#sorry. my mind's been buzzing

[gayclubsoap]

.

[flowercrowngods]

cw suicide mention & imagery

original play idea where people seem to live their normal lives but the audience gets the feeling that something’s wrong, there’s a tension and there are things that obviously go unsaid that hang in the air between the characters uncomfortably long enough until the last member of the audience has filled in the blanks in their own way.

there is a figure off to the side, a very young man in a suit, watching them, unmoving and silent, and as the scenes and progress, as characters leave and appear, as the setting changes, the young man is always there. no one interacts with him, but there are moments when they almost do. when the characters stop what they’re doing when they stand close to him, and appear to listen. but there’s nothing.

the sound of TV news reports, all playing over each other, create an uncanny and uncomfortable buzzing that never, never stops, and there are too many to really make out the words. they get more silent the closer they get to the young man in the suit, quieting down to nothing when they stand by him to listen — but the characters seem unaware of the change. so does the young man, statuesque though he is.

then there’s a little girl, covered in dirt, her hair askew, her cheeks rosy — the image of having spent the day outside, playing in the dirt, a smile on her face, her eyes big, as she skips towards the young man and asks, “can we go now? can we play?”

the young man cards his hands through her hair and says, “you go ahead, i’ll be right there.”

but still he stays there, seated.

everything continues as before, but the characters slowly undergo a complete change in character, in routine, in appearance. the old man who wore suits is not dressed in sweats and old, worn out, dirty shirts. the sweet, kindhearted young adult is now quiet and apathetic. the woman who, in the beginning, was talking her friend’s ear off and could barely stand still is unmoving now, staring out into nothingness.

the buzzing and bustling background noise is slowly, gradually getting louder as the characters become increasingly nonverbal and unmoving. the lights dim down.

then all at once, after a crescendo, the noise stops suddenly, the lights turn off completely, before, with warm, yellow light, a woman we’ve seen before — as she stares into nothingness — appears on the stage, slowly approaching the young man as if unsure of her body but undeniable in her grace.

they smile at each other for a moment.

m, whispering: you’re not supposed to be here, not yet

w, cradling his cheeks: i was always supposed to be here long, long before you

m: i know. i’m sorry, i—

w: i know. i forgive you. i’ve always forgiven you

m, after a while: but not yourself

the woman shakes her head.

w: a mother will never forgive herself for burying her child, and a father will forgive himself even less. (a beat) you have such a handsome face.

m: it’s not your fault

w: so beautiful, those eyes, i’ve missed you so much

m: listen to me, it’s not your fault!

w: and your hair! papa would be so glad to know that—

m: mother. mama. listen to me. it’s not your fault

w, tearful and whispering: you were supposed to be fine. you were always supposed to be fine. it was never supposed to be this bad, we were supposed to help, but—

m: i know. i tried, i really did. both times

in that moment, the little girl comes skipping on stage again, approaching them with her wagging ponytail.

g: what are you doing here, mama? will you play with me now? it’s been so long!

the woman gasps, her tears getting the better of her as she falls to her knees and pulls the girl to her chest, who readily returns the hug

w, sobbing, kissing her cheek: hi, baby. yes, i’ll play with you, of course i will. let’s go.

the young man helps his mother up, allowing her to pull him into a hug, and she whispers: “as much as i love her with all my heart, i’m so proud of the young man you’ve grown into. and now i have you both, just as i always did.”

the young man brushes a kiss to her cheek, then lets her go, watching as his mother disappears with the little girl.

m: i have to stay a while. i’ll follow you soon.

(woman and girl, hand in hand, exeunt)

the lights dim, and the buzzing returns, accompanied by the sound of dragging footsteps the audience cannot see, until everything’s back in total darkness. the noise stays. growing louder in increments, leaving the audience uncomfortable and unsure if this was it.

as they quiet down, we hear a man, sobbing uncontrollably, before eerie silence takes his place, too.

the curtain falls.

[artisticzaati]

The ancient serpent deceiver

the masses standing in awe.

He will ascend to the heavens —

above the stars of god.

[dragonflare92]

Think I’m about done with canon tsams. I remember about a year ago I had so much hope for what this series could have in store and I was so excited, but everything has just slowly fallen apart since then. It’s not just that my favorite character had a bunch of potential that never got explored, the other characters and the story just don’t feel right anymore. It’s a big drama fest, probably because it has to be to be successful enough to be viable, which is a very unfortunate reality.

The way that Bloodmoon and old moon were dealt with REALLY bothers me; it just does not feel right. All this said, I’m not angry with the creators of the show and I wish them no ill will. There is no one “right” way to write a story, so if this is the story they were going for, it is what it is. I’m just disappointed it didn’t turn out to be the story I thought it was going to be; it’s just not doing anything for me anymore. I thank them for their work in creating it though, and for the early parts and characters that I could enjoy. I think I’m just going to carry the characters from before the big character die-off in the story and imagine a different direction for it. Wish I actually liked writing so I could write something, but I have no attention span for writing stories.

Tl;dr

Tsams isn’t enjoyable for me anymore, so I’m taking the characters and living in aus.

[takeaguessbuddy]

why do so many people think animation is made specifically for little kids and why am i not allowed to talk about it :(

[miniimight]

I need more dad Sukuna and mom reader fics / headcsnons, I love the way you wrote for them!!

hey anon thank you! i'm thinking about making this a series, if you guys have any ideas/requests/prompts lmk <3

PICKING UP BABY FROM SCHOOL oops, toddlers can't ride motorcyles! (dad!sukuna x mom!reader)

sukuna rolled up about twenty minutes before his daughter's school got out, deploying the kickstand of his pitch black motorcycle against the rainbow colored fencing. he pulled off his helmet, sighing deeply when he met fresh air again.

his phone buzzed against his thigh. he pulled it out of his tight cargo pocket, answering immediately when he saw your caller ID. "hey, doll."

"you got there okay?" you asked.

"mhm."

"and you're on the right side of the building? that's where her class comes out."

"mhm."

"great." you exhaled. "m'sorry i couldn't make it this time—"

"stop." he says gruffly, his phone between his shoulder and ear as he pulls off his gloves. "what are you sorry for, silly girl? you're sick and should rest."

he doesn't mind anything when it comes to his two girls, not the fifteen minute commute to her school or the half hour of waiting just to get a parking spot nice and close to the doors.

your laugh was warbled over the phone. "at least the car is air conditioned. it's been getting warmer lately."

"..." he looked down at his bike.

"ryo, baby?" you hummed.

"hm?"

"you did take the car, right?"

"..."

his silence was all you needed to hear. he tuned out your worried rambling about how the hell is your daughter going to get home on that thing in order to process. toddlers don't usually use motorcycles as a mode of transportation... and he should've thought of this before!

"it'd be fine if i had an extra seat." he mused, debating on how he could manage this situation without having to call you to get them.

"an extra seat?! not even an extra helmet?" you shrieked. "baby, i swear, if you're actually thinking about driving with my baby girl on that thing—"

"relax, doll," he grumbled, pushing down the traces of embarrassment burning at his ears. "the brat will be fine, s'just a couple blocks away. she can handle the wind."

"..."

the bell rang and the doors swung open, children pouring out of the hallway and buzzing around in search of their parents.

"she's out, we'll see you soon." he was about to hang up when he heard,

"i'm literally about to come get you, do NOT go anywhere."

he frowns, his eyes scouring the crowd of midgets for his kid. he didn't mean to make you so upset and worried. he just... overlooked important details sometimes. not his fault, he's trying his best :(

"y/n, you will sit your ass down in bed. when i come home, you better be laying down exactly how i left you." he warned. he heard your breath hitch. "you trust me, don't you, baby?"

"yes... unfortunately."

he nodded. "we'll be home soon."

"in one piece?"

he rolled his eyes, grumbling. "yes, woman."

"hm." you huffed and hung up.

he strolled into the compound. as soon as he saw those pretty eyes that creased happily when they landed on him, he smiled and crouched down.

she ran over to him, her backpack jostling behind her. she held up a painting she made. "daddy, look!"

"i see." he pulled her closer, holding the backpack off her back and letting her walk off it. he slung the bedazzled bratz backpack over his shoulder, lifting her up in his arms. "what is it?"

"for mama."

"oh. all your crafts seem to be for mama. still nothing for me." he complained with a drawn out sigh.

she rolled her eyes, and he swore he was looking at you for a second.

"don't roll your eyes at me, brat." he scoffed. "who the hell even taught you that?" he muttered under his breath.

sukuna finally stopped in front of his bike. her eyes lit up as her legs started to kick in excitement. she's only ever seen daddy ride off on this thing, now she gets to ride with him?

he swung his leg over the bike, ignoring the mix of distasteful and flirtatious looks thrown at him. "okay, kid." he exhaled, shrugging off his jacket and holding it up to her. "gotta put this on."

she turned up her nose. "stinky."

his jaw dropped open. "i showered before i came to wait half an hour for you, chubby brat. the hell do you think you're talking to?"

she looked at him as if it were obvious.

"you'll put this on now. give me mama's painting, i'll put it in your bag." he said gruffly yet gently slid the painting into her backpack with the utmost care.

the jacket drowned her, the sleeves near triple the length of her arms. sukuna zipped her up and put the helmet on her head.

she started to whine. "stinky." she wailed.

"hush." he hissed, slapping some shades on and holding her towards her chest firmly. with her protected as best as he could with what he had, and with the jeweled backpack strapped to his back, he began to roll out into the road.

that drive home was the longest thirty minutes of his life. he had never drove so slow before.

you were waiting by the front door, running down to meet them as your husband pulled into the driveway.

"oh my god oh my god," you ripped your baby from his arms, tossing the helmet off her head. "are you okay, baby?" you smoothed away the sweaty hair from her face, your lips pursing when you hear her sniffles.

"my poor baby. daddy's never gonna pick you up again, don't you worry." you peppered her face with kisses.

sukuna caught the helmet before it crashed to the ground, walking behind you with his hands in his pockets. he kissed your temple as he leaned over your shoulder to peer down at his daughter. "daddy didn't do so bad."

you glare at him, cradling your daughter's head against your chest. you whirl away and storm into the house.

he sighed.

after many apologetic kisses and a good amount of groveling, you let him do pick-ups and drop-offs again. though you made sure to watch him get into the car before he drove off.

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[thestuffedalligator]

When ogres travel, they do so in human shape.

They hate doing this. They think it’s beneath them. But they do it anyway.

The Vicomte Graoul de Saucisson – and this is another thing about ogres. Ogres as a species are nobility. There is no such thing as a low-born ogre. There is always room in the ogrish peerage for another vicomte, another prince, another branch to tie to the rotted tree – strode up to the chateau in human shape. The roses in the garden shivered as he passed by. The huge, high doors opened by themselves and he walked through them without a shift in his stride.

When the doors slammed shut behind him, he moved to shrug the shape off his shoulders like a coat.

Then he saw the woman.

He froze. He stared. She stared back.

He slowly pulled the shape back on. “Who are you?” he asked.

She looked mildly appalled. “Who are you?” she asked. “What are you doing in my home?”

