming at the denim of his jeans or when you bend over when you know he’s looking. But the truth is he grows needy for it, too, craves you like you’re all that matters—he gets extra handsy, drops another innuendo when he knows you’re listening. There is a case to be made that he’s worse, in fact, because fans sometimes skirt around his words and wonder why he sounds so flirty when you’re the reporter in the room.

It was difficult but eventually he found a minor workaround: sometimes he films the two of you. There’s none of those propping his phone up kind of stuff, he just fishes for it in the middle of fucking you so he can store it for himself. It’s locked on his phone and he only has a few (the few has grown in number lately), but God it gives him release when he needs it and you’re not there.

I’ll call you when I’m at the lobby, comes the response. It’s always futile, the attempts to stay away from each other.

He pulls up the folder and lets his eyes skate over the thumbnails, squeezes himself through his boxers. Fuck. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to watch—the ones of you sucking him off, the ones of his fingers stretching you out. He recalls the whine in your voice in each of them, the pleads that escaped you for him to fuck you harder.

So Max, for the life of him, can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet—the one he took the night before you two parted. You’d become extra needy on this night, preceding the season, he supposes, the separation. You already were anticipating the deprivation, starved for him more than usual. He’d have kissed you pretty, given you one orgasm after another and still you’d want more. And on this night it was you who asked him to film, you who wanted all of them on tape, so you’d both have something to tide you over until he got to fuck you again.

He pulls his cock out and strokes over it. And with his other hand, he presses his thumb on that video.

In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back in your bed, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.

He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.

The two of you were supposed to be quiet, too. You were at a hotel, your room beside another driver’s; you were supposed to be careful not to stir anyone. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, Maxie, m’so close. Max inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—that Maxie, the cute little whimper out your mouth.

He strokes himself faster, watches the way your fingers slip into frame to rub at your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. He can see, hear—feel how wet you are, the sound of your cunt growing wetter with every thrust. He hears his own voice again, mutter out So good for me, yeah? And your babbled affirmation in response.

You cum hard, your slick getting everything wet and shiny and Max watches himself cum next. His dick’s already spurting when he pulls out and lets himself release on your lower stomach, some of it shooting onto your tits. He blinks, anchors himself back, quickens his wrist and digs his heels into the bed to keep himself from coming. Just a second longer. He knows what comes next and he needs to see it.

Like clockwork, he watches two of your fingers swipe through his cum, bringing them up to your lips. You blink up at the camera and smile. Quit it, your lips mouth, pink and cum-slick. Put it down, Maxie… fill me up again. He releases in weak spurts over his fist, a damp, flushed grunt escaping him as he does. He feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.

His phone rings and he presses it to his ear. “Hey, angel. Come on up.”

One week later

“Vodka,” you say to the bellboy when you get to the elevator. “To my hotel room. Very cold. Please. And thank you.”

The guy scurries off to fetch it for you, and five minutes and one elevator ride later, you're wrestling himself into your room, flexing your sore foot. Japan does hotel rooms well. The leather of your Manolo digs into your foot the way it does after you’ve walked the entire day and you can feel a blister forming on the back of your right heel but it doesn’t really matter, you guess, if you’re already home. Hotel-home, anyway.

You expect to find solace lounging on your bed, waiting out the hours to your morning briefing for the race and throw back a glass or two of vodka. 

Instead, you find Max on your couch. He’s sipping ice-cold vodka—your ice-cold vodka.

“Hey, pretty,” he says. “Good vodka. I got staff to wire my FIFA on the TV.”

You just stare. “My TV. What,” you say, your eyes spotting the bottle of frosty vodka by his glass, “are you doing here?”

“I hadn’t seen you all day and I wanted to,” he explains simply. “Do you want food or something?”

“Food? I—nevermind,” you shrug. You’re frozen by the door, only just warmed now from the cold air that bit at your bare legs. “Max, how long have you been here?”

“Since Will Buxton started the post-FP debrief,” he huffs. He fiddles with the remote in his grip and extends it to the TV, where FIFA comes to life. “Aw, come on, angel. I know, I know. No sex and all that. I just like your company, you know?”

“Please. Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, toeing off your shoes and wiping your hands on the fabric of your skirt. He says one thing but you expect another—it’s only natural, given all the other times one of you had failed to keep a similar promise. But still you walk yourself beside him, fix the strap of your short dress, and allow him to pour you a drink.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” He asks absently. “About how you’re always having these talks with me about… about not having sex anymore, but you never even last two days.” He raises you the glass. “What is it, relapsing?”

“Fuck you,” you mutter. “It’s only because you keep trying to get me all hot and bothered.” You recall each time: in Monaco, in Madrid, in France. “Maybe if you got off my back once in a while, we’d be back to normal.”

He shrugs. “You just don’t have strong resolve.”

“Excuse me?” You scoff, irritation scratching at your throat.

“Wanna test that out? Come play.”

Your eyes flit over to the bright screen, all exhaustion cleared from your system. An animated Kylian Mbappe kicks a football in a loop. “Fine. One round and you’re out of my room.” He throws his hands up in surrender and you make a move to sit next to him. Max puts his hands out towards you then, nodding. You mistake it for some handshake, accept them, and then he’s wrangle you onto his lap facing outward. You feel your pulse at your throat as he pulls you tight against him.

“This is cheating,” you say, your voice dry.

“You got it wrong. Teaching.”

He moves his fingers atop yours, explaining what to press, what goes where, what to do for this or that. He can smell your perfume, hear your stilted breaths, and when he peeks over your shoulder he can see where your dress falls loose, showing the lace of your bra and your tits underneath them.

If he had it his way, he’d hike your dress up and have you ride him. But he’s given you a challenge.

You play a practice round and end up scoring a few goals, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Behind you, Max watches, content, answering your questions when you ask them hurriedly—how do I do this? That? Did I just score?

You score once, then twice, then three times, and before you know it you’re scoring in quick succession. The game is fun—it’s easy. If Max was trying to give you a hard time, he failed. You grow determined, competitive within seconds (something he really should’ve anticipated), and you’re scoring goals with skill that you’d confidently say rivals Max’s.

Max. You almost—almost forget he’s there, and then you sit up straighter and you’re hit with the sensation of his dick pressing into your ass. You inhale sharply and the controller clatters to the floor.

“You okay, pretty?” His hand comes up to rest on your knee, inching closer and closer with every hitch of your breath. Your hand, now free of the controller, seizes his, stopping it right at the middle of your thigh. 

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah? You look stressed.” He doesn’t move. “You were so close, too, weren’t you?” The score stares you right in the face: 4-5. “Maybe you just need to get your mind off it.” It’s so bullshit, so extremely obvious, but he’s right in your ear and his hand is so near where you’ve missed its presence.

You’re usually competitive. You can usually hold your ground. But with this and him—

“Maybe,” you breathe, loosening your grip. He spreads his legs, spreading yours in the process, and brings his hand closer, running slender fingers over the lace material of your underwear until you’re squirming. It grows damper the more he touches, your mouth hanging open with stunted whimpers.

“You always come back to me, schatz, don’t you,” he says, whispers against your ear. You wrench a moan out. “Remember the first time? You interviewed me in Abu Dhabi… you teased me the whole day and begged to come thrice in my room. The time in Monaco you touched yourself to me when I was in the next room. The time we almost hooked up in Miami…” He groans, to himself more than you. “You’re a dirty girl.” He’s curling two fingers inside of you now, grazing against the sweet spot pulls the most delicious moans out of your innocent mouth.

“Every time… you go, that was the last time.” While your mind recaps the memories he’s busy spelling into your ear, Max’s fingers are curling inside of you against that sweet spot just right, and your moans are getting louder and louder.

“Fuck,” he huffs, watching your flushed face get more and more euphoric.

“Aw, pretty, look at that,” Max laughs. He’s looking at your thighs, watching the way they tense and shake as his fingers stroke your g spot. Each pump and curl into your twitching pussy feels better and better, and your dripping walls are starting to clench around his fingers.

“Wait, I—I can’t,” you pant, lolling your head onto his shoulder and involuntarily bucking your hips upward. 

“Yeah you can,” he orders. “It’s so easy to get you to cum, isn’t it? Or is that just for me? The driver you hate the most?” He laughs. “Get all wet for the guy you couldn’t care less about. Say you hate me and get my dick nice and wet the next day.” You’re grinding onto his three fingers now, shameless with it.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asks.

“Oh,” you whine. “Yeah, fuck—yes.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do,” he says wickedly. You can hear him smile.

“I’m gonna—please—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, tension coming to a halt and then bursting all at once out of you. His other arm holds your hips down against him, and you spend a minute and another twitching, your skin sticky with sweat and slick.

It’s not long before you’re whirled back to face him, your hands making quick work of his jeans. It’s a skill you’ve both mastered, the art of the quickie—in closets, hotel rooms, with sweaty, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the column of your throat, moans swallowed. 

He hikes your dress up and your panties to the side, immediately bullies his cock into you—the glide is slow, but easy. You’re so fucking wet.

“Fucking big,” you gasp out. “Jesus, Jesus—fuck.” Your head drops and presses against his; he uses the opportunity to kiss you. You moan into it, feeling the stretch, your slick wetness dragging down the length of him as he thrusts up, up, further. “Been a while.”

“Feel good, though, yeah?” Your toes curl and you nod; you’re flushed all over and you need him to hurry up. You grind downward, onto him. He does, then, fucks you hard and fast, like he’s thirsted for this for way longer than he did. You’re squirming, all wet, and it tempts him to go harder. Your face is shiny with sweat, lips drawn in between your teeth.

“Slo—slow down,” you manage, babbling; he doesn’t, speeding up his thrusts until you’re moaning his name. “Max—wait—fuck, you’re so mean,” you whine, wrapping your arms around him and letting him take control. 

“You’re fine,” he grunts, pulling out almost all the way. “You take my dick so well, schatz, every fucking time. Don’t you?”

