#tent-dotted

[utave9zw6yryh]

Sierra loves cum Czech Couple Fuck the Teen Housesitter Breathtking pecker pleasuring in this incredible voyer action Younger Teen slobers on my uncut white cock Mother and son having sex when dad out Lesbian beauty pussylicking before oralsex Girlfriend rides my cock amateur cherry acid sexy geek squirt and ride dildo camgirl My sister play with my organ by black magic sucking my huge bouncing boobs

[akindofmagictoo]

MY FRIENDS THIS IS NOT A DRILL I AM SO CLOSE TO DONE ON THIS DRAGONSONG OUTLINE

soon. very soon. it will begin.

[wherefore-whinnies]

cautiously going to admit that lately all signs point to my health returning 🙏🙏🙏

[multi-lefaiye]

sometimes you have a trigger that cannot be reasonably and easily accommodated for, because it would require the people around you to police themselves to an extent that is not healthy for them to do.

that doesn't make your triggers and your trauma any less real or valid or *deserving* of accommodations, but deserving does not necessarily always mean that those accommodations are possible.

sometimes the best way to handle your triggers is to recognize what triggers you and do what you have to do to handle them when they come up. find coping mechanisms that work for you, and as much as you're able to, be open with the people in your life about it. even if they can't make sure you never have to interact with something that may trigger you, they can be a support system for you to ensure you'll survive the blows as they come.

it's not always possible to avoid what triggers you and it's not always possible for others to do that for you. (to be clear: i'm not at all saying people should *seek out* content that they *know* will trigger them or that they shouldn't remove themselves from situations that are triggering when they have the ability to do so, but that sometimes it's not that easy.)

(disclaimer: this is not psychological advice and i'm not saying this applies to everyone.)

[greyskies2002]

"fuck you my child's fine" your child has four separate ocs who have murdering their parents as a key event in their backstories

[kpop-bbg]

[blurban-form]

Moiré Pattern

In the episode "Trampoline", you can see in the cylindrical ring of flyscreen / protective mesh that surrounds the trampoline, these little optical-illusion-y patterns of dots. I believe those are replicating the shimmery Moiré pattern you can see if these screens are distorted, flexing, etc. A neat effect, don't think I've ever seen that in an animated show.

[ghilannain]

okay but. lovers to enemies to lovers…..

they know each others vulnerabilities and desires which they use to destroy each other until. somewhere along the way realise they miss the softness of the other’s laughter, the touch of their hand, realise *they* are in fact each other’s vulnerability………..

[gojonanami]

will literally send you small bottles of my eyelashes to make wishes on if you write some of these men being subs

𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐒 - ft. nanami, geto, gojo, & choso

warnings: nsfw, 18+, tying up, blindfolds, handjobs (m! receiving), riding, oral (m! receiving), edging (m! receiving), overstimulation

a/n: *adds small bottles of eyelashes beside bottles of tears* i have a collection now :)

NANAMI

“sorry gojo, nanami’s a little tied up at the moment,” you have his phone pressed between your cheek and shoulder, as you run your fingers down his chest, watching his muscles twitch under your touch, “yeah I’ll tell him to call you back, bye,”

kento can only look up at you helplessly, his arms tied above his head by his own black dotted tie, his button up undone and hanging off his body, his cheeks deliciously flushed for you.

“should’ve have let gojo heard you earlier, begging for me,” you lean down, ghosting your lips across his jaw, “but you would’ve liked that wouldn’t you, kento?”

“no…I wouldn’t—“ and you tsk him, the click of his belt sending a shiver through his body, as he grits his teeth, “please, can you—“

“that sounded like a demand, nanamin,” you undo the button of his slacks and tug them down, your eyes fixed on the tent in his boxers, “and I don’t think you’re in any state to make those, are you?” And your question is punctuating by a finger tracing over his erection.

a hiss leaves his lips, as his blue gaze pierces you, “please, touch me,”

and you smile, as you pull his boxers away, your lips kissing his weeping slit, your fingers grasping the base of his hard cock, “of course, kento.”

GETO

“no wonder gojo likes to wear these,” your lips brush over his left ear, tongue tracing the outer part before drawing a circle around his gauge earring, making suguru swallow thickly, “heightens all your other senses,”

“don’t think that’s why he wears one, sweetheart,” his words leave his lips slowly, doing his best to keep his voice steady — how cute.

you’d fix that in a moment.

