#don’t bring other ships into it either please

[atypicalsouda]

Long personal vent/rant sorry if I come off too rude I didn’t mean to-

Ahh I don’t understand why soudam is even a thing…..😔

Like please I don’t hate ya for shipping it but it’ll never make sense to me. Yeah they have a bit in common cuz they both hide behind facades, but other than that they blatantly just insult each other because they genuinely don’t understand where the other is coming from. I’m sorry but I really can’t see Kaz coming to a point where he understands and likes/loves Gundham enough for a long lasting relationship. And on Gundham’s side where are any of you getting that he’d ever be interested in Kaz at all? Please explain that to me. There’s not one instance in which they’re nice to each other /seem attracted, even in extra stuff like UTDP. I firmly believe that it just wouldn’t be a good relationship. Just cuz Kaz seemed a little curious about the devas in the anime doesn’t mean anything to me. But by all means I don’t hate ya, I’m not going to tell you to DNI, I just want to agree to disagree.

[deus-ex-mona]

mfw someone i’m mutually blocked with seems to frequent this blog anyway (you know who you are)

[hihhasotherfixations]

John Price headcanons sfw & nsfw

I don’t usually do headcannons so please bear with me 👉👈

I hope you enjoy them tho :3 Will I use many of these in my writing? Yes, yes I will. These are both in general as well as him with you ;3

Part 2

Sfw:

He has an entire routine for his beard. Keeps it trimmed regularly and takes very good care of it, which causes it to feel very nice and soft to the touch.

Absolutely LOVES when you’re the one doing it though. It’s a small act of love that he can never get enough of. Whether you’re the one trimming it or just putting some products in. It’s a moment where he can sit on the bath rim and have you stand between his legs - or the other way around where he props you up on the sink and stands in between your legs. He just places his hands on your hips and closes his eyes, trusting you with something so important to him. It’s a very intimate thing that he treasures.

He has reading glasses. I won’t budge on this. Square(rectangle) ones with a very thin frame. Tends to forget whenever he puts them on his head and proceeds to go searching for them for five minutes.

He is very warm blooded. Always runs hot like a furnace. A blessing in the winter, a curse in the summer. Especially because he loves to cuddle.

Has a little trinket on his desk representing each of the 141 (+ Nik, Laswell and Farah). Be it a gift they gave to him or something that reminds him of them. There’s something for everyone. It clutters the edge of his desk a bit but it’s worth it because whenever the paperwork gets too much, he can just look at the little shrine he built and smile.

His love language is physical touch and quality time. While he loves giving you gifts and being romantic too, nothing beats holding you in his arms while you cuddle on the couch or in bed.

Speaking of- this man absolutely adores you. He doesn’t think he deserves the love you give him because of the things he’s done in his life. But every day he sees you, you prove that you do love him and he wants to return that love twice over.

His biggest fear is coming home after deployment to an empty house. Finding a letter on the table stating you can’t wait for him any longer. He’d understand, of course. But it would crush him.

While we’re on the sad train already- he suffers frequent nightmares due to PTSD. Feels really guilty for waking you up but also can’t stop himself from seeking your comfort after one of them - craving it. If you allow him to (he wouldn’t bring it up unless you suggested it), he’ll call you if he’s out on deployment or at base. Give him that privilege to phone you awake just to comfort him? There is nothing that man won’t do for you anymore.

He is terrified of being the one to leave you too though. He knows that if he’s ever faced with the option to sacrifice himself for one of the 141, he would. But it also breaks his heart because it would mean he’d leave you for them. He tries not to think about it like that, but it’s a constant conflict in his mind.

While he’s probably more likely to be a dog person, I can also really see him with cats just curled up on his chest. Once again, this man is always warm. The little felines will search him out like a bloodhound, preferring him over laying by the radiator.

THIS 👏 MAN 👏 CAN 👏 COOK 👏

And he loves to do it too. His idea of a hobby is either reading, building models or cooking. You can often find him in the kitchen with a cook book, making a five star meal. Loves to see your reaction to the taste of it, makes him proud of himself.

Also, yeah, he likes building models :3. Miniatures. In his spare time you can find him on the couch, bent over the coffee table with his reading glasses perched on his nose while he’s building a ww2 bomber plane out of matchsticks from some random pattern he found online. He has very steady hands and it causes the models to always look fantastic. His best and biggest work is a ship in a bottle from a kit you gave him for an anniversary between you two. He only works on that in short increments to make sure he doesn’t screw it up - it’s about 2/3 done. You’ve repeatedly tried to get him to share his work online but he always gets bashful and refuses.

If he ever got the chance to do it together with the team though?? He’s gonna be beaming about that single evening for a week straight.

His favourite colour is dark green, like the forests :)

This is less of a headcannon and more just snippets of canon proof that I found. But he can speak English, Russian, Arabic and Spanish. Maybe even more.

He’s a tea person. Can’t stand coffee. It’s not about the taste, simply that every time he tried it, it gave him a headache.

When he first introduced you to the team, he was very nervous. Really wanted them to like you. So when Soap immediately took you into a hug and thanked you for ‘taking care of the old man’, followed by Gaz introducing himself with a warm smile and a praising regalia of the things he’d heard from Price, he couldn’t be happier. And when he at one point saw you at the kitchen table with Ghost, talking calmly and laughing with the hulking man who’s tension had dropped from his shoulders? He knew you were the one.

Loves going on double dates with Laswell and her wife too. You’re all good friends and it’s a chance to truly unwind and just catch up with Kate outside of work.

Please for the love of all that is holy, take a bath or shower with him. He ADORES them. Really wants so bad to take care of you. Will do your whole cleaning routine for you if you let him. If it’s something he’s not used to? Teach him, he’s very eager to learn.

All in all, this man just loves you so much. He finds himself so so lucky that you chose him of all people as your partner. Whether you’re civilian or military, he’ll protect you with life and limb. Literally.

So, those were the sfw thoughts bouncing in my head. I hope you liked them. Now we’re moving onto the spicy stuff. Please respect the banner, thank you and more stuff for this man is coming! ^^

Nsfw:

He is an ass man. All the way. Don’t get me wrong, he LOVES your thighs, seeing the way his fingers indent the flesh when he squeezes, being buried between them - it’s heavenly. But there is just something about your ass that he can’t get enough of. If his eyes aren’t on it, then his hands are.

He won’t randomly smack your ass - doesn’t really sit right with him, doesn’t find it proper (except for certain situations ;3). But dear god does he always have a hand on your ass to squeeze if he gets the chance. Walking somewhere together? If he can, he’ll slide his hand from your back/waist down to your ass and hold there. Sitting on his lap? You already know it, his hand is on your ass, keeping you in place. Brushing past you? One hand on your waist, one hand on your ass while he apologises and squeezes past.

A gentle over a rough lover. While he can go both ways, he prefers to go slow and deep. Watching your face contort in pleasure as he fucks you, hearing every noise you make.

This man is an absolute pleasure dom. He gets off on seeing you get off. There’s plenty of nights where he solely focuses on you and doesn’t cum himself.

Doesn’t like the word daddy but for the love of god PLEASE use honorifics. Call him captain and sir and you’ll have an entirely different man on your hands.

Prefers giving over receiving oral. There’s just something about working his tongue and mouth on you that never fails to make him groan against you - even if his mouth is otherwise occupied.

Will always properly prepare you. He doesn’t like hurting you. He’s big and he knows it so he doesn’t want to take any chances.

While he doesn’t mind quickies (in his office is a favourite), he prefers the actual thing. Like stated before, he wants to focus on you and give you all the pleasure he can and a quicky just doesn’t allow for that.

For those instances where you rile him up enough to forego his gentler side however? He knows how to work you. He can push every button you have and have you seeing stars while he fucks the life out of you. Don’t expect to be standing on strong legs the day after.

Man has stamina for DAYS. Prefers to make you cum multiple times before he cums himself. Need a moment in between orgasms to recover before you can go again? That’s okay, you can cockwarm him while he waits.

Speaking of cum. It’s thick, potent and by god he cums a lot. Properly stuffs you if you let him.

Big on marking you. Loves leaving bites, hickeys and handprints. Give him the same too. Scratch marks, bite marks, hickeys. He loves checking his body over in he morning to see what you left.

He has quite the libido on him. He can’t help it, you’re the most inviting and enticing thing in his eyes. Bend over to pick something up and his cock can already be hardening in his pants.

He’s very considerate of your wants and needs though. If you don’t want to have sex, he’ll cuddle you and hold you instead. If you’re not into a certain thing, he’ll refrain on doing it next time. Very much wants to make it a time of pure pleasure and love for you, because that’s what it is for him too.

Very into kisses. Sloppy, long kisses where you moan and whine into his mouth. Better yet if you muffle your moans in his mouth while he fucks you.

Favourite positions are missionary, mating press, doggy style, lotus and spooning sex. He loves them for different reasons.

Missionary because of how close he can be, feeling your legs wrap around his waist while all of him touches all of you.

Mating press because of how deep he can hit and keep such control. He can see your face contort in pleasure while folding your legs up and holding you down.

Doggy style is obvious as to why. But he also really loves watching the way your back arches with this one. He can hold onto your hips and just let his eyes rove your body.

Lotus he loves a lot when cuddles on the couch evolve into more, or when he’s in his office and the need arrises for you both. Just having you seated on his lap, your legs around him, body pressed so closely into his while he gently fucks up into you? Heaven.

Spooning sex? You mean cuddles + sex? Hit. Him. Up. He absolutely loves fucking you like this in the morning. Lazy, tired, properly waking each other up with pleasure.

If you’re into it and allow him to, he’d even actually wake you up like that. Big on somnophelia like that for the thought of pulling you out of your dreams and your sleep with pleasure. If he gets to the stage where he’s opened you up and his cock is filling you without you waking up until then, he’s oh so proud of himself. Would only do it if you’re comfortable though.

Very big on cockwarming. Watch a movie together on the couch and let him rest his cock in you from behind. Can evolve into spooning sex on the couch while making you try to keep your attention on the movie. His hand on your chin, keeping your face pointed to the screen while he whispers against your ear.

I said it before, he’s big. Long and thick and knows how to use it well. He’s a very hairy man all over but he keeps it neatly trimmed down there.

The h a p p y t r a i l of this man. Run your nails over it and it instantly sends blood rushing into his cock.

Overall, John will fuck you whenever he gets the chance. And by the gods he will show you what it’s like to be truly worshipped.

Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to interact or send me any asks, I’d love to chat ^^

Part 2

[bomber-grl]

What being best friends with Damian Wayne would be like

Pairing(s): Damian Wayne x Gn!Reader (platonic)

Reader is a vigilante and attends gotham academy

The worst but the best

You guys are known to the public as an iconic duo and there are many edits of you out there

Some people ship you guys, which, are you even surprised?

Anyway, Damian has two different personalities

When you’re busy at school with work or fighting as your guys vigilante counterparts he’s so serious it’s not even funny.

It’s so annoying too cuz then he yells at you when you try joking around and starts ignoring you.

Especially at school

But then once he does he pretends it never happened and starts talking with you

Ugly ass

Well, you guys usually just hang out everywhere and anywhere

At school, at the Wayne manor, and also when you’re patrolling

Now, as a friend he’s 50/50

What I mean by this is that he deffo gets emo at times and goes on monologues and stuff

So that’s the worst part of being his friend

Most times when he goes on his superhero internal monologue u just stand there like 🧍‍♀️and keep checking your watch

The worst part of it is he kinda takes it out on you and acts bitter

So that’s the worst part of being his friend

Besides the fact he ignores you when you wave at him in the hallway 😔

Got u looking like a fan 😔

Dw tho, he’s got some good traits to him

Like how fun it is to talk shit with him

He’s always going after everyone’s ass it’s so outta pocket 😭

That doesn’t mean you’re safe either 😔✊

Also you bet your ass all the girls, guys and basically any living thing loves him

His looks, not rlly his personality

Like you love him, but Damian, please try not to call people who approach you NPCs😭

Honestly people started avoiding you like the plague because of him

You still love him tho cuz even if he’s not even funny, he is

Like he doesn’t try to be, but shit he says outta no where literally be the funniest shit you’ve ever heard.