“I do,” you gasp out, and he’s slamming into you gain. You cry out loudly, sniffling from the overstimulation—you’d barely recovered from your initial orgasm and already you’re hurtling into what feels like three at the same time. 

“For someone who doesn’t like me,” he sneers, “you sure do moan like a slut, huh?”

His words get you more turned on than you’re willing to admit, but you shake your head.

“No?” He laughs, breathy from the effort. “Maybe I should film you now. Send it to your boss, let him see his stellar reporter’s getting Verstappen’s dick wet.” 

Finally, the tension building inside of you reaches a head, and your pussy starts to twitch around his dick. He notices, grunts sharply and leans forward, shuddering as he releases into you. Your moans are choked and tapering into whimpers as you release slick all over him, and you attempt to catch your breath, collapsing onto his still-clothed, now-sticky chest. You scratch at the dri-fit material and inhale him, the smell of his cologne, his sweat. You bite at his earlobe, laugh when he flinches.

“That,” you say into his skin, “was the last time.” It’s both seriously and as a joke, playing off of what he’d remarked earlier.

“Jesus, princess. I’m still inside you.” 

You giggle and drum lightly along the plane of his chest. In a few minutes he’ll pick you up to shower, but now you’re content to inhale him in. Quietly you wonder why you just can’t get enough of him—if you were in better senses, you’d have realized he was thinking the same thing about you.

[elizaleclerc]

Hi, Max and reader are dating (private) for a few years. reader is also working for Oracle (red bull's sponsor) and she comes to a race and surprises max.♥️

this requestttt!!! wanted to twist it a little <3 added lando for some fun flare ; reader & max want to keep it private but can't help but drop hints bc they love the chaos

locked longings ✧ ⁺˳

max verstappen x reader (smau)

summary: a private relationship online with fem!reader and max slowly comes to light

song: the alchemy by taylor swift

author's note: never done an smau before and lowkey underestimated the time it took byeee ; open to more requests for smaus <3 (no face claim imagine whoever i just liked the pics)

ynusername my sweet sweet summer <3

liked by redbullracing, maxverstappen1, and others

-user8456 am i the only one wondering if her and max fell off :(

-user9902 they are probably both hella busy

-user4558 the most gorgeous redbull employee 😍

-landonorris can you bring me a redbull pls

-ynusername no.

-user5041 WAIT ARE THEY TOGETHER??

maxverstappen1 A much needed break, but can't wait get back to racing soon.

liked by charlesleclerc, ynusername, and others

-user4558 max turns into mr.worldwide on vacation

-charlesleclerc do you ever sleep?

-maxverstappen1 no.

-user9681 not the same joke y/n used with lando 😭

-user1141 they are so best friend coded

redbullracing What a wonderful day to get back to racing in Spa!

liked by maxverstappen1, ynusername, and others

-landonorris prepare to lose @/maxverstappen1

-maxverstappen1 says the man starting at p11

-ynusername cooked him omg-

-user4802 i can't tell if max actually likes lando or not 😭

-ynusername don't worry they are buddies!

-user3356 OH?

-user2301 y/n blink twice if you and lando are dating

ynusername back to work as usual! congrats to the big number 1 on the win!

liked by charlesleclerc, redbullracing, and others

-user3105 max not lurking in the comments is rare...

-user4301 maybe bc she's with someone?

-user6882 stop pushing the y/n x lando agenda oh my goddd

-user2240 THE POLAROID AWWW 😇

landonorris Good times in Spa <3

liked by ynusername, mclaren, and others

-user4505 wait...that isn't y/n

-user4802 the y/n lando truthers are crumblingggg

-user3893 OMGG so happy for u lando!!!

-mclaren That's our boyyy! 🧡

ynusername glad i could finally see these gorgeous cars in action this weekend <3 a lovely time with wonderful people!

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, and others

maxverstappen1 💙💙💙

-user3489 the social implications of these hearts

-user2210 that's a real friendly hug there...

-user5572 WOAH WAIT MAX & Y/N

-landonorris can you be my good luck charm next pls

-ynusername hmm i think i'll be busy that day

-user7005 lando what do you know.

maxverstappen1 Happy guy!

liked by ynusername, charlesleclerc, and others

-ynusername the caption, simple, but effective!

-user2804 love them together so much i need the rumors to be true

-landonorris a man of many words

-user1156 y/n and max together would make me combust

-user4401 i need them to be happy together 😭

-user5969 they are TRAVELING together it HAS to be true

-user2131 he's texting her in the last pic fs

ynusername the sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me 🤍

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, and others

-user2202 the taylor lyric OHHH they are so in loveee

-landonorris ugh finally i was tired of keeping my mouth shut

-ynusername yeah bc we all know you're so good at it too

-user3335 I KNEW ITTTTTT

-maxverstappen1 Happy 4 years my love 💙

ynusername love youuu <3

-user1203 FOUR YEARS?!?!

-user6061 keeping it private for 4 years...yeah they are endgame.

-charlesleclerc Paddock romance of the century!!!

[verstappen-cult]

I would LOVE a part two of the birthday drabble if ur open to that? maybe how max tries to ask for reader’s forgiveness? maybe asking Charles for help but he’s just like “no u gotta figure it out on ur own this time buddy” bc he’s mad at him too?

PART ONE. Max totally blanks on your birthday plans and it’s not pretty.

Max is pacing around the kitchen when you wake up the next morning. When his gaze snaps up to meet yours, you can see the bags under his eyes. You think about reaching for him when you remember what happened, so, you simply walk past him to make some coffee.

“Good morning, schat.” He whispers, looking down. You’re still very much hurt but seeing him like this breaks your heart. 

Maybe you’re being too mean, giving him the cold shoulder and not even meeting his eyes, but you also think about what your best friend said last night when you called her crying. He needs to sort out his priorities and give you what you deserve. And you also need to stand up for yourself, you’ve let Max get away with similar things in the past and it’s time for that to stop. 

“Good morning,” Charles says as he enters the kitchen. He looks at Max but doesn’t say anything when he sees his eyes filled with tears. You’re hurt but he’s angry. “Want me to drive to your appointment?” 

“Mmh.” You nod, taking your cup of coffee and going back to your room. 

Charles opens the fridge and tries to look busy waiting for Max to get the fuck out of the kitchen. But that doesn’t happen and he is forced to close the door and face his boyfriend. 

“Have you talked to her?” Max asks him, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“Yea’,” Charles simply answers, trying to choose between an apple or banana for breakfast. You or Max are the ones always cooking because Charles just can’t do it, but you’re not in the mood to make breakfast and he’s definitely not gonna ask Max. “I’m not the one who fucked everything up.” 

“I’m sorry, okay? I just—I didn’t forget, but there were—”

“I don’t fucking care, Max. It was her birthday! It was supposed to be special but instead of enjoying the one day—the only day she really asks for our attention, she cried all the way home.”  

Max feels like crying again. He feels awful but doesn’t know what to do to make things better. 

The Dutchman opens his mouth but before he can say anything, Charles holds his palm up, shutting him up. 

“I won’t tell you what to do, you need to figure that out by yourself.” 

Charles storms out of the kitchen, leaving a sad Max behind. 

You don’t say goodbye when you leave but Charles, at least, tells him that they should be home by eight, to not wait for them because they will be having lunch together. He doesn’t ask Max if he wants to join. 

Max doesn’t know what to do. 

You’ve never been this angry before. Charles is a different story, they’ve been racing their whole lives together, so, he has seen parts of Charles you don’t even know. 

Max thinks about calling his mom to ask her for advice, God, even calling his sister, but rejects the idea because he knows what they will say. 

It’s all his fault. Stupid Max, stupid SimRacing—

Max gets up from the couch, he doesn’t know how much has passed since you left, but the sun is already sitting down. 

When Max enters his streaming room he wants to cry again. And he does. 

He cries as he disconnects everything. He cries when he smashes the camera onto the floor. He cries while throwing a chair across the room, crashing against the wall. He cries looking at the mess he made, the mess he is.

Max falls to the floor and cries, and cries, and cries, until he feels two strong arms around him and soft words spoken into his ear. 

“Max, breathe with me, please,” Charles begs, caressing his back and lifting his chin up with his free hand. Max’s gaze focuses on his face as he imitates his boyfriend, inhaling and exhaling slowly. It takes some time, but Max eventually stops shaking. “Oh, Max. What did you do?” Charles sounds so broken and disappointed, Max doesn’t want him to feel like that. He’s done so much already. 

Max starts crying again. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Charles wipes his tears and kisses his eyelids. 

Max doesn’t deserve this. 

“Hey, love.” Max turns his head around at the sound of your voice. You crouch down next to him, a soft smile dancing on your lips. “Would you drink this, please? For me?” He doesn’t need to be asked twice. You guide the glass to his lips and he drinks the water — with a little bit of sugar you always add when you’re not feeling okay. 

Max wants to talk, he wants to apologize again, he wants to scream at you and Charles for being so attentive with him when he doesn’t deserve it. But he feels so tired, all he can do is lean into your touch when you cradle his face with both your hands, palms comfortable against the stubble on his cheeks. 

“We’re gonna buy new things and me and Charles will help you set everything up, okay?”

Max wants to scream. Instead, he barely has the voice to say, “I don’t want any of this. I fucked up because of this stupid shit.”

“Max,” Charles calls his name, moving around so he’s sitting next to you. “You love it.”

“I love you more.” He simply says, looking between you and Charles. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…” He lets silent tears fall down his cheeks. 

“I know you’re sorry.” You lean to leave a kiss on his forehead, then, you look directly into his eyes. “I’m still hurt, Max. I won’t lie. We need to have a long conversation, the three of us, but I don’t want you to quit something that you love and enjoy so much. I just,” You notice you’re crying when Max wipes the tears with his thumb. “I want to be a priority in your life.”

“And you are!” He wants to smash his head onto the floor. “God you,” He takes your hand, lips quivering. “and you,” He takes Charles’s hand then. He guides them to his chest, just where his heart is. “are the most important people in my life. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

There’s still so much to say but, for right now, you just want to be as close as possible. You’ll have plenty of time to figure out how to go from here.