“well that’s why I have one on you,” your fingers trace over his bare stomach, lips kissing down his body, before your tongue drags over his abs, “look at you - special grade geto suguru — at my mercy. spread out all for me,” and his cock twitches, teeth baring down on his bottom lip, “don’t act like you don’t love it, sugu, your body betrays you,”

And your thumb and forefinger toy with his nipples, pinching it, drawing a short gasp from his lips, “stop—“

“you don’t want me to stop, do you?” you lean away, and it’s a point of pride for him — he didn’t want to beg, he couldn’t. but god, fuck, he was so hard, “we all have base desires, suguru — even sorcerers,” you climb into his lap, straddling him, the only thing separating his cock from your needy cunt being his already far too soaked boxers.

“fuck—“ he’s trying to touch you, but you catch his wrists, “princess—“

“tell me what you want,”

even with the blindfold, you knew he’s glaring, “you know what I want,”

“use your words,” and you grind down on him, making him groan.

“please, fuck me,” your lips curl, as you tug down his boxers and sink onto his leaking cock.

“good boy.”

GOJO

“you don’t usually have a problem talking, so talk,” you press kisses to his jaw, “oh but you got your mouth full don’t you?” your fingers run over the panties you have stuffed in his mouth. Drool left the corners of his pretty pink lips, his eyes blown out with pleasure from the numerous times you had brought him so close to climax.

only to pull away.

“look at you, spread out for me in your expensive little chair — imagine what the higher ups would think of you — the strongest sorcerer all fucked out by my touch? so fucking close to bursting from a single touch,” your pointer finger ran over his twitching cock, “do you wanna cum, Toru?”

and you ease the panties from his mouth, “fuuuck, please, baby,"

"please what, toru? i've already given you so much, you're so greedy," you press your lips to his, swallowing his protests and his whines, as he tries and fails to find any friction against you, but you're woefully out of reach, "look at you, your cock is so pretty like this — all flushed, just like your cheeks," your fingers trace over his cheek bones and the bridge of his nose, "and all f'me? i'm so lucky,"

"please," he's panting, head tilted back.

"please, what?" you lean close, as your fingers reach for his dick, but stop short.

"let me cum, please, I need to—with your hands, your mouth, I don't—" and he's gasping as you climb into his lap, your dripping folds above his cock.

"the only place you're cumming, Toru, is in my cunt."

CHOSO

how many times has choso come already? four, five, seven?

you'd lost track. and so had choso from the looks of him. he's laid back, panting, as your lips and tongue clean up the cum he'd spilled on himself. god, he tastes utterly too good for his own good.

"made such a mess again, choso," you chide gently, as he whines, his thighs shaking from your treatment, his purple eyes clouded over with lust as they flutter open, "such a good boy for me though,"

he's whining, "please, love, i can't—" he's shaking his head, sweat dripping down his body, as he's already so hard again, red and leaking pre-cum, already jerking when you've barely moved to brush against his cock again, "it's too much,"

"do you have one more for me, sweet boy?" you whisper quietly, waiting for the safe word that never leaves his lips, as his teeth find his bottom lip, a sharp inhale as he nods. and you're trying so hard not to swallow him whole -- pressing your thighs together to hold yourself back, before your mouth sinks onto him again.

he's jerking forward, his violet eyes watching you part your pretty lips for him, letting his cock enter your mouth, and it's all too much, too soon. "can i please, I want to--" his hands reach for your head and you look up and nod, bobbing your head more steadily, as his fingers find purchase in your hair, as whines and gasps leave his lips.

"feels so good, baby," tears in his eyes, he's begging, "please, please, i'm so close, i can't--" and you suck on his cock as your tongue swirls around the length, and he's cumming hard and fast down your throat, as he pants, out of breath, as you pull yourself from his length, a string of saliva and cum dripping down your mouth.

he watches with glazed over eyes and his chest heaving, as you kiss your way up his spent body, "such a pretty boy f'me. all for me."

a/n: i was gonna write full length fics but i figured with how long my wip list is, i better be a little more judicious with my time lol - i hope you all enjoyed <3

[pamgkrthwrites]

I can’t help but imagine Barbarian!Bakugou having woman in this tribe/clan really upset he married you. Their upset because they wanted to be wife Bakugou but no, he got a pretty Princess wife who isn’t even a barbarian to be his wife.

One woman in particular is so upset about it that she’s told other tribes that “Katsuki Bakugou married an ogre of a wife just to have peace relations”. She uses the fact that very few people have seen you. Which is actually because Bakugou got you pregnant out of wedlock and you didn’t want anyone to know.

The first time Bakugou hears of this rumour is at a tribal meeting, when a another chief of a different tribe says “I feel bad for you, Bakugou. I would even imagine myself marrying an ugly woman like your wife.”