But when he tries to be funny on purpose…

Like Damian, hunny, pls shut ur mouth

The urge to just 🤏 his lips

Another pro would be his money ngl

Bro is rich rich and he honestly never hesitates to get u shit

Like you’ll mention it once and then the next second it magically got in your hands

But if u beg ask him for sum he’ll make u feel like that ant with the bag on the stick

Like 😔

He might act this way but you guys play around a lot

Like he’ll let u jokingly push and make jokes at his expense and he’ll do the same

But the second someone does it to him he’s like-

“Who are you?”

Like why tf u joking with me when I got y/n?

And when they do a joke at your expense bro is mad mad

He’ll let u stand up for yourself but after that he just gets pissed

Like who are you? Npc?

Going on from that

He’s really protective

Cuz he rlly cares about u Fr

He’s honestly really appreciative of how you were able to handle and put up with him in the beginning

Especially with how emo he was in the beginning

He’s always gon have ur back too, you don’t even gotta ask

Going from that, when y’all joke and push each other just playing around and stuff

He always fakes getting mad like the toxic person he is 🙄

But you don’t miss the way he smiles

Like you don’t even care if u end up being dropped kicked, you always gon bring it up

Then u end up getting tripped by him and falling in front of the hoes 😔

———————————————————-

Here ya go! @ladygagaslefttoe20

[undercoverpena]

isn't it

din djarin x f!reader

summary: at first, it had been you who had found a problem with each one he’d landed at. but, at some point between your clothing being around your ankles, you’re sure he’d begun to find problems with you leaving too.

warnings: mentions of smut/alludes to smut. bad star wars writing (probs, i'm new forgive me). no use of y/n. brief mention/allusion of hand necklace (thanks @rhoorl for the term), m!oral, p in v. loosely season one/two, although likely au. wordcount: 1.7k an: a huge massive thank you to @saradika for firstly convincing me i could do this, and then letting me show her this so i could be assured i didn't butcher him. ily so much 🤍

It’s beautiful.

The sound of wind rustling through it, how it waves in spots up and down the hill—moving side to side like a cosmic wave.

You thought you’d known green until now; thought you had known silver too, assumed you understood the way reflections worked and how quick movements could be. But that was before him.

Before you’d known the feel of his solid body lay on top of yours.

Then, you discovered a lot of things. Like how easy it was to spread your thighs on either side of him. For your fingers to seek in the dark—how they effortlessly hunt and find the parts he’ll expose to the night, but never to the light.

You even found you don’t hate the sound of your name when he says it. Somehow makes it longer, more impactful—like it has meaning when it comes from his mouth.

All of which were things you’d never known before you convinced him to bring you.

A promise, a barter—an exchange. Your hand clutching his blaster slugs, tears clutching to your lashes, flowing from your eyes—aware of what you look like, aware of the desperation you reek of.

Just take me to a different planet. A suitable one. Please.

At first, it had been you who had found a problem with each one he’d landed at.

A bogus reason, a ploy—all stemmed from a rising infatuation with the man under beskar. But, at some point between your cheek against the wall of his ship and your clothing being around your ankles, you’re sure he’d begun to find problems with you leaving too.

But, this place is a gift—it’s a slice of heaven.

It had been a stop gap you’d almost pleaded at him not to make, a pause in the travel plan. Now you’re not sure you want to leave it.

Because here is a sea of greens, a variety, a never-ending display of every shade between the letters which make up the name. Some are more saturated, some are deeper; some are tinged with yellows and others are blotted with dark spots that aim to discolour, but just make them more unique.

There’s no bounty here—no collection to be made.

Just a sight for your eyes and a moment for him. And, you think you could sit here for hours and bask in it. Take it in. Allow the air of this planet to fill your lungs and carve a space inside of you that no one will ever be able to rip from you.

Stroking your fingers through the ground, you feel how your tunic presses to your spine—how it’s held there by the perspiration on your spine. The fabric desperate to blow, to whip around your ribs and the sleeves to float around your arms.

You don’t care that it’s warm—don’t mind that you can feel your skin prickling under it.

Because you’re lost in it, the limitlessness of this place. How surreal it is that each blade points north to the sky, all upright, anchored pleasingly to the ground it came from.

Things had been beautiful earlier too, you remind yourself.

When you had been enveloped by darkness, not a slither of light—not that there’d be the space for it in the small cot. His hands, forever a staple, an anchor, to your hips, determined to pin you there.

He’s a man who chases after those who run, and you suppose it’s ingrained in him. This belief that everyone, at some point, will leave—will go. You think it’s why he holds you tightly when you’re nothing but bare; you suppose it’s why after, when he unsheathes himself, he always traces his thumb over the places his fingers have been, reminding your skin he’s kind, just in case you need another reminder not to leave.

“We should go.”

You hum because you should. Yet, your mind rationalises that the baby is still asleep and there are more minutes to sit in the silence, to not dwell—you suppose it’s why your hand reaches up, and brushes over the gloved fingers instead.

Action is easier than words when it comes to him.

A game the two of you play, one of silence and strategy—wondering who’d be the first to crack and speak more words than necessary. You suspect it’ll be you in time, likely soon enough.

It’s why you clutch, cling. Weaving and working until you’re holding his fingers at an odd angle, a silent plea there, a wishful hope spoken without using syllables or your lips and mouth.

“One more minute.”

“Okay,” you respond.

Watching the strands move again, swaying, dancing.

A content sigh rolls from you, and briefly—in the back of your mind, you wonder if you’re really awake. Whether this is some form of peace your brain has concocted after the sight of him stained in crimson; his palms flat in the air, modulator expelling he’s fine, it isn’t his, he’s okay, it’s okay—

For a while, you’d believed him, until you felt the bruises—all pulsing and colouring in shades you can’t imagine. An image being drawn, shaded in—forever in black and white, just outlines and half-concocted feelings you have on what lives under his armour.

He sighs next to you, it rattling out through his helmet.

And you wait to hear it, the confirmation he normally hands you. Deep, even through his modulator that this “isn’t it” either.

It’s been a routine ever since the two of you began this dalliance. Ever since you’d smuggled yourself aboard his ship with the promise that you’d never ask him for anything else.

Neither realising how false that would be.

You beg for a lot. For more, for his lips, his fingers and his cock. You wait for the darkness, count down to it—thrum with excitement for it when he steps down the ladder and his helmet is aimed in your direction.

Somehow, no words are said, just mutual acknowledgement, acceptance. Or that's what you call it. It being seemingly better than admitting that you crave it—him. That you care, that the sight of him smeared in ruby still haunts you—lingers there, bleeds into good days and casts shadows while you wait in the hull. The child in your arms, soothing him—telling yourself you’re giving him comfort, when you suppose you gain more from the small being than you could ever provide.

“This isn’t it,” he eventually says from above.

His helmet turned, and you imagine the eyes that live under it. Question if they’re almond-shaped or hooded, whether they’re brown, green or blue. You also wonder if he looks at you with curiosity or want, whether it’s with a thousand thoughts running or none at all.

“No?”

“No. Not this one.”

That’s when you close your eyes. Let your ears do the seeing.

Allow your other senses to kick in, to swallow the lack of sight and make do. You end up lingering on the gloved hand in yours—the one which sometimes slides around your neck, lightly pinches either side as you moan at the feel of him. The same hand which slides down your spine to aid your motion, or lingers there when the terrain isn't trouble-free.

It's the remembering which makes you let go of it, of him.

Quickly managing to pretend your hand doesn’t feel cold when you do. Stuff down the emptiness that begins to drown you in the space you put between you, as you stand up. A part of you admitting defeat, silently saying goodbye to tall stands of green and the rolling hills adorned with shades.

“Thought you’d be sick of me by now.”

It rumbles from you. All heavy, laced in its own metal—ready to slam into him and take him down.

It doesn’t. You’re not sure any words ever could.

You suppose it’s why he says nothing, silently following, not too far so that you’re alone, but not close enough that you can feel the ghost of his touch. The distance measured, all purposeful. It remains so until you’re back aboard, until the door closes behind you and you’re once again surrounded by metal.

A part of you knows you shouldn’t grow used to him, shouldn’t be waiting for him to flood your spine with his chest. But you do—you really fucking do.

It’s why you don’t move, don’t take a step closer to check on the baby or even unclench your hand from around the strands of green you’d stolen. The ones you’d ripped up from the ground, roots tickling your wrist—the rest remaining tucked closely between curled fingers and a sweaty palm.

Yours. The smallest piece of a place you’ll likely never see.

“You should sleep.”

It’s an order. Direct—practically thrown at you. Followed by a tight grip on your waist, fingers finding the same place they always do. His place. The one not needing a mark, but he leaves them all the same, ownership, a possession.

Sometimes in the throes of it, you hear him hiss mine, jus’ mine—your head nodding in the dark, because you are, you know you are, the same as you suspect he knows he’s yours. It’s another thing which festers behind your teeth, keeping lips clamped shut, knowing it requires no confirmation, no words in exchange for the momentary slip-up he lets escape. But then, you offer nothing when you trace mine against him with your tongue, when you muffle the words around his shaft as your mouth widens to take more of him.

It’s just pleasure, an easy-to-choose solution to another body being in proximity—a lie you tell yourself.

One you bargain with when he sleeps and you’re coated in the dark, convincing yourself until sleep carries you away and you wake to find yourself either alone or the very opposite.

Because it’s easier, simpler. Far better than admitting your heart does a double take when he returns, that you yearn for him in the days that pass when he leaves you on the ship.

It’s less complicated than asking him if you’ll ever be worthy of seeing him.

And you’re not the type of person to question. So you don’t.

And so the routine continues.

an: you don't know how long this has been burning in my head.

[doromoni]

Clash of Champions | LH44 , MV1

Act 1 . Part 3 : Beaten Black and Red Bull Blue

Ships : Lewis Hamilton x Engineer! Reader , Max Verstappen x Engineer! Reader

Genre : Drama , Angst , Romance

Warnings : Morally Grey Characters

Summary : The rivalry between the titans of Formula 1 go off track and only one will reign victorious.

< Previous Act 2. >

Never in your days in Formula 1 would you even consider leaving everything behind and disappearing from it all. But staring at you was your resignation letter, fully written out and waiting to be sent.

Everything felt torturous. Your mind was eating you alive, it felt like your entire body was pushing you to cut every tie with the motorsport world. You felt sick to your stomach and bile was pushing out your throat. You just wanted to disappear.

It was the year 2021. No one had predicted the sudden rise of Red Bull in the form of Max Verstappen. The Mercedes dominance was now on the brink of dethronement.

Toto’s promise of an 8th championship to Lewis was under the threat of insolvency. The entirety of Mercedes is at its wit's end, with so many questions and no answers to give.

Nothing was solved, and people are now starting to point fingers at who’s at fault. Blame was being passed around from all parts of the motorhome. No one could accept that there was a driver that could challenge Lewis Hamilton and it was time for an actual battle on the track, except you — and because of this, just because you acknowledge the talent of Max Verstappen, you were branded a traitor. Suddenly, they finally had someone to blame. Y/N L/N, the Red Bull ally.