[ham1lton]

this is the dumbest thing i’ve ever requested LMAO but……can i request a reader with chronic migraines and lewis who knows that if he makes her come it’ll go away 😩 he eats her out (REAL EATER!) and her migraine does go away and he’s like u feel better? 😁 and she’s begrudgingly like ….yes 😔

author’s note: oh god. this got away from me. hope u enjoy!! and migraines suck ass 😔💔 the relationship between lewis + reader are really blurred here. is he ur fuck buddy? is ur bf? ur fiancé? ur husband? u decide 🫡 also this hasn’t been edited and i wrote it in 10 minutes.

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

when lewis finds you, you’re lying on the couch with the lights off. it’s eerily silent and he knows you’re having another migraine. he slips in, and gently lifts your legs so he can sit underneath them. he rubs a thumb against your ankle. you look up at him and grin.

“you’re back.”

“wouldn’t leave you for too long,” he hums. “are you okay? need me to get anything for you?”

“a magical cure for migraines?” you huff as press the palms of your hands into your eyes. “i’m so fucking tired with dealing with them. i want them gone.”

“i know sweetheart,” he rubs his hand over your exposed legs. you decided to wear shorts this morning, it was way too hot to wear anything else. you debated just walking around in your underwear but you were terrified your neighbour would see. you loved the smiths but you’d give the old couple a heart attack if they saw you like that. hence the shorts. “i do know of one thing that might help.”

“and what could that possibly be? i’ve tried everything.”

“well, y’know i was getting my hair braided and i was looking through the magazines my braider has available. did you know that orgasms help with migraines?”

“what fucking magazine are you reading?”

“ones about fucking apparently.”

“don’t make me laugh,” you giggle despite yourself. “it hurts.”

“it hurts me to see you in pain.” he frowns. “let me get you off.”

“i’m not in the mood to have sex. i just want to rot here. i won’t be much fun.”

“i don’t need to get off. this is just about you. i want to help you baby. please.”

for a moment, you think about it. it does sound tempting and you can’t say no when he sounds like that. you smile.

“go ahead.” you laugh. “give me head.”

“you think you’re so funny.” lewis gives you the side eye as he starts to let his hands wander.

“absolutely.” you wink.

lewis was very skilled with his hands. well, his job does partially relies on them. gorgeous, and so warm. when he touches you it’s like he leaves your body on fire. he leaned over to kiss your hipbone. positioning himself so that he’s more comfortable. after a moment of teasing, he pulls your shorts and panties down. he huffs a breath against you.

“she still loves me.” he says as he gathers some of your wetness on his fingers. he spreads your legs wider so that they can sit on his shoulders. you reach a hand to stop him.

“you okay yn?” he looks concerned, so you smile to soothe him.

“it’s not that i want you to stop or anything. i just, can you take your shirt off?” you ask sweetly. he rolls his eyes but obliges, pulling his shirt off and throwing it somewhere. “that’s better.”

he gets back to work quickly. pressing a thumb against your already swollen clit. he smiles before he starts to eat you out. allowing you to hump yourself against his face as he stretches you out with one finger, which turns to two and then three.

you didn’t expect to be so desperate for it. is it because you haven’t seen in him in a while? is it because you’re desperate for any relief? but after a while, you’re practically sobbing for it. for him, for your release, for something. you pull him closer to you, pressing him further in between your thighs. he obliges, and moves his tongue and fingers in tandem with each other.

you feel your release coming soon and you know he knows by the way he doesn’t let up. you’re practically gushing at this point. you’re sucking up his fingers when he makes eye contact. you’re burning up on his couch and he fucking winks at you. when you reach your peak, he fingerfucks you through the aftershocks, kissing your thighs.

“you okay?” he asks politely.

“i know you’re begging to ask it. go on.” you say breathlessly.

“did it work?” he asks excitedly as he cleans you up. “the article said it works better than painkillers. i took a photo.”

“it did work. i feel better. thank you.” you lean over to give him a kiss. you look down at him. “do you need me to get you off?”

“no, no baby. this was all about you. don’t worry about me.” he kisses your ankle and switches on the television on a very low brightness. “should we catch up on that show you like?”

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

[bread--quest]

It's 2012 somewhere. Welcome.... to Night Vale Tumblr.

👁️ nvcr-official

Hi guys! I'm Intern Sarah! Excited to be joining you all!

👁️ nvcr-official

To the friends and family of Intern Sarah, she was a good intern and social media manager, and we are sorry to see her go. We will work to find a new intern as soon as possible.

83 notes

🦉 dark-owl-records

CALL OUT POST FOR CECIL PALMER

hes gotten away with shit for too long and im sick of it. tl;dr horrific intern mistreatment with no compensation, mountain denier, homophobic

keep reading

❌ number-one-moonhater Follow

Hey uh. Aren't you a company account? Why are you posting this

🦉 dark-owl-records

L + ratio + god forbid women do anything + your music taste is trash

🙈 seesomethingsaynothing Follow

Isn't Cecil literally gay?

🦉 dark-owl-records

he's homophobic

🪼 jeebyfish Follow

he has a husband...

🦉 dark-owl-records

yeah and he won't fucking shut up about it

2,500 notes

🤫 cecils-private-blog

Carlos hasn't liked any of my woodcarving posts in THREE DAYS!! I'm so scared what if he's going to break up with me :((

👁️ nvcr-official

Cecil he's your husband he's not breaking up with you. also this isn't a private blog you just put private in the url

🤫 cecils-private-blog

HOW DID YOU SEE THIS

4 notes

🏜️ sandeater Follow

tamika flynn spotted in ralph's dairy aisle "slaying" the milk

🦂 scorpiansscuttle Follow

op i know this is a joke but one time i was in the ralphs dairy aisle and there was some butter up on a really high shelf and someone said "don't worry, i'll get it" and i turned around and it was fucking tamika flynn

☁️ average-weather-enjoyer Follow

fake story :/

📚 isurvivedthesummerreadingprogram

No it's true I was there

🚂 traintonowhere Follow

TAMIKA FLYNN??

🏜️ sandeater Follow

what the fuck is happening on my post

8,345 notes

👁️ nvcr-official

can you guys please stop sending cecil weird shit... i don't want to have to explain to my boss what a dilf is

27 notes

🐚 mariella-shella

Hey guys!! Sorry for the lack of posts recently! I entered a hole in the wall and when I got out I realized I didn't know how long I'd been in there, or where I was, or who I am, and I'm not sure that I'm still the person who entered that hole however long ago. Anyway, the normal posting schedule will resume as soon as I remember what my normal posting schedule was, and if I'm still the person who had that posting schedule!

🌪️ sandstorm-gf Follow

omg mariella!!! missed u so much girl glad ur back!

🐚 mariella-shella

i miss me too

42 notes

😎 Anonymous asked: Response to the homophobic allegations?

🎙️ cecilpalmer

Huh??

🎙️ cecilpalmer

@nvcr-official What does this mean? Is it new slang?

👁️ nvcr-official

uhhhh dont worry about it buddy

50 notes

🧤 missy-mittens Follow

hey guys im in quarantine for eating wheat and wheat byproducts uh...send asks?? i might be in here for a while lmaooo

🧤 missy-mittens Follow

oh lights in the sky its been 5 years since i made this post

☁️ glowcloudapologist Follow

how's it going op

🧤 missy-mittens Follow

i miss my family

506 notes

🐚 mariella-shella Follow

hey if anyone remembers anything about the person running this blog can you tell me? trying to recover the fragments of my identity from the void of memory lol

🥔 potato-enthusiast Follow

you were really hot

🐚 mariella-shella Follow

FUCK YEAHHHHHH

89 notes

🦉 a-weird-bird Follow

just a reminder that new residents of east night vale are fully welcome to interact with this blog!!!! you will not be harassed and any hate will be blocked. this blog is safe even if this town isn't sometimes <3

🌻 sunflowergirl Follow

This is so sweet, thank you so much! Just so you know, even though it's officially called East Night Vale now, a lot of people still call it Desert Bluffs! Just thought you might want to know :)

🦉 a-weird-bird Follow

i'm not calling it that sorry

🌻 sunflowergirl Follow

What??? Why??

🦉 a-weird-bird Follow

just kind of sucks. as a name

🌻 sunflowergirl Follow

?????????

170 notes

🐄

⬜️ kentuckymeatshower_deactivated11051983

what does this mean....

🌌 cece-xeze Follow

another great post from huntokar herself

16,683 notes

🚁 helicopters-in-your-area Follow

🌲 little-miss-ectoplasm Follow

you don't like pine cliff? 👻 oo ooo?

👁️ nvcr-official

NIGHT VALE SWEEEEEP

806 notes

😁 the-happy-smiler Follow

Hi everyone!! Since Twitter went down, I figured I'd try my hand at this Tumblr thing! I'm so excited to meet all of you!! Hope you're ready for some pictures of CENTIPEDES!! Feel free to AMA about the Smiling God!

👁️ nvcr-official

I

🦉 dark-owl-records

N

🎙️ cecilpalmer

T

📚 isurvivedthesummerreadingprogram

E

🙈 seesomethingsaynothing Follow

R

🚂 traintonowhere Follow

L

🦉 a-weird-bird Follow

O

🌌 cece-xeze Follow

P

🐚 mariella-shella Follow

E

🚁 helicopters-in-your-area Follow

R

21,983 notes

[kechiwrites]

property lines

dark!steve rogers x neighbour!reader

kinktober countdown: day two (facefucking).

synopsis: your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject.

wc: 2.2k

cw: dark content, non con, oral (male receiving), femme language + afab!reader, pet names, internal victim blaming, pet names (sweetheart), a touch of misogyny

author’s note: day 2 brings us more dark!steve, i fear i may be incapable of writing him sincerely. he’s just a little too perfect. I like to take off a bit of the shine. thank you @katsukikitten u r my muse.

