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#think i'll stick to black and white
th3-0bjectivist · 2 years
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Untitled practice drawing - Colored pencils on paper
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moreaugriffins · 5 months
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Every day i just want to write a post that just says "The Brigadier is so damn autistic."
but I then worry about what other people might say if I do that
but fuck it
The Brigadier is so fucking autistic, and nobody can change my mind
#classic doctor who#brigadier lethbridge stewart#'hes just like that because hes a military man' no he's like that because he's autistic and in the military. there's a difference#(please - we see so many soldiers in classic who and he's so different to them)#lack of expressions (especially s7) which caused others to comment his 'lack of emotions' in certain situations (he has commented that he#does in fact feel..)#the constant swagger stick with him (they arent common for soldiers nor officers to have.. havent been since past WW2 i believe) which he f#fiddles with and holds#stickler for the rules and hates disorder (things not being done 'right')#(thinking of the 'rules arent rules for alistair' bit from Daddy Fights Monsters)#his reaction to mushrooms in The Green Death. that's it. that's the point (he just hates mushrooms and so do i)#he's so.. military when he speaks even when speaking to civilians or when he's off duty. ik that's not much of a point but in the military#you're told exactly how to speak and interact with others and to be blunt and clear and to the point with your words. you're saying he does#find comfort in it?#and this man's strong sense of morals! my god. he can have quite black and white thinking in situations (so does 3 which would probably#explain why they butt heads often) and he is insanely stubborn#im sure i'll think of more things as time goes on but this is all i have for now#also im sorry i might be a bit tipsy when posting this but i really need courage lmao
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dreamlogic · 15 days
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musing in the tags about the view two years out from my hysterectomy and the shifting nature of neuropathy. i asked my PT for recommendations/resources pertaining to pain science and that's been a very helpful lenses to have. i'm still not back to normal, will never be unmarked by this experience or return to my pre-op self, but my baseline has been gradually increasing over the last few months, and it feels good to look back on the last two years and say "i have no idea how i managed to function while living with that, but i did!"
#meatsuit renno#chronic blogging#ctxt#at first post-hysto pain was a deep burning ache#and eventually that lessened on my left side and settled in for the long haul on the right#after a couple weeks it had started to feel like a small carnivorous creature scrabbling and gnawing at the inside of my abdomen#nestled into the hollow of my pelvis and reaching up with its raking claws#about 6 months in and the creature still chewed occasionally but had shrunk to the size of a tennis ball under my right incision site#it clamped its jaws down and went to sleep and i perpetually felt like someone had pinched a fold of my insides with a large binder clip#this constant awful twisting tug every time i moved that kept me from straightening up or breathing fully#this is about a year into recovery and my original surgeon has blown off my requests for follow-up treatment three times now#i carried on as best i could. fatigue and brainfog getting worse & worse as the pain wore on unrelentingly#about a year and a half into recovery it worsened again. searing lancing pain like i'd been impaled on a piece of white hot rebar#couldn't hardly move. couldn't think straight. couldn't sleep#finally checked myself into urgent care & then the ER just to try to get someone anyone to take me seriously and help me#finally got a referral to a new surgeon who immediately pinned it as extreme neuropathy#started gabapentin end of december last year and the relief was immediately#i never thought i would welcome the gritted teeth vice grip of my little feral pain creature#but when i felt the molten spike slide out to be replaced once more by its worrying jaws#the intermittent spark and fizzle of that pinching squirming pain was a dramatic improvement#then i started PT in march and slowly so slowly the creature's hungry grip is loosening#it still clamps down occasionally. maybe once every week or two i'll have a day when i just accept#that there will be a horrible little creature chewing on my right side from the inside#but nowadays with the gabapentin doing as much as it can and an exercise routine i must stick to religiously to supplement PT#the pain is more of a little pearl of dark matter shifting around under my skin#it's incredibly dense. the heart of a black hole of disabling agony. all that white hot fury condensed into a slick heavy marble#as i recover some of my strength and energy i can feel my body coating it in nacreous layers to minimize its influence#my hysterectomy was 2 years and 4 days ago today and i feel like i can finally finally say i'm beginning to truly heal#i suspect i'll always carry this pearl in my side like shrapnel. product of damaged nerve tissue that went untreated for far too long#i wish my original surgeon had been more competent more attentive less lazy & indifferent to my pain. but i still don't have any regrets.
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satoruoo · 5 months
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"you're doing it wrong, baby."
the man before you only huffs in annoyance, a pout forming on his glossed lips. you stifle a laugh as he sulks, his fingers working to untie the sad excuse of a bow that held your heel in place.
"let me try again," satoru half pleads from between your legs, "i promise i'll get it right this time."
in truth, you're enjoying the view of your boyfriend kneeling at your feet while he attempts to tie your lace-up heels. your foot is strategically placed between his legs, pretty white-painted toenails on display as he tries and fails to correctly strap up your shoe.
hell, he's kneeling in a tailored suit, and it's messing with your brain.
you're going on a date tonight - it's a fancy restaurant that satoru's been dying to try out. it'd been a pain in the ass to pick out an outfit, not because you lacked clothes, your boyfriend ensured your wardrobe was always filled to the brim with the latest fashion. no, rather, it was because he insisted you wear matching outfits.
his problem, however, was your choice of shoe. your favourite pair of black lace-up heels was your pick for the evening. he'd asked to do them up for you and you thought it was going to be a 30-second thing.
you've now been sitting here for 10 minutes.
"what the fuck is this shit?" he mumbles to himself, irritated. "why is this so complicated??"
another attempt and he's given up, leaning back a fraction to critique his work. horrible, as expected.
you laugh as satoru sighs loudly, leaning his head on the exposed skin of your thigh in exasperation. his white locks tickle your flesh, and you take it upon yourself to rake your manicured nails through his hair, fingertips scratching his undercut affectionately.
you think he's adorable like this - absolute putty in your hands. he nuzzles into your skin, leaving soft kisses on the plush of your thigh as you dutifully work your fingers over his scalp.
"how about i do one, and you can watch and do the other?" you suggest.
he perks up quickly, icy blue irises sparkling. he nods, a beaming smile settling on his lips. he shifts his weight and leans back to give you space.
"so, you take these, 'round the back, and twist, then under and wrap around the ankle, twist one more time, and - boom!" you finish tying the bow on the back of your calf and smile.
satoru's eyebrow raises immediately, an expression half of disgust and half of confusion finding its place on his features. he squints at you, "you expect me to do that?"
"precisely," you respond with a smug grin.
there's a subtle challenge in your answer, and satoru drinks it like water. a challenge? he'll do it, easy. he switches your feet, sticking his tongue out as he focuses on his task.
you're watching him, amused by the way his brows furrow in concentration as he repeats the steps. around, the straps are crossed around your foot. twist, the straps are twisted. under, the straps are hooked beneath the heel. wrap, the straps are crossed and taken around your leg. twist.
he's done it. a fast learner, indeed.
you can't help the way your lips curve into a smile, applauding his efforts. his crystalline eyes are on you again - how could they not be? you're nothing short of gorgeous in that dress - pleading for some kind of praise.