Your time at Mercedes had brought you hell and back. Every race week was as horrible as the previous one. When Lewis won a race it was a team effort, but when he lost, it was entirely your fault as an engineer. Your every action in every hallway felt like you were walking on eggshells.

The stress and tension had muddled every part of your life. However, you pushed through and took every hit, all because you wanted that 8th championship. Because it was all for the man that you gave your heart to, Lewis Hamilton. You are willing to give up everything for the sake of him.

No one saw that you were slowly dying inside, not even Lewis. It had been a while since the two of you had properly spoken, ironically you see each other every day. Yet everything revolved around racing and the championship, even on off weeks, Lewis was either training or out of the house for events he couldn’t bring you to.

Your shared apartment felt empty and icy. But everything felt alright when at the end of the day Lewis pulls you close, his arms tight against your stomach and you drift to sleep. And yet you wake up in an empty bed. It was a vicious cycle and one you cannot seem to let go of. All because you love him, even now, even when it hurts.

Yet, hurt and all emotions are set aside when your headphones go on and the roar of the engine goes off. You were still a race engineer and a damn good one at that. No matter what everyone said , they cannot argue that you were the best there was.

In all circumstances, when the lights go off, the goal is to win and win at all costs — but you were no monster. You didn’t want Silverstone 2021.

“Ok, Lewis. Radio check”

“ Loud and clear”

You feel the air change around you, the thick tension of eagerness seeped out in every corner of your side of the garage. The crew wanted to win, BADLY — the Mercedes side of the paddock was filled with desperation.

Red Bull had been winning for 5 straight races, and Verstappen owned 4 of them. Everyone from your garage was desperate for p1.

“I know that you want this win, Lew. Just keep your head low and focus on the goal” You suddenly felt the need to remind the British driver.

“ I know, Y/N” Lewis bit back. You didn’t like the tone of how he said your name. But you pushed that aside as you felt the hostility behind his voice.

“Lewis, don’t do anything rash please” you murmured hoping to peace with the British champion. Lewis had nothing else to say, and in all honesty, you were more than worried.

There was a growing pit in your stomach as if you knew something was about to happen.

And as Crofty announced the start of the race, there at lap 1, Max Verstappen had faced a horrendous crash. And it was caused by your driver. At 51Gs , Max Verstappen had hit the wall. The crash was caused by Lewis.

“He just turned on me,” Lewis said. Bull fucking Shit. You knew that what Lewis said was not close to the truth and you knew that Lewis did as well.

You were frozen from shock as you looked at the degree of Max’s crash. You didn’t realize that you were holding your breath till you saw that Max was out of the car. Your heart broke when the audio replay of the initial impact played, Max's voice held copious amounts of pain.

You were not well acquainted with the Dutch driver, but every interaction with him was pleasant and bafflingly soothing, considering that you were in opposing teams and his short temper. And you did keep your distance to respect your employers, even if you did enjoy talking with Max .Nevertheless, even when he is the “enemy” he didn’t deserve to be hurt.

Lewis had won the race and you refused to go on the podium and celebrate with the team. Even with your already dubious morals , you cannot swallow celebrating someone’s pain.

When you refused to go on the podium celebration, your boss threatened your job and stability with the team. So you did, and you watched your boyfriend celebrate without a care in the world.

Then at the sight of champagne being sprayed , everything came crashing down and an epiphany washed over you like scalding hot water.

The person you were looking at was not the same person that you once loved. It was as if you were looking at a stranger. He was not the same Lewis Hamilton that you have your heart to. No, this was just the 7 time World Champion from Mercedes.

At that realization, your whole body became numb. You started to walk away even before the end of the ceremony, people from your garage calling out your name.

You cannot find yourself to care as you beelined towards the circuit’s hospital wing. And there you found Max still groaning in pain.

You slowly went towards the Red Bull driver’s bed. Max opened his eyes to the soft noises of your shoes.

As he made up your form, his eyes shone with recognition. You weren’t supposed to be here, not when you were already tagged as a traitor by your team.

“ Hi Max, long time no talk huh? How are you feeling?” You asked with a soft smile, a smile that he mirrored back.

“Well, you never did return my handkerchief, now did you Y/N?”

And there started your friendship with Max Emilian Verstappen.

Before you could even bid goodbye and greet Max with a get well soon, your short visit to the clinic was already widespread in the Mercedes motorhome.

You were then called to Toto’s office. The news of your demotion to assistant race engineer left a thick silence between the two of you.

Every emotion you bottled up had reached the surface and that one last straw toppled the scale.

You took your phone out of your pocket and hit send on the resignation email, you were now certain that you didn’t want any part of this team and anything within it.

With no words, only a smile adorning your face and a finger stuck to the air. You left Mercedes, not once looking back.

“ Hello, Christian? I think I am interested in that meeting after all”

End of Act 1

Taglist : @vicurious28 @xoscar03 @barnestatic @stelena-klayley @sopheeg @imagandom @4-20-21-12 @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @minkyungseokie @d3kstar @kimialaia @mrsmelinda @cosmicwintr @younxii @ssrcsm @paigem00 @seokjinkismet @wcnorris @jayjay11122 @embersparklz @its-elias-world

Anyone interested to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or DM me!

A/N : Y/N baddie era coming in the near future 😮‍💨

[candyheartedchy]

Please be kinder to yourself with your self ships and self inserts. Please know that your creations of either drawings, writings or anything in between is precious. I know it can be scary to share and post sometimes. I know the fear of others finding your work cringy can be daunting. But what you create is beautiful. The fact alone that you see these fictional characters and want to be apart of their stories and share your love for them is a wonderful thing. No matter if it for fun or coping, your self ships are special. Your self inserts are a form of self love, embrace that feeling of being gentle with yourself when it comes to it. You don’t owe anyone a reason to why these characters are special to you, only that they bring you joy and comfort.

[laikabu]

re: my thoughts on laios’s sexuality (long post ahead lol)

let me start this post with this. first, this contains a lot of references to the new adventurer’s bible world guide book released last february. i can read japanese, but i’m sure they’re translated somewhere. general spoiler warning in case. also… i am ESL, so sorry for any grammar errors

second, if you’re on the team that insists laios doesn’t care about humans enough to form relationships, either read the manga again or at the very least read this thread.

last, please don’t chime in with your acearo headcanons on this post. there’s already a majority of posts here that insist laios is acearo and that anything else is impossible. i don’t like it the same way i don’t like when someone declares they hc marcille as bisexual to a poster who reads her as lesbian. i already have enough people here who declare he’s ace on my own art. at least people on twitter of all places don’t do this sort of thing to me. nothing in this manga is canon, you can headcanon anything i won’t get mad if you hc him as bi or something. just. don’t be weird on my post.

okay. trust me, i love women, and i love the idea of making my favs women lovers but the idea of laios being gay really appeals to me because of his background. this isn’t fueled by yaoi since i don’t even ship the only m/m relationship i bring up here, i just think it adds a nice layer to his disconnect with his own humanity

i do think laios has a very abstract relationship with his sexuality for a multitude of reasons. he grew up in a very conservative backwater village. he has a hard time recognizing his own feelings towards others just as much as vice versa. i don’t really care for the “laios is a monsterfucker” agenda people are pushing but i do think he’d engage in sexual thoughts in his own weird way, i won’t deny his deviantart fetish shit

as an autistic person myself, i relate to how he’d prioritize his special interest over social interactions. after all, he was fixated on monster food so he’s distracted from dark thoughts. he’s not an actual glutton

he’s shy around women, but i don’t think it’s out of attraction. i just think it’s because he’s awkward and doesn’t want to be seen as a threat. there’s a couple of times when, out of armor, he deliberately tries to make himself look smaller and nonthreatening.

he didn’t show any interest towards ashivia (the hubby hunter girl marcille replaced) and just humored her because she wouldn’t leave him alone. his other party members thought he was giving her special treatment so he had to tell her he “doesnt want to give her special treatment anymore”(even though he never did), so she left

ashivia did her best to butter herself up to laios and he didn’t care, but laios thought shuro was his bestest friend in the whole world because he was too much of a pushover to reject him. ironically… what ashivia did to him parallels what he was doing to shuro

also… yeah sorry i keep bringing up that one comic of laios saying if he were falin he’d marry shuro and then begging him to take him back to his country, or that comic of laios wondering why he doesn’t like him(and then the first two questions he asks the magic mirror was what if he or shuro were women). i don’t even ship them! but it’s not a reach to assume that he likes men because of this, even if it’s kinda played like a joke(after all,a lot of people like chilshi even though their ‘shippy’ interaction was played as a joke)

of course, given the setting, i don’t think knows he’s gay, he wouldn’t have the vocabulary to label himself. i do want to dance around with the idea of him forcibly confronting his own sexuality after years of yaad pressuring him to produce heirs lol. laios might not be cishet but he’s a king so he rdgaf about that right now. i’m open to him having female consorts for political reasons, but i don’t think he’s into women, is all.

before anyone brings up his succubus… god forbid an author makes hetbait. a part of the plot twist was that not-marcille wasn’t the only succubus enticing laios, his other party members were copied too. she was the only one who approached him. also… succubi aren’t always inherently romantic. once it realized marcille didn’t work, it switched to appeal to his desire to be a monster.

[chastiefoul]

Hello!! I just done reading your "this thing is heavy, can you hold it for me" work.

Can you do another one byt with other characters? Like: Beidou, Kaeya, and Ayato??

THANK YOU SO MUCH IN ADVANCE!!!

genshin characters react to "this thing is heavy, can you hold it for me?" but you held their hand instead pt. 2!!

part 1

a/n: i'm sorry this took months!!!

characters: ayato, beidou, kaeya, gorou, alhaitham, and tighnari

Ayato

“oh? you can just ask one of my retainer dear, i’m sure they wouldn’t mind.” he shot you down quickly with that one and you weren’t sure how to bounce back. perhaps another time then. “o-on a second thought i can just carry it myself.” you couldn’t help but feel disappointed for a second until a familiar gloved hand belonged to your lover engulfed your hand as ayato continued to walk. you smiled happily as you thought that either way you had ended up where you wanted to be even when the male beside you didn’t realize what you were doing.

until you saw him looking at the other way, quietly laughing to himself.

he knew. of course he knew!

Beidou

“not a problem, give it here!” she said as she gave her full attention to you that you almost feel bad when you went put your empty hand on hers. though that did not last long at all when you witness her wide grin already putting the pieces in her mind, as she laughed. “quite the treasure you have here, you sure wanna trust me on holding it?” she says cheerily, going along with you in the best possible way. “yes!” you claimed happily, “well then you can count on me,” she laughs, intertwining her hand with yours, leading you to her ship for yet another fun ride.

Kaeya

“interesting, what could possibly be so heavy yet so small that you have a problem carrying it around?” he smiles as he inspects, grabbing your fist and moving it around up and down. considering how sharp he is, you already knew this was gonna be a total bust the moment you started it, he probably was just pretending for the fun of it. you pouted, retracting your hand to your side.

“it wouldn’t hurt to play along once you know, mr knight?” you said in a joking manner. he only chuckled and raised an eyebrow, “giving up so easily?”  you, having nothing to retort against that only rolled your eyes. then he says again, “it’s not that i didn’t like it, i just prefer a more straight-forward tactic?” he says, grabbing your hand and brought it close to his lips as he planted a kiss there. “that’s rich coming from a man who often speaks in riddles.” you laughed, the gesture cheered you nonetheless.