Your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject. Mostly because you can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s just overly friendly. Maybe it’s the signals you give off, bringing a plate of thick, sweet, cheesecake brownies over to the recently sold house next door, hoping to make a new connection. Suburbia can be isolating, and with all of your friends shaking ass in the city, you need to branch out. It really isn’t the kind of home you figured a single man like Steven Grant Rogers would buy, but then again, you lived in your suburban palace alone, willed to you by your late grandmother and only in need of a few renovations.

He’d been so bright, when you first met him, with a perfect white smile and twinkling blue eyes. He’d been happy to accept the desserts, even happier to return the plate a day later, extolling the praise he and his poker buddies lauded on you over the taste. You’d shrugged it off, “The least I could do for a neighbour. I’m just glad you all liked them.” 

Secretly though, the compliments had thrilled you, especially once you’d gotten a glimpse at the aforementioned “poker buddies”, the whole lot of them, handsome, built, big. All too happy to fix leaky pipes and paint fences in exchange for chocolate cream pie or a dish of homemade lasagna. But Steven  - “Steve, please”  -  was your most loyal customer, always lending a hand, pausing during his early morning jog to check up on you while you watered your flower beds, asking how your book is going, what you do in that “big old house all by yourself” when you aren’t working on “the next great American novel”, of course (his words, not yours).

It’s fine at first, a little disarming to be at the centre of his white hot attention, burning your flesh like he had you under a magnifying glass on a perfect sunny day. But eventually it’s not fine, eventually Steve Rogers takes more and more steps over the property line of overly friendly and into the front yard of wildly overbearing. Eventually, Mr. Rogers insists on weekly visits, popping into your house by using the spare key under the mat he shouldn’t even know about. Slinging his muscled arm over you during the neighbourhood block party, and your neighbour’s son’s 5th birthday party, and the Fourth of July barbeque. He fixes your car without you asking, brings in your groceries when he sees you unloading them in your driveway, brings your mail to you during his daily jog. It’s helpful sometimes, yes, but it’s also suffocating. And you were going to set him straight. You were! But it’s hard, hard to stare into the face of a suburban god, the literal king of the neighbourhood and tell him no. It’s hard to tell him that he’s making you uncomfortable, that you’d like for him to stop being so goddamn friendly all the time. 

So maybe a little of it is your fault. Maybe you should’ve been clearer on your boundaries. Maybe, when handsome, strapping Mr. Rogers came to your front door to ask you to essentially cater one of his poker nights, you shouldn’t have stayed to serve the food, playing happy little housewife in front of Steve’s friends, bringing them cold beers from the fridge and sitting next to Steve, playfully making faces at his hand, then plating up dessert when he asked you to. But it felt good to have his attention. His favour. So when “the boys” start to head home, laying praise and amazement at your feet, you’re sufficiently buttered up for Steve to ask yet another favour of you. It’s not much, of course. Just a little help with cleanup. Then he’ll escort you home himself. After all, there are some real sickos out there.

So you agree. What’s the harm, right?

The harm, it just so happens, comes quickly after you finish drying the dishes Steve washes. You slide the last plate, towel dried as best you could, into his cabinets, sighing in contentment at a job well done. The harm is when Steve turns you around and presses you against the sink, water soaking into the back of your blouse, making the fabric cling to your skin. You stay there for a minute, not processing what’s happening, ready to laugh off another inappropriate joke from Steve. 

You don’t really get the chance.

Two heavy hands clap down on your shoulders, exerting pressure on you until you crumple to the floor, knees hitting the tile of Steve's kitchen painfully. You yelp, struggling against him, pressing, then beating your fist against his tree trunk legs. 

"Stev-" you choke on his name when your neighbour unzips his trousers before you, undoes the fly of the pair you helped him pick out, with him bent over your shoulder while you held his phone, his front pressed close to your back. Pulls his half hard dick out of pants starched and pressed with the iron he'd borrowed from you because his was "on the fritz" again. 

"Open up." He cajoles, and you pin him with an incredulous, confused stare. No. No. This is all wrong. He doesn’t act like that. Steve Rogers isn’t like that.

The hand he doesn't use to stroke himself grabs your jaw, squeezing until you open your mouth, squeezing til it hurts. A sharp, purposeful punch of his hips is all it takes for him to make use of the opening. All it takes to put every little joke, boundary crossing, and stray touch into startling, horrifying perspective.

“It was the baking.” He whispers above you. “Peggy never baked, which was fine.” He sighs above you like he isn’t pistoning his cock deep into your throat with reckless abandon. “But I missed it, y’know? And you, you bake how angels ought to, sweetheart.” 

Tears stream down your face while Steve uses you, dragging your dazed, crying face back and forth on his hard-on. On a particularly strong thrust, he broaches your throat. Your eyes roll up, until he can barely see the perimeter of your irises, and you warble out a miserable moan, begging, all while wrapped around his dick, for a reprieve. Your head is pinned to the counter behind you, and even though you shove against the muscle of his thighs, Steve brooks no quarter.

“Just take it,” he coos, like he wants you to swallow cough syrup, “it’ll be over soon.” his breath stutters when your lips brush against his balls. Steve moves one of his hands to cup the back of your head, keeping you as close as possible when he comes down your throat, groaning in pleasure while you struggle to swallow stream after bitter stream of his seed, lest you choke on it or fucking drown. 

He finally releases you, and you pull back so fast you bang the back of your head on his pristine white counters. The pain radiates through your scalp, grounding you in the moment, cementing you to the spotless linoleum floor of Steve Rogers’ kitchen. You’re both panting, eager to fill your lungs with gulps of air. 

“Whew.” He sighs, hands on his hips, like that took a lot out of him. “I didn’t mean to get so rough with you, just didn’t expect the struggle.” He chuckles, patting you on the head. “But you settled down quick, didn’t ya?” His tone takes on…contentment? Happiness? 

No. That’s not quite right. 

It’s pride. Steve is looking down at you, your spit and cum slick mouth, the weepy, watery state of your eyes, and the disarray of the hair he’d used as a handle, with pride.

Your stomach roils.

He bends low and you flinch away from him, smacking your head on the countertop again. He cocks his head at the involuntary movement, and smiles at you. A familiar, warm thing. One that made your heart flutter with pleasure, beat fast with your own surge of pride when he accepted a pie, or offered a compliment. Now it does the same, your heart speeds up, your palms itch curiously, and your brain doesn’t know if you’re happy or sad. Doesn’t know if it craves those smiles anymore. 

“Just wanna set you on your feet. C’mon.” He speaks quietly, like he’s soothing a frightened animal, and hooks his hand under your armpits, heaving you up with the same startling strength he'd used to face fuck the fight out of you.

“It’s okay.” You bleat, voice as wobbly and unstable as the pair of legs struggling to keep you upright. And it’s not, it’s far from okay, the taste of him lingers in the back of your throat and if you think about it for even a second more you’ll throw up all over his shiny floors, on those godforsaken pants.

“I admit,” he laughs, ducks his head with that small town charm he does so well, “I wanted to last longer. But you were too good.” He winks at you, like you share a secret. Like you’re in league with each other.

He staring, waiting for you to say something, arches a brow like it’s your line and you’re fucking up the show.

But there it is again, that smile, sunny and open, and so pristine.

“Let’s get you home.” He herds you towards his front door, hand glued to the small of your back, his pinky finger stroking the skin exposed by the riding up of your still wet shirt. The two of you walk into the balmy summer air, and the spaces in between the black night, punctuated with the occasional white streetlight, designate your path home. Some of your neighbours’ houses are still illuminated, their warm yellow windows denoting the presence of life. You wonder what goes on behind their doors, you wonder if someone is having a good night somewhere close to you.

You come across your door faster than you were prepared for, the cheery yellow paint job Steve and James had done for caramel apple pie, mocks you. The way he’d smiled in your face, touched you, laughed. Steve shifts next to you, holding onto your extensive tower of pyrex and tupperware, for an instant your blood runs cold at the prospect of Steve inviting himself in, like he’s done so many times before. Not to bring in groceries or put together a dresser, but to pin you prone to the carpet of your bedroom and smile at you.

“So!” He turns, “Same time next week?” You gawk at him, and when you don’t say or do anything, he stoops and slides your extra keys out from under your Garfield emblazoned doormat. The jingle of two, simple metal keys against the little bell shaped key-chain makes your head pound, your blood boil. He unlocks the door, and gestures for you to take a step indoors. You raise both hands, palms upturned so he can give the keys back, so you can hide them, or melt them, or flush them down the toilet. Instead, you get to watch him slip the key-ring into his pocket, before he places your dishes into your uplifted open palms. “I gotta say, the lemon bars were a hit.” He tweaks your nose between his thumb and forefinger, his compliment tempered by the greedy shine in his eyes. You nearly scratch your own eyes out when you get that pleased, soft tingle in your chest.

He smiles and you salivate. He compliments you and your heart responds. He’s proud and your brain tells you ‘I’m happy’.

Why hasn’t it gone away? Will it ever go away?

“Maybe those brownies again, the cream cheese ones?” His voice is hopeful, soft and pliant, like he’s worried you’ll say ‘no’.

Like there’s a world where he’d take no for an answer.

You nod, a jerky, quick gesture that rattles your brain around in your skull. “Sure. Yeah.” You answer, sweaty hands slipping against tempered glass and plastic lids. “Yes. Brownies.” Steve beams, clapping his hands together, once, loud, drawing your eyes to the brutish width of them.

“Fantastic. I can’t wait.” He jogs down your front steps, and the fist secured around your lungs loosens with every step he takes away from you. He pauses at the side walk, one foot still on your property, the other poised to leave it.

“We make a great team. Don’t we?” He turns to you, and this time, he isn’t smiling. This time, his eyes cut through the night and the streetlight and the foggy haze of misfortune clouding your brain.

And the fear finally comes.

You kick your door closed, and you lock your door, and you drop your pyrex and tupperwear and serving spoons in the sink and you lock your windows and you get into bed, still dressed for a poker night you had no business being at, and you pull the covers up and up and over your face.

But the fear doesn’t go away.