"thanks, babe." you say, bending to place a kiss on his collarbone.
(he hopes to god there's a lipstick stain there so he can show everyone in that restaurant who he belongs to.)
satoru, being the most amazing boyfriend out there, helps you get on your feet, hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you from your apartment to his car.
"you look stunning tonight, love." he says while grinning like a lovestruck fool as you slip into the passenger seat.
"i know," you answer, shooting him a smile that gets him weak in the knees, "you picked the dress, after all."
you were going to be the death of him.
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tagging: @sad-darksoul
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halcyone-of-the-sea · 11 months
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Hello! I've read your soap and price fics and you are amazing!!!
I had an idea for a fic for Ghost. The reader would be Soaps slightly older sister who isnt like Johnny at all. Im thinking she either picks up soap from base after an op or from the bar. I'll leave alot of this up to you but i just wanna see Soaps Sister meeting Ghost!!
Brother's Coworker
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PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Soap's Sister!Reader
SYNOPSIS: In the dim illumination of the streetlights, Ghost lays eyes on a woman leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp.
WORDCOUNT: 4.2k
WARNINGS: Little bit of angst, but mostly fluff and pre-relationship pining, loads of sibling banter, conflicting emotions, etc.
A/N: Finally able to use my sibling experiences for a fic lmfao, enjoy!
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
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The woman was leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp, the custom color a deep forest green along the sides and a cream white coating the upper third. Ghost stared at her as the rest of the men filed out of the bar one after the other—Johnny and Gaz being especially loud. He blinks slowly, hands inside his blackened pockets.
Across the way, your ears perk slowly at the sound of rapturous shouts, but you only continue to look down the sidewalk at the long illuminations of street lamps and the glints of broken bottles on the ground. Over your chest, your hands shift in their hold on your biceps, your thin jacket crinkling. Light dances in your irises.
“Oi, is that who I think it is?!” Familiar Scottish drawl brings a smirk to your face, and you turn slowly to huff, snapping out of your silent thoughts. 
“Who else would it be, ya bloody git,” your voice carries, but it lacks the sheer volume of your brother’s; the great boom that reminds you of the bombs he’d used to make out of your mother’s hair spray bottles. 
Never a dull day in your childhood home, really.
“‘Bout gave me a heart attack, not answerin’ my calls like that!” Johnny laughs loudly, obviously drunk, and stumbles over merrily. You’re taken into a chest-breaking hug in mere moments, leaving you squirming with a deep grunt. “Should have your head, MacTavish.” You manage to squeak out, “Put me the fuck down, you horror. And what in the hell have you done to your hair?!”
“Oh, my dear sister.” Your brother lets you go as the three other men slink over, amused with the scene but some momentarily confused by the sudden introduction. Gaz laughs, and the Captain huffs a chuckle before fixing the position of his beanie on his head. 
Ghost, as always, chooses to watch like a looming shadow above the rest. 
Johnny puts a hand to his chest, the other remaining on your shoulder, “You wound me. Such cruelty stuck in your black soul; I say now, mother was always right—”
You smack the side of his head and Johnny grunts. 
“Ow!” He yells, glaring at you. “What the fuck?!” 
“Open your mouth again and I’ll wring you out, you arse. You know I will.” Grumbling, the Scot rubs the side of his head as you raise a brow at him. The stare-off lasts for a decent bit, and before the rest of the group knows what’s going on, the two of you are embracing each other once more; laughing loudly. 
Ghost’s eyebrows pull in slowly.
“Ah, it’s good to be back!” Johnny chuckles, holding you close as you pat his back.
“Of course, I’d find my kid brother at a damn pub on his first day home.” Taking a step away from the hulk of a boy, you brush down your shirt and jacket with a scoff. Looking up, you come to face the remaining men with an exasperated look. “He’s full of shite half the time, y’know, now. Can’t imagine what he puts you all through.”
“Bloody hell, Soap, you were holding out on us,” Gaz chuckles loudly, sticking out a hand for you to shake while he glances at the mohawked Scot who looks giddy despite being insulted by who’s very obviously his older sister. “Never knew you had siblings, Mate.” You take the man’s hand as he smiles brightly at you. 
“Kyle.” He says, and you beam back, “But Gaz’ll do just fine.”
“A pleasure,” your voice carries to John who you raise a brow at teasingly. “Well, look who the Reaper’s yet to drag down…Good to see you again, Captain.”
Price shakes his head, a smirk peeling his lips as Gaz steps back. 
“Still on that land of yours, then, Love?” The brunette asks gruffly, leaning back on his heels for a moment while you sag your side into Johnny’s arm. Your brother scoffs and loops his limb over the bridge of your shoulders as you nod. 
“You know it. Proper quiet when the neighbors aren’t up to a ruckus racin’ down the streets. Christ, those kids are devils—worse than Johnny and I when we were young.”
“Now that’s hard to believe, eh?” The man beside you laughs through his slurred words and you roll your eyes. 
Chuckling in return, you blink, spying on the intent black figure behind everyone else. Piercing brown eyes dig past flesh like a scalpel while you tilt your head to the side, interest alighting behind your skull. He doesn’t move or even greet you, just looks over you and then turns his attention to the street like a roaming bear would; hell, he certainly could be a bear with how big he was. Bigger than Johnny, even. 
This stranger wears a large brown leather jacket, the hood of his underclothes pulled up to cover most of the pale skin that would otherwise be visible. The long swish of light lashes captures you as you study the way he blinks slowly across the road. On his chin and on the top of his forehead, the fabric of a skeletal-painted balaclava shrouds him. Cargo pants and large black combat boots sit on his feet. 
He stands like a statue. 
“Who’s this then?” You call easily, and those eyes travel back to you even as the head doesn’t. It’s strange the way you seem to brush aside the blatant intimidation he exudes simply by standing.
“Ah,” John grunts, chuckling, before stepping to the side. “Simon, introduce yourself.” 
A low voice lowly wafts after a moment to silence, Manchester accent spearing you in the ears with its rough make-up, “Ghost.” 
You blink over at the Captain, but he just shakes his head and you move on. Johnny chuckles and whispers to you, “Don’t mind ‘em, Lt’s a bit rough around the edges.”
Plastering on a polite smile, your chin moves in a nod, “Pleasure to meet you, Ghost. Good to know the other two who look after Johnny out there.” The man beside you feels his face burn, free hand going to itch at his neck.
Ghost grunts and shrugs off the veiled praise, large muscles stiff.
“You’re actin’ like I’m not the one savin’ their skins half the time,” Gaz interjects on the Scot’s point.
“Is that what you call it?” You share an amused glance at John. 
Though, your eyes always sway back to Ghost, or Simon, depending on who you ask. He listens to the chatter, obviously, but he seems much more content to only stay with his hands inside of his pockets and study the street for...what exactly? The beast wasn’t shy, no, just…silent. If you didn’t know better you’d call him aggressively casual with the way his shoulders sit.
Stance relaxed but the underlying threat was palpable on the wind. Like a wolf rubbing his cheeks on the ancient trees of his territory. ‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ - it seems his very DNA states that.