“Your home? This is–” He stopped. He reconsidered. “I am the Vicomte de Saucisson,” he said. “I’m looking for the Marquis de Pamplemousse. He is a… colleague of mine.”

“Oh,” she said. She could’ve looked more abashed. “I’m sorry, monsieur, he’s never mentioned you before. You must be here to share your congratulations, of course, I can fetch him right away.”

“He’s never mentioned you either,” the vicomte did not say. “Of course,” he said. “Congratulations. What about?”

She seemed surprised. “Have you not heard? Monsieur, the curse on my husband has been lifted.”

He stared. His lips started to form the words “What curse,” and then there was a sound like a horse falling down a set of stairs and a man he had never seen before wearing the marquis’s clothes came barrelling down the hall.

“Vicomte!” said the man with the marquis’s voice. “My human friend! The curse has been lifted, and I am a human once again!”

He was slightly out of breath when he reached the woman. He clasped her arm and grinned at him with manic desperation. “This is wonderful news! You must be here to share your congratulations!”

“Lie like hell,” said the man’s eyes.

The vicomte stared. “Oh!” he said. “My – human friend! Human once again! Words fail me. After all these–” (there was the slightest hesitation) “–years?”

The woman put her head at an angle and narrowed her eyes at him.

The man walked up, still grinning like a rictus chimpanzee, and clasped a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, of course! Darling, me and the vicomte are going to have a manly one-on-one conversation while he shares his congratulations, as we human men are wont to do.” And then with a strength that could only be ogrish, the marquis pulled the vicomte by the shoulder down the hall and into a drawing room.

When the bolt of the lock clicked into place behind them, the man wearing the marquis’s clothes visibly sagged.

“What the hell,” said the vicomte.

“You should’ve sent word ahead that you'd be coming today.”

“I never do.” He gesticulated and tried to conjure a single question out of the swarm buzzing in his brain. “What the hell is going on? Who was that? Why are you pretending to be human? What curse are we talking about?”

The marquis groaned and crumpled into a chair. As he did he shifted out of human shape, clothes magically tailoring themselves to contain his ogrish form, something like a moose and an orangutan.

“I had a moment of weakness.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a stroke?”

“I got married.”

“And that’s another thing–”

“Graoul, please.” He sighed and put his face in his talons. “Last winter a merchant broke into my home. He stole one of my roses, and in exchange I asked him to send me one of his daughters to be my bride.”

The vicomte nodded. This at least was a sacred and recognizable ogrish custom, and he did like to see the old ways in practice.

“And it was fine! It was perfectly lovely. She’s a wonderful woman, but one night I decided to put on a human shape to change things up in the bedroom, and she lost her mind! Started talking about how I was clearly an enchanted prince and that her love for me must’ve broken some curse and turned me human again! I had no idea how to tell her otherwise, and now I’ve done it for too long to back out.”

The vicomte stared. “Sorry,” he said. “You decided to turn into a human to spice things up in the bedroom, and that was the face you chose?”

The marquis growled. “If I knew I was going to be wearing it for the rest of my life I would’ve gone with something better.”

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: In The Serpent's Den.

Pairing: Yandere!Suguru x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 4.7k.

TW: Non/Con, Hybrid AU, AFAB!Reader, Cobra!Suguru, Rabbit!Reader, Biting, Aphrodisiacs, Heat Cycles, Oviposition, Manipulation, Biting, Breeding Kinks, and Predator/Prey Dynamics.

“It’s time to come out, little rabbit.”

 His tone was sickly sweet, lulled into something saccharine and tempting, only slightly distorted by the uncommon shape of his tongue. Despite his melodic coaxing, you curled further into yourself – pulling your thighs flush to your chest and burying your knees in your face, doing your best not to breathe, not to cry, not to make a sound. The temptation to uncurl yourself entirely and run, run, run until you found somewhere small and dark and safe gnawed on the back of your mind, but it never would’ve worked. You were in Suguru’s enclosure, Suguru’s territory, and there was nowhere to run where he wouldn’t be able to follow.

“I’m losing my patience, little rabbit. If you come out now, I promise I’ll try to hold myself back.”

Why was he even looking for you? It’d been weeks since his eccentric, white-haired owner forced you into the sprawling greenhouse that made up Suguru’s enclosure, and he’d never paid you a second glance. You did your best to avoid him, to make sure you never crossed his path while he was prowling for a meal. You could count the number of times he’d acknowledged you on a single hand, and he’d never so much as lunged at you. You couldn’t imagine why he’d decided you’d make a good meal now, after weeks of relatively peaceful cohabitation. Maybe he’d gotten tired of keeping you around, of having to share his territory with another hybrid – one so far below him on the food chain. Maybe, this was just the first time he’d gotten hungry enough to hunt you down.

You heard branches shift, twigs break, and instantly, all of your thoughts (rational and otherwise) were replaced with a frantic, buzzing static. “You’re only making this worse for yourself,” Suguru went on, and his voice was too loud, too close. You’d tucked yourself into the densest patch of foliage you could find, but your white ears and cottony tail stood out like blood on snow against the vivid greens and blacks of the flora. Suddenly, trying to hide at all felt stupid. Rabbits weren’t supposed to hide. Rabbits were supposed to die and get eaten by the big, mean snakes who preyed on them. “I’m going to find you, and when I do, you’re only going to be sorry you made me wait as long as I have.”

You could hear the dull drag of scales moving over rough stone, the ebbing ‘hiss’ that formed a slight lisp at the end of each sentence. You raised your head just far enough to see a large, black shape move in front of you, and something buried deep inside of you cracked and spilled open.

Running wasn’t a choice – it was the only option. You were on your feet in a second, sprinting deeper into the greenhouse in another. The direction didn’t matter. As long as you got away from him, nothing else mattered.

Blindly, you vaulted over fallen branches and overgrown roots, rotting leaf litter threatening to steal your balance as you veered away from the beaten path and threw yourself into the tangled wilderness. If Suguru was chasing you, you couldn’t hear him – the world little more than a blur of color and your own racing pulse. You just needed to find somewhere better to hide, somewhere he’d forgotten. A tunnel, or a tree hollow, or a cave dark enough to hide your snowy pelt from prying eyes. You just needed to—

 Your trek came to an abrupt end as your collided with a pane of thick, emerald-tinted glass and were sent crashing to the ground. It took you a second to process what you’d run into – the wall of the greenhouse, the edge of Suguru’s enclosure – and another to remember that you weren’t in the wilderness, anymore, that you wouldn’t find a tunnel or a cave or anywhere else to hide that hadn’t been created deliberately to trick animals like you into to think they were safe. You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so desperate. You might’ve gone looking for Suguru yourself, if you hadn’t been too scared to remember what it meant to be caged.

Fighting back tears, you started to scramble onto your feet, but it was already too late. There was no sound, no warning, just a sudden pressure against your back and an agonizing pain burrowed into the side of your throat. His fangs were planted in your neck before you could so much as scream, his strong tail wrapped around your legs and his arms crossed over your midriff, keeping your body locked against his as he pinned you to the ground. You expected his venom to burn, to be able to feel death as it flooded into your veins, but instead, there was only a slight numbing sensation around the point of insertion, a distant fog over your senses that might’ve just been your own fading adrenaline. If anything, you felt…

You felt warm.

Suguru took his time pulling away, his ribbon-like tongue flickering over the skin of your throat before he lifted his head. You weren’t facing him, one of your cheeks pressed into the dirt, but you could just barely see him out of the corner of your eye, make out the dark hair tucked behind his shoulders, the pitch-black scales littered over his face, his chest. You knew he was a snake, but you thought you might’ve heard his owner call him something else, once or twice. A ‘cobra’, maybe, but you’d never met a cobra before. You felt safer thinking of him as a snake.

He opened his mouth, but you were already babbling. Trying not to cry had been useless. Tears poured down your cheeks unabashedly, blurring your vision and making it that much harder to spit something coherent out. “P-please don’t eat me – I’m really small for a rabbit, and I promise I won’t taste very good, and I—”

“Quiet, little rabbit.” You’d been wrong, before. You didn’t feel warm, no, you felt hot – something deep inside of you beginning to smolder at the sound of his voice. Immediately, you shut your mouth, and he rewarded you with a raspy chuckle. “You thought I was going to… to eat you?” You nodded stiltedly, and he went on. “Ah, no wonder you were so afraid. And here I thought my timid little bunny just didn’t like me very much.”

“…’m sorry.” You must’ve run farther than you realized. A few minutes of sprinting shouldn’t have left you this breathless, this dazed. “You… You aren’t going to eat me?”

“No, bunny. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“But, you bit—”

“I gave you a present.” Another dry chuckle, his tongue flitting over the back of your neck. “Just a little something to make sure you wouldn’t be so shy. You should already be feeling better.”

You weren’t sure that you felt better, but you didn’t feel scared, either. A different feeling had taken the place of your fear – the sensation viscous and churning and prone sending pangs of dull, burning pain to the pit of your stomach. You had to make a conscious effort to move your lips, and even then, it was hard to get any sound past your suddenly dry throat. Suguru waited patiently, seemingly more than happy to watch you stumble over your own tongue. “It’s really warm,” you managed, eventually. “I think I might be… tired?”

“Oh, of course. I forgot how easy it is for prey animals to wear themselves out. I’ll take you back to my nest, where you’ll be able to rest safely.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded eagerly. Safe. You wanted to be safe. You couldn’t remember what you needed to be safe from anymore, though.

He uncurled, but didn’t pull away from you. Rather, your smaller body was pulled against his broad chest as he took you in his arms and carried you through the greenhouse. His destination was a raised loft – set above the wild foliage of his enclosure, accessible only by a sparsely wrung ladder you never would’ve had a hope of climbing on your own. His nest wasn’t at all like a rabbit’s nest, either. Rather than a deep, dark tunnel padded with fur and leaves, he’d taken you to a mess of tangled roots and woven blankets, all piled onto one another to form a box-like bed. Your form, limper than you would’ve liked it to be, was laid on a relatively soft patch, and Suguru positioned himself above you; upper body supported by his forearms, his never-ending tail taking up whatever space you left unoccupied. You wanted to sleep, to do what he said you should, but he was still touching you – dragging a single, clawed finger down your chest and over your midriff, only pausing at your waist to draw slow, swirling patterns into your hip. “My venom has a unique side-effect, you know,” he muttered, his voice low and soothing, the tapered tip of his tail lashing from side to side as he spoke. “A full dose would be fatal. It’d be fast, too – a few seconds of screaming, a few seconds of twitching, and then—” He paused, clicked his tongue. “—dead, just like that. It’s a little anti-climactic, to be honest.”

Something deep inside of you began to throb. You shrunk into yourself, trying to relieve the pulsing ache, but Suguru mistook your agony for fear. “In controlled portions,” he continued, splaying his open palm over your hip. “The symptoms are much more pronounced. Humans tend to get all feverish and clumsy, but hybrids—”

Again, he paused. His hand drifted lower – first to your thigh, then your cunt. You didn’t realize you were dripping until his cold fingertips skirted over your slit, gathering up the slick already staining the inside of your thighs.