And neither will your neighbour.

god i want him so bad. tomorrow, captain soap.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

support city girls who bought $50 of baked cheesecake today, reblog what you like.

[soupandsimple]

Pretty, Like… (with James Potter)

[ little Harry meeting his new baby sister after you come home from the hospital ]

* f l u f f 🥰

** includes godfather Sirius Black; indirect mention of Lily (and it’s not positive sooo..)

This was requested: see the ask here

…………….

“Watch your step dove,” James said as he held the car door open for you with one hand and the baby carrier in the other.

You had just arrived home from the hospital after the birth of your baby girl but that had nothing to do with your husband being so cautious with you- that was just an all the time James thing.

You smiled at him once you were out of the car and stepped aside so he could close the door.

“Ahhhh!”

“Well, I think I hear Haz” James chuckled at the sound of a muffled shriek.

Looking to the living room window you see little Harry’s hands and excited face smushed up against the glass.

Harry was five years old but he wasn’t your biological son; the story with his real mother is one you don’t care to tell. It involves her, her past lover and death and that’s where you liked to leave it at.

“My babyyy, I missed him so much!” you said with your hands at your heart. As it almost always goes, he wasn’t your biological son but you loved that boy more than anything. The little girl in the carrier might be your first birthed child but she was not what you considered your first child.

Having made your way to the front door, you heard all three of your locks rattle undone and braced yourself for Harry’s high volume welcome.

“Mummy! Daddy! Can I see her?! Can I see her?!” Harry exclaimed, jumping up and down at the sight of you both.

His godfather Sirius stood behind him and shook his head in disbelief. “Those sugary breakfast cereals are tasty and he eats them without complaints but you tell me, is it worth it?” he joked, pointing to the bouncing boy with a faux pensive look.

You giggled at the comment and looked down at Harry. “Yes you can see her but let’s get inside first, okay?” you said with a boop to his nose.

Harry nodded and ran to the living room couch sitting himself nice and straight on the cushion, legs drumming excitedly as he waited for James to bring the carrier over with his new sister.

“Okay Haz, you ready?” James asked, setting the carrier down on the coffee table after Sirius removed two cereal-less, milk filled bowls and took them to the kitchen.

“Yes! Yes!”

“I present to you….Hazel Potter!” James enthused, swiping the blanket away from the front of the carrier like a magician.

Hazel squinted her eyes upon the feel of the newfound light, took one glance at Harry, yawned then closed her eyes again and slightly squirmed back to sleep.

Harry squealed and his hands instantly shot out to, what you assume, grab Hazel’s tiny fisted ones but James stopped him before he got the chance to. “Whoa buddy, gentle, gentle. She’s trying to sleep. We can look at her but let’s let her rest for now.”

Harry groaned a little but smiled when he looked down at Hazel again.

“Mama, she’s so tiny but so big also! I can’t believe she was in your tummy” he commented, voice full of wonder and astonishment.

“Your mum is a real life superwoman, don’t you ever forget that” James told Harry with a gentle ruffle to his hair.

“I won’t!” Harry replied, biting down on his lip to admire Hazel some more.

You gifted James a smile of appreciation as he put his arm around you and kissed your temple.

Although it had been a healthy birth, it still hadn’t been an easy thing for you. You’d always been afraid of pregnancy and all it entailed and James knew that. You braved through a lot these past nine months and he’d never take that for granted for as long as he’d live. But truthfully, fear aside, being able to give your little Harry a sibling and James a second child had without a doubt been one of the greatest pleasures you’ve had in life (along with being James Potter’s wife and the person who Harry called mama of course).

“Hey hey, what do you think of the new sister Haz?” Sirius asked Harry, drying his hands against his pants as he came back into the living room, bending little ways over to take a peek at the little bundle of a baby in the carrier.

Harry smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know. I barely know her...but she is very pretty, like a bakery bread.”

A bakery bread. He was talking about the loaves of bread you and James purchased at the bakery every Saturday morning. Yes … bread.

Sirius cackled and clapped his hands at Harry’s comparison while James failed to suppress a smile as he nodded and squinted his eyes at his son.

“Well that’s very nice of you to say. She is really pretty huh, like a bakery bread” you repeated lovingly, with one hand laying flat against James’s chest.

Harry nodded and giggled at how his words sounded coming from someone else.

“Can we go put her in the crib so she can be better?” Harry then asked.

“That’s a great idea baby, she’ll be a lot more comfortable there won’t she” you praised, understanding exactly what he meant by better.

James removed himself from your side and grabbed the handle of the carrier to pick it up. “C’mon then, let’s go show baby bread her bread box” James joked for his son’s amusement.

Harry of course instantly laughed with joy and ‘helped’ James by placing his small hands at the back of the carrier on the walk up the stairs, meanwhile Sirius thoughtfully stayed behind to accompany you at your slower pace; ever since you’d first met him, he had always acted like such a big brother to you and you loved it.

“You know, I’ve watched those two dote on you endlessly these past three years but by the looks of it, you’re going to have to start sharing them with little Ms. Hazel Potter now” Sirius teased. “She’s beautiful by the way.”

“Well thank you…. and as for the sharing, I’m not going to mind one bit” you replied blissfully. <3

[leonw4nter]

been obsessed with ur fics relating to Taylor’s songs 🥺 can u do one with ‘sl/t’? Just a good ole fluffy fic.

My Cuddly Eldritch Boyfriend!

Eldritch Horror!RE2R!Leon x F!Reader

“Ah yes, my human female companion, I believe I am required to inform you of my whereabouts for today. Since we have run out of the minuscule jar of the chocolate-hazelnut spread you quite enjoy consuming with sliced bread, I had to leave our shared den and purchase some for you. It appears that I have underestimated the price of such delicacy for the bills I have pocketed fell short of a few more dollars,” your boyfriend Leon happily recounted as he showed you the large tub of sandwich spread that he bought earlier today. “Boyfriend”, rather, if he can be considered that.

Leon waltzed into your life quite interestingly, a little more differently than most boyfriends do in the lives of others who have them. You were trapped in an unhappy relationship, the kind where you had to beg to be shown affection and got scolded for buying yourself little goodies like a funny little pond jewelry dish. He was always on his gaming computer or out with his buddies for beer and snacks, yelling at you over the phone whenever you refused to lend him more money. You went home one evening, after a draining workday, to see your “boyfriend” quietly cleaning around the house and stopping to greet you good evening and ask you about your day. It’s quite the contrast to go from an “annoying clingy hoe” to “human female companion” but the latter is leagues better than the other words hurled at you. Leon isn’t even the name of your former boyfriend, wherever he is now; this replacement simply decided to name himself. You know you should be looking for your former partner, wherever he is, but you don’t want to. You’re more than happy with Leon and you wouldn’t want another undeserving girl to fall into the suffocating clutches of your ex.

“A lady has also offered me a small slice of processed meat– a sausage, it is called. Seasoned pork meat rolled into logs, a cut skewered into an infinitesimally slim stake referred to as ‘toothpick’. It is quite delectable, I must admit, but I haven’t any payment in my pockets so I had to politely decline her offer,” he continues recalling. You take out your phone and google a word: “infinitesimally”. This is another of the changes you noticed with your boyfriend: his lexicomane speech; you would never hear words the likes of ‘infinitesimally’ and ‘minuscule’ from him, intelligent phraseology is not in his vocabulary. A few days after the swap of boyfriends, you found yourself having to install a dictionary app on your phone in order to keep up with his sesquipedalian use of words and engage in conversation. You smile, finally spotting the definition of the word: extremely small.

“That’s great, Leon. We still have some sausage in the freezer, though, so I think it’s only right that you didn’t get some coz we might’ve ended up with far too much,” you respond as you set your phone down on the counter. “What brand was it though? I might pick that up for you next time around when I go for groceries.”

“Hm,” he hums in thought.

His human appearance appears to slightly glitch as he delves deeper into his recollections of the day earlier; he appears to have a chromatic aberration, multiple shadows of his head moving about and twitching around in smoky wisps, as several muffled voices of ancient chanting begin to grow a little bit more noticeable in volume. You grow worried yet you stay seated on your chair, carefully observing Leon before anything too out of control and mind-shattering occurs. Thankfully, he finally manages to remember before the voices get too overwhelming for your human mind.

“I believe it was called ‘MorningStar’,” he finally says. He falls silent, head tilting as his face grows expressionless. “Are you alright, girlfriend?”

He steps closer and sits in front of you, back straight and hands in his lap as he continues to observe you thoughtfully, the gears in his head turning to determine how to approach you.

“Oh, yes, Leon. Don’t worry, just zoned out a little. That’s all,” you respond with a forced smile that doesn’t convince him entirely.

“Have you finally observed that I have left the bathroom light bulb switched on during the entirety that I was out purchasing goods to consume?” he quietly asks, voice laced with guilt and shame as he looks at you with something akin to puppy-dog eyes; you didn’t know that eldritch horrors are capable of giving puppy-dog eyes. “I apologize with utmost remorse, my human female mate. In my haste to please you, I have overlooked a step in securing your household utilities.”

You wonder what is the connection between his previous concern for you and the most recent sentence he just uttered then it occurred to you that he wanted to delay admitting to  you that he forgot to switch off the lights; Leon must’ve also forgotten that humans don’t have the level of perception as whatever his kind has, or maybe he assumed that you and you alone possessed that ability. You never would have known if he didn’t bring it up to you. It is funny to see this eldritch being that was clearly trying to pass off as human, as if you had the power of the universe in your palm and could so easily kick him out into the streets, a look on his face now reminiscent of a kicked puppy. It appeared as if he shrank into his olive green sweater, hiding into the warm and dark depths that the piece of clothing offered. Now his ashamed aura was seeping into you, making you feel a slight tinge of what he’s feeling.

“Leon, it’s fine, okay? We’re still in one piece and nothing too bad happened. Besides, I have enough money to comfortably pay off utility expenses so there’s nothing much to worry about,” you reassure him with a gentle hand to his firm shoulder, feeling the spot unwind from the tension beneath your warm palm. “That happens to me too and I get frustrated sometimes but now I just laugh at it.”