The man’s head is cut off within two seconds.

Bakugou tries his best to keep the nasty rumour from you, but once you hear it you are distraught. It’s makes it harder for you to leave your shared tent. Bakugou has to beg you to even sit up in bed your that upset.

It’s put Bakugou in the worsts of moods for everyone else.

It’s only when your 8 months pregnant do people of his tribe see you, with pregnant belly. People can connect the dots. This pregnant woman leaving the tent of their chief and her pregnant belly is the size of roughly how long said chief has been married? Nothing else needed to be said.

You feel so self conscious that people are staring at you, making you fear you really are that ugly. Please are only staring because your pretty as a goddess and your pregnant!

So when you meet a chief of another tribe, all he does is softly chuckle and goes. “Sorry- I wasn’t expecting such a pretty thing. Didn’t think you’d be an angel.”

Bakugou on one hand is possessive as fuck but on the other sees how you aren’t taking the compliment seriously. He tries his best to reassure you that you are the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

It’s only after once your daughter is born so you start not caring what people think how you looks, because looking at your daughter!

Her face lights up your world and no one can take that from you.

Of course, Bakugou still isn’t happy some spread around that ogre rumour and started trying ti find whoever started it. Once he finds out it’s a woman from his tribe who tried winning him over, he is fuming. Leaves a nasty scar down her face as punishment.

Whenever he goes out now, he brags about how his beautiful wife blessed his eyes with a beautiful daughter. And if anyone tries to disagree his sword is out.

[fans4wga]

September 25: Read the WGA's email to its membership

[ID: tweet from Adam Conover @/adamconover that says, "We did it. We have a tentative deal. Over the coming days, we'll discuss and vote on it, together, as a democratic union. But today, I want to thank every single WGA member, and every fellow worker who stood with us in solidarity. You made this possible. Thank you. #WGAStrong".

Attached is a screenshot of the first part of the WGA's recent email to its membership. Conover's next tweet says, "Here's the rest of our email to members, which details what happens next:" with the rest of the email attached in screenshots.

Transcript of the WGA's email to its membership:

DEAR MEMBERS,

We have reached a tentative agreement on a new 2023 MBA, which is to say an agreement in principle on all deal points, subject to drafting final contract language.

What we have won in this contract — most particularly, everything we have gained since May 2nd — is due to the willingness of this membership to exercise its power, to demonstrate its solidarity, to walk side-by-side, to endure the pain and uncertainty of the past 146 days. It is the leverage generated by your strike, in concert with the extraordinary support of our union siblings, that finally brought the companies back to the table to make a deal.

We can say, with great pride, that this deal is exceptional — with meaningful gains and protections for writers in every sector of the membership.

What remains now is for our staff to make sure everything we have agreed to is codified in final contract language. And though we are eager to share the details of what has been achieved with you, we cannot do that until the last "i" is dotted. To do so would complicate our ability to finish the job. So, as you have been patient with us before, we ask you to be patient again — one last time.

Once the Memorandum of Agreement with the AMPTP is complete, the Negotiating Committee will vote on whether to recommend the agreement and send it on to the WGAW Board and WGAE Council for approval. The Board and Council will then vote on whether to authorize a contract ratification vote by the membership.

If that authorization is approved, the Board and Council would also vote on whether to lift the restraining order and end the strike at a certain date and time (to be determined) pending ratification. This would allow writers to return to work during the ratification vote, but would not affect the membership's rights to make a final determination on contract approval.

Immediately after those leadership votes, which are tentatively scheduled for Tuesday if the language is settled, we will provide a comprehensive summary of the deal points and the Memorandum of Agreement. We will also convene meetings where members will have the opportunity to learn more about and assess the deal before voting on ratification.

To be clear, no one is to return to work until specifically authorized to by the Guild. We are still on strike until then. But we are, as of today, suspending WGA picketing. Instead, if you are able, we encourage you to join the SAG-AFTRA picket lines this week.

Finally, we appreciated your patience as you waited for news from us — and had to fend off rumors — during the last few days of the negotiation. Please wait for further information from the Guild. We will have more to share with you in the coming days, as we finalize the contract language and go through our unions' processes.

As always, thank you for your support. You will hear from us again very soon.

In solidarity,

WGA NEGOTIATING COMMITTEE

[lovelybluebirdie]

Something to care for

Astarion x f!Reader

Summary: Astarion seeks comfort when he is terrified of losing you to his former master.