Brown eyes suddenly lock with your own as if snapping into place and before you can release a squeak of alarm, you swiftly dart your gaze away back to the arguing Sergeants; face burning.
Christ, how long had you been staring at him?
“Alright, you two, ease off it!” Trying to distract yourself, you wave a hand. “You’re both too drunk to be gettin’ into street fights at this hour. Johnny, into the car ya fool.” 
Your brother slashes you with a grin.
“Fuckin’ finally, a decent bed!” It was tradition to give Johnny the spare room when he was back home—proper meals. 
“You’re callin’ mother, y’know.” You unlock your car and motion to the passenger seat with a frown. “I dinnae care if you’re trapped for hours—give the woman a rest of all her worrying.” 
“You heard the woman, Sergeant,” John forces the gravel out of his throat, rubbing at his beard. Something hits your chest as your brother opens his door as you stand in the cold. You glance at each man in turn; eyebrows pulling in with thought.
“Ah, what the hell,” your voice huffs out. Ghost watches you closely, blinking as he lifts a hand to itch at his neck from under his hood. The leather jacket crumples with tiny shifts of worn-out material. 
“Don’t suppose you boys need any good beds to rest your heads on for the night?” Wiggling your keys, you pat the top of your Hillman as you slide to the driver's side. Johnny slinks inside his own and chuckles as he closes the barrier with a careful thunk. 
“Hospitality finally leakin’ in?”
“Next time I hit ya,” you send him a bland look, “I’ll aim for the neck.” Fake flinching towards him, the man squeaks and snaps quickly back into the car door as you snicker lively. 
“Beast!” Johnny exclaims. You roll your eyes and shimmy down the window behind him, calling out as the rest share glances.
“Get in if you’re comin’ over! If not all the food I made yesterday’ll go to waste!” That seemed to get Gaz into the back, with only Price and Simon left behind. 
Brown meets blue and John’s beard pulls back with a smirk. He clears his throat, “Well, I’m not one to spit in her face.” The Captain walks over and grunts as he bends down. 
Ghost sighs under his breath and follows, impartial as to where this night is going. He wouldn’t sleep tonight, no doubt. The hard and unforgiving beds on base were the only things he could rest on now save the ground. And food? He could go without food for days.
Though, being Johnny’s sister bought you some favor, trust wasn’t something that Simon gave around freely. But the car you drove was nice, and the company of his Task Force was easy to basque in until they shipped out again. 
Simon sits down on the refurbished seat and softly closes the door behind him. Dead-eyed, he stares at Johnny’s headrest as you glance at him from the rearview mirror—seeing his shoulder dig into the glass of the window. 
You shove down a joke and hum. “Good, then, it’ll free my fridge at the very least.” 
“Thank you, Ma’am,” Gaz offers as you start up the engine, “it’s awfully nice of you to do this for us.”
“Ah,” Simon hears you dismiss as he turns to stare out of the window; so often feeling his gaze drawn back to you as a leaf attached to a tree might act. “Don’t worry your head about it. I like the company.” 
“Aye, just how she is,” Johnny says earnestly. “Was always the one to let me over with my pals when the football games were over—’cept we were usually covered in mud.”
“I’m still finding grass in my rugs, Johnny Boy,” you mumble, focusing on the road as a slight squeaking emanates from the front of the car. Simon picks up on it easily, not preoccupied with speaking. He glances at you but mentions nothing beyond a shuffling of his thighs. 
Outside the land slides past in shades of verdant green and gray as the town falls away. 
He was confused, rightly. You’d seen his standoffish nature but had chosen to extend hospitality as the old Greeks did just off a growl of his name. But maybe it was just because he was your brother’s coworker. 
Simon grunts to himself and rubs at his wrist. Throughout the ride, the two of you would glance at each other and try to forget that you had; when the long driveway of a large secluded home expands out above the car, Gaz whistles lowly.
“Bloody hell, Ma’am,” he states and John chuckles. You easily smile and roll your eyes. 
“Trust me, it was more work than it was worth.” Ghost’s attention is slightly peaked.
“You worked on it?” His tone implies he doesn’t care, but his eyes gore into the mirror to lock with your own. Blinking in surprise, even the others seem to be taken aback by the man's lack of venom in his speech. 
Ghost wasn’t afraid to speak his mind when he needed to, but he didn’t do mindless chatter. Your eyes cycle between the driveway and the masked Brit before you clear your throat. Johnny glances at you with a raised brow, slight confusion in his brows. 
“Mostly—left the nasty bits to people more knowledgeable than I am, but I did most of the grunt work, eh?” Simon hums as the car pulls to a stop inside the garage, eyes not leaving the back of your head. 
Your neck bristles at the sensation of unrelenting contact, but the burning that joins it is telltale. Licking your lips you twist the keys out and quickly shuffle out of the door to dispel the electricity in the air. 
“Alright,” you say, “out. All of ya…Johnny, you’ll be helping me with the bedding.” 
A groan is cut by an unimpressed glare. “...Yes, Ma’am.”
You huff and smirk. 
“Trainin’ him well I see,” teasing John as they all file out of the car, he shakes his head at the two of you as Simon scoffs. Gaz openly laughs as Soap’s offended look grows. 
You all enter the house as you direct them to the kitchen after they’ve taken off their boots and hung their jackets. “It’s all in the fridge, heat what you want, and don’t bother fightin’ Johnny if he takes too much. Tell me and I’ll make him sleep in the back near the chickens.” Your voice tells them as you pat your brother on the shoulder. 
Johnny grumbles and kisses the top of your head. “You’re horrible to me,” He jokes but his eyes shimmer with affection. As you leave to get a head start on the rooms, you smile and call out to him.
“That’s my job!” 
Backing out into the hallway, you leave with a deep well of happiness in you. You don’t even realize that the party had only contained three men instead of four until you’re in the linen closet and a shadow suddenly blacks out the light from the bulbs. Jumping slightly, your head swivels as you carry very many sheets and pillowcases in your grip. 
“Oh,” you mumble through cotton, smile growing as the flip in your stomach does, “Ghost! Done eating already?” 
The man is still and silent as he glances from your face to the sheets. Without a word, he halves the load and steals them as your jaw loosens in shock.
“Johnny’s outside callin’ your mum.” Ghost turns and walks out, but waits for you in the hallway to be directed. 
You push down the tightness to your throat and see the man’s feet shift on the hardwood. He looks funny, such a big man carrying bed sheets. His actions make your heart speed up. Brown eyes blink at you like a cat. 
“Well,” you chuckle, “always was one to get out of housework.” Trying a smidge more, you shift past him and turn off the light. “His barracks room dirty?”
“Pigsty.” Simon blandly states, walking slightly behind you. Your pace slows so you can stay beside him. He side-eyes you but says nothing. 
Leaning in slightly, you quip as Ghost tenses, “Can’t say I’m surprised. The man’s used to me bailin’ him out.” Chuckling, you go into the first bedroom and put everything on the bed. 
Simon grabs the pillows and starts to dress them quickly and efficiently. 
“But thank you,” you say, and the Brit pauses to look up at you, something swirling in his murky gaze. Earnestly, you tilt your head with a smile. “Ya can go back and eat more if you want. No need to help—you’re a guest.”