He lights up again and that aura of despair fizzles away lickety-split. He beams again, a little too widely for what could be considered normal. He continues rambling on about sausages before asking you about your workday and leaning in to listen intently; you talk and talk, he sits and devotes all his attention to you and answers too, from time to time. He’s a lot more engaging and present when it comes to talking about yourself than your former boyfriend; all he’d talk about is himself and how you’re lucky he loves you, the occasional comparison to other girls. When you’re finally finished talking about your day, it’s Leon's turn to talk about his.

You don’t want to tell him that he’s not perfect on trying to pass off as another ordinary human being– he still tends to unhinge his jaw when he gets excited, his form glitches when he’s deep in thought, he refers to you as ‘human female mate’ or ‘human female companion’ or simply ‘girlfriend’ though in a manner free of offensive intentions, he likes to change the shades of his blue irises, and his verbose vocabulary. Other than the multiloquent manner that he converses in, no one seems to pick up on the irregularity of his physical form, not even when there’s faint shadows of his head fluctuating when he thinks; surely he’s travelling to universes beyond human comprehension just to figure out an answer to “what’d you think of the new Deadpool and Wolverine movie?”. You guess that he’s conjuring some form of illusion that mask slip-ups in his form but why this doesn’t apply to you, you’re not exactly sure but you don’t plan on telling him his lapses; you’re perfectly content with him cooling up your drink with his hand alone in a matter of seconds when you’re out together. He’s far from perfecting the image of a totally human boyfriend but you’re slightly positive that he’s the most perfect lover.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“I would like to relish in the amusement of motion pictures with sound alongside you on our couch,” Leon expresses in mild emotion though he seems quite eager to watch movies, just phrased in a more archaic fashion.

“Me too” you respond with a small giggle at his unintentionally goofy personality. “Got a movie in mind?”

“Movie? Ah, yes. The moving images,” he recalls. “I have overheard this title from a young couple I happened to share a bus with, Kate and Leopold, they said. Appertaining to this hearsay statement, it must be a picture that thoroughly imprints itself on the heart and mind.”

“Kate and Leopold?” you say out loud and he nods. “Sure, why not. C’mon let’s head to the living room.”

“Of course,” he responds with an enthusiastic smile as he gets up from his dining room chair and quietly pushes it back before trailing behind you like the lovecraftian horror puppy that he is.

You put on the movie, both settling into a comfortable silence, attention centered on the film on your TV. In the middle of the film, you realize how you are quite near to him yet he does not make advances to touch you as he appears content with your shoulders touching. You sit up, inching closer to his side yet you don’t make this all simultaneous as you don’t want to shock him into discomfort. Much to your pleasant amazement, he not-so-subtly extends his arm behind your neck and rests it there. You look at his head and his face is still trained on Leopold chasing the snatcher, though the tips of his ears are dusted with a faint bloom of pink; who knew that cosmic beings could blush. Now slightly more confident, he slowly tries to urge you closer to the warmth of his side though he’s now hesitant with his actions. You snuggle closer to his side and now his hand is comfortably resting on the side of your arm where his silvery touch sends a flurry of tingles. Leopold and Kate are now sharing a kiss on a rooftop after a waltz to which your heart nearly goes into overdrive; Leon is not faring any better, visibly red-faced and overcome with butterflies that press up against his lungs (if he has any), making breathing feel a little funny. You wonder if he’s mentally replacing the characters with you and him and the image makes him feel madly excited.

“Leon, are you cold?” you ask towards the movie’s nearing end.

“No, but are you?” he counters, turning to face you now.

“Kinda.”

“Would you like me to fetch some for you?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I can get it myself–”

Something heavy and weighted and fuzzy envelopes you from the chest down, placed down by the man beside you.

“What’s this?” you ask in a slightly raised voice.

“A blanket,” he responds in a nonchalant manner.

“Why is it so heavy? I know weighted blankets exist but this one’s a little heavier than what I’m used to…”

“It’s bear fur.”

You fall silent, staring down at the brown fur mass laid above your body before staring back up at him, silently asking if this is his form of a prank. Unfortunately, he is serious about this.

“Um… Leon, I appreciate the blanket but I generally prefer faux fur to actual animal-sourced fur. It’s, you know, more wildlife friendly… yeah, um…”

You need not to say more when the blanket is still brown but is now clearly made of faux fur, having changed it right away without arguments or insults hurled at you. He seems satisfied with his service, adjusting the blanket to cover you up properly without obstructing your view of the movie. You offer to share the blanket but he objects, tomato-faced as he stutters his apology.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The movie is finished and he smiles, remarking on how the couple was correct about their opinions and recounting some of the lines that stuck to him. He seemed to especially adore the portion where Kate is enchanted by the sight of Leopold on horseback, most excitedly analyzing the scene and going into detail about the look of love and the twinkle of Kate’s eyes before sighing dreamily.

“I wish to one day flawlessly emulate the depth of emotion she captured with only both her eyes, though I am well-aware that this is all expert acting. It would be my pleasure to one day look at you with such adoration as you tell me tales for there is nothing more that I desire than to enlighten you about the boundless worship that I present to you,” he wistfully conveys as he watches you walk around the bedroom before settling down to lay beside him.

You softly giggle, biting your lip as his voice bounces off in the walls of your mind and plays over and over again.

“Thank you. You’re doing a great job at that already honey,” you sincerely respond to him as you slip under the sheets and get snug.

“Your welcome,” he softly murmurs as a dopey smile points the corners of his lips skyward.

You ask if you can switch the bedside lamp off and he nods, the darkness of the room taking over as your eyes adjust to the lack of light. You lay still and silent before quietly wishing him a good night and restful sleep, to which he returns before he shifts and faces his back to you. Sometime in the middle of the night Leon awakens to the warmth and weight of your head and arms on his chest, the sight of you causing a human warmth to bloom where a human heart would be. You are peaceful and delicate, basking in the warmth that his form offered; the fact that you sought him out in your sleep made him feel loved, a feeling he didn’t know he’d grow to constantly crave. He pulls you closer and delicately wraps his arms around you in a protective embrace, a soft purr humming from his chest– an actual purr, like a cat’s. He strokes your hair with a silvery touch, daintily patting strands as he thinks about the fragility of his human and how he’d need to be very careful with them. His silky hands cause you to drift between the world of sleep and waking consciousness, growing more aware of his purr. You’re not new to his purring; he purrs when you two hold hands while running errands together, he purrs when you refer to him as your boyfriend to other people, he purrs when he finds out that you bought him a snack he likes. He has yet to discover that humans do not and cannot purr, that’s why you aren’t returning his physical display of contentedness but he’s satisfied that you’re letting him hold you like this. You don’t mind his purring at all and you’re firm on the decision that you love him and that he loves you back.

NOTE - First off, thank you to the anon who requested this!! I hope this one reached your expectations, even if I did put a little twist to it :)) guys... I think we're back!!! coz I decided to start on this last night at around 11:30 PM and I rlly had my creative juices flowing, like it just occured to me so clearly so now ig I'm going to start quite late into the evening if I'm going to start something new :D this fic is inspired by the eldritch horror boyfriend prompts that I came across on TikTok and also bc I felt like writing Leon rlly poetic and soft tonightt teehee :3 That's it and and I hope you really enjoyed this fic :)) Thank you for reading my works!!!!!!!!!! I <3333 UUUUUU!!!!!!!!!

The dainty chain dividers are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[wonyscafe]

astro appreciation

⋆ ˚｡ ୨୧

☆ my undying love for virgo moons is so intense, you guys are such good listeners and have the perfect advice... you're also so freaking talented!!

★ I once dated a 0 degree aries venus and yes it was short but I have never felt more loved than those 2 months

☆ you gemini placements especially gemini suns always know how to make people connect w each other without even trying too hard, it just happens

★ I'd like to make a quick moment to appreciate all the aquarius moons out there, I've noticed how you can make anyone laugh even during the hardest times

☆ also omg leo risings!! you hype people up and I love u for it!!

★ to all the 12H people out there: your questions are not weird or strange. they're interesting and original. don't let others stop you from asking intriguing questions

☆ also aquarius suns have so much rizz and y'all don't even notice it

★ I will never get tired of listening to a fire/9H mercury. you speak with so much passion about certain topics

☆ all the people I know who have libra sun/moon are so trustworthy during fights. like they will not break your trust, and if they are, they'll 100% receive their karma for it. and they know this. and they're smart so chances are very high that they'll be trustworthy

★ IDC WHAT ANYONE SAYS BUT GOSSIPING W GEMINI VENUS IS SO FUN BRO WHAT

☆ if you ever see someone w pisces placements, don't look into their eyes. you'll literally get lost in them.

★ every single taurus I know is so cozy, like they will legit treat you like a royal if you set foot into their house I'm so serious

☆ the people who have the best rational advice in my opinion, are capricorn mercuries. they come off as an authority figure but I really like that energy. they're just really wise idrk how to explain it...

★ if you have scorpio placements you deal with jealousy SO MUCH bc you're literally so attractive. like the energy you radiate intimidates others in a way that they get jealous of you

☆ I'm telling you sags are the best travel buddies EVERRR me and my sag friends go to different countries or cities everytime we hangout and it's so much fun like???

★ ok but cancer moons. like that's it that's everything THEYRE everything.

☆ something ab 10H placements and being the literal human embodiment of the devil wears prada

★ ok biased but virgo placements >>> something ab them is just so hot like

↳ a/n : I'm definitely not done yet bc MAN I LOVE SO MANY PLACEMENTS!!! but now your girl has to study for her ecology, biology and chemistry exams </3 wish me luck y'all I'm ALMOST DONE!!! have a wonderful day or night 𖹭

[k-hotchoisan]

hii just wanted to say i love your writing and youre sooo good at describing stuff 😭😭

could u do a yunho oneshot based on or inspired by the song under the influence by chris brown? 🫠🫠🫠

Of course princess! THANK YOU FOR BEING SO SWEET iM BLUSHING \(//∇//)\ + requesting this lil prompt hohoho 😮‍💨🌶️❤️

Also that’s a rEALLY good song for Yunho 😏😏

Enjoy ✨

Synopsis: where Yunho realises he doesn’t need tussin to get high when he can get high off fucking you.