Word Count: 2,1k

hurt/comfort, angst and fluff

[ AO3 ]

Fleeting glances across the tavern, jovial laughter followed by a touch to his arm, and Astarion has exactly what he needs. Your trust builds fast over his charming words, so you agree to accompany him to the mansion without doubting his intentions. 

Astarion dissociates, follows his usual routine as he has done for over hundreds of years by now, while you remain blissfully unaware that you are already caught in his trap.

The scene feels painfully familiar, and yet it doesn't at all.

Uneasiness spreads over him. 

No, this doesn't seem right. 

Why are you here?

The next moment you lie on his old master’s bed, your eyes closed and shallow breaths emitting your lungs. A dark silhouette is bending over you, its mouth glued to your neck. 

Cazador.

Panic creeps down Astarion's spine.

No, this isn't right at all.

His thoughts start to race. He needs to free you from this monster's claws - now.

Cazador looks up as his lips form a hideous grin, blood running from his chin and spluttering on your motionless body.

“A very pleasant bouquet you have brought to me, boy. But you know of that already, do you not?”

Astarion freezes.

The malice in his voice shatters his ribs with the blow of an axe.

He wants to scream, to get you away from here, but his body doesn’t respond. 

Suddenly the whole scene shifts and Astarion finds himself with his fangs buried deep inside your neck, warm liquid pouring in his mouth while your hand rests loosely on his nape. 

An unbearable dread rises in him.

He desperately tries to tear himself away, to stop feeding on you, but an invisible force holds him down, leaving it impossible to let go. 

He must be going mad.

“You sought out to drink from thinking creatures, did you not? Go on then, lavish yourself on her blood! Bleed her dry.”

Cazador’s command unleashes like a fist to his skull.

Astarion knows that he is enjoying this, and it makes him sick. 

He concentrates back on you, frantically looking for a way to get you out of this. 

“It's alright, Astarion…” you whisper. “I know this isn’t… you.” You seem on the verge of fainting, the hand that rested in his hair slipping, your pulse weakening.

The fondness in your words almost breaks him.

He wishes to plead, to offer himself - to give Cazador everything he demands, if only he would allow you to leave unharmed, but he can’t speak.

Instead, he feels Cazador’s violent grip push him down, ramming his teeth deeper in your neck.

Astarion’s eyes wet and his body trembles while he’s obliged to swallow more of your blood. The thick liquid spills over his lips onto your neck, drips to your hair and paints the collar of your blouse.

Astarion knows that he’s hurting you, killing you, yet he has no control over his own doing. He can't stop, even if his whole body longs for nothing more than to release you.

His senses start to dull, colourful dots exploding before his eyes, while he’s unable to form a single coherent thought anymore, entirely helpless to this monstrosity he inflicts on you.

“What’s the matter, boy?” his former master taunts with a malignant chuckle and positions himself so that Astarion has to look at him. “Isn’t this what you craved? To be free of me, to do as you please?"

His laugh evolves to a gruesome crescendo, echoing through the dreary halls that Astarion once called his home - mocking him, a punishment for his disobedience.  

Astarion summons his remaining strength to banish Cazador from his mind and fixates back on you. 

He must save you, now, otherwise you will -

*

Astarion's lungs are on fire. His fangs ache, and his chest is bursting.

He grasps his throat and chokes as he remembers the taste of your blood in his mouth. 

Gods, what has he done to you?

He takes a moment to perceive his surroundings.

This is not Cazador’s mansion, he realises, but your shared tent in the camp you made near Rivington.

The essence of his nightmare returns with agony: his fangs piercing your neck, Cazador’s order to bleed you dry, while you were completely defenceless against his torment. The image is almost too much to bear.

With haste, he begins to fumble the woollen fabric of his bedroll in search of your warm body. He has to ensure that you are alive - that he didn’t hurt you.

Then his hand finds your wrist and he stops in his motion. He pushes the fright that shrouds him aside and feels for your pulse, careful not to wake you. There it is - a constant throb at his fingertips. 

Despite the evidence that the violent scene was nothing more than a figment of his imagination, he can’t bring himself to fully accept that there wasn’t an actual threat - that you are safe. Yet he has no desire to worry you with his musings, so he starts to slowly pull his hand away, before he notices that it’s already too late. You sit up beside him, rubbing sleep from your tired eyes. 

You look so adorable that his chest grows tight. 

“Astarion? Are you alright?” Your brow furrows when your gaze meets his, concern lingers in your voice.