“Hybrids go into heat.”

A cold wave of dread washed over you, and Suguru’s smile widened.

“…heat?”

“Heat, little rabbit.”

His hand lingered on your pussy, two of his massive fingers splitting apart your lips and making room for his tongue to lap gingerly over your entrance. The sensation was strange – not good and not bad, a little ticklish – but your hips bucked as it flickered over your clit. You knew better than to get so close to a snake’s mouth, but you couldn’t seem to move, to think about anything but getting closer, closer to anything that could touch and poke and lick you. “Is heat—” You started, only to be cut off by a cracked whimper as the throbbing in your core intensified. “Is it supposed to hurt?”

“Only for a while.” His deep voice reverberated against your cunt, and you couldn’t stop yourself; attempting to rock your hips against his mouth with a high-pitched whine. It was embarrassing to be so needy, so desperate, but Suguru didn’t seem to mind, only ghosting his lips over the inside of your thigh as he pushed you back down. “But, you’ll need a mate to help you through it. Do you want a mate?”

“Y-Yes! Mate!” You’d never felt this empty, before. It was a little like hunger, but not as jagged, not as desolate. It was more of an absence than anything more tangible; a total and complete vacancy that had to be filled. You tried to roll onto your stomach, to scramble onto your hands and knees and present yourself, but Suguru held you in place with minimal effort. Your protest came in the form of a drawn-out whine, a waving sound Suguru mocked with a low coo and an airy laugh. “Please, please, it hurts, Suguru, I can’t— I need—”

“You need cock,” he finished, his tone one of pure, undeniable satisfaction. With a sigh, he picked himself up, straightening his back and towering above you. You felt saliva pool at the bottom of your mouth as the junction between his upper body and his tail came into view – pale skin slowly giving way to ebony scales, the sculpted muscle of his chest meeting the plated armor below his hips. His hand fell away from you, but you couldn’t mourn the loss of contact, not when your attention was so fixated on the thin, almost invisible slit just below his pubic bone. His fingertips slipped shallowly inside of it, and his gaze shifted back to you. “Come, little bunny. I think you’ve earned another treat.”

The encouragement was appreciated, but unnecessary. You were already crawling towards him, your limbs uncooperative and your movements jolting but your resolve absolute. There was still a throbbing emptiness inside of you, getting worse and more demanding with each neglectful second, but all you could think about was settling onto your knees in front of Suguru and drooling at the sight of his fluttering slit. You weren’t sure what to do, whether to use your hands or your mouth, but Suguru didn’t leave much time for indecision. His free hand found its way to the back of your head, nudging you forward until your mouth was pressed against his slit, just starting to leak thick trails of translucent slick over his dark scales. Your tongue darted past your lips hesitantly, at first, but your trepidation didn’t last very long. It couldn’t, not when you had a hollow pit inside of you still begging to be filled.

Suguru’s fingers carded through your hair as you lapped and sucked at his slit. The taste was mildly acidic, but surprisingly sweet – your eyes quickly falling shut as you sank into a pattern of wet sounds and strange textures and point claws grazing over your scalp, scratching at your ears. Throaty moans (the loudest noise you would ever hear Suguru make, in hindsight) and mumbled praise trickled past his lips as you worked, letting you know that he liked the way you were curling your tongue, that the spongy spot you could just barely reach inside of him was particularly sensitive. It wasn’t long before a mix of your saliva and his arousal dripped past the corners of your mouth, before the end of his tail was lashing violently within the confines of his nest. Maybe Suguru was in heat, too. You hoped he was. You didn’t want to be the only one in so much pain.

You felt the tapered tip of something smooth and stiff against your tongue, and Suguru buckled forward, a ragged gasp tearing past his lips as he took your head in both hands and pressed you flush against his abdomen. Confused and panicked, you tried to pull away, but his grip was iron-clad and it was all you could do to whimper, to sit there helplessly while something filled your mouth – hard and ridged and hot enough to burn. Cock, the pulsing in your core filled in, but it couldn’t be. Suguru had made it sound like something you needed, something you were supposed to want, but you didn’t like the way the blunt head prodded at the back of your throat, the way the ridged underside ground against your tongue. For the first time since he’d caught you, your instincts agreed with your better judgement, both urging you to get away, to run, to put distance between yourself and this newfound threat.

Your pussy, though, couldn’t seem to do anything but chant mate, mate, mate.

You could feel something else, too – not in your mouth, but pressing into your chin, your throat. Reflexively, your hands shot up, wrapping around the thick intruder, and this time, Suguru let go of you entirely, biting back a half-choked groan as he pushed you away, leaving you sprawled out and alone in the center of his nest. The hollowness inside of you was nearly unbearable, and rubbing your thighs together only seemed to make it worse. You tried to look to Suguru, to ask him to do something, but instead, your eyes caught on the long, pale appendage pressed into his lower stomach. His cock. Or, his cocks, you guessed.

You hadn’t expected there to be two of them.

You hadn’t expected them to be so big, either. Even at a distance, it was clear they weren’t meant for a rabbit. Just one would’ve been more than you could handle – as long as your forearm, as thick as your wrist, the end tapered to a steep point but the base absolutely massive before they disappeared into his slit. The color was strange, too – the tip flushed a dull pink while the base was nearly as dark as his scales, creating an ombre that might’ve been pretty, if you weren’t so terrified. You couldn’t see any veins, but both were sculpted with pronounced, perfectly spaced ridges. You couldn’t imagine having something like that inside of you, but you couldn’t imagine not having anything inside of you, either.

You couldn’t be sure how long you spent staring up at him, trying to wrap your head around his size, trying to decide if you’d rather be torn apart by his cock or your own increasingly demanding needs. In the end, it wasn’t really your choice to make. His eyes darted from your clenched thighs to your heaving chest to yours, wide and watery, and a grin found its way back to his lips. For some reason, his smile wasn’t as comforting as it’d been, the first time you saw it. “I’m sorry, little rabbit. Did I startle you?” The tenderness in his voice was almost cloying. You didn’t move, didn’t respond, but he didn’t seem to need you to. “I didn’t mean to. Why don’t you spread your legs nice n’ wide for me, and I’ll make it up to you?”

Your gaze fell back to his cocks. One of his fists had wrapped around both, pumping idly while he stood above you. “Are those supposed to…?” You trailed off, shrinking into yourself. Suguru hummed, and you took it as confirmation. “But you’ll only use one, right? I don’t think I can— I mean, it won’t fit if you—”

“Really? I could’ve sworn you were begging to be fucked properly just a few minutes ago.” You stiffened, but he only laughed. “Fine, fine. If that’s what you think you want, I’ll only use one.”

You didn’t think you could trust him, but you could feel yourself getting hot, again, a haze forming over your mind. You could leave when he was finished, you figured, even if you weren’t entirely sure how to get out of his nest, or where to go once you’d escaped back into the greenhouse. After you got over your— your heat.

Hesitantly, you started to listen to the negging mantra still playing in the back of your mind, to obey the near-deafening voice in the back of your head urging you to get on your hands and knees and make him fuck you, but Suguru must’ve decided you weren’t moving fast enough. His tail shifted underneath you, a thick coil catching your side and leaving you bent over one of the thicker lengths, your stomach pressed into his cool scales and your feet barely able to reach the tangled roots of his nest. You scrambled for purchase, but Suguru was there to steady you – his hands finding your hips, his cocks pressing into your ass. The calloused pads of his fingertips pressed into your waist as he aligned one of his cocks – the upper one, you thought, just a little thicker than its twin – with your entrance. He was kind enough to give you a long, slow second to breathe before his hips rutted forward and he inside of you.

Immediately, it felt wrong.

You’d been right when you decided he was too big for you. He was only half-sheathed, and yet, the tip of his cock pressed into the floor of your cervix, the head of his cock alone enough to stretch your pussy as far as it could go. Thankfully, he didn’t try to force himself deeper, but feeling the smooth ridges of rub against the walls of your pussy as he pulled back wasn’t much better. Still, your cunt clenched around him eagerly, doing its best to suck him in despite your physical limitations. Suguru, of course, seemed more than happy to indulge you. His thrusts were slow and lethargic, as gentle as they could’ve been but still forceful enough to leave you pinned to the curve of his tail. You weren’t in control of your body, anymore. As he rolled his hips against your ass, you ground back against him, your greedy cunt never warm enough, never wet enough, never full enough. You tried to dig your blunt claws into his tail, to ground yourself, but it was a futile effort; a limping dear attempting to evade a wolf who’d already tasted its blood. Suguru’s only response was a stifled groan, a new roughness to the way he fucked into you. You felt his chest against your back as he bent at the waist, draping himself over you, his dark hair falling from his shoulder and replacing chunks of your vision with a curtain of thick, endless black. It didn’t matter. A fresh wave of tears would’ve left you just as helpless, not that Suguru seemed to mind the way you sniffled and sobbed between moans.

“They say— fuck, you know what they say about rabbits, don’t you, bunny?” His voice was barely audible, but it seemed to echo on and on and on in your overly sensitive ears. His cock ground against something softened and vulnerable inside of you and your back arched, your pussy clenching impossibly tighter around him. “That’s it,” Suguru encouraged, as you tried to pry yourself away from his freezing tail and chase the gentle warmth of his chest. “They say bunnies make the best sluts. Knock them up once, and they’ll never stop begging for it.”

Kits. A strong mate. A safe nest. The thought alone had you crying out for nothing, your convulsions growing that much more erratic, and Suguru chuckled in-turn. “Like that? Want me to make you into my little mate-whore?”

“Want it, please, w-want it so bad.” It was all you could do to force yourself to speak, to spit something out through the daze of lust and exhaustion and total, unrelenting fullness. You’d never been more sure of anything than you were in that moment, never knew something as deeply as you knew that you wanted Suguru’s kits inside of you. “Please, wanna be you mate, wanna—Suguru—!”

One more thrust, one more scape of his sleek scales against your clit, and you were coming undone around his cock in jolting, erratic convulsions. Suguru let out a ragged grunt and straightened his back, but the distance was short-lived. Strong arms snaked under your knees, spreading your legs and hauling you up to his height. Your back remained pressed against his chest as he pulled out of you entirely and slammed back in. Even through the overstimulation, the wrongness hit you immediately. His cock was too big, too thick, and—

And he was inside of you.

Completely inside of you.

You forced yourself to open your eyes, letting your head fall forward limply. The shock was minimal, but still devastating – both of Suguru’s cocks buried inside of you to their pitch-black bases, their outlines just barely visible against the plush flesh of your lower stomach. “You—You promised you wouldn’t—”

His face was buried in the dip of your shoulder, his lips parted as panted against you. You felt his teeth catch on your skin before sinking into you, had time to process the pure heat of his venom seeping into your veins. Instantly, anything you might’ve said died on your tongue, your mind going utterly, entirely blank save for a single thought: mate.

Your mouth fell open, your thighs spreading that much farther. Suguru pressed a lingering, open-mouthed kiss into the injection site, then pulled away, grinning wildly. “A few drops, and you’ll want everything I have to give you,” he muttered. “That’s better, isn’t it, bunny?”