Word count: 2.1K

Genre/Warnings: fuck buddies but feelings are there just in denial, Drabble, one shot, smut, pwp, sexual brain rot, !mentioned drug use for medical purposes (please DO NOT take cough syrups unnecessarily + keeping his dose AS MINIMAL as possible), riding, praise kink, yunho’s big fucking cock, multiple orgasms, cream pies, squirting, you and Yunho are so fucking whipped for each other actually.

The world around Yunho spins as he feels pretty fucked and heavy from the tussin. He intended to take molly after that to prepare for the party, but the codeine fucking hits him, and it was only slight dose above the usual 10ml he takes for his coughs, not that he wanted to, so he decides to forgo the other drugs for another party or something. He felt pretty fucking high, but at least his irritating burning throat is suppressed.

He doesn’t want to let it override his consciousness—not yet, especially not when he sees your silhouette walking over to him, and when you come into view, you were just in his oversized tank, your legs bare, fresh out of his shower.

Yunho’s breaths grow heavier, as the only thing swimming through his mind was wanting to fuck you into whatever the nearest furniture was. His cock twitches underneath his sweats just thinking about it.

His heart races, but he’s not sure if it’s because of the syrup or because you’re just there—just drying your hair with one of his towels he lent you—he watches as drops of water falls from the tips of your fringe right onto your collarbone, as it slides down right into the dip of your cleavage. This just kills whatever Yunho was trying to rationale in his head as he swallows hard. He knows he’s fucking whipped for you, he just doesn’t want to fucking admit it.

You plop beside him as you leave the towel on a back of a chair. You move forward to pick up the remote control to flip through the channels, but Yunho stops you. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion but once your eyes meet his, his eyes looks pretty glazed.

“Yunho, are you crying?” You ask, still confused at first until your gaze glances at the coffee table, noticing the bottle of tussin on the coffee table.

There we go.

By the time you realigned your focus on him, Yunho is just staring right at your cleavage, like the fucking pervert he is.

“Your cough acting up again?” You ask again, since he doesn’t reply, but this time he responds, nodding slowly with his eyes shut.

“Do you need lozenges?” You offer, ready to dig through his apartment cabinets because you know he has them there, somewhere.

“I need to fuck you”, he replies, his eyes just tunnelling to you. You blink at him in disbelief before a smile cracks your face.

“Do you?” You tease.

He nods frantically. Your eyes lower to his crotch, and shit, it was stained, and there was definitely his cock just pressing so painfully against the fabric. And it doesn’t make your case any better.

His hands travel to your waist as he pulls you over to straddle his lap. You don’t want to let him know your panties were starting to soak through but the moment you attempted to avoid sitting anywhere his crotch, he already knows, because he pulls you in, and makes sure his clothed dick is sitting right below your cunt.

His hands snake to the back of your head as he pulls you in for a sloppy, deep kiss. You taste the sickeningly sweet favour of the cough syrup but the way he’s groaning in your mouth, desperate for your taste, only excites you even more. It‘s the only thing he craves.

Fuck buddies, yeah right. It was definitely developing more than that. At first it was just all fun and games, and as the both of begin to meet more often, it became a unanimous and unspoken decision to be exclusive fuck buddies, because it seemed that no one else was as compatible as the both of you were for each other.

His fingers find your nipples under the loose tank top and it almost sends him in a frenzy. He loves how your nipples are hardening instantaneously under his touch and your soft moans are just melody to his ears.

He can’t wait because it’s getting too painful for him, especially when he’s under the influence. He pushes you aside for a moment to pull off his sweats, and as you cock your eyebrow in surprise when you realise he wasn’t wearing underwear. The hem of his sweats brush against his hard and leaking cock, and a whimper leaves his lips, as more precum oozes out from his tip. Holy shit, he’s really sensitive.

Your panties are swiftly removed by him when his attention turns to you. He doesn’t want to be rough with you, and he usually isn’t, but as he’s fighting against the high, it’s taking all of his strength not to be feral with you.

And you’re back straddling his lap, just wanting to tease him a little more, since you love seeing him in this state—he almost begging to fuck you, especially since both your bare sex are just brushing against each other.

“Y/n, please. Fuck. Let me fuck you, please”, he whimpers, stroking his cock with his long and pretty fingers against your leaking cunt.

You don’t reply, but your hands are flat on each sides his shoulder; as you lower yourself down onto his thick ass cock. You sigh as he buries himself into you, and your thighs tremble from how much his thick cock is stretching you out. Yunho, on the other hand, is barely keeping it together, because the moment his tip goes in, his sigh develops into a full blown, long drawn moan as more him penetrates into you.

“Ffffuckkkkk”, his octaves go up pitch, face nuzzling against your neck, nipping at your neck and shoulders. “Why the fuck do you always feel so fucking good, y/n?”

Your only response to him is another lift from your hips before slamming down—sending your mind into a spiral of pleasure as your eyes roll back. You catch your breath to peak at Yunho’s reaction, and boy, is he already fucked out of his mind at the second stroke, evident by the blush on his cheeks and the way he’s panting so hard, mixed with his whines and whimpers.

His hands are gripping onto your hips hard enough to leave light red imprints, that’s for sure. Everything for Yunho is enhanced, no thanks to mixture, so the pleasure he feels is probably up by ten notches at least.

You start rocking your hips, as Yunho’s dickgrinds against your tight walls, sending a fuckton of pleasing signals across your body, absolutely fucking euphoric, considering how much his cockhead is pressing so disgustingly good deep inside you, and how his cock is bulging a little from how big he is. Not only was he erect, he was high and erect, and it’s the first time you feel so fucking full of his cock, right up to the brim—that was how aroused this fucker was.

Yunho’s head falls back onto the back of couch, one of his hands gripping the back of your neck, and the other tightening against the sheer fabric of your top. He can’t help himself from doing it—bucking his hips up to meet yours, making you full on bounce on his cock, causing your whines to turn into screams within seconds.

“That’s it, keep doing that. Fuck. So fucking good”, he doesn’t realise that he’s doing it himself, which amuses you but your sanity is slowly being ripped away at every thrust he pushes into you.

“God, imagine if we filmed this, that would be the best fucking sex tape. I would cum, over, and over again just remembering how much your pussy is squeezing me out like this”, he suddenly says, and that goes directly to your pussy, which causes Yunho to moan at the unintentional action.

As much as he was so fucked over, it didn’t seem like he was going to cum any time soon. Was it the influence, the exhaustion? You aren’t very sure but that is the last thing that shifts to your mind, especially when Yunho is fucking you from below so desperately.

The knot in your stomach tugs as your orgasm builds at every time Yunho’s cockhead pushes against your g-spot. His eyes are now locked onto yours, and he knows you’re close just from the way you’re twitching around his length, like he always does. He licks a stripe up his thumb and trails it down to your clit as you adjust yourself on him, and he never breaks eye contact. If anything, there’s probably a hint of pride that flashes in his eyes—he knows every part of your body, as if it’s his, and sometimes that fucking scares you because the both of you were only but just fuck buddies, and that’s what you constantly reminded yourself.

He presses his thumb on your clit as he gently pushes you back, exposing the pornographic scene before him—his cock just sinking in and out of your sopping cunt. He rubs against your clit as his free hand snakes up to your hips to push you, and his breathing shallows every time he sees his cock emerge from your abused hole, before he pulls you back in and your cunt just swallowing his cock whole.

Don’t even get him started with the noise the sex was making.

And the more he stimulates your nub, the more you realised you were gonna do more than just cum, because the sensations were getting too much.

“Yunho”, you cry out, your arm clawing against his chest, as you attempt to stop him, lifting your hips. His glazed eyes stare at yours, and his hand is on your shoulders, forcing you to stay seated on his cock like a good girl. Tears are pooling at the corner of your eyes. Fuck. It’s building too rapidly. “Yunho, I-“

“I know. I know. Let it out baby”, he whispers into your ears as he raises his hips once more, fucking so deep into you, and ensuring you feel it all in your clit as well.

“Three.”

Your body begins to go slightly limp as the orgasm is about to hit a fever pitch.

“Two.”

And it fucking burns so fucking good throughout out your body.

“One.”

Your lower abdomen convulses as your orgasm takes you out, you are barely able lift your hips because he’s holding it down as you fucking squirt all over his lower abdomen, as your cunt convulses around his cock as well, and Yunho is fighting with every nerve in his body to keep his eyes open to watch you unwind right in front him— crying about how good it all feels. And that was the moment he realised he just really wants you all for himself.

You slowly come down from your high, the aftershocks of your orgasm still tingling in your cunt. Fuck. Did he really just count you down to your orgasm while he was high? You’ve never felt like this before, in any of the fuck sessions you had with him.

He still isn’t done, because he hasn’t cummed. But this time, he seems really close, especially after watching you squirt so like that, and that, yeah, he was fucking aroused from that, because his cock only stretches you out further.

“Did that feel good?” He asks, his hands cupping your cheek, wiping away the tear stains.

“Fuck. Since when did you learn to do this like that?” You ask back, finding the energy to still continue bouncing on his dick. Every stroke on top of him, you could see the scrunch in his eyebrows accompanied by a groan.

“I know your body like the back of my hand, so why wouldn’t I?” He responds, his hands now on your hips, pressing you down hard on his cock. “Fuck. I don’t think I can-“

Before he finishes his sentence, ropes of thick cum spill into your abused hole, and his voice ups a pitch as moans spill out of his mouth.

“So good. Feels so fucking good”, he cries out, twitching in you, his fingers turning white from how hard he’s gripping your thighs.