Astarion opens his mouth, only to press it shut again as he feels hot tears forming in his eyes. He swallows hard. He wants to reassure you that it’s nothing, to tell you that you should go back to sleep, but the ferocity he committed in his nightmare robs him of any speech. 

You give him an understanding expression and lift your blanket. “Do you want to come over here?”

He nods and shifts towards you.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him into a tight embrace. Astarion sinks his head onto your chest and listens carefully to your heartbeat - to make sure you are truly unscathed. That he didn't kill you, didn't bleed you dry - that he has not become like Cazador.

The pulsing sound flows in a soothing rhythm. 

He closes his eyes and inhales your familiar scent. The weight that is crushing his lungs slowly begins to dissolve. 

You are so warm, he thinks, so comforting, always so affectionate.

“It’s alright,” you breathe and rest your lips at his temple. “He can’t hurt you now.”

There is no need to ask how you know what haunts him, you simply do, and Astarion buries his face deeper in your chest, grasps the fabric of your tunic and lets out a deep sigh. A few silent tears he has tried to hold back spill from his eyes, dampening your clothes.

Your hands draw circles on the small of his back, up to his shoulder blades, until they move to his hair and tenderly stroke along his ears. 

He concentrates on your touch. You are here, with him, unharmed - he didn’t hurt you.

A calmness enfolds and for the first time since he woke he allows himself to relax. 

Astarion suddenly wonders if he ever had something like a home, a real home, somewhere he felt safe - not Cazador’s mansion, the place from his nightmare, where he endured nothing but torture and cruelty.

Something he could choose for himself - willingly. Not something he was forced to, but something he wanted.

For centuries he was used to the pain he suffered under Cazador’s rule, but you've proven how different his life can be. Through the time he spends with you, he's learned that he is valued as a person. You make him feel seen - show him compassion and patience, despite him missing the words at times. 

You give him honest, loving affection, without any vile intent or in expectation of getting something in return. 

You are the only one who is like that. Who genuinely cares for him, who loves him. No one was ever kind to him, only you. No one has a heart like that.

Maybe a home isn’t a place, he thinks, but a person. 

He feels your fingers twisting gently around his curls, while he listens to the sound of your beating heart, and wishes to never let go of you. 

But there is still Cazador and the Rite of Profane Ascension to overcome, and his mansion is barely a tenday away from now. 

Astarion wants to shove the thought aside, but knows he can’t. Not when there is so much at stake - when you give him so much to care for. 

He envisions the ancient ritual Cazador has planned. 

If he was to complete the rite himself, would he become even more powerful than his old master? Would this newfound power offer you protection - keep both of you safe? 

But what if you came to harm once you entered his residence? Hells, what if it would be his fault?

The fear of losing you clings its relentless hooks back to his core.

Astarion sinks deeper into your arms and sighs.

No. He cannot lose you - not to the Absolute, not to Cazador or any other madness you have to encounter along your way.

His shoulders tense, leading you to squeeze them fondly.

“He won’t win, Astarion,'' you vow with the determination that Astarion knows too well by now. “We will beat him.”

At first he wants to scold you, point out how naive you were to think it would be an easy task to confront his past tormentor, but instead he pauses to consider. 

He remembers the foes you've come across on your journey. There have been gruesome, vigorous creatures among them, and yet you were able to vanquish them in the end.

Have you gathered enough strength to destroy a powerful enemy like Cazador, though?

For a second, Cazador’s liveless body appears in front of Astarion’s inner eye. 

Maybe, there was a real chance…

After all, to ensure that both of you will be safe - truly safe - Cazador must be ended, one way or another. 

“Is that so?” Astarion clears his throat and frowns. “Well, when you sound so resolute I find myself actually imagining us succeeding.”

Your features soften as you lean forward and put a kiss to his brow.

“I know we will,” you reply confidently. “Besides, for some reason I was declared the leader of our little group, so I'd suggest you better put some trust in my word.”

“I’m afraid being the leader of this group full of weirdos is hardly something to be proud of, love,” Astarion murmurs against your neck.

“That’s rich, coming from the weirdest of the bunch,” you tease as you tousle through his curls. “You’re a rogue who’s terrified of clowns - shall I go on?” 

Astarion snorts at your remark. “I'm not terrified of them!” he protests with a pout. “It's just.. They make me uneasy, alright? And they're not original - or funny. Honestly, I’d rather witness a goblin mating ritual than any of those wretched clown shows again.”

He removes your hand from his hair to intertwine your fingers with his. Then he recalls the image of the clown you visited at the circus the other day and his face turns into a grimace.

“Keep telling yourself that, but I know for a fact that you were absolutely petrified the moment you saw Dribbles.”