Much better. You could feel something swelling at the base of his cock, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge anything other than the utter bliss as a small, round shape was milked up the length of his cock and emptied into your core. Kits, you thought, and did your best to settle onto his twin cocks, to hold still as another egg was forced through your tight pussy. You stopped trying to count after the fourth – giving in completely to the shuddering, splintering euphoria every new member of your little family brought you. By the time the final egg was safe and snug inside of you, you were limp, twitching, and so full, it was hard to imagine ever feeling empty again.

As the last aftershocks started to fade, Suguru sucked in a stilted gasp and pulled you flush against his chest. You felt his second cock twitch once, then twice inside of you before something warm and thick flooded into your pussy. You whined miserably as he pulled out of you, but he didn’t stay gone for very long. Your pliable body was turned around in his arms, his cocks slid back into your leaking cunt as he carefully lowered himself onto the floor of his nest – your body laid on top of his. You strung your arms around his neck and pressed yourself against his chest, closing your eyes and giving in to your well-earned exhaustion.

You lasted just long enough to hear him mutter something about mates and clutches before your consciousness faded entirely and your mind went mercifully, blissfully silent.

~

Hours later, you woke up to the sound of a low, long whistle. “Really did a number on the poor thing, huh, Suguru?”

It took you a second to blink your eyes open, to raise your head and glance toward the man standing at the top of the ladder that led to Suguru’s nest, and another to recognize him as Suguru’s owner. His white hair was in a state of disarray, his eyes hidden behind circles of tinted glass, and for some reason, he was looking at you. You shrunk further into Suguru, but he only laughed – the noise loud and piercing to your foggy senses.

Suguru’s cocks were no longer inside of you, the flushed tips just barely visible at the base of his slit. You were still on his chest, and his arms were wrapped around your waist, his hold loose but possessive. There was a small bump over your lower stomach, and you weren’t sure whether to grimace or beam at the feeling of Suguru’s eggs shifting inside of you with every little movement. He was already awake – had been for some time, judging by the unimpressed scowl pressed into his lips. Something sharp and icy lodged itself into your chest, but his glare was directed towards his owner, not you, and the very tip of his tail curled around your ankle protectively as his owner stepped into his nest.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to walk into a serpent’s den?”

“I don’t think it counts if I own the den.” He straddled the bulk of Suguru’s tail, then gestured to you. “Turn the pretty baby around. I wanna see the damage.”

You shook your head vehemently, clinging to Suguru’s neck, but his own response was an exasperated sigh, a fleeting hiss to your cheek as he flipped you over; leaving you slayed across his chest and exposed to his owner’s prying gaze. “Five minutes,” he said, as his owner shrugged the waistband of his pants down just far enough to free his cock, already half-hard, already enough to send a bolt of pure dread from your heart to the pit of your stomach. “I don’t want your scent on my mate.”

You opened your mouth, ready to whine that you were sore, that you were tired, that you didn’t want anyone but Suguru and your kits inside of you, but the words withered into nothing on your tongue as his owner eased himself into your dripping pussy, as Suguru caught you by the chin and pulled you into a shallow, lingering kiss – the points of his fangs just barely scraping over your bottom lip. Looking back on it, it had been silly to ever worry that he’d eat you.

You should’ve been worried that he wouldn’t.

[esquen]

Since seeing the movie I can't stop thinking about Mike x Abbys babysitter reader 🫢

oh u guys are gonna KILL ME!!!

reader has female anatomy.

you’d been abby’s go to babysitter since you moved in next door. she was very young, probably five or four. her brother had seen you painting your fence and made his way over to you to try and make small talk.

“yeah, we’ve lived here since she was born,” he explained as you stood up, leaving your brush in the paint bucket. “been lookin’ for a babysitter since i started my new job.” he shrugged. you celebrated mentally, as you’d been waiting for a job to pop up around you. this is exactly what you needed.

fast forward a good four years, you’d been spending your days at the schmidt house. your pay slowly decreased as mike continued to find it hard to pay his bills, but you didn’t mind. you had your own job that would keep you afloat with your bills, and the extra money you received from mike would cover your clothes and food.

this day wasn’t any different from the previous three weeks. laid up on the couch with your own blanket you brung from home, awaiting mike’s arrival. the tv was buzzing quietly as your eyes became droopy.

the sound of the door opening startled you, pushing yourself onto your knees to greet mike. “hey.” you said softly as he kicked his shoes off and waddled towards the small couch, jumping onto it. “hi.” he greeted, closing his eyes for a second.

“abby ate a few bites of her dinner, breakfast is in the microwave. she’s been in bed since you left and i made sure she brushed her teeth and finished her homework,” you ran down, kicking the blanket off and standing up. “i should go.” you sigh.

mike stands up quickly, grabbing your shirt. “hold on,” he grunts, standing in front of you now. “i’m sorry i haven’t been able to pay you—“ he mutters.

“mike, we have this conversation every week. it’s okay, i swear.” you laugh, moving to hold his wrist. “i know you put a lot of effort into taking care of abby.” he mutters, moving closer to you.

“yeah..” you let out a breathy sigh, hands shaking as he moves his hand from you. “you deserve.. something.” he shrugs, hands coming up to hold your hips.

you gasped at the sudden movement, moving your hands down to grasp his wrists, your eyes scan his face. “is this okay?” he asks, moving his left hand to hold your back and press you closer to him.

you nod, hands moving up his arms and holding him tightly. he tilts his head and presses a kiss to your lips, making you melt. you whimper into his mouth, causing his grip on your hips to tighten.

he moves you towards his bedroom, lips never leaving your skin as he watches out behind you to make sure you don’t bump into anything.

he slams the door shut with his foot, and it almost alarms you at the fact that he could’ve easily woken up abby. he moves his hand from your hip to lock the door, continuing to gently push you towards the bed. “how long has it been since you started babysitting abby?” he asked as his lips made contact with your neck.

“i— i don’t know.. a few years, three or four?” you choke out, moving to hold the back of his head. “been wantin’ you for so long,” he mutters, sucking a bit harder on the base of your neck. “about time i get to have you.” he sighs.

his fingers move to the band of your sweatpants, grabbing them and pulling it down feverishly. his warm hands make contact with your thighs, pulling them apart and feeling at your cunt.

“mm, you like this more than i do.” he teases, pressing a kiss to your tummy and leaning further down into you. he wraps his arms around the base of your thighs and pulls your underwear to the side, licking his lips before pulling you into his mouth.

the initial feeling of his mouth made you gasp, hand moving down to hold his hair. the grip he had on your thighs made it impossible to scoot away from his tongue as he basically made out with your pussy.

to stabilize yourself, you grabbed at the sheets of his bed as his tongue made constant contact with your clit. you winced, moving to hold your shirt up and watch him eat you like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

the closer you got to your orgasm, the harsher you got on his hair. you began to push his head away, squirm your hips, and bite into your hand. and everytime, he shook your hand away, held your tighter, and flicked his tongue faster.

he had no problem finishing you up. you shook gently as your orgasm passed through you, and mike happily pressed another kiss to your swollen clit.

he reached into his back pocket and took out a $20 bill, holding it out to you. “i thought you said.. you couldn’t?” you asked, grabbing the bill gently.

“i know. had to find a way to get you on my tongue.” he smiled and pat the side of your thigh, moving your sweatpants back into place just as abby’s room door opened up.

[rslashrats]

🪰 housefly734 Follow

just a reminder that flies rubbing their hands together =/= plotting a nasty scheme

🪰 r0tt1ngm3at Follow

FINALLY SOMEONE SAID IT!! I HATE THE STEREOTYPE THAT US RUBBING OUR HANDS TOGETHER MEANS WE ARE PLANNING SOMETHING DUBIOUS!!

🪰 crane-fly-wives Follow

^^ Boosting! I constantly get non-flies giving me death glares whenever I wash my hands in the restroom. Like, that's what you're supposed to do after going to the bathroom! Sorry for being hygienic I guess 🙄

🪰 diptera-doll Follow

Reasons why flies might be rubbing their hands together:

It's chilly out and they're trying to warm up

They just put hand sanitizer/lotion/hand cream on

They're rolling a ball of clay together

What you should do if you see a fly rubbing their hands together:

Leave them alone! It's none of your business

Hope this helped! :)

🪰 flyhlghh Follow

people also forget that hand-rubbing is a very common stim!! neurodivergent flies constantly get stigmatized for showing any traits of their neurodivergencies in public!! please don't forget that!!

🐝 iamrealflytrustme Follow

I dont know about you losers but i like to rub my hands together because i am planning the most heinous and villanous crimes in my head

🪰 crane-fly-wives Follow

Wow, most obvious troll I have ever seen in my life. Get a life, dude 🙄

🪰 compoundeyehaver Follow

> claims to be a real fly

> has bee as their profile pic

dude couldn even get the right insect for their shitty troll account LMFAOOOOO

🐝 iamrealflytrustme Follow

No i am real fly and i am plotting to land on someones pie rn and ruin it with all my real fly germs. rubbing my hands together as i do it too

🪰 crane-fly-wives Follow

Anyone wanna bet this guy is some amphibian from 4frog typing this nonsense from their lilypad right now? Just me? Okay-

🐝 iamrealflytrustme Follow

I am buzzing around people's ears now

🪰 crane-fly-wives Follow

Yep, that pretty much confirms my theory. The nerve of some non-flies, I swear 🙄

🪰 batsianmimc Follow

@venus-fly-trap-hater

🪰 venus-fly-trap-hater Follow

this post is so real!! tysm babe for sending it to me 💞 ilyy

🪰 batsianmimc Follow

ILY too sugar cube 😘

🐝 iamrealflytrustme Follow

Can you guys stop kissing on this post its ruining my evil scheme planning

🪰 crane-fly-wives Follow

Can't believe this guy is still at it, honestly. @staff @tumblr Please take action against fake fly troll accounts such as these ones!

🐝 iamrealflytrustme Follow

Staff cant kill me i rubbed my hands on them too hard and they dieded sorry

🪰 crane-fly-wives Follow

🤣🤣🤣 Oh the excuses this fake is making, LOL! I haven't been this entertained since the Bombylius major discourse last year!

🪰 compoundeyehaver Follow

why are you still arguing with the troll instead of just blocking

🪰 crane-fly-wives Follow

Just think it's entertaining to see the lack of logic that bounces around in the brains of these non-flies sometimes 🤷‍♀️ Every response this so called "I am a real fly, trust me" user has given me has just made me crack up and flap my wings together.

🐝 iamrealflytrustme Follow

I am gonna rub my hands and plan more evil schemes involving you next

🪰 crane-fly-wives Follow

Heh, just try it, kid. Go on, I'll wait. 🥱

🦗 chirpingboy Follow

things are getting heated in the fly community

🪰 crane-fly-wives Follow

Of course a Grasshopper has the nerve to comment something insensitive on this post. Honestly, just mind your business 🙄

🦗 chirpingboy Follow

okayy

🦗 hopping-along-the-bank Follow

Hey, you can't really preach for not discriminating against flies and then discriminate against a grasshopper, dude. Not cool.