Gorou

“what is it?” he says as he peers closely, already having a hand out. “come here, bring your palm closer,” you say, he obliged without any hesitation. so curious and so trusting. hook, line, and sinker. easily like that, you have captured his hand completely. you turned while giving his hand a good squeeze, wanting to see his expression, but he just looked like his entire system just shut down, until suddenly a color of pink painted his cheeks in more than a nice way. “to be using underhanded tactic like that...” he trailed off, flustered. “you don’t like it?” you asked, while smiling mischievously. a second look on his wagging tail was all it took to know the answer.

 “you already know i do...”

Alhaitham

he sighed deeply, knowing what’s gonna come if he didn’t play along to your random antics. he held out his hand, and you intertwined your hand with his. he expected a prank or some sort, but he certainly didn’t expect this. the simple act somehow made the man’s heart fluttered. he went quiet, not really giving an obvious reaction but you could tell by his soft smile he liked it. 

“you look pleased,” you teased. “i am,” he said bluntly, giving your hand a squeeze.

Tighnari

he immediately went on and on lecturing you to not overpack and only bring stuff you’re capable of holding, before ending it with a sigh. “give it here,” he said as you held his hand instead. the bow-wielder was stunned for a moment before putting it all together. he smiled, shooking his head in wonderment. “and you just let me went on and on like that? tell me was this worth it?” he raised an eyebrow. “mhm. i quite like your lectures.” you just giggled looking at the defeated expression on his face.

“yeah? then tell me why did you almost eat a poisonous mushroom mere minutes ago, did i not tell you all about it yesterday?” he crossed his arms.

“...for research purposes?”

“i keep telling you that’s not how it works-“

[pedroshotwifey]

Idk if you still do those nsfw requests... but if you do, can I request Nr 39 and either Din? Because I feel like din would be so taken aback by everything, as he just seems like a virgin at heart (sorry not sorry🥲)

Hi baby!! Don't you know sub/virgin Din is my specialty? 😏 I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy!!

Pairing: Innocent!Din Djarin x GN!reader

Warnings: premature ejaculation, grinding, innocence kink, embarrassment, stuff I'm probably forgetting

Word count: 927

Cramped

*****

“Din, I really don’t think there’s enough room in that thing for all three of us,” you admit. 

“No, look,” he walks over to the small ship and points at the bubble on top. It appears to be a repurposed droid pit. “Grogu will sit up here.” 

You bite your tongue and nod, not wanting to let him down but knowing you need to explain that it’s just not going to happen. The N1 is a big downgrade from the Crest, but you can’t blame him for trying to make it work. 

“That’s really smart, but look at the cockpit.”

You watch as his helm turns to the small, single seater cockpit. 

“What do you mean?” 

You resist the urge to just stare at him. What does he mean ‘what do you mean’? 

“Din, do you really want to travel for days at a time cramped in that thing with me? I’d practically have to be in your lap.” You ignore the way your cheeks heat as a crude image pops into your head. You’ve been painfully aware of Din’s innocence for as long as you’ve been flying with him, but this is next-level. Does he really not get why this may be a problem? 

“It’ll be fine,” he says. “We can stop more often if we need to.” 

You sigh at him, about to bring up the fact that you’ll be wasting a ton of fuel if you stop every day you’re traveling. 

“Here, I’ll show you.” 

“Din, I–” 

“Just try it, please?” 

He’s already lifting the seal and getting in, settling himself in the pilot’s chair. He shifts his hips and spreads his thighs as he gets comfortable and makes room for you. It makes your mouth go dry. He’s a few years older than you, but absolutely fucking clueless. 

He says your name when you don’t move from the spot you’re standing in. “C’mon,” he motions his hand for you to come take a seat. You chew on your lip for a second but decide to indulge him. You’ll just have to be careful. 

You grab his hand and let him help hoist you up, bringing you to stand between his legs and then lower down. You make sure to shift down a bit so that your ass is on the edge of the seat instead of against his crotch. Of course, though, Din’s hands come to your hips to drag you toward him, getting the two of you flush to each other. 

You can feel heat in the tips of your ears now as you’re pulled over him slightly. You know he’s just trying to make sure you’re comfortable, but his efforts have the opposite effect when you can feel his soft cock pressing against you. Your body stiffens and you bite your lip, sending a prayer up the maker that it stays that way. 

The bulge is fucking impressive, you’re not going to lie. You’ve caught glances of it before—intentional or not—but this is insane. 

You try to subtly move yourself off of him the tiniest bit, more to relieve the pressure to his appendage than anything else. He lets you do so, but not much with his hands still on your hips with nowhere else to go. Then he moves them to your thighs, one resting on each. Okay, maybe they did have somewhere else to go. 

Another image shoves it’s way into your head, this one of his hands further between your legs, no barrier between the two of you as he uses one of them to—

You shake yourself out of it, squirming as you silently scold yourself. 

“See? It’s fi—” 

He chokes on his words as your ass brushes against him, the brief friction something he’s not used to. 

“Fuck, sorry,” you apologize frantically, trying to get up off of him so you don’t make him uncomfortable. You can already feel him stiffening. He moans softly and his hips shift a little as well, causing even more rubbing on parts that do not need to be rubbing. His hands tense on your thighs, holding you to him so you can’t move. You yelp, unsure of how to get out of this predicament without stirring him further. 

“What the fuck? Do that again. I liked it.” 

Your jaw drops. 

“W-what?” 

“Do that again. What was that?” 

“I–” 

He bucks his hips again, stimulating his now fully hardened cock. 

“Mph, that.” 

“I-Din, I don’t think you unders–” 

But he does it again, and you can feel arousal stirring within you despite yourself. He ruts up, a moan crackling through his modulator. His hands grasp harshly as he starts to grind against you. 

“D-Din–” 

Suddenly, he groans behind you, his body tensing and trembling as your face floods with embarrassment. You can feel his cock twitching and pulsing, a wet spot forming in his flight suit. It goes on for longer than you’ve ever seen before. You throb with want between your legs as you listen to him come down from his orgasm.

The two of you sit in silence, Din panting slightly as you try to process what just happened. 

“Cyar’ika?” 

You swallow. “Yes, Din?” 

“W-what was that?” 

“You just came,” you explain, trying to keep your hoarse voice loud enough for him to hear. 

“Oh,” he says, though you can tell he has no idea what the fuck you just said.

“Can I do it again?” 

You let out a shaky breath and turn your head slightly his way, knowing you’re not getting out of this explanation.

*****

Here’s the link to the prompt list if anyone else would like to request 🫶

[deepouterspacecandy]

The Wolf and the Fox

I’m feeling rather sentimental lately, so I just wanted to pop in here real quick and say that kindness matters. Kindness for yourself, and for others. If your art, whether that be writing or something else entirely, helps you navigate this world—it matters, too. I hope you feel safe today, online, and in real life. This piece and all my work, really, is 18+ only. This one isn’t hot and heavy by any means, but there’s some violence and sexual themes sprinkled about. If you enjoy it, maybe I’ll chip away at another chapter. Otherwise, thank you so much for spending some of your precious time with my words and my mushy heart. Be well.

“This rivalry—whatever it is—ends now,” Isaac barks, pinning you both with a vicious scowl.

Abby crosses her stubborn arms across her chest, a snarl curled on her smug lips. You’re struggling to control the urge to roll your eyes with such intensity that they detach from your skull and land on the floor.

“Not a word from either of you?” Isaac says as his glaring frustration builds. He points irritably at the chairs across from his desk. “Sit down. Now.”

“But I have training in twenty minutes,” Abby explains, her meek manner only apparent when she is around the boss.

“I don’t give a damn—sit!”

Isaac raises his voice, making her flinch, and a sense of gratification fills you. It quickly dissipates when he directs it towards you.

“Did I stutter?” he shouts, kicking at the legs of your chair for emphasis.

As Abby turns her head, a smirk spreads across her face, igniting a fiery determination within you to bring her haughtiness crashing down by any means necessary.

“If it weren’t for him, I’d drop your ass right here,” you mumble.

She opens her mouth to retort, Isaac’s hands slamming down on the desk, causing both of you to jump.

“Consider yourselves lucky I haven’t tossed you both in the stockades. I need you to get your act together before the next raid. Otherwise, I would not hesitate. You embarrass me.”

Abby pinches the bridge of her nose, blowing out a heavy breath.

“Well, I’d hate to be the reason she ships off in a pissy mood,” you say, throwing your hands up in mock surrender. “Now you only have about a hundred other people to accost before she leaves.”

“Fuck you,” Abby says.

“Enough!”

Isaac leans back in his worn leather chair, and the metallic creak breaks the sudden silence of the room. The weight of his authority is suffocating, leaving your mouth dry, while Abby’s hands twitch anxiously beside you.

His finger jabs in her direction first.

“I expect more from you,” he says. “This ends here. Do you understand me, Abigail? I will not tolerate this petty behaviour.”

The verbal lashing doesn’t bring you any delight; instead, it serves as a painful reminder of her superiority over you and the respect the WLF has for her. Respect you’d happily offer if she didn’t treat you like a floating piece of swamp trash.

“You,” he says, his fury focused solely on your shrinking form. “I had high hopes for you. I’m now questioning my judgement and that does not please me. Are you trying to make me look like a fool?”

“No, sir.”

“Come again?”

“No, sir,” you say with conviction, dipping your chin in submission. “It won’t happen again.”

“Delightful,” he growls, his hands steepled in front of him. Sarcasm oozes out of his mouth like venom. “Tomorrow presents the perfect opportunity for you to address your troubles, as I’ve scheduled you both to ship out.”

Abby keeps quiet, but her head drops back with melodramatic flair. Your eyes involuntarily roll in response, unable to contain your annoyance this time. Isaac doesn’t ignore the barbs before him.

“With bells on, do I make myself clear?” he orders.

He gestures for you to leave the room, instructing Abby to stay behind for a mission briefing.

----------------------------------------

In the gym, you can feel the tension and stress melt away as you push yourself to your physical limits. Amidst the clanging of iron plates and the rhythmic flow of blood in your muscles, your restless mind finally finds peace.

In an act of defiance, you increase the weight on the barbell, determined to spite Abby even if she isn’t there to see it. With the image of her smug face behind your eyelids, you push yourself through six strong reps, feeling your arms shake on the seventh.

Vascular hands appear above you, hovering just below the bar.

“Spot someone else,” you huff, adjusting your legs and arching your back.

“Seven is good. Eight is better,” Abby says, standing her ground. “Again.”

As the vibration in your arms intensifies, your frustration towards her swells.

“Use it,” she advises, leaning in closer for better guidance. “Let that anger drive you. Again.”

You’re considering quitting and giving her a piece of your mind. You picture yourself ripping into her and leaving without a second glance. Her body remains rooted in place, an unspoken challenge for you to make a move.

It’s the heaviest load you’ve ever pushed, and you can feel every ounce of weight straining your muscles. A guttural whimper escapes you as you force the weight up. Only at the end of your final rep does Abby touch the bar, leaving you to swipe the sweat from your forehead.

“Not bad,” she says.

You hoist yourself up and off the bench, returning the dumbbells you previously worked. It’s late, and the gym is empty save for the gargantuan pain in your ass following you around like a sullen shadow.

“You’re just going to ignore me now?” she asks, leaning flippantly against the squat rack.

“That was the plan, yeah,” you mumble, attempting to restore order to the chaotic pile of free weights, likely abandoned by a soldier with an inflated sense of self.

“Your plan is total crap, but okay.”

Trying to maintain your composure, you shake your head at her arrogance, staying focused on the task at hand.

“Look, we should try to get along,” Abby says. “I don’t want this affecting what goes down out there. People depend on us.”