“That wasn’t even a regular clown - that beast was also a shapeshifter!” Astarion exclaims in feigned bewilderment.

You raise an eyebrow and wait for a moment, leaving Astarion curious, until you pin him down to tickle him all over.

“Stop it, you cheeky thing!” Astarion presses between his laughs while he tries to shelter his most sensitive parts from your ruthless fingers.

When he eventually manages to roll on top of you and grab your wrists, you look at him lovingly and catch your breath. He feels the remaining knots in his chest come loose.

Then your face turns serious again. “I promise you, we will beat him.”

“Stubborn as ever,” Astarion states and clicks his tongue, before his lips curl up to a genuine smile. “But perhaps I’ll remind you of that promise when the time comes.”

“By all means, I hope you do,” you assure and return his smile, your thumb softly brushing his cheek. 

You have a rare talent to relieve the tension, he notices. To make him feel light - to make him laugh even, a real, honest laugh, despite the horrors that linger on his mind of late. 

Astarion kisses the tip of your nose and lifts from your chest, resting his body against your back and draws you in a close embrace. Then he buries his face in your hair and presses a kiss to your neck, relishing your pleasant warmth. 

A sudden fire rises inside him.

The thought of facing Cazador remains scary, terrifying even, but somehow with you, he senses there is a viable chance to defeat him at last.

You give him something to care for, and he will do everything in his might to protect you - both of you, his home.

He won’t lose you, and he won’t lose this.

Masterlist

[artilite]

exploding dog of true love 🧨🌌

my part of an art trade with @drabdoodler!! HI!!!! check out their art here

creds. words: richard siken inspiration: riotbones (it's sooo genuinely gorgeous. please check it out!!!)

thoughts and sketch under the cut!

first page:

i imagine the setting is pre-game, camping outside somewhere for the night. mira/odile/bonnie probably took their only tent or something idk.. suspension of disbelief!!

when thinking about love in any capacity, isa looks to the stars!! take that as you will :)

i decided not to connect the dots of the canis major constellation as a nod to the fact that neither isa nor siffrin would recognize it. it's simply naturally there in the sky, apart from the dog-shaped sky for viewing purposes !

originally the red/blue color palette was a faint nod to t4t isafrin but evidently i deviated away from that a lot,, HELP

second page:

each 4 point star in the background was meant to be another version of them? something something.. in every universe trope !

siffrin's supposed to resemble a supernova somewhat???

originally i figured siffrin would take off their eyepatch to sleep. i vetod this because drawing two eyes is hard, okay? thanks for reading my scattered ramblings... isafrin makes the brain spin 'round <3

[siriussslut]

So you know your Regulus getting head for the first time? What if it’s innocent!james… Euphemia and Flemount kept him shielded from anything more then kissing so when he gets a girlfriend and they’re making out she dryhumps him… and obviously that leads to head. Thoughts? Prayers? idk i’m not good at sending asks (this is like my 2nd time istg) 😭

warnings: explicit smut, blowjob, innocence

masterlist

james’ lips taste like red gatorade. he’s practically addicted to the stuff. you can’t help but smile against his lips, hopelessly endeared. he smiles along with you, a breathless giggle escaping his throat. “what?” he mumbles.

you pull back to catch you breath, foreheads pressed together, still grinning. “nothing.”

before he can reply you kiss him again. this time, it’s deeper. you straddle his thigh, pushing his back against the wall behind his bed. he releases a surprised groan but is largely compliant, letting you take the reins.

you slip your tongue past his plush lips, exploring the inside of his mouth. your cunt throbs as you feel along the wet cavern. you can feel yourself leaking onto his jeans.

in desperate need of stimulation, you hump his thick thigh, the rough denim of the jeans offering the perfect amount of friction. your clit is engorged and pulsating, rubbing through the thin cloth of your panties.

james pulls away from the kiss, lips swollen, eyes wide and startled. his glasses are crooked. “wh-what are you doing?”

you look up at him through your lashes, pulling away from his belt buckle. “do you want me to stop?”

“um… no?”

you undo the buckle, pulling his belt out of the loops of his jeans. you can feel his cock fill and harden underneath the cloth of his pants.

“you sure?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow.

he looks a bit embarrassed now, his cheeks tinged red. “i…”

you decide to show before you ask. you slide off the bed, sinking to your knees on his bedroom’s rug. “can i?” you gesture to his pants.

he nods vigorously. you smirk at his eagerness, pulling his pants down. his boxers are bright red, little gold crowns dotted on the fabric. his bulge is pathetically prominent.

you cup the tent, needing to use both hands to cover his sheer size. you squeeze and he releases a truly indecent moan.