“Not hungry,” is all he answers, and gets back to work. You watch for a moment, perplexed, but not at all about to deny the assistance. A genuine grin twitches your lips. 
“Johnny writes about you, y’know,” your fingers pull at the fabric and you chuckle as Ghost’s incredulous look turns to you—face hidden but confusion is obviously seen. “Says he looks up to you quite a bit; something about Mexico.” 
Your face dips slightly, and Simon’s body stills. Along the pillow, his grip carefully tightens. He can’t find it in himself to walk out of the door and stand outside even if he knows he should. 
“I really can’t imagine what it’s like,” you mutter, shaking your head. Gazing at him, you study his wound muscles and secret flesh like a tapestry—wondering if he hides himself because of the safe anonymity or a sense of numb fear. 
He wouldn’t admit to either, you know. But something about Simon had captured your attention and now you had a face, or just a body really, to put to the written name like a puzzle piece. 
You take a long breath, “But you’ll never know how grateful I am.” 
By the way his chest stops moving and his body goes frozen, you think you hit something inside of him; the minute widening of his eyelids like pedals opening in the light. Simon peers at your expression, his eyes sliding from one point to another. 
Like he can’t really pinpoint what you want. 
Ironic really, because you didn’t want anything. 
“Don’t thank me,” is what he settles on, moving back to the pillow as if your words hadn’t stabbed him. “Johnny knows what he’s doing.”
Your small snort enters the air above the sliding sheets. “There’s no argument there.” A sigh echoes as you finish up, putting your hands on your hips. Across the bed, you two stare as Simon tosses down the pillows. The remainder of the sheets sit on the end of the bed. 
The man’s eyes narrow on you, and he clenches his jaw under his balaclava. 
“The only thing that I do know is that every time my brother comes back he smiles less than he did before.” You side-eye him seriously as you move. “I can only guess what all of it does to the others who don’t have anyone else to go back to.”
Simon’s breath halts in his chest before he finds the means to take down a slow inhale. Brown eyes glare intently, jaw tight, but it’s not the fire that gets to you…it’s the lack thereof.
Ghost doesn’t like this feeling, and your candidness was something he hadn’t expected.
“So,” you drawl, “I’m thanking you for giving him someone to joke around with—a distraction,” a teasing smirk, “no matter how blunt.” 
“I just told you—”
“Well, I don’t bloody care, do I?” Huffing, you smirk and tip your head back before snatching the rest of the sheets. “C’mon, we have three more rooms.” 
Simon watches you leave and tries to fight the rampage in his chest; the merciless slam of his heart to his ribcage. What had you done to him? A hand comes up and rubs into the bridge of his nose, fingers heavy and tight. 
What in the hell was going on? 
Growling under his breath, Ghost stalks out of the room only to see your back disappear into the next. In the hallway, he takes a long inhale and closes his eyes to steady himself. 
“Fuckin’ hell,” the man grunts. The tension in his shoulders was plainly visible. 
For the remainder of the room, Ghost would send you tight glances as he worked but didn’t utter another peep. You had taken his voice, or what little left of it there was. 
In many ways, you were like your loudmouth brother—your snark and your stubbornness. But you were different too. 
He feels his eyes trail down your form slowly from time to time. Capable; hardy. Simon blinked away and grunted under his breath aggressively. 
When everyone was done with their food and Johnny had come back in from his call to his mother, with a soft smile on his face, you knew it was time for bed. 
“Alright,” you strut into the kitchen with Ghost on your heels—his large arms crossed over his chest as he caught Soap's intense stare. The Lieutenant's brow raises, but Johnny only frowns in conspiracy before he looks over to you and itches at his chin. “Beds are made. You can all thank Simon for that, seein’ as Johnny used our mother as an excuse yet again.”
“And she was very pleased to hear from me!” Your brother points to you.
“She’s our mother,” you deadpan, “It’s her job to be, ya arse-face.” 
The boys all follow you down the halls as you point to the rooms. Gaz shakes your hand again and gives you a tiny hug in thanks while John pats your shoulder and calls a soft, “Goodnight, Sweetheart.” 
Both close their doors and you hear the large sighs through the wood. You have to wonder when they’d had a good bed to sleep on and a good meal. Last was your brother and Ghost, the latter of which kisses your head and hugs you tightly. 
“It’s good to see you, truly. Been missing you, little Hen. Thanks for lettin’ me over all the time when I’m home.” You melt and grip his shirt. 
“You’ll always have a place here, you know that. One call away…Now go to sleep. You smell like a pub.” He lightly chuckles against you. With a bond this tight, the two of you never had to say that you loved each other—it was just known.
Johnny squeezes you one last time before pulling away and slinking into his room, giving an unrecognizable glance to Ghost on his way in before the barrier slips into place with a quiet thunk of wood. The two of you look at and stare for a moment. 
“Lucky you,” your voice is quiet but easy to hear, “you get the room with a view of the field.” 
“Color me surprised,” he mutters, not looking enthusiastic. Against the tone, the look makes your mouth jerk in a laugh, and you cover your lips after a moment. 
Simon’s eyes unconsciously soften. 
You wave a hand, chest light, “Let’s go then, you brute.”
“Brute?” Simon grumbles, “Gettin’ familiar?” 
“Please,” you shake your head and walk to the last door in this section of the house. “You all became familiar the second we met.” 
The man rolls his eyes but has his smirk hidden as you open the door for him. He tilts his head in thanks and strolls inside.
You hum, crossing your arms ahead of you and leaning on the doorframe as he looks around, “Don’t think too much over it… The baseline is, you’ll always have a bed here if you need it.” 
Ghost slips out, “What are you? Bloody boarding house?” The swelling in his chest made his words harsher than intended, but you just smile cheekily at him as eyes lock.
“Hell’s bells, if you want ta’ get me a business card just go ahead and print ‘em off already. I’ve no problem with it.” He stares and you laugh, shrugging. “Makes me feel good.”
Splaying your hands, you back out. 
“I know you probably won’t sleep,” Simon pauses, feeling caught but not showing it. “Libraries down the hall—if you smoke, use the back door. Kitchen is free game.”  
“Why?” He asks and you blink, confused.
“Well, why not?” Simon glares.
“You shouldn’t trust people like that.” A loud laugh echoes and makes the man annoyed with you.
“Simon,” you say, and he finds himself hanging on every word that falls from your lips in the moonlight. “Not everyone is out to get you. If you’re friends of Johnny’s, then you’re friends of mine. That boy can sniff a cheat faster than a hound can find a hare.” Perhaps it was the way his shoulders went back at that, or how his brows loosened, but you finish off with a soft explanation. “You’re safe under this roof.”
You wondered, not for that last time that night, if he’d ever been told that. From how his balaclava moved with a sharp jerk of his jaw, you assumed never. It made your lungs hurt. 
With a few more seconds of quiet gazing you nod and move back. 
“Goodnight, Simon.” You leave him staring at the door as you close it—eyes boring into the grain so harshly they might catch fire. 
Ghost doesn’t know how long he stays like that, but his ears twitch at the echo of running water and soundless footsteps. He should leave, he tells himself; this is dangerous, a voice hisses. It’s not safe here, how could it be? There were no guards—no weapons. If someone were to sneak in there wouldn’t be an alarm. 