“Okay, Isaac,” you say, slinging your gym bag over your shoulder with a scoff. “I’ve wasted enough time with this. See you at zero six hundred.”

Her voice echoes behind you as you push through the gym doors and into the dim, vacant hallway.

“Don’t be late!”

If your arms weren’t so sore, you might consider the idea of flipping her off through the window.

----------------------------------------

The rift between the two of you didn’t happen overnight. It resulted from a multitude of minor incidents and one miscommunication that was blown way out of proportion. As Abby trudges ahead of you on foot, swearing up a storm under her breath, you’re reminded of this.

“You’re being too loud,” you say, breaking into a slow jog, trying to catch up with her massive steps.

Even as you approach a full sprint, your footsteps are blades of grass in the wind compared to hers. As she spins on her heel to glare at you, you can’t help but feel a pang of embarrassment at how out of breath you are, desperately trying to keep up with her.

“Cardio wouldn’t kill you,” Abby says, waving a dismissive hand in the air before striding off. “I might, though.”

You contemplate staying put, observing how far she goes before she finally notices your absence. It’s likely that she’d travel two states over before she bothered to look back.

“Duly noted. Since we’re on the topic of what wouldn’t kill us, how about you practice walking like an adult human?” you quip. “Instead of a full-grown safari animal. Are you trying to get us assassinated?”

“Just you,” she says.

You’d love nothing more than to fling a sticky ball of mud at the back of her head and leave her sputtering. Unfortunately, you are miles from home and stranded without the vehicle you left the stadium in.

“Screw this,” you exclaim, raising your hands in annoyance before veering off from her direction and choosing to follow your own path.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“Away from you.”

It’s incredibly reckless and potentially life-threatening, but common sense is the last thing on your mind. Before the WLF came along, you had already endured years of living outside the safety of the city walls. Currently, Abby’s actions are hindering concentration, and you’d rather deal with Isaac’s rage than spend another hour bickering with his golden soldier.

“You’re going the wrong way!” she shouts, her voice reverberating off the crumbling apartments.

Sudden, gurgled screams in the distance paralyze you. The racket seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, growing louder with each passing moment, turning your skin to ice.

“Oh, fuck!”

Chaos erupts as a group of decomposing Runners break through the glass doors of the building next to you, hell bent on tearing you apart. The sheer intensity of their shrieks overwhelm your senses as you fumble for your gun.

When Abby clutches your arm, it jolts you back to the present moment.

“Watch my six!”

With a swift yank, she hurls you behind her, rapid gunfire ringing out and adding to the deafening commotion all around you. As you empty your clip, the acrid smell of gun smoke fills the air. A runner emerges, and the lethal tip of your knife slides into his skull, dropping him like a sack of bricks. Your wrists ache as you slash your knife across any infected that break Abby’s barrier until you’re stunned by a pustular crawler who drags you to the ground.

Just as you think it’s all over for you; Abby fearlessly straddles the festering monster and snaps its neck.

With ease, she throws the corpse aside and pulls you up. Your wobbly knees collapse beneath you, expeditiously forged by gelatin and nothing more. Disorientation prevents you from formulating any brilliant escape plan.

You’re not sure how the two of you ended up barricaded inside an eighth-floor condo, but somehow you made the trek unscathed.

----------------------------------------

Spirals of peeling paint adorn the large, cracked walls, and you wonder how long the inhabitants survived when the pandemic struck. Despite the layer of mold and dust that coats every piece of overturned furniture, the scent of old leather wafts from the neatly aligned suitcases by the door.

You try to investigate who might’ve called this place home, but the clues are bleak. Empty picture frames rest on the fireplace mantel, with broken glass scattered about like grains of sand on a long-forgotten beach.

Abby disappears down the hall as you lose yourself in the moth-bitten curtains fluttering hauntingly against several fractures in the towering panoramic windows. It’s so quiet in this suite that you doubt anything is still lingering, even in the darkest shadows.

“Let me take a look at that,” Abby says as she flips over the loveseat, laying her jacket over its musty cushions. “Cop-a-squat.”

As you continue to stare at her, she fidgets, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. She clears her throat, gesturing at your ankle.

“You’re limping. Let me see.”

The adrenaline was pumping so hard during the fight that you didn’t even notice that you had rolled it at some point.

“It’s fine,” you dismiss. “We should check for scratches first.”

The snail’s pace you’ve adopted reflects your reluctance and Abby blows out a harsh breath.

“I’m clean, and that can wait—you don’t want that to swell up,” she says. “Come here.”

“Maybe I’ll turn when you’re busy playing doctor. Then what?”

You’re only half joking, but the way her mouth quirks up into a soft smile eases your mind. You can count on one hand how many of those you’ve witnessed on her. It’s a fleeting thought that you swallow down with the lump in your throat, but Abby is exceptionally pretty.

Yeah, you definitely caught Cordyceps.

“I decide who bites me and when,” she says, patting the sofa to hurry you along.

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as her comment sinks in. Her inquisitive gaze dissects your response, and her modest smile transforms into a full-bodied grin.

“That was too easy,” she teases. “An unsullied girl, huh?”

Plunking down in front of her, you watch as she kneels to inspect your injury with a light hand. A dull throb blooms along your foot as she presses and maneuvers it. You do your best to suppress any wincing, but the moment she rotates the joint, pain shoots up your calf.

She pulls a medical kit from her backpack and makes quick work of treating your ankle.

“You are way off track,” you say, trying to scrape your dignity off the stale carpet. “Your train is taking a dirt road—that’s how off track you are.”

“Got it,” she smirks, wrapping the tensor bandage snug.

“And who says unsullied? A gravedigger from the fifteen hundreds—Jesus,” you say. “I didn’t realize you were a whole two centuries old.”

When she looks up at you through her lashes and giggles, the sound is more infectious than spores. You chomp on your lower lip to keep from smiling, but your cheeks sting from suppression.

“I read a lot,” she says with a shrug. “Is that such a bad thing?”

Abby’s rugged hands linger as she rests your foot casually on her lap. The weight of her touch is more comforting than you’re willing to admit.

“I’m personally more concerned about your pale complexion and aversion to sunlight,” you say, wiggling your toes to keep the pins and needles at bay. “Does Owen know you’re a vampire?”

She rakes her teeth over her bottom lip.

“Is this where you finally confess you have the hots for him?” she asks. “You’re off the hook now that he’s no longer my problem.”

It’s as if the God of thunder himself dropped you in an ice bath. As soon as Abby mentions the flat-out conspiracy theory, it extinguishes the glee building between your ribs, leaving you deflated.

“I never had feelings for him,” you say, pulling your foot from her grasp.

“That’s not what he said.”

“Yeah, well, your boyfriend is a fucking jerk and a liar. But that’s obviously no surprise to you, given how everything shook out with Mel.”

As Abby’s heavy gulp echoes through the hollow room, you stand up just in time to avoid registering the pained look on her face. Although you may not be her biggest fan, it never brings you joy to see someone sad, never mind take part in it.

You attempt to distance yourself from the resurfacing memory of Manny’s party. The night Owen’s unrequited alcohol-infused advances made a mess of everything. Until that deceitful night, he had been a loyal friend to you, and it still unsettles you to remember the needless drama his cowardice brought about.

“His story checked out.”

“Oh, did it?” you chuckle humourlessly. “Supreme investigative journalism went on right under my nose, and I had no idea!”

“Why can’t you just admit it? It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“You know what, Abby? You’re dead wrong. But I don’t have to explain shit to you. I’m going to sleep.”  

With a purposeful shake, you rid her jacket of any dust before throwing it back to her. Driven by your determination to rise with the sun and get the long, miserable journey home over with, you stagger down the hall into the nearest bedroom.

Why did the damn Humvee have to malfunction and leave you deserted today of all days? If you didn’t get your butt handed to you on a silver platter, you would blame Isaac.

----------------------------------------

You are roused from sleep by a faint, repetitive thudding noise coming from somewhere inside the apartment. You blink against fatigue, the sky momentarily captivating you with its mesmerizing gradient of rich purple and blue. The shabby blinds filter the light, creating a lattice-like pattern of warm orange strokes on the walls.

It dawns on you that this dwelling must have been opulent in a previous time.

You stretch your weary muscles and track the sound until the subtle drumming leads you to the balcony. As the first light of dawn breaks, you find Abby poring over a tattered book, her heels absentmindedly knocking against the broken balcony ledge. Her long hair is golden and untamed, cascading down her bare back in wild ropes.

Your voice cracks from disuse as you mumble, “That’s one way to flag our team down.”

Engrossed in her book, she fumbles around for her damp shirt, the fabric slung over a nearby chair. Your etiquette kicks in and you hand it to her, averting your eyes.

“There’s laundry detergent on the counter,” she explains, dog earing her page to in favour of dressing herself. “It’s ancient but it smells better than I did, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Would you come inside already? That looks like it’s about to collapse. Aren’t you afraid of heights?” you ask.

Backward, she crab-walks through the sliding glass doors, her movements awkward and unsteady. As she hops up, the aroma of freshly fallen rain clings to her clothes.

“It’s not so bad when I’m distracted,” she says, thumbing at the abandoned novel. “How did you know?”

“Heard it through the grapevine,” you lie, gnawing at the corner of your chapped lip.

Following your team’s impressive escape through a high-rise complex, Isaac was the one who brought it to your attention. He thought that your fearless leadership would blend seamlessly with her fierce leadership, creating a formidable force. Abby could be the anchor that helped you find strength in your most terrifying moments, while you could be the guiding light that helped her find courage in hers.

Despite its initial promise, Isaac’s lack of realism is well-known.

“What are you afraid of?” she asks.

In this world, there is an abundance of things, enough to fill a scroll ten miles wide.

“People, mostly.”

She purses her lips, a frown pulling her feathered brows together.

“I guess I didn’t help much with that.”

“Yeah well, you don’t owe me anything.”

Her expression contorts as if she’s itching to argue against that statement. You divert her attention from the process by prioritizing the task ahead.

“We should go,” you say. “While it’s still quiet out there.”

She nods, pitching the book into a prehistoric pile of ashes in the fireplace.

It elicits a flabbergasted squeak from you, and she’s beguiled.

“What?” Abby chuckles.

“Now you won’t know how it ends,” you say.

“Nah, I’ve read this ending a million times,” she says, staring after the discarded book. “It’s nothing new.”

You would retrieve it for her if it didn’t threaten to leave your hands and all your gear covered in soot. Maybe her assumption is flawed.

“You’re just a rainbow of positivity in the morning,” you razz, and she snorts at your proclamation. “No, really. I’m floating on air over here.”

“You’re funny,” she says, and the sincerity of her tone takes you by surprise. “I didn’t let those monsters turn you into a zombie. That’s got to count for something, right?”

You suppose it does.

She takes extra care not to appear intrusive as she reaches over to lift the backpack from your shoulder.

“I’ve got it,” she says. “I’ll carry the heavy stuff today.”

----------------------------------------

As you settle back into the FOB, Isaac has you on light duty work assignments. It has helped you heal over the past four weeks, and as you’re easing back into your gym routines, you’re feeling strong. You find yourself in uncharted territory though, as this is the longest you’ve gone without joining a supply run—but lending a hand to the cooks in the kitchen is surprisingly fulfilling.

Avoiding Abby in the past has made it easy to continue to do so, even unintentionally. The only connection you’ve had with her since returning to base was through the stack of blueberry pancakes you whipped up for her team, which ultimately got passed on to her by someone else.

Since the mention of her name no longer brings you emotional pain, you’re satisfied with where things are. That is until Abby unabashedly leans over the cafeteria counter and whistles at you, attempting to grab your attention from across the kitchen.  