🪰 crane-fly-wives Follow

I think I certainty can, with my past experiences of Grasshoppers always finding the ways to say the most uneducated and baseless takes on my previous posts and discussions. Plus, after the Fly-Grasshopper War of 247 BC (in which my ancestors fought in, mind you) and the consequences that followed it, I think I am well within my rights. But go ahead, frame me as the bad guy here. 🤣

🦗 hopping-along-the-bank Follow

Yeah, you say this and conveniently ignore the socio-economic struggles that grasshoppers have been facing for the past century, many of these issues which were spearheaded by fly conservative politicians in office at the time.

So, yeah, it is rather hypocritical for you to pull out these cards when grasshoppers have also been punished and gotten the short end of the stick throughout bug history.

🪰 crane-fly-wives Follow

The implication that all flies are responsible for a few greedy politicians is quite comical, really. 🥱 Not to mention that many Grasshopper politicians in Bugland and Bugtopia have also had histories of introducing laws that have severely affected communities majorly made up of Flies. But sure, keep arguing with me about this, buddy. I got all day 🤣

🐝 iamrealflytrustme Follow

I am still rubbing my hands and planing schemes btw

🪰 flythatlovestogethigh Follow

anyone smoke bug weed in this thread

[jujusdiary]

RUFFLED SHEETS - cl16

pairing- charles leclec x fem!reader warning- smutttt ( wrap it before you tap it pooks) , dirty words (frenchie french) porn with no plot :) lowk reader's first time riding ??? idk yall does that count genre- established relationship summary- missing charles when he's away is a recurrent feeling. question is, what happens when he comes home to find you in his shirt ? this is not proofread sorry for any mistakes english is not my first language les copains :)

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · keep reading !! · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

It was no surprise that you were alone for yet another weekend. Not that you minded it, it felt nice to be alone sometimes. But you had to admit, spending the weekend with Charles was always more fun than watching him spend his weekend without you on the TV.

You were sat on your couch, the blanket draped over your knees, your eyes heavy with sleep, Charles shirt heavy on your shoulders. Miami was always the toughest race for you to keep up with, seeing as though the time difference with Monaco was always so huge. But you stuck through, and in the end it was worth it, because you got to see Lando cross the line first for the first time in his career, and you got to see your boyfriend bring it home third. From the look on his face, you could tell he was happy for Lando, but that p3 was not the result he was expecting- nor hoping for. You shot Lando a quick congrats text, who responded with a flurry of misspelled, clearly drunken texts of different variations of the words "thank you, love you, wish you could've been there" instead reading "tjanl yio, lobe yiu, qisj yio xouldvr beem tjete". It took you a while to decipher it, but when you finally did, it brought a soft smile to your face. It was obvious the young boy you had gotten close to had not even waited a minute after that podium to go out with his friends and celebrate. Your phone buzzes by your side as you yawn, cracking your neck. You pick our phone up and squint your tired eyes at the screen.

"I'll be home by tomorrow night, ma chérie. Je t'aime, fait de beaux rèves." I love you, sweet dreams. You read out loud, rubbing your eyes. You got up from the couch and switched the tv off and ventured into your room, craving the comfort of your bed. Charles's shirt reached far enough down to the middle of your thighs, so you had assumed when you slipped it on hours ago (after remembering he had left his signature red shirt here as he didn't need it because of the blue shirts for miami) that you didn't need shorts, and now was no different, so you simply slid into bed and cuddled yourself into your pillow and letting yourself succumb into sleep.

When Charles walks in, almost twelve hours early because he was planning on surprising you by getting the first flight home, the sun hadn't even gone up yet. The apartment is quiet when he steps in, and he expected you to be asleep on the couch, still watching the TV. He's confused when he doesn't spot you, dropping his bags by the doorway and venturing further into the apartment, and when he finally reaches the room, he carefully pries it open. The moonlight is gushing in through the windows, illuminating your body. Your hair is sprawled over your back, your shoulders rising softly in sleep. Charles smiles at your sleeping state, quickly, ridding himself of any airport sullied clothes and slipping in next to you, his chest bare, sweatpants hanging low on his waist. At the sudden dip of the mattress beside you, you jolt awake, turning to face him.

The look on your face makes his heart melt.

You look so tired, but so happy to see him. Your eyes light up, and he practically melts into your touch as your hands find his cheeks and you sling a thigh over his middle, humming softly as his arms bunch up around your waist.

"Hi, mon amour. Surprise." He whispers, kissing his aw down your jaw. You push at his back with your heel, humming softly.

"Charlie ? I missed you." You mutter, burying your hands in those soft brown curls of his.

"I caught the first flight back. Needed to see my girl." He says, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He grimaces, his nose scrunching as he notices an odd smell on your body. His cologne, mixed with sweat and another mixture of things that you like about his scent. He frowns.

"Why do you smell like me ?" He asks, his voice soft against your ears. He softly pulls away from you, the darkness in the room making him squint. He turns on the bedside light, sending the slightest glow emmenating around the room, and finally illuminating your body. The sheets have bunched up near the apex of your thighs, revealing the soft black material of your lingerie and finally his shirt, resting on your shoulders. His number, splayed over your chest, the fabric stretching in a heavenly way around your breasts.

Charles heard his breath catch in the back of his throat. Sleepy and craving to hide your eyes from the light, you whimper and shift from side to side, the shirt hiking up to reveal he ruffled hem of the lingerie resting on your hips.

"I missed you." You repeat again as an answer, humming as you closed your eyes.

"Putain." Fuck. He mutters, gulping heavily. "Is that- Are you wearing my shirt ?" This makes your eyes open. There was so something to primal in his eyes. Seeing you in his shirt, proudly wearing his humber, knowing you were probably cheering him on and seeing the way the fabric of the shirt stretch over his favorite part of you- stroked something deep within him, ever ounce of blood leaving his head to rush between his legs.

"Do you not like it ? I can take it off." You whispered. The ferrari red brought out your flushed complexion, and Charles felt his pants grow uncomfortably tight.

"I'f i'd have known you were waiting for me here, like this.." His finger finds the apex of the your thighs, slipping his finger between the tiny gap, stroking the soft, subtle skin. "I would've come home earlier." He mutters, and you smile at him softly.

"If you hadn't left, you could've had seen me like this all weekend." You mutter, although you know he could never stop racing. He smiles teasingly at you, rolling his eyes. You sit up, the shirt falling down to your thighs, yawning.

"I need the bathroom. Be right back, baby." You breathe out, getting to your feet after pressing a soft kiss to his lips. His jaw almost drops, and the tightness in his pants grows. The number and red on your body seems to be made for you, and Charles has to bite back a primitive growl. When you emerge from the bathroom, the heavy lidded look of your eyes looks like you've been fucked out, and Charles sits up fully. You sit in front of him, kneeling at the foot of the bed as you tuck your hair behind your ears.

"You did really good today. P3." You say, smiling softly at him. He simply just nods, his chest heaving. You frown at his lack of answer, not noticing his eyes glue to your chest, to his number on your body. It's like he's finally staked his claim to you, and it makes his heart swell. You smile confusedly at his dazed expression.

"Charlie ? Are you okay ?" You ask, leaning forward, your arms pressing your breasts together. He gulps heavily, holding his hand out for you.

"Lemme look at you." You slide over, expecting him to be all soft and cute like he usually is when he's sleepy, but boy were you wrong. He guides you over his lap, forcing you down to straddle it as he inspects you.

"Fucking hell. You look hot in red. Why have you never worn this before ?" He asks, running his calloused hands over your thighs, the cold of his rings burning your skin.

"Because you're always wearing it ?" You reply teasingly, fingers mindlessly drawing out the sahpe of his abs and muscles.

"Ma belle fille.." My pretty girl. You blush furiously, smiling softly as he traces the apex of your thighs with his hands. You rub your eyes tiredly, craving to cuddle into him and sleep, but the way he's looking up at you, his hands grasping you tight, it makes a rumble start up in your stomach. He's looking at you like a man starved. I mean it's not as if he's never seen you wear red. But something about you, in his shirt, makes him hungry.

"Why ? Do you like it ?" You counter his question, giggling softly. His eyes almost bulge out of his head.

"Like it ? Amour, I love it. You are never taking this off. " You smile softly, cocking a questioning eyebrow.

"Never ? Don't you have to wear this in Imola ?" he shakes his head, licking his lips again.

"Were you wearing this when i crossed the finish line ?" He asks, softly swerving your question. You nod, smiling softly. He chuckles, his hands slipping up the shirt and caressing your ribs, his thumbs grazing right along side the underside of your breasts.

"Well then i'll tell Fred we're keeping the blue. You're wearing this at every race weekend from now on- My lucky charm." The words send a blush rising to your cheeks, and he laughs. "Really ? That's what gets you going ? I have worse i can say, bébé." He says, his eyes still trained on his number on the shirt, making you roll your eyes. Charles knew the effect his words had on you, and he was not afraid to use it. Wether in was to rile you up when you two were out with the rest of the grid, or when you were in the privacy of your home or his driver's room.

"And with you on top of me, looking like this.. I have a few ideas." He mutters, before his face dives down to bury itself in your neck, his lips nipping at the sot skin right below your jaw. You bite back a breathy moan as your hand comes flying up to grab his hair, the covers bunched up around both of you. Your hips roll instinctively against his as he continues to suck at your skin, inevitability leaving bright red marks along your jaw and collarbone, sure to mark you for everyone to see- And he was going to make sure everyone would see. You could already see the gears in his head turning, trying to figure out where to mark you so people would know you were his next time you even set foot in the paddock. His hands travel up to fully grasp your breasts, his thumps pinching the pebbled peaks, this time eliciting a whimper from the back of your throat. He smirks against your skin.

"There it is." He whispers, before pulling away from your neck, his hands leaving your breasts, slipping up to cup your cheeks. His lips smash down against yours, catching them in a rough dance, his hands blindly reaching down to push the fabric on your panties to the side, running his finger against your folds. When he's met with the obvious wetness and slick already coating you and spreading across your thighs, and audible groan is heard from your boyfriend, kissing you with a new fervour.

"T'est déjà prête pour moi, hein, ma belle ?" You're already ready for me, huh, pretty girl ? He teases, the accent rolling off his tongue as he pulls away to observe the way your eyes flutter closed at the sensation of his thumb pressing down on you clit as two of his fingers stretch you out with no warning. Your hands fly up to grip his bare shoulders at the sudden intrusion, a pained whimper leaving your lips as you bite your full bottom lip between your teeth.

"So wet f'me.. Only for me. Where do you want me, amour ?" He asks, slowly and teasingly kissing your breasts through the shirt. You whimper.

"L-Like this." You manage, gulping down the moans bubbling up your throat as his fingers brush against that spot he knows would make you come undone.

"You want to ride me, bébé ?" He asks, smiling against your skin. You nod frantically, unable to contain the shake in your thighs as his thumb continues to assault your clit.