A secluded home. Nothing around. 
Then why had your words seeped into him?
“You’re safe under this roof.” Simon closes his eyes harshly.
In the morning once everyone’s gone back to the base, you admit you don’t know if you’ll see Simon again; you probably won’t. But you find that you can live with that. The memory of his loosening tension is all you need to feel special in your own right. Those brown eyes that, if but for a moment, had bled so effortlessly feelings of something other than blood and death. 
As you sigh a dreamy chuckle to yourself, you get ready for the day before heading to your Hillman. The silent drive to work joins with the strange mix of weight and levitation to your chest. But halfway into town, it hits you. 
Silent.
There is an obvious lack of squeaking from under the hood of your car as you slide along the countryside. 
The smile doesn’t leave your face for weeks.
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TAGS:
@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast
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makkir0ll · 2 months
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"you have really long eyelashes"
it catches him off guard. you guys are just laying in your bed scrolling on your own phones. he didn't even feel you staring at him. how long have you been looking?
"thanks?" he replies
"no i mean seriously like drop the lash serum." you joke at him as you continue to observe him.
they're long and thick. the kind of lashes that have a natural curl, unlike yours, that fall straight down and take several minutes to curl to your perfect liking. not to mention the layers of mascara you apply to get them to even remotely look like his.
he turns his head to you and you don't miss his dilated pupils as his eyes bore into yours. you take note of how the lashes perfectly frame his eyes. and you're so jealous.
but then an idea pops into your head, you smile to yourself and he senses it coming.
"can i-"
"no" he cuts you off.
"babe please you don't even know what i was about to say!" you grab onto his shoulder as you plead.
"whatever it is im sure it's going to be bad." he retorts, turning his face away from you and going back on his phone.
"i'll buy you you're favorite food."
and that's how you end up here on his lap with your mascara in your hand. his hair is pushed back as his hands rest on your hips, drawing small circles as he awaits your actions.
you open the bottle with the black liquid and bring the wand close to his eyes. "don't move" you whisper and he listens. mainly because he's scared that you're going to poke his eye out as you bring the wand to the base of his eyelashes and wiggle it slowly before moving it up to coat the length of the lashes. some of the mascara gets on his eyelids. you repeat the actions on the other eye before going back and doing a second coat. you can tell that he might be slightly nervous that you're going to blind him with the way he holds his breath and the grip he has on your hips get ever so slightly tighter.
you move yourself off his lap and he goes to grab his phone so he can see what he looks like.
"wait no not yet, i'm still not done" you say as you go and grab ur q-tips and micellar water.
"still?"
"yes still, i need to clean up the mascara on your eyelids," you say as you place yourself back on his lap. you open the bottle of micellar water and carefully put the clear liquid on the q-tip. you bring the white stick of cotton to his eyes and you tell him to close them. he feels the wet cotton and it's a weird feeling. you watch the q-tip turn darker the more mascara you wipe off.
"okay i'm done!" you say and he opens his eyes and you don't think he's ever looked more majestic. his already long lashes looking even longer and bolder now that he has the mascara to bring them out. you notice that the color of his eyes pop more. "you look so pretty" you smile as lean in to pepper kisses along his face. his cheeks feel warm and he can already tell that they're probably red.
he reaches over to his phone and opens the camera app and switches the camera so he can see himself. and he immediatly notices the stark difference in his eyes with the mascara. he brings his fingers to his lashes to touch them. it feels weird and his eyes kind of feel weighed down. but he has no regrets when he sees you smiling at him so fondly.
"they look nice." he smiles at you, dropping his phone to the side.
"i know right, ugh im so jealous i wish i had your lashes. all my problems would be solved." you say, thinking about the long and excruciating lash routine you perform every morning.
"all of them?"
"yes, all of them."
he chuckles at your words. "alright, but can you take it off now, it feels weird." he says, hands coming to touch his lashes again. you pout as you grab the micellar water you put away and a cotton pad and remove the mascara from his eyelashes, being gentle so that he doesn't lose a few. he appreciates the action. and maybe he would let you put more than just mascara on his face another day.
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KAGEYAMA (has the best lashes argue with the wall), suna, tsukishima (genuinely terrified that you're going to make him go blind), OSAMU, kuroo, MATSUKAWA MY LOVE, iwaizumi, OIKAWA (he would eat that shit up), akaashi, kenma, +ur fav.
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xhoneygirlxx · 9 months
Text
Juicy
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Eddie Munson x big boob fem!reader
summary: the heat causes you to let the girls hang free and it causes Eddie to be a flustered mess
warnings: she/her pronouns used, reader has breasts and wears feminine clothing. skin color/ethnicity is not mentioned! Eddie being a flustered cutie. idiots in love :) mentions of high school jocks being gross. 18+ MINORS DNI. smut: heavy making out, grinding, titty sucking, premature ejaculation. mentions of titty fucking and cumming on tits. shitty writing and not proofread.
a/n: hello my honey buns!! i wanted to get something out while i work on some of my current wips. i got inspired to write this bc i have a tig bitties and every time i wear a bra i feel like i'm dying and i'm too insecure to not wear one lmao. also, i just wanted to say that all different shapes and sizes of bitties are beautiful!!! also please be kind! smut is not my strong suit.
The late August heat made living in Hawkins unbearable. That might be an over exaggeration since you've never traveled anywhere outside of your town, but it still felt like the underside of satan's ballsack.
You regret agreeing to hangout with Eddie the minute you saw the afternoon weather forecast and regret it even more when you got into the metalhead's van. With no working a/c in the vehicle, there was no choice but to have the window's down to get some sort of circulation.
It wouldn't be so bad if there was a breeze but the air was dry, burning your lungs with every single intake of oxygen. You could feel the sweat rolling down your spine, making the thin cotton tank top you had on stick to your skin.
The cotton shorts you had on didn't quell any heat that you were feeling, only making your thighs stick together uncomfortably. Eddie being the angel he was, had already stopped at the gas station, picking up whatever snack he thought you might want, including a cherry icee that was already melted.
The sweat the beaded at your hairline, falling down your face like raindrops, matched the sweat on your cardboard cup. Syrupy sweetness coated your tongue as you drank it, coolness going down your throat to extinguish the flames within your body.
You needed to get out his car as soon as possible and into some air conditioning. Eddie on the other hand looked as cool as a cucumber. His cut band tshirt blowing through the warm air, black jeans tight on his lower body, and his brown curls in a low bun.
You almost wanted to hate him for being so calm, never showing any discomfort when it got hot like this. God, you hated the way he looked so relaxed, puffing on his cigarette and driving with one wrist on the steering wheel. The sun shining off of his ringed fingers, the band squeezing at his tiny waist, the black ink on his alabaster skin dancing with every move he took- he was so beautiful and it was making your temperature rise even higher.
When he pulled up to his trailer, you were up and out of the van before he could even pull the keys out of ignition. To your dismay, he was taking his sweet time getting out of the car, making you wait in the blaze of the sun. If you didn't know any better, you'd think the cheeky asshole was doing it on purpose. As he rounds the car, a plastic bag dangling from his wrist, a playful smirk paints his lips.