“you can- you can do whatever you want. just please don’t stop.” his voice is high-pitched and whiny. he already sounds like he’s on the brink of coming. the sound goes straight to your pussy.

you desperately tear away his boxers, letting his cock spring free. it’s even larger than you anticipated, and fully hardened now. his tip is red enough to rival his boxers.

you run your finger along a bulging vein and he arches his back, whimpering. “please don’t stop, please don’t stop!” he’s begging now.

his tip bubbles with pre-cum at your first touch. you reach down for his balls, sliding his shaft into your mouth. his cock jerks around inside the walls of your throat. you grind into his carpet, swirling your tongue around his length.

you gently tug on his balls. the double stimulation seems to be too much and he comes into your mouth. hot ropes of his seed shoot down your throat, filling you with his taste.

you dig your nails into his thigh, forcing him to look you in the eyes as you swallow. he whimpers at the sight of it, a tear sliding down his cheek.

[rileyslibrary]

“So, let me get this straight,” he says, rubbing his temples, “You set fire to your tent while trying to make what?”

Heat rises to your face as you avoid meeting his eyes. You fidget with your fingers, feeling exposed and vulnerable in front of your superior. Your breathing is so loud and ragged in the silence of his tent, and you try to steady yourself before speaking.

You murmur an inaudible answer while shifting your weight from foot to foot.

“Louder, soldier,” he commands, “and look at me when I address you.”

You take a deep breath and hold it in. You lift your head and meet his eyes. His balaclava is crooked and messy as if he put it on in a hurry when the entire camp went into chaos. You can see a few stray hairs poking out from underneath it. His eyes are bloodshot, and his voice is hoarse; the poor guy has had enough.

“Popcorn, sir.” You whisper and instinctively kick a rock on the ground, wishing it was you.

“Popcorn.” He repeats, amazed.

You nod and divert your gaze to your left, where his bed is. You blush and immediately swing your head in the other direction.

“What were you thinking?” He asks, leaning on his field desk with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I guess I, um, I guess I was hungry, sir.” You stammer. You shift your weight to the balls of your feet, then place them back on the ground.

“You guess you were hungry?” He asks dumbfounded, “And you decided that popcorn was the right snacking choice?”

You shrug, and he shakes his head.

“Tell me, soldier,” he says, “do you know what popcorn does?”

“What does it do?” You ask naively.

“Come on, work with me,” he says, gesticulating with his hands, “it’s a compound word; corn that...”

“… pops?”

“Repeatedly”, he nods, “and do you know what repeated ‘pops’ might be interpreted with? In a field exercise? With a bunch of soldiers on high alert?”

“Gunshots?”

“Repeated gunshots,” he corrects you.

You shut your eyes and hunch over. “I’m really sorry, sir,” you finally mutter, “it was an accident.”

“Oh!” He exclaims and throws his hands up, “Thank you for clearing that out, soldier; see, I was worried you were intentionally committing arson!”

“No, sir, I promise you that wasn’t my intention,” you cry, “I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Upsetting me is not the problem here, Y/N, and if you can’t see that, we have a bigger issue to deal with.”

You furrow your eyebrows and look at him, confused. He takes a while to assess your expression and widens his eyes, ready to lecture you for good now.

“You could have gotten hurt, you idiot!” He shouts, hitting his palm with the outer edge of his hand. “You could have burned yourself, or someone could have shot straight in your direction with all these...” he gestures with his hands, imitating fireworks, “...pops that you were making!”

You raise your eyebrows as you connect the dots. “You’re right, sir,” you nod, “I will try to be wiser and not make any stupid mistakes in the future.”

“Mistakes happen daily, and you are wise, soldier.” He reassures you, “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be on my team.” He walks behind his desk to sit on the folding chair. “It’s your inability to assess the danger that scares me.”

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he says gently, “and I worry that there might not always be someone there to help you.”

“I can assure you that the team is always-”

“I know the team is great and always has your back, but I mean me; I won’t always be there to save you from harm,” he says and shoos you away. “You’re dismissed,” he orders, and starts filling paperwork.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” You ask.

He shuts his eyes and rubs his forehead. “I just extinguished one hell of a fire,” he replies. “Unless what I just experienced was a scene from a movie, I highly doubt I’d be able to sleep in peace.”

“I’m really sorry.” You apologise, and he waves his hand again for you to leave.

“Soldier?” He asks, and you turn to look at him one last time.