"Tes mots, ma chérie. Utlise tes mots." Your words, darling. Use your words. He instructs, clearly not wanting to use your fucked out state to his own gain.

That's the thing about Charles.

He may be a huge fucking tease, but he will always double check before dong anything he thinks might hurt you in any way. Especially in these situations, when your need for him would be too overwhelming and your thoughts wouldn't process normally, and sometimes you would say thins you didn't mean just to get him to touch you. So when you notice that twinge of doubt in his eyes as he looks up at you, you gulp down whatever moan or cry of his name was about to emerge and lovingly kiss his cheek, trying your best to keep your orgasm at bay.

"I want to ride you, Charlie." You manage, before his thumb gives your clit another appreciative rub and you crumble, body going slack against his as your body convulses, your walls fluttering around his fingers. He kisses you through the high, letting you ride it out before your hips still and he takes that as his sign. He retracts his fingers from you, lapping them up with his tongue, and you gasp as he smiles.

"You ready for me, mon cœur ?" He asks, softly moving himself underneath you to tug down his sweats. Eagerly, you help him shimmy them off, watching as his cock slaps up against his abdomen. You practically drool, at the sight, and move to take the shirt off. Charles shakes his head, licking his lips.

"No. Don't. Keep it on." He says, a hungry glare in his eyes. Fucking you with his number on him seems to seem more appealing to him than touching your breasts- which is usually his favourite part. But there's something in his eyes that makes it so hard to deny him. So you simply nod and drop your hands back down, softly bunching the shirt up around your waist so he can see what he's doing. His hands find the lace of your underwear again, fully shoving it to the side before softly placing you right above his length. He pushes you down, stopping when your pained whimpers feel the air, your nails digging into his chest.

"Woah, you got it, baby." He breathes, reaching up to brush your hair out of your face. "We can stop if you want to, amour. I don't want you to get hurt." He's barely halfway inside you, and he's already worried about hurting you. You shake your head, letting yourself sink down a little more and wiggle your hips to try and let yourself adjust to his girth, stretching you out from a new angle. He pushes your underwear further to the side, his hands balled around the shirt. When you finally sink down fully, the room is met with synchronized moans from the both of you.

'Fuck, chérie. Taking me so good." He praises as your hips start to instinctively roll above his. HIs hands push up the shirt, so that your stomach is revealed, leaving only the number on your breasts exposed. He groans as the bounce with your every roll, the number jutting out as if to further shove it in his face, that you are his. Your hands are splayed on his chest, gasping as you feel him poke his way into your stomach. He smirks at your desperate whimpers.

"What's wrong, darling ?"

"S'not enough." You whine, your hips stuttering. His hands guide you along, but it doesn't seem enough to push you further towards your edge. His brows furrow in worry. You whimper again, your hands balling into fists above his bare chest.

"Please, Charlie." You whimper, your head thrown back, sweat covering your skin, his hands coming to a still around your hips. His hand reaches around your back and pins your hips down against him. He holds you still, earning a whine of protest from you. he kisses up your chest, shaking his head as you try to roll your hips again.

"Shhh, non mon amour. Bouge pas. Let me take care of you." No my love, don't move. He whispers against your skin, finally letting go of your shirt, the material dropping back down to bunch up around your waist. He holds you still, before thrusting his hips up to meet yours.

"Better ?" He asks, his chest caving with every heavy breath that fills his chest, the only thing edging him on are your desperate whimpers. Your own hips start rolling again, and his head is thrown back, a low groan leaving his lips.

"Ah, fuck. So pretty. So tight. Just f'me." His words bring heat up to your cheeks, feeling his cock brush against that knot of nerves that is yet to be untangled.

"God, Charles." You cry, his hands trailing up and past the shirt to grab your breasts underneath the rough material of his shirt. He palms them, smiling as you whimper once again, leaning into his touch. His hips keep on bucking up to meet your rolls, and he can tell you're already getting close. The urge to have you pinned under him, ready for him, is overwhelming,. With no warning, he twists the two of your around, splaying your thighs open onto the bed, your hands gripping his shoulders in shock. His hips meet yours at a furious, hungry pace.

"God, you drive me crazy." He groans as his lips find your neck and leaves marks atop the already present ones. "Sleeping in my shirt, wearing my number.. it's like you're trying to get me to fuck you." He groans, a slight chuckle leaving his lips. You whimper, your hands digging into his shoulder blades.

"Fuck, i missed you so much." You whimper, tears flying up to your eyes. His hips snap against yours harder at your words, stealing the whimpers from your lips.

"I missed you more, fuck you have no idea. Tu m'a tellemment manqué." I missed you so much. He moans, his hips stuttering. You bite back a moan, your head thrown back as he pushes your thighs further apart, making you whine.

"God, please. Please, Cha, i'm so close." You whimper, gasping for air, the shirt tight around you. He pull back only slightly, gripping your thighs and dragging him closer to you. His hand wraps around your neck to tilt your head up, licking his lips.

"Vas-y, amour." Go ahead, love. "Show me how good i make you feel." His words seem to be the only thing your body obliges to, and your body convulses under him as you come all over him, whimpering loudly as your back arches off the bed. His body falls forward, pushing up your shirt to wrap his full lips around one of your breasts, making you moan loudly as he continues to push himself in and out of you at a steady pace. HIs free hand is still pushing your thigh open and flat on the bed, and he tries to ignore how it shakes and how you cry out in overstimulation as he tries his best to push you to another limit, not wanting to hurt you in his selfish need for release.

"Charlie, please, i can't-" You beg, your body shaking as tears fall past your eyes. He shushes you, pain blooming in his chest at your cries.

"Shh, i know baby, i know. Just one more for me, okay ?" He groans as your walls flutter around him, clearly already primed and ready for another. You nod frantically, feeling the tension build up in you stomach again. You hands drift down to his waist, grabbing it and pushing him towards you.

"Putain de merde." Fucking hell. "You're going to be the death of me, baby." He praises, his hips stuttering.

"Fuck, i'm close, do you want me to-"

"Inside." You gasp, feeling your own orgasm reach you, the third one of the night. The breathy sound of your voice has his toppling and he empties himself inside of you, moaning your name loudly as his eyes flutter closed. You whine as he pushes his shirt back down your chest, the emptiness between your legs evident. He kisses your face, slipping his own boxers on before grabbing a towel from the chair near your bed and baling it up, softly dragging it along your thighs. You whimper, squeezing your thighs together. He brushes your hair away from your eyes, softly shushing you as he spreads your thighs open again and proceeds with cleaning you up.

“Shhh, it’s okay, mom cœur. It’s okay.” He whispers, kissing the tears away. When he finally pushed your underwear back into place, he slides next to you and pulls you into his arms. He kisses your forehead, sighing heavily as you sniffle into his chest.

“I really did miss you.” You mutter, running your hands along his muscles. He smiles, looking down at you.

“I know, bébé. I missed you too. I wish you could’ve been there, cheering for me.” You giggle.

“You know i had to work, Charlie. I would’ve dropped everything to be there if my boss had given me the days off. P3.. That’s a great result.” He grimaces at the praise. You frown.

“What ?”

“P3 is not a great result- it’s just a result.” You sit up, glaring down at him, trying to ignore the pain in your legs.

“Hey.. P3 is a good result. It’s just the beginning, you can only get better from here, and i’m sure you will. I mean P2 in the sprint is already amazing.” You praise, and he smiles.

“See, this is why i need you at races. You’re such a better pep talker than Xavi and all the others.” You roll your eyes and lower yourself down next to him, sighing as you rest your head on his chest.

“If you get me a job, maybe i could be there every weekend.” He laughs, the rumble making your heart soar.

“I’ll see what i can do, amour. Anything to have you there with me.”

The rest of the night is spent laughing and him telling you about his weekend, pure and unfiltered like the TV would show you- and you make a mental note.

If you ever have to spend the weekend away from him again- which wasn’t bound to happen often- you’d make sure to be wearing his shirt when he got home.

[cherry-leclerc]

the set up ☆ ln4

genre: fluff, humor, parent trip vibes from oscahhh, strangers to lovers (bc of course it is), uni!reader

word count: 2.12k

Caught up in work, you find time to join your friends at the McLaren welcome dinner; meeting a certain British driver along the way. Whom you don't make the best first impression with.

req!...oscar+lily playing matchmakers? cute cute cuteeee. quick one for my lando lovers mwahhh

It takes a lot to convince you; like—a lot. Partial credit is due to your pride, but honestly, it drove your friends mad. 

Let's go out and celebrate! Just a good ‘ol round of drinks. I have to study. Maybe next time.

Oh! I heard of this new place down the street where you custom make your own jewelry. Fun, no? I have enough already, thank you.

Five minutes—let’s just go grab coffee! Too tired. Go on without me.

“It’s my welcome dinner, mate. You can’t do this to me now.” Oscar’s brown eyes flicker between you and his girlfriend, to which she apologetically shrugs. Deep down, it's like she can forehear your excuse. An essay is due, your internship, helping out at your local library. There's been too many times where you’ve flaked, and they were starting to worry. The pile of clothes makes her wince as you greedily type away. 

“I-I’m sorry, but I have to—”

“Reckon you don’t have anything on your agenda that is as important as you make it out to seem,” he hums. Narrowed eyes burn down, flipping your screen towards him.

 Compile a series of current events…BLAH BLAH BLAH. He stops caring, already bored.

“I wish I could—seriously, Oscar—but I’m needed elsewhere.” A beat. “Lily will keep me updated! Go Mango!”

The Australian rolls his eyes, sharp eyebrows expanding with desperation. “Papaya, mate, papaya.” You giggle, mimically apologizing. The clicks continue; round eyes laser focused. He tries getting your attention once more, but you don’t look up at him at all. The driver’s girlfriend purses her pink lips, crossing her legs gingerly against the couch.

“I can help you write your paper. All of it. Just please, come with us.” Blue eyes wink back as you come to a halt, temptation swirling. “We’re your friends and we want you there. Pretty please?”

The McLaren rookie thinks it has to do with his girlfriend's cute pout, but that is so far from it. It was well known that Lily Zneimer had a wicked talent for conducting a killer research essay. From her resources, to her dialogue. It’s astonishing how smoothly it gets done too. With her, it’s a guaranteed pass. Now that was what you needed. 

Berry lips twist back and forth for a second before stretching out. “Touch up on globalization effects in different cultures and we have ourselves a deal.”

-

The paper was coming along so perfectly that you almost wanted to cry. Your eyes buzz with excitement as you jot down a row of bullet points, conversing with Lily before settling on what to write. 

“This is not what I had in mind when you both made this stupid pact,” Oscar groans for the millionth time as he passes by, spotting you and his girlfriend crouched down on a table; computer, notebook, pencils, index cards, books—everything—in hand.  

“Mate, this is worth half of my grade,” you shriek; jotting a few more possible ideas. Finally, your dazy orbs connect back onto him. “As in fifty percent.” You gag. “Do you realize how terrifying that is?”

Lily shoos him. “We’re almost done anyway, darling. Go enjoy the party.” The Australian’s jaw drops and she huffs, raising her neat brows. “Go, go, goooo.”