“Hi pancake girl,” she smirks.

“Pancake girl?” you groan, drying your hands on your apron. “I’m officially banning you from assigning nicknames. I’m still recovering from unsullied.”

Abby’s mischievous expression brightens up the poorly lit mess hall before she quickly commits to a truly theatrical act of sulking—bottom lip jutted out like a little kid.

“Oh man, I hate being punished—for how long?” she pouts.

The line of people behind her seems to multiply, and you try your hardest to juggle multiple tasks, but it becomes incredibly difficult with her playful gaze fixed on you.

“The rest of your natural born life feels appropriate,” you say, sliding a jug of juice across the counter for a group of soldiers. “Or at least until you come up with something better.”

“I can work with that,” Abby says, shuffling aside to make space for the growing queue of hungry civilians. “Your pancakes were a hit, though. My squad won’t shut up about them—and I love blueberries even though they stain the shit out of my hands.”  

Amidst the busy kitchen rush, a fellow crew member steps in to lend a hand, giving you a chance to take a breather. You chug a glass of water before giving Abby your full attention.

“I think it’s time we teach you about some ground-breaking eating tools.”

“Is that right?” she grins.

“Definitely,” you say, grabbing a roll of cutlery from the cart behind you. “For example, this here is a fork and knife combo. Rather brilliant in preventing blueberry stains instead of eating your pancakes like a toddler.”

Abby’s chin dips as she snickers, her spirited mood doing a fantastic job of lifting yours.

“What about that spoon thingy—where does that fit in?” she asks.

“Well, when you bless me with another horrid nickname, I can use this tiny shovel to dig through the floor and escape.”

The sound of Abby’s laughter is magnetic, drawing in everyone around her. She effortlessly embodies effective leadership, and it’s something about her you respect.

“It’s not usually this easy to make me laugh,” Abby says.

“I’m just that good,” you retort. “Unless you’re drinking on the job or something. Are you a day drunk, by any chance?”

She can barely contain her fascination as she shakes her head and looks up. The chow hall fades into a blur as soon as your eyes meet.

“No, I think it’s all you,” she murmurs, her fingers toying with the cuff of her sleeve. “Come on a run with me, okay?”

The clamour of clattering dishes and trays makes it difficult to hear her.

“I didn’t catch that. Come where?”

“A run with me,” she says, pronouncing each word like she’s teaching you to speak for the first time.  

“They haven’t cleared me yet.”

“Not that kind of run,” Abby says, pushing herself back from the counter, brows jumping. “Meet me at the track later, yeah?”

Trying to bridge the growing distance between you, you shout, “How about no!” as she continues to walk backwards, awaiting your response.

Disregarding your answer, she calls out the exact time she expects you to join her, overpowering everything else with her radiant grin.

“But I hate cardio!”

“Don’t leave me hanging, lazy girl,” she chimes, shouldering through the doors until all that’s left of her is a whirl of confused flutters between your ribs.

Her sprightly tone gives that moniker a whole new meaning, making it the most tolerable by far.

By the time your shift lets up, the halls are serene, as most of the residents have retreated to their quarters for the night. By helping to prep the food for the next few days, you’ve lightened the load for tomorrow’s workforce.

Cardio with Abby is bound to leave you needing a rest day.

----------------------------------------

The stark contrast between the bustling stadium and the peaceful calm that descends after everyone wraps up their day never ceases to leave you in awe. You’ve spent countless hours in the nosebleeds, admiring the arena you call home.

While cutting through the gardens, the sweet, floral scent that fills the air enchants you. A basket of cherries precariously perches on the edge of an overturned crate, beckoning you to indulge in their juicy goodness.

After popping one into your mouth, you sneakily pilfer a few more for later.

Pushing through the gates with your hip, Abby catches your eye immediately.

Clad in a pair of sweatpants and a baggy tank top, she jogs along the opposite end of the track. Her hair is in a wavy, swinging ponytail, and she looks like a completely different person from where you’re standing.

Despite your instinct to sprint and catch up, your legs remain rooted to the spot, inexplicably frozen. It is surprising to see such grace in someone who’s composed of mostly muscle and grit. The idea of how you might look while running enters your consciousness, a thought that never occurred to you before this moment. You walk just fine. Surely you can run without humiliating yourself.

“You made it,” Abby pants. “I was beginning to think you bailed on me.”

“I should’ve,” you tease. “I could be cozied up on my couch, watching the same movie over and over.”

“Which one?”

“The Breakfast Club,” you say with a half-hearted shrug. It may not be to everyone’s taste, but there’s an elusive charm that entices you to keep picking it up from the library. “It’s my comfort flick right now, I guess.”

Abby flashes a self-assured smile and nudges you forward with her elbow, urging you to get a move on. After a few minutes of walking side by side, you work up the nerve to inquire about the source of inexplicable happiness etched on her cheeks.

“I found that one, actually,” Abby explains, her shoulder brushing against yours as she drifts into your lane. “The Breakfast Club.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“The thing made it through a hellish trip all the way from Eastern Montana. I thought it might be the only thing that made it back for a bit there.”

“That bad, huh? Sounds brutal,” you say, your attention drawn to the laces on her left sneaker, as they slowly loosen. “Well, good thing the movie survived.”

“Ha-ha,” she drones. “You’re just hilarious.”

You appreciate her lightheartedness as she shrugs off the playful jabs, and you contemplate teasing her about her lack of spatial awareness as she keeps unintentionally bumping into you. As you notice her shoelace giving way and dragging on the ground, you swiftly extend your hand to her chest, signalling her to stop.

Without thinking, you crouch down in front of her to retie it, noticing her panting heavily above you at the ministration. Fumbling your first attempt, she chooses not to mention it and instead adjusts herself to make it more comfortable for you.

With one shoe firmly secured by a double knot, you see that her other shoelace is gradually unraveling. You fix that one, too.

“Don’t need anyone rolling their ankle,” you say.

You spring to your feet, causing her face and neck to turn a rosy shade that appears too vibrant for moderate exercise. You’re too preoccupied warding off the heat that is climbing up your own neck in tingly vines to tease her about it.

She softly whispers her gratitude.

Without ever picking up your speed beyond a steady stroll, you continue to complete laps on the track, the repetitive motion becoming almost meditative. She eagerly shares details about the book she’s immersed in, and you hang on to her every word, intrigued by her perceptive theories.

“Wait, did you invite me here just to talk about books?” you ask. “Because I have to admit, I don’t totally hate it.”

“I’m not boring you to death?”

“Not at all,” you say. A crisp breeze dances across your arms, and you to hug yourself to fight the chill. “It’s fun to read books through your eyes.”

“Hold up.”

She jogs toward the bleachers and returns with her bomber jacket in hand.

She clings onto it for a while, long enough for you to question if she intended to wear it herself. Abby clears her throat and clumsily extends her coat and her generosity to you.

“I don’t mind the cold,” she says. “For you—if you want.”

“Oh, so I get to choose now.”

“Yeah, but can you please wear it? The rejection is killing me a bit.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips. Even when she’s just messing around, she reveals delicate parts of herself that help you understand her more. With the garment draped over your frame, you jog ahead and give her a spin.

“Ay! Watch that ankle!”

“Oh, I’m back, baby,” you boast, darting back and forth to show off your agility.

She watches as you frolic around, and you swear the dorky smile on her face only slips when she catches herself doing it.

You stop in front of her, tracing the nametag stitched neatly below the collar.

Anderson.

“It looks way better on you. How is that even fair?”

 “It’s all this running we’ve been doing—I’m the superior athlete now,” you jest. “You might as well quit while you’re ahead, Anderson.”

“Think you can back that up?” she asks, her competitive edge shaking to the surface.  

She points at a couple of lamp posts across the field and starts the countdown. With a sudden burst of energy, you take off like a bullet before she’s ready, provoking her to hurl fake threats after you as she closes in on your head start.

Your uncontrollable laughter is hindering your ability to run as the thunder of her approaching steps grows louder. You cut her off before she can pass, interrupting her momentum and taking the win by a hair’s breadth.

“Not cool,” she huffs, folding over at the finish line. Catching her breath, she steadies her hands on her knees. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, right?”

“You’re just jealous I outsmarted you. All those muscles and for what?” you taunt.

Abby puffs out her chest in a defiant gleam of rebellion.

As you blindly try to free the rogue strands of hair that have become entangled with your lashes, you feel an annoying tickling sensation on your sweat-slicked face.

“Oh, come on,” you gripe.

“You’re ridiculous,” Abby says, drawing nearer. “Let me get it.”

With a slight tilt of her head, she patiently waits for you to acknowledge her offer.    

“Close your eyes for me,” she says.

You oblige, and suddenly, your heart pounds in your chest as her fingertip skims the sensitive skin between your eyelid and your brow. She meticulously brushes your hair back, tucking what she can behind your ears. A warm hum settles inside you as her touch makes your scalp tingle.

“Why are you being so nice?” you ask.

“It’s what you deserve,” Abby murmurs without missing a beat. “I’m sorry I wasn’t before.”

[kingofthe-egirls]

When “It” Appears: LUFFY x Y/N (part 2)

series

(cw: sex for the first time, kissing, titty sucking, nipple play, rubber tongue, cunnilingus, blowjob, sex, creampie)

(a/n: orgasming to the sight of luffy's smile is everything)

"We're sleeping through all the days,

I'm acting like I don't see

Every ribbon you used to tie yourself to me

But my hips have missed your hips

So let's get to know the kicks,

Will you sway with me? Go astray with me

- "Sober" by Lorde

words: 2.9k

Luffy sprints across the deck with you in tow. His rubber arm stretches between you, and then wobble-snaps back when you catch up.

The door to his cabin is closed behind you, and as soon as it’s locked, you’re pressed against it. Luffy is in front of you, arms on either side of your face. You’re sweating, chest heaving. His hot breath tickles your face.

“Y/n, will you let me make you mine?” He asks, voice low. His thumb traces the soft hairs at your temple. You shiver, but don’t shy away. You swallow, and nod.

“Do you know what that means?” He asks, staring hard at you. His eyes are gray, and serious. Like a crow analyzing a lock. You want him to pick you up and pry you open. You want to be in his flock.

You want him to fuck you.

Slowly, you nod.

“It means I want to have sex with you,” you whisper, voice choked. You’ve never been this way before, never turned down this particular path. It’s always been too shady, or too twisty, or made your stomach turn. But not him.

No, he gives you butterflies.

Other boys give you headaches.

“I don’t know what’s different about you,” you say, as Luffy stares at you intensely. His red jacket is soft where the sleeve rests on your shoulder. His black pirate’s cloak falls heavy around you both. The ship rocks in the starry waves. He still strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“But I like you,” you say, cheeks hot and lips trembling, “You make me feel safe.”

Luffy’s face darkens, and he leans forward slowly to press his cheek against your nose. His lips are at your earlobe. “Thank you,” he whispers, his own voice trembling, “I want to make you feel safe.”

You wrap your arms around him, finally, and you kiss. Softer, warmer, and more intimate than in the basement of the ship. His lips move gently against yours, and one hand comes to cup your cheek. You melt into him, easily.

“Take me to bed,” you say, and he smirks. He leads you by one hand.

Slowly, carefully, he lays you down. Sits by your feet. Takes off his hat and sets it down at the corner of the mattress. The bed is messy, and unmade.

You snuggle back against the blankets, and breathe the smell of him in. It’s musky, obviously, but also cinnamon and salty-sweet. You grin sheepishly. “What do you wanna do with me?”