He's definitely doing it on purpose. Asshole.
"Where's the fire, Cherry?" he jests playfully at you, making you scowl even more.
"It's going to be in your hair if you don't hurry the hell up." You yell back at him. A small laugh leaves his pretty lips, shaking his head as he pulls out his key to unlock the door.
"I'll open the door faster if you say please." You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. Playing up the part even more, Eddie takes his time putting the key into the door.
"Oh please Eddie, would you be so kind and unlock the door?" You smile sarcastically up at him. He mimics you, straight white teeth flashing brightly in your eyes.
"Now was that so hard?" Scoffing at him, you push right past his body and enter the trailer.
The small a/c unit the sits in the window works overtime, buzzing and rattling loudly, to cool down the small trailer. It feels like heaven when you walk in, the immediate temperature drop makes goosebumps rise on your skin.
Plopping down on the well loved couch, you sprawl your limbs out trying to cool every inch of your skin. Placing the bag of treats on the table, Eddie makes his way into the kitchen to retrieve a beer from the fridge.
"Is Wayne off today?" The absence of the older man only coming to your attention.
"Yeah, he went to Darla's house." Eddie mutters his response as he works the cap of the beer bottle off.
Darla was Wayne's new girlfriend he had been seeing the past couple months. You had fallen victim to many of Eddie's rants about his uncle coming home late and never calling letting his nephew know he was safe.
Humming a response, you turn your attention to the television that's currently playing reruns of The Golden Girls.
Now that you've been in the cool air for not even five minutes, the creeping heat comes back into your body. The culprit being your chest, heat radiating in the cups of your bra. It was uncomfortable already with the weight on your back and shoulders, not to mention the sweat that collected in the fabric.
Jumping up abruptly from your slouched position, you work your hands around your back preparing to take off the article of clothing. . Before you it off, you remember that you're not in your own home and that it might make Eddie uncomfortable.
As he walks in from the kitchen, sipping on his chilled beer, he catches your stare. Raising a brow and removing the bottle from his mouth, he turns to you.
"You okay over there?" He questions you, eyeing your posture and how you look like you've been caught in the act of something you shouldn't be doing.
"I need to take my bra off but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."
Oh boy is he caught of guard, choking on his spit loudly. His cheeks are tinted a deep red, eyes wide and bulging from his face. Of course he didn't care, you guys were friends and he always wanted you comfortable. The only problem was that you would be braless, sitting next to him.
It's not like you haven't before, any time you wore big baggy shirts he knew you didn't have a bra on, but the extra material of your shirt blocked the visuals of your loose breasts.
When you cock an eyebrow at him, he shakes his head, brown curls bouncing with the movement.
"Y-yeah sure. Ya know what we Munson's say, this land is your land, or whatever." He chuckles nervously eyeing you from where he stands across from you.
Letting out a roaring laugh, you reach your hands under the hem of your shirt, undoing the hook.
"I'm pretty sure Woody Guthrie said that, Eds." Forcing out a small laugh, he watches as you pull the straps down your arms and then pulling the material out from under your white tank top.
Yeah he's going to die right here in the middle of his living room. When you finally pull it from your sticky skin and discard it somewhere on the floor, your nipples pebble up from the cold air. You lean your head back and release a sigh of satisfaction.
You don't see how Eddie's drinking you in right now, how he's staring at the way your nipples are visible through the wet cotton of your shirt, or how he can see the fullness of your chest.
It was no secret that you had a bigger bust than most of the girls in town, earning the nickname of Cherry from all the jocks at school, which you took pride in and eventually took ownership of.
Unlike the jocks, Eddie never made any comments about your bust. Not that he didn't think of them when he was beating off in his room every night, but he never commented on them to you which you appreciated. To him you were just you, double d's or not.
While you were in pure bliss, Eddie was living a nightmare come true. The girl he's had a crush on since middle school is braless in his home, right in front of him. He didn't know how he was going to sit next to you now with the way blood was rushing to his cock, the stiff material of his jeans didn't help his discomfort.
"So, what are we watching today?" Cracking your eyes open to look at your best friend, you could still see him standing in the same spot, staring right at your chest.
Oh. OH. He was staring at your chest. You could have so much fun with this, give him a little taste of his own medicine for his little stunt earlier, making you wait longer in the heat.
"Eds?" Your tone was sinfully sweet. Placing your arms on either side of you, you used your forearms to push your boobs together as best as you can.
"Huh? O-oh yeah. Um, we ugh, we could watch Nightmare on Elm Street." He was tripping on his tongue every other word.
Quickly moving from his spot, he knelt down in front of the television to pop in the horror movie. The boy who was so unbothered by record breaking heat, was now a sweaty, heavy breathing mess because of you.
After starting the movie, he slowly retreats to the couch but as far away from you as humanly possible. Maybe it wasn't that he was hot and bothered by you, maybe he was just uncomfortable with your state of dress.
For the first twenty minutes of the film that's all you could think, trying to figure out what you could do to make the situation better. Without thinking, you take a lollipop out of the bag of goodies he bought, popping it right into your mouth.
You took your time, swirling your tongue around the red candy, hallowing your cheeks every so often. You weren't really paying attention to what you were doing, staring straight ahead at the glowing screen. Eddie was paying attention though, growing unimaginably harder than before.
The movement of Eddie taking the pillow from behind his back and placing it right on his crotch, brings your attention the boy next to you. He wasn't as smooth as he thought, the placement of the pillow gave it away right away. His sweat soaked bangs, bouncing leg, and red cheeks definitely gave it away.
Removing the lollipop from your mouth, you place it down on the discarded wrapper laying on the table. Turning to him, your knees criss cross, you say his name softly.
His head turns with speed when you call him, chocolate brown eyes replaced with the darkness of his pupils.
"Are you okay? You don't seem, well you seem bothered. If it's me not wearing a bra, Eddie I can put it back on." You sputter out, worry rising in your stomach at the thought of making him feel awkward with your braless tits.
Releasing a loud sigh, he runs a hand down his face. "Cherry, I'm not bothered by you not wearing a bra. Well, okay, I am but I'm not uncomfortable."
He's staring right at you, almost like he's waiting for you to catch on but you don't. Eyebrows furrowed, you try to understand what he had just said to you. Before you can ask, he reiterates himself.
"Baby, I'm not bothered because you don't have a bra on. I'm very much the opposite and because I'm a gentleman, I'm trying to make myself calm down the best I can. It's just hard to do that when you're deep throating a sucker right next to me." The last part comes out as a joke, dimpled smile to prove it.
So you were right, he was hot and bothered by you. Just like he made you wait for him, you made him wait even longer to rid himself of his discomfort happening in his pants.
"Well Eds, you know if you wanted to see them all you had to say was please." You tease and he groans loudly, throwing his head back.
"Please, Cherry." He begs and you give in, lying back on the old couch. Beckoning him over to you, you spread your legs to give him room. Like a panther, he pounces on you, smacking his lips to yours.