Despite his girlfriend and his best friend ignoring him, he has a splendid time. He curses beneath his breath when a large hand sprawls against his back. Lando laughs. “Don’t worry, my date ditched me too,” he teases, blue eyes sparkling against the fuzzy lights. The rookie sighs plainly.

“I wasn’t ditched—'' He angles his head to face back to where you and the dirty blond hunch over, whispering, attention drawn onto the bright screen. A few people even go as far as to try and take a peek, probably thinking you were working on anything McLaren. “Yeah, uh, I guess you could say I was ditched.”

His teammate rubs his watch a couple or times, nothing but music lingering between them. No one really speaks up until Lily delicately makes her way. Oscar tilts his head politely. “Done?”

“No quite yet, but she has it all under control.” She faces the British driver with a sheepish line formed between her pink lips. “Hello, you must be Oscar’s new teammate.” A beat. “I’m Lily.”

“Lando,” he can feel himself proclaiming. “I thought she was Lily…” A lousy fingers points over to you. They both let out a weak chuckle. That’s my friend from back home, Oscar confirms. Her and Lily are super close, too. She beams, light blush feathering her full cheeks.

All of a sudden—the Australian sparks up. “Come; let me introduce you two.”

The twenty-four doesn't really have anything better to do; business convos that have him apologizing profusely, cameras being shoved straight into his face, girls who never get the hint. “Sure.” 

First thing he notices is the faded scar that hugs the bridge of your nose. It's almost completely gone—and he really shouldn’t even be able to spot it—but it's there, almost a glassy color that shines back at him. He notices how quick you are at typing; navy blue, fingers flying at a constant speed. He’s impressed. Or the way you barely spare him a glance. 

“Don’t be rude, he’s talking to you,” Oscar hissed as he and Lily tower over you like a strict parent duo. You can distinguish the panic that laces through her when you didn’t first respond, too worried at making a bad impression, even if it wasn't her leaving it behind. 

“Of course, I…um, I’m sorry—shit!” The laptop blinks back at you as a warning before settling in its death. A groan slips by, hands pressing harshly against the keys, then the screen. Nervously, you look up at Lily, biting your bottom lip. “What do I do? What should I do? What should I do?”

“Charge it when we get back,” Oscar advises, still waiting for you to greet the older McLaren driver. Lando stands back amused. “As I was saying—”

“It’s due at midnight, dimwit!” It’s eleven-fifteen exactly. “I need to find a charger.”

“O-okay, lets just all calm down.” Lily turns to her boyfriend. “You always carry one with you, let her borrow it.” He winces. Only during races, sweetheart, not an important event. She rubs her temples, curly hair running against the wind. “Let’s just calm down!” she screeches.

“Not helping,” you wail. “That’s it—I’m leaving.”

Oscar is quick on his feet, already tugging you to stay firm. “We haven't even gotten to the speech!” A familiar fire rushes through your orbs, burning him along the way. I don’t give a shit about that right now! I need to turn this in. 

“I’m sure Charlotte has one,” a friendly voice slides in, leaving you three to turn and face it. Lando awkwardly shrugs. “She’s really well organized, you know her. I’ll be right back.”

“Can I go with you?”

Blue eyes shift over, surprised to hear you speak. Anxiously, you bounce up and down against your heels. He gulps. “Of course.” He turns back to the Australian, who is busy comforting his girlfriend as if it was her grade on the line. “I’ll be right back.”

There’s a sort of tension that hangs steadily—or maybe he’s the only one who thinks so—but he tries his best to push past it. Of course, he was right, and Charlotte did have an extra charger, so that’s quite nice. As if this were the one and only resource of water in a hot desert night, you immediately take it from him, plugging it fiercely.

“You don’t know how grateful I am. You’re an absolute angel.” You’re quick to pick up where you left off. If you try hard enough, you can remember exactly what you need in order to have it done in a few minutes. 

“Glad I could help.”

He should probably leave, he thinks. He’s done all he could, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a seat across from you, contently closing his eyes as the sound of your keys brings him to a deep sleep. The sound of a computer shutting gently is what nudges him awake. You grimace. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been more quiet.”

Lando scrunches his eyes, rubs them for a couple of minutes. “It’s alright. You done?”

“Yes. Just in time—you really saved my ass, thank you again.”

A large hand waves you off, reclining against his comfortable spot. “You’re pretty dedicated to your work,” he mutters.

“I sort of have to be if I want to graduate on time and on top of my game. All those sleepless nights couldn’t have been for nothing.”

“Well, I don’t really know you that well…but I hope you pass,” he says. “Lando, by the way—you were probably too busy to catch it the first time.” He cocks his head to the side, a cheesy grin playing out. “And the second, as well.”

You giggle, shaking his humid hand. You don’t even seem to mind. “Third times a charm, no?”

“It appears it is.”

-

The objective was quite clear; get you to leave your rotting bed. It was astounding how long you could go without getting up. You always blame it on the fact that—I’m finally done with my most important courses and I can sleep all I want—and—I never wake you up, now do I?

So, naturally, when they march into your room, flashing a phone—you curl a full brow. “What am I looking at?”

Oscar smiles. “Save his number. Right now.”

Lando Norris—winks back at you, digits causing a migraine to stir. You huff, reaching out for the blankets once again. “And why would I do that?”

Lily hums. “I tried to stop him, I really did.”

Beady eyes peek demandingly. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s really just one date—”

“What?”

“And if it doesn’t work out—”

You sit up straight and agitated. “What?”

“...then you won’t ever have to see him again?” The Australian flinches at your cold stare. “He thinks this was your idea…because I told him it was, but…” He winces harder. “Don’t make me look bad and please go!”

Lily squeals when you fling up, hunting him down your flat. “I am going to kill you!”

-

The Brit beams sweetly at you, pinching his hand a couple of times to pump his circulation that was suddenly lacking. “I’m a bit surprised you wanted to see—”

“This was all Oscar’s idea.” He blinks and you purse your lips. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this. I think he does it because the third-wheel act is starting to get to him. Asshole,” you hiss at the thought of the rookie.

Lando coughs, playing with his bracelets. “You’re not dragging me into anything. I want to be here.” Now it’s your turn to stare back at him, caught off guard. He chuckles. “I take it you haven’t gone on a proper date in a while?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Nah,” he yawns. “Oscar told me.”

Pounding your fist against the table, you yelp. “That little—he wants to ruin my life, I see.” You force a tight smile. “I’ve been busy with work…and…I’m—” A flash goes off; you flinch. “A total catch. Like—total.”

Blue eyes flicker to the careful watchers surrounding the restaurant. “I don’t doubt that.”

“Good,” you respond, finally allowing yourself to rest easy. You raise a sharp brow. “Don’t you get tired of this?”

A few murmurs dance across the room, blinding lights continue. He sighs apologetically. “Right now I am. Let’s get out of here?”

You blush. “The bill…”

“My friend owns the restaurant. I’ll pay him later.” He grabs your hand. “Let's go.”

The moment you slip into his car, panic rises fast. “I don’t hook up on first dates,” you spit out. “It’s not in my nature, I-I-I would rather get to know the person—”

“Then let’s get to know one another. I wasn’t looking for anything like…that,” he whispers, timidly. His blue eyes burn against yours. “I only wanted the chance to get to know you now that you don’t have your nose pressed up against a screen.”

A kind smile. “Okay.”

The more you two converse inside his crowded vehicle, the more you find yourself giggling against the rich seat. “You’re quite the charmer, Mr. Norris.”

“Thank God,” he jokes. “It’s working.”

Another giggle erupts when you nod. You’re sure that you're flustered, burning bright red from all his pick up lines, but you don’t have the strength to look away. “I’m glad we got the chance to talk. For real this time,” you add, sheepishly. 

“So am I.” 

And something inside of him tells him this isn’t the last.

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

[pucksandpower]

Lullaby

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: in which Max is the only lullaby you’ll ever need

Warnings: 18+ content

You stare up at the ceiling, wide awake. The numbers on the alarm clock seem to taunt you, the minutes ticking by as you struggle in vain to fall asleep.

It’s nearly 1 am and Max still isn’t home.

With a sigh, you roll over and bury your face in his pillow, breathing in his familiar scent.

It’s not the same.

Your body craves his warmth, the protective circle of his arms. Sleep just won’t come without him here.

You’ve always been this way, for as long as you can remember. A perpetual insomniac, tossing and turning through the lonely nights.

That is, until you met Max.

The first night you spent together, you were astonished to find yourself drifting off within minutes of being wrapped in his strong embrace. It was like magic. Now, months later, the spell hasn’t broken. Max has become a necessity, not just for your heart but also for your health.

The sound of the front door opening stirs you from your restless thoughts. Muted footsteps make their way to the bedroom and you feel the mattress dip down.

“Hey,” Max whispers, his hand grazing your shoulder. “Sorry I’m so late, the meeting ran long. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting up.”

You roll over to face him, drinking in the sight of his tousled hair and tired eyes. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here.”

He offers you a soft smile, the one he saves only for these quiet intimate moments, and your heart skips. No matter how many times you see it, that smile never fails to make you melt.

“Let me just wash up and I’ll be right there, okay?” He squeezes your hand gently before disappearing into the bathroom.

You listen to the familiar sounds of him getting ready for bed, a ritual you know by heart. The splash of water, the electric hum of his toothbrush, the soft thud of his clothes hitting the hamper.

When he emerges in just his boxers, you lift up the covers in silent invitation. He slides in behind you and tucks your body against his chest, legs tangled together.

You fit so perfectly, two puzzle pieces made for each other.

His arms wrap around you like bands of steel and you feel yourself begin to relax into him. Here, cradled against him with your legs interlocked, is the only place you’ve ever found true peace.

Max brushes his lips over your hair. “Did you miss me?” He murmurs.

You smile into the darkness. “You know I did.”

“I missed you too, schatje.” His voice is husky with fatigue. “I’m exhausted but I had to get back to take care of my girl.”

You snuggle deeper into his embrace. “My hero.”

He chuckles, low and warm like honey flowing over you.

You talk softly as you both unwind from the day, voices hushed in the intimacy of the night. He tells you about the team debrief that ran late and you fill him in on the book you started today, trading thoughts and details as the fuzziness of sleep starts to seep into the she of your consciousness.

Eventually conversation tapers off, words replaced by contented silence. Max’s breathing deepens and you know he’s nearing slumber. But your mind still buzzes, body fighting against its own weariness.

You shift restlessly and Max instantly tightens his hold. “Shh I’ve got you,” he soothes. “Just try to relax.”

One large hand begins massaging gentle circles on your back and you focus on its hypnotic motion, on the sensation of his calloused fingers tracing delicate shapes.

He starts humming softly, a nameless tune that fills you with wistful melancholy. You’ve never asked where he learned it. It belongs to these fragile midnight moments, when he coaxes you to stillness with his voice and touch.

Between the comfort of his embrace and the lullaby reverberations rumbling through his chest, you finally feel sleep approaching. Your thoughts drift away until only the present remains — Max surrounding you, his warmth, his scent, the combined rhythm of your heartbeats.