He wraps one hand around your ankle, and gives it a squeeze. “I’d like to make you cum, if you’ll let me.”

Heartbeat.

“Um,” you quietly cheep, “Yes please.”

****

You watch with shivers down your spine as Luffy carefully fits himself between your legs. He lies on his stomach, letting his weight press you into the mattress. Both of his strong arms are on either side of your head. He leans down, and presses a kiss to your lips.

He smiles.

Shy, you wrap your arms around his neck to bring his face closer to you. Luffy hums, nosing into your hair. He breathes in, deeply. "Ya smell good, y/n. Do I smell good?"

"Mhmm," you nod, carding your fingers through his hair. It's thick and silken, dark black as it tickles your cheek. His fingers fiddle with your belt loops. "Smells...like spices? Like chai."

He grins, happy about that, and sits up. "I've never had sex before," he says. He's staring at you like you're the X on a treasure map.

"Not even with Boa?" You ask, arching an eyebrow. You're well aware he spent two whole years a stone's throw from the world's capital of horny women. He snickers, swiping under his nose with his index finger. He looks so cute, like this.

"Not even with Boa," he reassures you, bending down to plant a kiss to your belly. It's covered by the stretchy fabric of your tank top, and you let him ride it up with strong fingers. His knuckles are bruised.

You squirm beneath his touch. "I've kissed boys before," you say, sheepish, "But that was usually so I could steal something."

He giggles, "That's my girl."

Fuck.

You whine, arching up into him. "Tired of waiting."

"Okay, okay!" Luffy strips your shirt the rest of the way off. Your tits splay out to either side, and Luffy hungrily reaches for them. His hands are soft, although calloused, as he palms at your breasts. He squishes them in his hands, tongue poking out between his lips. It feels weird, but also nice. To have his warmth on your skin. You poke his cheek.

"Stop looking at me like that," you tease, and he smiles sheepishly. He squirms in his seat, before laying down between your legs again. His lips find their way to your breasts, smacking kisses along the swell of them. His tongue flicks out at a hardened nipple, and you inhale sharply. It feels good.

"How's that?" he asks, curious. His eyes are like an owl's as he looks up at you through black lashes. You nod, steam pouring out of your ears.

"S'good," you whisper, voice pitchy. He snickers.

"Good."

So he leans back down, sucking the same nipple back into his mouth. His spit is sticky and warm, and it coats your skin as he drags his tongue to the other side of your chest. He licks slow, smooth circles over your areola, before nipping at the bud. It's sharp, and toothy, but Luffy's ministrations send heat to your legs–-to the space between them.

"Never had sex either," you confess, "But I like orgasms."

"Me too!" He chirps, lifting off of your tits for a second to breathe. "S'there a special way ya wan' me to try giving you one?"

You smile, fantasies sifting through your head faster than you can count. "Yes," you say, leaning up on your elbows as he kisses all around your breasts. "Lick my clit?"

"Okay!"

He sits back up, tugging at the waistband of your shorts. He pops the button before sliding the faded denim down your legs. He kicks his own shorts to the side, leaving his red cotton boxers on. You're not wearing panties, which makes him blush and you smile.

"Spread your legs," he murmurs, mouthing at the inside of your thigh. It tickles, his breath hot and steamy on your sensitive skin. He pushes your legs open, as you bare yourself completely for him. The cool air of his cabin sways across your exposed pussy, and you blush even harder than before. Luffy is staring, open mouthed.

He leans his head down, burying his face in the tuft of dark hair at your mound. He inhales, deeply. He lifts his head, eyes hazy and droopy like he's been drinking sake. "So fuckin' pretty f'me," he whispers, before lowering his head to lick at your pussy.

He swipes his tongue across your clit, experimentally. He kisses around your lower lips, sniffing you every so often and letting his eyes roll back at your scent. It's not long before he's plunging his tongue fully inside your cunt, licking and moaning as he fills you to the brim. Rubber feels good, like this.

"Luffy–!" You shriek, curling forward as he flattens his tongue against your special spot. It presses up harder, as Luffy's pace quickens. He reaches his arm around your hip to swipe at your clit with his third and fourth fingers.

Luffy laughs, loud and unabashed (and straight into your pussy) as he sends you over the edge into a sparkling river of climax.

"Sweetheart…," he drawls out, after he finally lets up on your fluttering slit. Your pussy aches at his absence, but at least it gives you time to breathe. You're sweating, sitting up on your elbows again. He stares at you, lips parted.

"Do that again."

So he does.

Luffy sticks three of his fingers inside you at once, and you gasp. Your head hits the pillow, and your whole body relaxes into his touch. He giggles, grinning like a madman, as he pumps you full of haki-hardened fingers. His digits flutter at your g-spot, almost too much, but he presses down on your lower abdomen as he makes you take it.

"Sweetheart," he says again, "Such a sweet thing f'me, ya know that?" He licks his lips again, still dripping with spit, before leaning down to suck on your clit.

He swipes his tongue over your rosebud, over and over again. It's like he's done this for years, like he's already spent hours mapping the pleasures your body craves, even though you've just started. Honestly?

He's too sexy for his own good.

You growl, shoving him off you with a harsh palm. He groans, complaining, but shuts up as soon as he sees you straddle him, switching positions. "Kitty?" He asks, as you tug down his boxer shorts. His cock is hard and aching, and it slaps his stomach as you release it. His drooling tip leaves a smear of precum on his lower abdomen, so you bend forward to lick it off. He gasps, a half-laugh, before he lets you push him onto his back against the pillows. He stares at you with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"My turn?" He asks, snarky.

You answer with a swirl of your tongue. His dick twitches against your lips, and now it's your turn to laugh. he sighs out an exasperated breath, smoothing a hand over his hair. "Fuck, y/n…," he says, staring at the ceiling, "Keep going?"

Gladly.

You sink your mouth down around his cock, pressing your tongue flat against his underside. Tastes like salt.

He swears, leaning his head back as his hips shudder and shake beneath your ministrations. He's heavy, and thick, and his cock isn't so clean… It smells like musk and tastes like sweat, but soon enough all you taste is spit.

Luffy is swearing and moaning, squirming underneath your touches. You drag your nails along his hips, leaving slight lines of red marks.

"Sooo fucking good--," he says, bucking his hips. His dick hits the roof of your mouth, and you choke. You spit his cock out, swallowing a mouthful of spit. He whines, but you stare up at him with a pout.

"Stop that," you say, wiping your mouth, "Hurts."

"Sorry," Luffy rasps, hand scruffing through his hair, "Just felt so good…"

He's staring at you with starry eyes, his lashes casting shadows on his squishy cheeks. His scar is crimson beneath the lamplight. You poke his thigh. "Stay still," you command, and he whines. He shifts his hips, swiveling them a bit, so you hold him down with both hands. "Stay still!" You insist, "Or I'm gonna choke!"

"Shishishi!" Luffy snickers, reaching down to scratch behind your ears. "Sorry, kitty. Stay still, promise." He grins, eyes squeezing shut like half-moons. He holds out his pinky, and you stick yours out to promise. He giggles, still breathless and sweaty.

"Sexy," you say, leaning forward for a kiss. He returns it, and deeply. "You're sexy."

He nips at your nose, and then bites your cheek. You squeal, shoving him away. "Stay still!" He snickers, but lays back down so you can continue his blowjob. You shake your head, snorting in laughter. "Silly, too."

"Shishi, ahh~!"

You swallow his cock, as much as you can, and his head hits the pillow as he lets out a long, scratchy groan. His dick twitches in your throat.

So you bob down faster, taking the rest of his shaft in your hand. You sort of twist a little, as you rise, and suck harder too. He squirms and groans, his hands twisted in your hair. He hisses out little praises, "so good, sweetheart, fuck princess I didn't know it could–nng–feel like this!!!"

Luffy shallowly thrusts his hips, which you can handle if you raise the back of your tongue. You let him hit the thick of your tongue, starting to thrust faster and harder. You gasp for breath, popping off him for a second. His cock throbs in midair, swollen and red as he pants for release. You swipe the back of your hand across your chin, and swiftly straddle his hips to start rubbing his cockhead at your entrance. You're sopping wet, and he can tell. Luffy whines, high pitched and scratchy.

"S'okay?" You ask, chest heaving. You're sweaty and flushed, shivering with excitement. Luffy squeezes your hips, and helps guide you onto his cock. You both hiss in unison at the very first sting of his cock pressing inside you. You both stop, breathing, until you nod and let Luffy start thrusting shallowly into you. He's stretching you out, but the sting fades away into soothing bliss as you stutter and gasp out half-sobbed moans.

"S'wet…," he rasps, hips slowing down. His thrusts become long and languid, dragging his length in and out of you so you can feel each inch and pulsing vein.

His breath hitches, as his hands sear upward over your skin to start grabbing at your breasts. He squeezes them, softly, as he lets you start bouncing on his cock yourself. His fingers pinch at your nipples, holding them in place as the rest of your breasts shake. It feels so intense--all these sensations sending sparkles through your veins.

He stretches out his tongue, slithering along his abdomen, until it starts flicking at your clit. You gasp, weirded out but somehow so turned on. His tongue tip is swift, flicking over your swollen clit in messy, sloppy circles.

His hands tighten around your hips.

“Luffy—!” You start, but he slaps your rear.

“S’captain, sweetheart. Say it again,” he grunts, thrusting up into you harder. You support yourself with your palms on his chest, as he jackhammers up into you. His cock feels so good as it bullies your cunt. You can feel yourself squeezing around him, so you do your best to breathe through the release.

“I’m cumming, captain—!” Your voice sounds faraway, squeaky and high-pitched. Are these really the sounds you make, all sobbed-out and raspy?

It doesn’t matter how you sound, all that matters is the sweat on Luffy’s brow as he squeezes his eyes shut in pleasure. You let yourself fall forward, his hips still snapping into you. Your cunt sounds lewd and wet, so you bury your face in Luffy’s neck.

He smells like him.

“So good,” he whispers, breath puffing over your ear. He wraps his arms around you, pressing hot kisses into your temple. He strokes one hand over your head, before holding it in place as he somehow speeds up even faster. His hips change their angle, suddenly hitting you hard and fast and deep. You cry out, another strangled moan of Luffy’s name.

“Captain—Luffy!”

He snickers maniacally into your hair, his breath all ragged and hoarse. “Wanna see you cum f’me,” he says, fisting in your hair. He tugs upward, forcing you to lift your head. He stares at your face, flushed and sweaty, as he’s still pounding hard into you from below. His eyebrow twitches. “Show me, pretty?”

So you gasp and moan, staring at your captain with fuzzy eyes. Tears slip down your cheeks—so intense—as he slows his pace to start really thrusting into you now. He hits it slow, making sure his tip hits the fucking deepest place it can go.

He grins.

Firecrackers explode beneath your skin, starting at your clit, and shimmer outward to your toes and fingertips.

“S’pretty,” he croons, his strong hand holding your hip in place as he fucks up into you. He’s still holding your head. “Lemme see whatcha look like when I cum inside.” His grin is manic, crooked, and so mischievous you think you could die. You squeak in surprise as he suddenly speeds up again, red roses blooming on his chest and face. His eyes glimmer black—his lips shine with spit. They’re parted, slightly, so soft.

His face contorts, eyes shut with his jaw set, as something spills up inside you. He slows his pace, thrusting twice, before he stills.

“Shit,” he breathes, melting backward into the bed. His limbs go slack, and he snores immediately. You slap his cheek, his cum slipping out between your legs. He snorts awake, so funny and ridiculous that you can’t help but laugh. “Shishishi,” he snickers, and you groan as you pop off his dick.