Its heavy and animalistic the way your tongues attack each other. The lingering taste of beer mixes with the cherry from your candy. When you push your hips up to get some friction on your aching heat, he whimpers in your mouth.
He takes your motions as permission to grind into you, the pressure making both of you moan in unison. Pulling away from your mouth so you two can breathe, he moves to his next target.
The warmth of lips meet the chilled skin of your neck, he kisses all around the precious skin to find that sweet spot. When a wanton moan falls from your red stained lips, he thinks he's hit the jackpot. Sucking and kissing the spot under your ear, you're sure there will be a blotch of purple there.
You hiss out when he runs his teeth along the spot, jerking your hips up in excitement. Moving his face so that he's looking at you, you can see the spit that coat his red swollen lips, the lust the pool in his eyes. He's so pretty like this, so fucking pretty and he's all yours in this moment.
"Can I see your pretty tits, Cherry?" He asks so sweetly, like he didn't just sinfully makeout with you. Nodding in approval, he shakes his head at you.
"I need words, princess." He waits for you, who is currently looking up at him like he's hung the stars and moon. You look so fucked out and so disheveled. He's always known he was going to marry you but when he looks at you he has no doubt that he's going to marry you.
"Please, Eds."
That's all he needs to hear before he's pulling the front of your shirt down, revealing your chest to him. He stays there for a minute, looking unbashful at your tits, like they were the eight wonder of the world.
His unwavering gaze starts to make you insecure, worrying that maybe they weren't as nice as he thought they would be. They were heavy and slightly sagged due to the weight, you had stretch marks that decorated the skin like a zebra.
Pulling your arms up to cover yourself, he grips your wrists and pulls them down. Moving his gaze back up to you, his eyes are much softer.
"Don't hide, please don't hide. Not when I've waited so long to see these." A tingling sensation fills your face, making you smile giddily up at him. When you nod at him, he goes in face first into your chest.
"Fuck, I've dreamt of this for so long." You want to respond but you can't when his mouth is placing pecks to the delicate skin of your breast.
Resuming his motions from before, his hips roll right into yours like a wave crashing on the shore. He's everywhere, filling all your senses. Eddie.Eddie.Eddie. That's all that's in your mind, especially when he places your pebbled nipple in his mouth.
"Fuck, Eddie." You hiss out, reaching your hand to the nape of his neck, placing a gentle pressure to keep him there. His switches between swirling his tongue around the numb and sucking on it.
His other hand snakes up to your abandoned breast, groping the fat of it before his fingers pinch the nipple. It's sinful the way it feels, his hard cock hitting right where you need him, the warm of his mouth, and the moans that you release.
Eddie groans, causing your skin to vibrate. Removing himself from your abused breast, he moves to the other one, finally giving it the same attention as the other.
"Fuck, you're so hot." He groans out, eyes closed in ecstasy, high off the scent and taste of you. His movements start getting faster causing him to moan even louder.
Moving away from your chest, he looks down at you, the way your tits bounce with every roll of your hips. He looks at the mark he made on your neck, and how your skin shines with his saliva and your sweat. Your pupils are blown wide, lips puffy and shiny. Then he moves his eyes back to your tits, imagining what it would feel like to run his dick on your sternum, how pretty they would look coated in his pearly white cum, and how hot it would be to titty fuck you.
Every possible scenario plays out in his head when he looks at you and it's too much. With one finally grunt, pulled deep from his stomach, he hangs stops all his motions, collapsing onto of you.
Dazed and slightly confused, you let him catch his breathe. When he brings his face out from the crook of your neck, he has a boyish smile pulled on his cheeks.
"Ed, did you just-"
"Cum in my pants like a teenager? Absofuckinglutely, but if give me about five minutes I'll give you everything you want." You reach your hand up to his face, pushing some of the loose hair that fell from his ponytail, behind his hair.
"If you say please, pretty boy."
He didn't need five minutes, instantly getting hard from the sultry tone of your voice.
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arminreindl · 9 months
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Croc colours and patterns
Somewhat inspired by a recent post by Joschua Knüppe, I feel like it's a good thing to remind people just how diverse colours and patterns in modern crocodilians are. When I see people make art, it often seems to stick to grey or yellowish-brown tones, which is of course not incorrect. But theres a lot of, imo, underappreciated variety still. It's also worth noting beforehand that patterns are most striking in younger individuals and naturally become more muddy the older and larger an animal becomes. But as you will see, even some decently large and old animals may maintain a striking appearance.
Take this alligator for example. Gators tend to be on the darker side, dark greys to black, sometimes countershaded and sometimes pretty consistent. Some individuals, like this one photographed by Gar Luc, still retain clearly visible stripe patterns from when they are younger.
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Or take one of my favourite species, the Cuban Crocodile, which can appear almost bright yellow with a dense pattern of leopard spots. Of course like with the gator you can find individuals that are much more drab, with washed out colours, but individuals with clearly defined patterns still exist.
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Then there's gharials of course. They can range quite a bit in colouration. They can be brown, especially younger ones and females and I've seen males range in colour from a drab grey to almost a light blue or even something that could be described as metalic black.
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Black Caimans are also pretty interesting in my opinion and pretty easy to tell apart from other species once you pay attention to their colour. They are primarily a deep dark black of course, but what sets them apart from spectacled and other caimans is that very fine pattern of thin white stripes across the flanks that creates this beautiful contrast. They can also have patches of brown like the one on the right.
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Orinocos also vary a great deal. Tho I know less about them than I wish I did, I know that individuals can range from drab brownish greys to yellow to somewhat earthy browns that almost range into reds.
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The next ones a bit of an outlier. There are specific cave dwelling dwarf crocodile populations in western Africa with striking orange colouration. Tho this one is not exactly natural pigmentation to my knowledge and instead the result of the chemicals present in the water they inhabit, brought there by bat guano. Still very pretty animals.
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And then there's Paleosuchus, the dwarf caiman which contains two species. Again highly varied. The first image, which I believe is a Schneider's dwarf caiman, shows a very earthy brown. The others, which unless I'm mistaken are Cuvier's dwarf caimans, show colours ranging from dark with a rusty head, black to this still beautifully patterned individual. Of course these variations are also subject to change with age.
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While salties aren't exactly known to be the most vibrant, I'd be remissed if I didn't mention this specific one. It's kept in a zoo in Germany and has this almost bizarre colour combination of creamy white underbelly and chocolate brown top which I've never seen in another saltwater crocodile. Photos by my friends Markus Bühler from the Bestiarium blog and René Dederich
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Spectacled, Broad-snouted and Yacare caimans I'll give a quick shout out. I think most people are familiar enough with how they look like and while their colours aren't anything special, I still think one should appreciate their patterns of spots and stripes and facial markings.
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The last one I wanna highlight is the false gharial, Tomistoma, another one of my favourites. Part of the reason why being its at times beautiful reddish-brown colours.