Just as your heavy eyelids begin to close, Max shifts suddenly and cages you beneath him. You gasp as he presses urgent kisses under your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin.

“Max!” You squirm half-heartedly. “I was almost asleep.”

“Not quite yet, schatje. We’re not done.” His voice is gravelly with arousal that makes your belly swoop. “I need you.”

He kisses you deeply until you’re clinging to him, nails digging into the flexing muscles of his back. This man unravels you with barely a touch, your body open and pliant to him like a flower turns to the sun.

When he enters you it feels like coming home. You let out a shaky exhale, overwhelmed by the perfection of his body joining yours. This connection, this wholeness, is all you’ve ever wanted.

Max sets a slow, deep rhythm. His eyes blaze into you, grey flickering with lust and love and possession. “You’re mine,” he rasps, thrusting harder. “This is right where you belong. Under me, surrounding me, taking all of me.”

“Yes, yes I’m yours,” you gasp. The slide and drag of your bodies is maddening, tension coiling at the base of your spine.

Max grips your thigh, hooking it over his hip to drive himself deeper. “No one else gets to have you like this. You only come apart for me. I’m the only one who gets to feel you shatter.”

You cry out as he hits that perfect spot inside, stars bursting behind your eyelids. “Max, please …”

He crushes you closer, thin control fraying. “Please what? Tell me. I’ll give you anything you need.”

A particularly deep thrust wrings a wanton moan from you. You’re so close now, balanced on a knife’s edge of bliss. “Just you,” you manage to say. “I just need you.”

Max smiles, satisfied. “That’s my girl.” Then his lips slant over yours, swallowing your sobs of pleasure as his hips piston faster. The tension crests, higher and higher, until finally it breaks and you’re swept away on waves of dizzying ecstasy.

Max tenses and follows you over with a rough groan, your name a prayer on his lips. He collapses heavily against you, breath coming in harsh pants.

For long moments you just cling together, fingerprints bruising, heartbeats thundering through one another.

Eventually Max stirs, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. But he doesn’t separate your bodies. He knows you’ll rest easier staying connected, so he simply shifts just enough to take some of his weight off you.

You let out a small sigh of contentment, his warmth seeping into every inch of you like a blanket. Utterly spent and sated, you quickly begin drifting off. But before sleep claims you, Max’s quiet voice cuts through the haze.

“I’ll always come back to you. Every night, just like this. You’re my home.”

His words wrap around your heart, a vow and a lullaby in one. You manage to murmur a quiet “love you” before finally succumbing to sleep, safe in the harbor of his arms.

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. pretty brown eyes.

about. gojo might be the one with the six eyes, but there’s nothing special about those. your brown eyes are real weapon, here.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! sfw, fluff, hurt comfort. slight hints to insomnia, idk how infinity works sorry, reader has brown eyes, afab!reader.

“you could kill me if you wanted to.”

it’s the dead of night when he whispers your name. though low in volume, his tongue curls around each syllable loud enough for you to hear him. “

“‘toru, what are you on about—” digging the heal of your palm into your eyes, you dislodge the crust from your lash line and groan. the red lines on your digital clock read sometime between three and four am— but the digits blur as your mind swims with sleep.

“your eyes. they’re so perfect.” a loving grin etches itself onto his face when you crack one open to look at him, masking over the exhaustion seeping from his pores and the anxiety that spikes in the sapphire pools of his own eyes. “you should be able to get away with anything because of them.”

“baby,” you reiterate and roll over to face him fully. gojo gets like this when he’s overworked and worried, when there’s something big on his mind you’re not quite sure you’d understand. you move to jab a thumb into his forehead, right between his brows to alleviate the ache in his skull but you don’t let your disappointment show when rough skin meets the dull buzz of his infinity.

you forget that his six eyes flow in the dark — that his blue eyes are not as blue as they seem. “you’re talking nonsense, it’s late. get some sleep.”

“my eyes. they could kill me if i worked too hard.”

satoru’s eyes are a lot stormier than most would expect, they can be dark and cold. like an angry ocean tired of tournament. they can be bright, full of hope and loving — you notice that change whenever he’s with your students. they hide behind the frame of his ability, the one that hardly ever turns off despite how it really could kill him.

his mind is always running, his body almost always on empty.

in the moonlight, you see a faint sliver of silver between the flecks of diamond and stormy skies.

he swipes a gentle thumb just over cheek yours to catch a fallen lash. “but yours,” gojo continues, voice thoughtful and low. tired above all else. “those pretty brown eyes…baby, they’re dangerous in a different way. beautiful in another that makes me feel safe. puts my mind at ease or somethin’. one look ‘nd I’d be doing anything for you,”

there the two of you are, face to face in the dark — cheeks pressed to pillows and heads under the covers as if you’re children shielding yourself from the world. creating the safe space to let satoru confess.

“if those pretty brown eyes were the last thing i got to see before i died. then i think i’d be okay.”

“don’t say that.” your face crumples and his infinity falls away as if gojo had been anticipating your touch, the buzz just shocking through your skin as you wrap your arms around his larger frame, pull his head down to your heart beating in your chest. “you’re not allowed to die, satoru. not yet.”

“i know.” for once he’s grateful he can’t see your eyes — he hates the way they shine when you cry.

“i need you.”

“i know.” he’s quiet. “i need you too.”

“then rest, you don’t have to keep watch.” gojo feels the shake in your lungs as you speak. you worry too much about him. but with your hand cascading through his soft locks, and the other squeezing him close he’s finding it hard to resist.

usually when he lays next to you, he’s stiff as a board, always anticipating whatever danger might come next. but the biggest threat to him of all is you, and those big brown bambi eyes of yours — the way they’re wet with love, shiny with tears because you adore satoru gojo. you care about him way too much for your own good.

those eyes of yours are convincingly treacherous , he can’t help but let his body sag and let go of his cursed technique while you rub his back and soothe him.

“you’re dangerous, yanno,” satoru grunts, lips dragging along your skin with every word. “especially when you look at me like that, with those puppy dog eyes…can’t say no to you.”

but you smile as he drifts off, his tall frame heavy against you — your lashes blinking soft against his forehead as you curl around him protectively. “i’d rather use them to get you to rest, rather than kill you. ‘toru.”

your words are wasted on deaf ears — his deep snore indicating that gojo is finally asleep, doing himself a favour and locking his pretty blue eyes away.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[mikomikumi]

Guys I was on the plane and got bored. I wrote y’all some milkman smut~

Plz enjoy

Francis mosses x reader SMUT

Warnings; Penetration (PinV), orgasm denial, dom! Francis. sub! Reader. afab! Reader.

————————————————————————

This day couldn’t be any more boring than it already is. The Doorman is slumped in their seat, bored out of their mind.

They heard footsteps coming up to the window. It appears to be Francis Mosses. “Mmm, hello”. The usual greeting. Nothing seems off. “ID and Entry card please?”, asks the Doorman. Francis slips the paper under.

Appearance? Normal

Description? On point.

ID? One number is off.

“Hmm, your ID doesn’t fully match the correct one we have here.” The doppelgänger that stood in front of him started to panic. “I-I think you just need to re-read it. That’s m-my ID.” Unusual, he never speaks this much. “I saw your roommate Y/N come home earlier. Let me just give your room a call”. The doorman grabs the rotary phone and rings up Francis’s room, in hopes either you or the real Francis would answer.

The day was about to get just a little less boring.

——————���—————————————————

“Ngh~ fuck, so tight~” Francis moaned. The second you had come home from the bakery, Francis snuck up behind you and tried to strip you. He had been so horny all day. His one day off and you had to go to work. The milkman needed to give someone his milk~

“Take it, Y/N. Please~ Let me fill you with my milk~ Francis moaned and begged. He pounded your pussy like it was his last day on earth. He had filled you with cream about 3 times already. Yet his cock stayed hard, throbbing for more. He gripped your plush thigh, with the other hand on your chin. Francis's tongue fucked your mouth with passion. “Mmh~ good girl”.

Your tight little cunt didn’t mind. Your legs stayed open and welcome for each thrust of his hips, for each slap of his balls against your ass. You loved him. The way he fucked you gave you life. “Francis~”, you moaned his name for the hundredth time that day. You rubbed your clit as you were on the edge of another climax. It drove his cock wild. It throbbed as he was about to cum again-

“Ring ring!” The rotary phone on the bedside locker buzzed. You reached your hand over to it when all of a sudden it was pinned to the bed. “Don’t, we’re busy”. Francis demanded, getting ready to thrust inside you again. “Francis, if they let a doppelgänger in, the building is dead!” You argued. This annoyed the milkman. He let go of your wrist. “Mmm…Fine, but make it quick. I still have more cum to pump you full with”.

Your body turns away from the milkman. His cock leaves your hole as you pick up the phone. Francis, despite the orgasm denial, had an idea. He wasn’t a huge fan of that doorman, always looking at his Y/N. Maybe he could put him in their place.

“Hello? Ah hi there Mx. Doorma-ah!”. The milkman cheekily slapped your thigh, and your body shivered. “S-sorry. Yes I’m in my apartment. My roomma-”. Francis was sick of you calling him his ‘roommate’ instead of boyfriend. The only reason you did was that it was muscle memory. Francis grabbed the phone from your hand. He used his other hand to pin you down and he started thrusting himself back into you. You let out a scream, which you quickly muffled with your hand along with the other moans.

“Mmm…yes. I’m in my apartment with Y/N”. The clapping of skin could be heard in the background. “Is that all?” The milkman asked. He pounded into you faster, as payback for not letting him finish earlier. “…yes…”. The doorman eventually answered. Francis almost threw the phone back down into its place before gripping both your thighs tight. “Now, you owe me”. He shows no mercy, holds your thighs up and full-on pounds your pussy in.

“You’re…you’re gonna take my cum inside again?…right Y/N?…you’re gonna be a good girl and cum on this cock…?”. You know it’s not a question. It’s a demand.

“Yes Francis….fuuuck~”. Your eyes roll to the back of your head while you release yourself for the 4th time today. Your body sinks into the cum-soaked sheets as you let your boyfriend take over.

“Cumming…fucking…take it” he lets out a massive groan, this cock throbs and twitches as white ropes spew into your cunt. “Yeah…good girl”. Francis slowly continued to thrust, helping ride out his and your orgasm. He almost collapses on top of you when he finishes. He lies on your chest, his cock still buried deep in your womb as he snuggles.

“Always a cuddle bug after sex” You stroked his head and placed a kiss on his forehead. Francis is now completely drained. His baggy eyes stare into yours. “So…tired…”…the milkman mumbles, drifting into a deep slumber. You decide to join him, closing your eyes. You couldn’t ask for a better way to sleep other than having your boyfriend in your arms.

————————————————————————

The Doorman stares at the phone in mortified awe after the real Francis hangs up. They turn to look at the doppelgänger, who is now sweating profusely. “Sorry buddy, you ain’t coming in”. The doorman lifts the clear cover of the red button and pushes it.