And it’s a fuckload of cum, for some reason, that it starts oozing out of your hole while he’s still in you. His whines fill the room as he bottoms out in you. You can’t help but brush his hair back, to get a better look at his face, as he comes down from his orgasmic high. He still looks pretty glazed out, but his gaze never leaves yours as he pants heavily.

And the next words that leave his mouth take you aback.

“Y/n. I like you. Fuck.”

[pensbridge]

1 thing that the Bridgerton siblings all have in common is that they are going to act in the most innane, chaotic, borderline animalistic of ways.

Anthony: speed runs toward Daphne and Simon without thought to pry them off from fucking in the garden only followed by bitch punching Simon square in the face; schemes to find the "perfect" wife (one who fits his checklist) to only later realize he feels for her sister....but doesn't stop there, and continues his plan as if he doesn't realize that his perfect wife is actually right there, therefore he should not have to attempt to marry the other in his escape that can only be described as a self-destruct endeavor to not accept happiness; ruins the plan AT the wedding; also smells his future wife as she passes (and gets caught); the gazebo..nuff said

Benedict: is generally a little shit (see him at dinner tables, in large gatherings, and just around his siblings); criticized an artist in front of their own work. he wasn't aware, which just adds to the chaos. walks into spaces without a clue to what is going on before him (i repeat: criticizing the artist's painting; also his chaotic arrivals at sibling councils calling for immediate action); in an ongoing frustration over his artistic expression that is meant to be expression of his feelings; proceeded to get high and took the whole bottle of substances; almost jumped out of a window fr

Colin: proposes to a woman he barely knows in a mad dash impulsive instinct that evades kissing her; walks out from the dinner with his fiancé without notice on the sole basis that he does not want to hear his future in-law sing badly. yes she is indeed terrible, fyi. failed engagement -> impulse flee from the country; ahh (sigh) he is feeding the ducks; loudly proclaims his "mis-affections" for a woman who is actually his future wife, then lends himself to help her find a husband like he doesn't see the big yellow sign flashing to reveal himself as the spouse in question

Daphne: is ½ of the couple about to desperately fuck in the garden; previously was involved in a scheme to fool the people of their surroundings that she was on her way towards marriage; ran away from a prince who was about to propose to her. I understand, but we are in dire, desperate times here. fell for the garden-fuck buddy, and became obligated to marry him, but he doesn't want kids oh no.........married him; in the "I know something my brother's fiancé doesn't know" club of 3 (peace-out, staying out of the drama; c u @ the wedding)

Eloise: trots into a room full of her mother and siblings LOUDLY inquiring how a lady becomes pregnant; accuses a maid of writing a gossip column as if she does have much time on her hands to observe and overhear the secrets of those in her surroundings, and further write about it with an internal sassy voice like she doesn't have chores and duties to tend to everyday to survive; does everything in her power to avoid men, marriage, and anything to do with the opposite sex... except one (which is scandalous no matter how cute/innocent). tears apart her bff's room in haste after the shock effect of Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen

Bonus) 'Mother' Bridgerton: nearly asked a servant to lie on her in need for her "garden" to be tended to

Here's some more events from Season 3 that is added on to Bridgerdums malfunctioning:

Benedict: insults someone again/talks without thinking; generally has no idea what's going on; shit's (ship's) going on right in front of his eyes and he has no idea (tbh this is everything that I expected from him and this is EVERYTHING (he's chilling); so obvious trying to escape the desper-taunt; sooooo obvious trying to chat it up with L.D./Aggie Danbury, my girl

Colin: where do I start...playing 'Where's Waldo' with his bff for half an episode; LYING LIAR WHO LIES, 17 cities...you went to 17 cities?! (i'm just shocked); perhaps we should go somewhere more private??? /rushes to apologize with full sentimental remarks (good); rushes to offer the help as previously mentioned; kisses his best friend to help her out it's only fair; "OF COURSE!"...back on the hunt for pretty bff; *ooh watching bff eat a pastry, malfunction ahh* -> buys the pastry; the entirrreee hot air balloon scene (he waits, he rushes...he's definitely a fight mode with mental gymnastics flight in the lead up); can't speak in the middle of a ball; downbadism yellow sheet drop; crashes a proposal, cuts in the dance, literally so obvious, *angry* "perhaps that is for the best"; chases down a carriage ON FOOT; the (in)FAMOUS carriage; chaotic proposal

Eloise: she hates socializing with men and she's gonna shout it; cracking jokes with The Plastics; oops loud queen...let the cat out of the bag; /forever the accuser (now w/Cressida, former queen of The Plastics); she HATES society, guys, I don't think you understand; "MY BROTHER?!???" x2 (3x04 deleted scene + 3x05 tick tock Lady Featheringdown)

Francesca: the most sane, but living up to her name; dun dun dun piano; introvert escape room expert; finds a man without talking to him; rushes out of the new boyfriend hang to play her piano

Gregory: fell and broke his arm being nosy AND faaaaaailedddd; dummy was just fascinated by a balloon

Hyacinth: she's gonna be trouble, we just know, ok/always always always right

[hunterbunter3000]

Thinking about a fake dating scenario like say Sweets family is always bothering her about not dating anyone and she lies and says “actually I am seeing someone!” But then they ask to meet the person so now she has to find someone ti be her fake date. I would imagine the boys would be fighting each other for a chance to do that.

I know this is super random haha I’m just talking to talk at this point.

YES! AND RANDOM IS GOOD 👏👏 talk the talk and walk the walk babes! Any ideas you have SPEAK ON IT!!! 💓

But omg you're right, they would

Sweetheart walked in the living room, where the team was sitting on the couch drinking beers. She was talking on the phone as she walked past them to the kitchen, not even noticing the boys.

And she's talking to her mom about her love life. Saying "Yes ma! I will bring him this time!" And "You can tell Danni to shut the hell up cause he is real". And then she says love you and hangs up the phone.

Sweetheart, looking at everybody:

The boys looking at her:

Sweetheart: Okay who wants to be my boyfriend for the day

then they all say M E

And all hell breaks loose 💀💀

Soap: What tae FUCK do y'mean 'mE', Ghost?

Ghost: the fuck do YOU mean 'mEaH', Mactavish?

Soap: I SAID ME

Ghost: nah see-- you did it again. 'MeAh'. It's two letters.

Soap: AH WULL PUMPIN' BREAK YE YAH BRITISH CRUMPET

Sweetheart: uhm, guys?

Gaz: Bitch don't even try

Horangi: And why should I listen to you?

Gaz: You get a nose bleed everytime Sweets hugs you.

Horangi: WHAT?? HOW DO-- HOW CAN YOU EVEN SEE THAT I WEAR A MASK

Gaz: it drips under it, bruv. And I don't think her parents want to witness an extremely touched starved man get an aneurysm everytime their daughter touches him.

Sweetheart: GOOD LORD GAZ--

Horangi: OH YOU THINK YOU'RE SO MUCH BETTER? YOU CRY EVERYTIME SWEETHEART TELLS YOU A GOOD JOB

Gaz: YO I DO NOT-

Ghost: He cries when Capitan says it too.

Horangi: THAT TOO

Gaz: GHOST STAY THE FUCK OUT OF THIS

Price: You cry when I tell you good job?

Sweetheart, kinda touched but concerned: And you cry when I say it too?

Gaz: UHM- SIR I-- WELL SWEETS YOU-- FUCK

Krueger: Ignoring the emotionally unstable man--

Gaz: HEY

Krueger: You should take me, Kleine Göttin.

König: Don't, Sweets. You'll never return if you do

Krueger: König what the fuck

Krueger: You can't even talk your way into getting gas at a gas station, you think her parents want to see you freeze like a tortoise having sex when they talk to you?

König: AT LEAST I DONT SNIFF ANY SEATS SWEETHEART WAS IN

Krueger: THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS

König: IT HAS E V E R Y T H I N G TO DO WITH THIS

Sweetheart: Krueger-- YOU DO WHAT

Ghost: He also sniffs your hair

Sweetheart: You do that too, Ghost

Ghost, stares at Krueger: Not while you're sleeping.

Sweetheart: KRUEGER????

Krueger: GHOST SHUT THE FUCK U P

Alejandro: Please don't take Krueger, mama. He would end up in prison

Krueger: (angry German words)

Alejandro: You can take me! They'll love my charm.

Price: What, so you can flirt your way out of personal questions they'll most definitely ask you?

Ghost: Especially with that five-palm forehead you got

Alejandro: CÁLLATE LA BOCA DECORACIÓN DE HALLOWEEN

Rudy: Price, you have no say in this matter. You can practically be her father's golfing buddy.

Sweetheart: uhm, my dad doesn't golf--

Price: I'm 37 you fucking Muppet

Sweetheart: nevermind.

Rudy, surprised: Really?? Damn I didn't know that! You just looked like one of Super Mario's long lost cousins to me because of the janitor mustache you have on your old body

Price: Mother fucker--

Ghost: I don't think you would do well either when you look like a human gopher

Rudy: GHOST WHERE DO YOU KEEP COMING FROM

Alex: ROACH OW STOP HITTING MY FACE

Roach on Alex's shoulders:😠 pap-pap-pap-pap-pap-pap (like a fucking cat)

Sweetheart, rubbing her temples: Oh my fucking GOD- I'LL JUST CHOOSE MYSELF THIS IS TAKING TOO LONG AND GAZ LOOKS LIKE HES ABOUT TO CRY

Gaz, tearing up: I AM NOT

Soap: Me!

Horangi: It's me!

Graves, picking his nails:

Graves: It's probably not me.

Keegan: Uh... If it's no trouble, you can take me. I have to give your brother his game boy back anyway

Everyone looking at Keegan:

Soap: w u t

She takes Keegan.

(He honestly had a good time! Yes, he did start a fire with her siblings accidentally but other than that her parents loved him. Sweetheart sent pictures to everyone and omg they were so SALTY SAD AND JEALOUS. Ghost kinda smiled at a picture with Sweetheart and Keegan together, Keegan's face without the mask and grease paint wearing a nervous but kind smile. He looks happy. The others don't but they'll get over it someday💀💀)