“Sorry,” he says, sheepish, “Was that fun?”

“So fun, Luffy.”

He frowns. “Captain, kitty!” He pokes your thigh with a pout. “Say it every time now?”

You stare at him, lips parted. He’s serious. You swallow, wondering what that makes you. So you nod.

“Yes, sir.”

He grins.

[pro-mammonologist]

Sorry I’ve been dead!!!!

Mammon and Lucifer Poly Mc HCS!!!

- Lucifer casually kissing a random body part to show affection, especially something more romantic like your hand

- Mammon would just cling like a little kid to mc to show affection

- on his days off, Lucifer loves it when mc lets him sleep in or brings him breakfast and coffee

- Lucifer also is a fan of morning sex

- if all three sleep in the same bed, lots of physical affection takes place and due to mc constantly getting frustrated if they have any back and forth, they decide to silently be frustrated over not having mc exclusively

- however, they also can really be of use to each other, Lucifer is actually grateful when mammon is there because mc is less likely to complain if he has to get up or needs to stretch

- mammon likes having Lucifer there as well because mc can be a lot cuter because two demons make their ego go nuts and mammon likes watching mc wrap Lucifer around their finger

- Lucifer isn’t the biggest fan of all-out threesomes, he prefers if everything is exclusively focused on mc’s pleasure. Mammon and Luci don’t even touch themselves, it’s all mc.

- mammon is the same and with a second hand, he can focus on what he does best which is sweet talk the fuck out of Mc

- their dirty talk styles pair well

- mammon enjoys teasing mc more when with Lucifer be it verbal or sexual

- Lucifer teases during sex 10x as much when mammon is helping pleasure mc

- Mammon finds it entertaining to set up dates for Lucifer and Mc once he gets super comfortable with it being a poly ship

- Lucifer does the same, he also tries to keep Mammon on a leash tho

- the whole Devildom has no clue that mc is with both demons and Lucifer wants to keep it that way because of appearances and mammon doesn’t like it but doesn’t want people to think he’s the “inferior” one

- mammon rather likes it when mc proudly posts either of them or all three of them together in the human world

- mammon likes to turn everything into a game when he’s past the “Lucifer keeps stealing mc from me” stage

- mammon loves making mc shy and quiet whereas lucifer likes to make them need and loud (“I can’t say it omg don’t I can’t say itttt” versus “p…please… I need you to *insert sexual act* now please”)

- they like both mcs but the power trip mammon gets from making mc all timid and Lucifer’s ego trip from getting mc to their breaking point is too strong for them

[24-7-testing]

The end of the year can be tough for a lot of people. My goal? To make it a little bit brighter. That's why I'm pleased to once again announce the return of...

The Portal Holiday Spirit Initiative!

To help bring a smile to people's faces this year, I will be sending FREE Portal-Themed Holiday Cards to anyone who asks for one! There are a few changes to the cards this year because life has gotten very busy for me and I have less free time than in years past.

This year there will only be one card design, featuring artwork from one of the Portal Fandom's awesome artists! The cards will still be customizable to any Winter Holiday of your choosing, but you'll have to wait for your card to arrive in order to see how (the method takes cues from the Portal game's sense of humor, so it will very much be on-brand).

This year is also special because it is PHSI's 5th Anniversary! I can’t express the amount of thanks everyone who has participated over the years, whether you've reblogged and shared, requested cards, helped with artwork, or helped in other ways. You all deserve my recognition and thanks for volunteering your time, talents, and support! Thanks for helping to make PHSI a special fandom tradition!

If you would like to receive a Portal-Themed Holiday Card:

Visit bit.ly/PHSI-2023 ...

Answer the questions in the forms...

Wait for your card to be sent!

It's that easy! Card Requests are now open, and close on December 20th in order to give me enough time to make and send all the cards before the end of the year. Please submit sooner rather than later so I have time to finish them all!

Also, please don’t be afraid to request a physical card if you don’t live in the US! The card service I've chosen says they ship worldwide and, while it might take a bit longer for you to receive your card depending on what country you live in, the cards will get mailed to whatever address you provide, domestic or foreign. Last year I mailed/emailed a total of 164 cards to Italy, Canada, Germany, England, Poland, The US, The United Kingdom, Brazil, India, and Slovenia!

I’m happy to be a part of the Portal Fandom and hope to bring a smile to others in the Fandom this year! Making and emailing Holiday Cards takes time and effort, and sending physical cards is expensive. While it isn't a requirement to receive a card, I would greatly appreciate if you'd like to give $4 to cover the cost of your card or someone else's. Please visit ko-fi.com/247testing and click the Donate button if you want to help out. 

Also, feel free to DM me with any questions or comments. Thanks!

Answers for common questions and concerns under the cut:

Worried about providing a mailing address, for whatever reason?

PHSI has an eCard option! All you need to provide is a name for me to call you by and an email address to receive your card!

Worried about requesting a card because you don’t live in the US?

PHSI mails to any address provided, whether domestic or foreign! However, please wait patiently for your card, due to the current global rate of shipping.

Worried that you can’t give $4 to cover the cost of your card or someone else’s?

Requesting a card from PHSI has been and will always be FREE! However, giving $4 to the initiative helps me pay for the printing service and postage to mail physical cards (visit ko-fi.com/247testing if you’d like to contribute). I gratefully appreciate any contributions received, even if it’s just a comment saying thanks!

Worried because you don’t know how to support the artist of the card you received?

The artist’s social media is listed on the back of every card featuring their artwork. Look them up, commission them, reblog their art, and support them however you can!

Worried because you haven’t received your card yet?

Double check your email inbox and junk folders. I send everyone an email that either confirms your Holiday Card has shipped or includes your eCard! Physical cards take 1-2 weeks to arrive. If your physical card fails to show up after the first week of January, please reach out to me and I’ll send you a replacement eCard!

Worried because you received your card and don’t know what to do now?

Make a post about it! Include pictures, videos, or anything you’d like, and tag me in the post (@24-7-testing) so I can reblog it! If you don’t want to show your card off, that’s ok too!

[leeneir]

Look At Me Please 2.0; Possesive Yandere!Iso x Reader

To those that have given me reqs, I'm terribly sorry for not getting them out yet. My writer's block is such a pain💔 I promise I'm constantly thinking abt them tho and tryna brainstorm but my creative well is nonexistent dibdjs

Anywho, this is a continuation of the last Yandere Iso hc post! Highly recommend that you read the first! :]

Iso didn’t go through with his plans against Yoru that day because he was too happy about going on that date, but that doesn’t mean he forgot. Around a week after your boba date with him, you found Yoru with a serious injury being nursed back to health by Sage, when you asked what happened, he told you to leave. Perhaps a matter of pride?

You bring up the concern with your new boyfriend, Iso. When he responds, he doesn’t sound sympathetic. It wasn’t strange, he barely showed expressive emotion, and he didn’t have the best interactions with Yoru, so you assumed he didn’t really care because they weren’t the greatest friends.

In reality, Iso was fuming that you were concerned about that stupid cocky bastard and how he snapped at you like that. How dare that shit head take your emotions for granted? Sure, he’s the reason Yoru was injured in the first place, but the audacity Yoru had to brush you off. He’ll have to do more damage later.

The day you told Iso you loved him for the first time, something about him changed. He wasn’t shy anymore, he was always initiating intimacy, trying to give you kisses, holding your hand, and overall just a lot more doting and servicing you.

Oh, you’re tired? How could he let this happen! Iso shuts the rest of the world out with both of you in either his or your room, he already put both of your requests for a day off.

Very insistent about sleeping in the same room, you won’t do anything too intimate, he just wants to be with you for the rest of your life night.

At some point, everything becomes a reminder of you. The bare walls of the HQ, the houseplants put around the facility by Skye and Sage, the air that he breaths, he couldn’t get enough of anything.

ALWAYS holding you somewhere. Whether it be on the shoulder while youre talking to someone, the arm, your back, your leg while you're sitting, etc. Iso likes having a hand on you as a way to say “Mine.” to the others.

Every day has a new gift. Your room is starting to get crowded with all of the things he gets for you, Iso has already requested Brimstone to extend your room to make some space.

Man’s is rich and just loves spoiling you. Even if it’s just your favorite snack, or a new piece of clothing, he will literally get anything you want. If you mentioned something you even hinted you’d like, expect to receive it in the following hours to a day. He ordered it with overnight shipping.

Your assigned on a mission and he isn’t sent with you? Oh no!! Someone on the strike team got injured from training, what will we ever do? Everyone else happens to be unavailable for some unknown reasons, except Iso.

During the mission when you request a gun, he’ll immediately get it for you and snap at anyone else who even tries to get it first. Iso kisses you on the forehead before going to his position.

You had to apologize to Reyna for his behavior, she told you that his heart revealed that he wasn’t the good person you thought he was. Which was strange. How was the admiring and loving Iso not who he appeared to be?

One day, have an argument with Iso about going to training with Gekko and the others. He said that there was no need for you to go with them when the two of you could train together later.

You didn’t understand why Iso was so upset, you were just gonna do a few mock battles with other people, what's so wrong with that? You could train with him later too if he wanted to. You brushed him off anyway, finding his attitude very childish right now. Suddenly, he grabs your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t look at them.” He ordered.

Before you could get a word out, your eyes met his, and you could see the intensity and possession in his eyes which glowed brighter than they normally did. It was terrifying.

You say his name, and suddenly he snaps out of it, letting you go and apologizing profusely. He starts tearing up a bit and saying that he shouldn’t have done that and keeps apologizing, stepping away from you and not letting himself hold you.

You feel guilty when he looks down at his hands, as if there was fresh blood on them, as if he’d just destroyed something precious. You couldn’t help but pull him in for a hug and apologize too. He tries to pull away, saying that he was a horrible person, but you don’t let that happen. So, he embraces you back, burying his face in your neck.

You could tell he was genuinely upset, and reassured him that he wasn’t bad and that you’ll be with him. He doesn’t need to worry about anything, you’ll put off training with the others for another time and stay with him for the rest of the day. He sniffles, pulling you in closer.

What you couldn’t see since his face was on your shoulder was the malicious expression at his successful attempt at keeping you to himself. Hook, line, and sinker.

[skateironicallycantskate]

So did something happen when I left the Saiki K fandom because I feel like the whole “Saiki is aroace” headcanon went from being like a normal headcanon to just a way to bully people for shipping Saiki with anyone

Like don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with seeing Saiki as aroace, specifically a repulsed aroace. I’m a repulsed aroace myself, and understand that us aroaces don’t have a lot of representation. But I feel like some people are forgetting that Saiki being aroace is just a headcanon that got popular and has never been confirmed

It’s also a little hypocritical because the same people who will hate on others for shipping Saiki will then turn around and ship him with Satou? Like again, nothing wrong with shipping him with Satou, but it’s kind of weird to throw a whole fit over other people’s ships and then claim yours is the exception

I know people claim that it’s just because Satou is the only one Saiki likes but. Saiki likes all of his friends??? I don’t even mean in a romantic sense at this point. He’s literally a powerful psychic. If he wanted them gone, he would get rid of them. He might hate the attention they bring, but that doesn’t mean he hates them as people

And I feel like Teruhashi is the one most people claim that Saiki hates but he doesn’t hate her either?? He hates the attention she brings yes, but he genuinely likes her as a friend

Also he literally saved her MULTIPLE times

like it always confuses me when people genuinely believe saiki hates his friends

anyways. I’m not trying to convince anyone to stop seeing saiki as aroace, this was just a rant I needed to let out. Continue with your headcanons all you want but please be nice to others!! <3