“I hope you didn’t bring any movies to accompany you with that popcorn.” He states in a stern voice.

You vigorously shake your head. “No, sir,” you reply, “no movies, just popcorn.”

He lets out a relieved exhale. “Just remember; next time you get hungry, it’s better to stick to the rations.”

You shrug and look at the ground. “I’ve run out of my allocated rations, sir.”

He lets out another exhale, this time deeper, and tilts his head to the side.

“Is that the reason you decided to cook for yourself?” He asks, “Because you ate all your meals?”

You slowly nod. His eyes have softened, and he looks more compassionate than before. Almost forgiving; human.

He opens the drawer of his field desk and grabs an energy bar and a pack of dried figs. He pushes them towards you.

“Please, come see me next time,” he advises you. “I much rather wake up to you asking for food than to a blitzkrieg of kernels popping.”

[tomsparkyr]

𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

summary: y/n is on her world tour and sings a surprise song that might be dedicated to someone …

oscar piastri x fem!reader

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You paced around backstage, twirling your hair with your fingers and going over every step and lyric in your head. Despite it being your 48th show on your world tour, this one felt more intense, more pressuring, purely because you knew he was in the crowd.

You were brought out of your thoughts by a light tap on your shoulder, causing you to snap your head around to the perpetrator.

Oscar Piastri’s wide smile adorned his face and caused a familiar feeling of butterflies to swarm your stomach; reaching your arms up and wrapping them around Ocsar’s shoulders.

He quickly caught into your embrace and cradled the back of your head, kissing your temple. “You’ll do great, I know you will.” He whispered, his free hand running down the embroidered bodysuit that hugged your figure. His brow raised at the beautiful sight of you and couldn’t wait to take the outfit back home.

You heard the crew call your name so you backed away from your boyfriend, “I’ll see you after, I love you.” He bumped his nose with yours, “I love you too.”

He leaned down to kiss your lips and sighed into you, your hands reaching into his hair. You pulled back, “Ok, Osc I really have to go.” He pulled you back in by your waist.

“They can wait.” He mumbled, “They’ve paid and sat in this boiling weather to see me, you see me every day, Osc!” You laughed as he reluctantly let go, “I’ll bring the orange bodysuit home if you let me go now.” He quickly dropped his hands off your waist and skipped back to his VIP tent, hearing your laughter as he disappeared further from you.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Rumour spread pretty quickly that a Formula 1 Driver was spotted in the VIP tent of your concert. But fans didn’t think much of it, rather traded friendship bracelets with him and took blurry, grainy photos of him for fan pages.

However, fan’s perception changed as you sat down in front of your piano for the surprise songs.

“Hello Sydney!” You laughed into the microphone, hearing the Aussie crowd erupt in cheers and hollers at the song of their hometown. “I hope you’re all enjoying the show!” The reaction from the crowd was enough to tell you that they seemed to be more than happy with it.

You cleared your throat, taking a subtle glance to the VIP tent as you saw a bright orange cap catch your attention. You smiled at his direction, knowing his would return it despite you not being able to see his face.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, Sydney…” You couldn’t help your broad smile lighten up your face at the screams from fans at the barricade.

“The song I’m going to play you is one I haven’t done before… it’s one of my favourites and it means the a lot to me and …others.”

The crowd got impossibly louder, “Here we go…” You adjusted the microphone and looked down at the piano, smiling to yourself and you played the first notes.

None of the fans had clocked onto which song you were playing yet, which made it much more enjoyable for you; taking a deep breath as you sang the first lyric.

“My love was a cruel as the cities I lived in”

Fans began screaming and so many flashes of people filming appeared, people crying and jumping up and down at the song choice.

“I don’t wanna look at anything else now that I saw you”

Your red cheeks and genuine smile was pure and making the fans go wild.

Oscar stood in the VIP tent with a smile and blushing cheeks, swaying to your voice knowing he wrote this song with you. He mouthed the lyrics in time with you and looked at you with heart eyes; a pure look of raw, scream-it-from-the-rooftops love.

“I only see daylight, daylight, daylight, daylight”

You peered over to the VIP tent and saw his orange cap moving along to the beat, the same colour matching the dress that covered your shoulders as of now.

It took the fans a moment for them to realise what was going on, connecting the dots; the love song, the interview, the colour of your dress, the colour Oscar Piastri sports, why Oscar was there, the blush on both of your cheeks.

Holy shit. Y/N Y/L/N and Oscar Piastri were in love.

“I once believed love would be black and white, but it’s golden”

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