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httpsserene · 7 months
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𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥
𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝟑: 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠
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📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: your boyfriend has to make an appearance at some sponsor event. he's gone ahead and bought you an alluring outfit, but he failed to mention how seductive he looks in the new fitted suit his team got him. you two won't be staying long, but you increase the pace by riling him up, mostly unintentionally. so it's your fault that he makes you ruin his loaned mclaren. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. squirting. car sex. semi-public sex. ooc (out-of-character) oscar. overstimulation. mild possessive behavior. mild jealousy. vaginal fingering. vaginal sex. condom usage. the audacity of men. lando norris’ savior complex /jk. author’s overuse of italics and run-on sentences. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: water • tyla
𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: what can i say, y'all. back at it with the unhinged thirst. every time i do one of these, they've been getting shorter and shorter. don't be afraid, for #4 (dr/mv) i'll be back on my game, they deserve it. yes gremlin lando appearance. also, i cannot imagine oscar ever acting this way, that's why i put the ooc tag? it's definitely a fun read tho (i think), along with the smut! thank you, loves, for the support on this event!
want to be added to my general taglist? or my f1 kinktober taglist? send me an ask!
thank you to my betas! @biancathecool for helping with my grammer and @barnestatic for her wonderful spoiled brat idea :))))
cross-posted on my ao3, httpsss
if you want to look at what i'm planning for ktober, or catch up on previous uploads here's my f1 kinktober masterlist and my general masterlist for all of my works!
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oscar is known for his unfazed, composed and collected demeanor. he’s aware that some people say he has no personality–but, he’s just an introvert at the end of the day. oscar’s a man of few words: that’s what people who aren’t well acquainted with him would say. if you’ve had the pleasure of sticking around oscar long enough for him to become comfortable with you, you’ll learn that oscar has an incredibly complex personality. he’s overly sarcastic, has a niche sense of humor, and can ramble endlessly at you. but, he’s still a fairly calm and quiet individual. which is why the way oscar is about to scream at the top of his lungs in the middle of this mclaren event, would be considered uncharacteristic of him.
he originally invited you to join him tonight thinking that having you by his side would eliminate the social exhaustion he experiences at these types of sponsor events. however, the aussie failed to realize that you may introduce a…different problem, to tonight’s business party. when oscar asked you to join him two weeks ago, he was prepared for all of your objections–you’re both chronic homebodies, and you both hate partaking in small talk with balding, later-aged, cologne-drenched, white men who don’t know when to let a conversation die. he chose the perfect time to ask you (after you emerged from the bathroom post-self-care bath), and addressed all of your grievances. 
oh, you don’t have anything to wear? he already bought you an outfit, had it altered to perfectly fit your measurements, and bought you a pair of heels and a purse to match. oh, you won’t be able to get your hair done in time? he already scheduled an appointment with your usual hairstylist the day before the event, paid all of her fees, and tipped her very nicely. oh, your nails aren’t done?  he booked you a spot at your preferred nail salon for a premium mani-pedi, and has a few nail inspiration photos picked out if you can’t decide. if you need your lashes done or need to get waxed, he can make the call right now; he has them on standby to fit you in.
knowing the amount of phone calls oscar had to partake in to arrange all of this causes you to fold and agree to join him. there’s nothing more the two of you hate than making phone calls–well, besides the pr events.
oscar had chosen an alluring burnt-orange mesh corset and matching ruched ankle-length skirt that looks beautiful against your warm, soft and shining brown skin. your hair is silk-pressed, length reaching your mid-back and your edges are laid in a minimal manner, matching the simplicity of your makeup look. simple gold rings are spread across a few fingers, ears accessorized with a pair of small good hoops oscar gifted you, and his initials rest in the dip between your clavicles attached to a thin gold chain. objectively, you're considerably modestly dressed, the only skin you're showing is on your arms, shoulders, a smidge of your decolletage, and the tops of your feet in the low-heeled strappy sandals. 
this is the start of what oscar failed to account for. he didn’t expect the outfit to hug your curves like plastic wrap. the whole night he’s had to forcefully deny himself the opportunity to stare at your ass, but that doesn’t mean the other men at the event have the same courtesy. he’s taken to burning holes with his eyes into anybody who lets their gaze linger over your form for a second too long. on a regular day, oscar is generally unaffected by anyone who appreciates your body (they can look, but the second they try to touch–you let them know exactly how they had you fucked up), but if he catches one more mclaren engineer undressing you with their eyes–he will make zac fire all of them; he’ll plan his own race strategy and do his goddamn pitstop by himself.
oscar also didn’t account for how your timid and sweet attitude would have everyone enamored with you; at first, watching everyone eagerly attune to your shy words was amusing to him, but it quickly became a nuisance. he was originally leading you around the room, doing his rounds at any important figures’ tables, and everything was fine. and then, oscar had made the obvious mistake of making you laugh–a pleasant stream of giggles spilling from your lips, dimples deepening, and smile widening at whatever small joke he made. he’s always thrilled to see how you throw your head back in amusement, how your hands clap together gleefully, and how your eyes squint in from the force of your laughter. as he shakes himself out of your dazzling trance, he attempts to rejoin the conversation–but every single person at the table remains entranced and wide-eyed at you. 
this would be completely fine, of course, if it was a one-off occasion; but it’s not. 
suddenly, every person oscar tries to thank for supporting mclaren, starts ignoring him and paying more attention to you. he’s literally the pilot of the car that these people are spending an absurd amount of money on, but they can’t even bother to try and pretend to listen to him. men and women alike are finding any excuse to prolong conversations with you, and even lean within your personal space with the excuse that ‘they can’t hear you very well because you’re so soft spoken.’ nobody can invade your personal space, but oscar. he has no choice but to do the very thing he hates–pda. you continue to circle around the room, his hand constantly resting on the small of your back or the dip of your waist. when you’re in the middle of listening to some completely unnecessary story a man is telling you, oscar constantly adjusts your hair, plays with your rings, and smooths down your skirt if he feels like they’re trying too hard. you banish oscar to getting you a glass of water when he begins to interject in conversations in a passive-aggressive manner.
his third strike off the night, might actually be an overall win in his books. when you saw oscar in his new fitted suit, you stared him dead in the eye and told him to ‘get naked and rail you’. it’s this beautiful deep cream color that pairs perfectly with the dark orange tone of your outfit, but the vest underneath the suit jacket highlights his tiny waist so clearly that it makes you want to scream. in between socializing, you overwhelm oscar with compliments, unable to stop telling him how handsome he looks. you surgically attach yourself to his side and hug his arm; taking an occasional squeeze of his bicep, playing with his cufflinks, and tracing the veins on the back of his hand. oscar practically runs to get you a refill of water because he’d be unable to stop himself from getting fully hard if you touched him any longer–the trousers hide nothing.
he can feel your burning gaze from across the room, and turns back to watch you after asking a waiter for water, and catches your eyes roaming the length of his body. in high-definition, he sees your tongue wetting your lips before you bite at your bottom lip–and then, your attention is stolen away from some random man who’s introducing himself to you and the group of ladies you found yourself accosted by as soon as oscar left your side.
and, that’s it for oscar. he thinks he may have heard his last-fucking-button being pressed inside his head, and seethes. he goes to push off from his leaned stance against the counter and makes to start his warpath, but a hand grasps at his shoulder. oscar turns around snappily, biting out an irritated and sarcastic, “can i help you?”
“woah! calm down now, mate. thought you were going to bite my head off for a second,” it’s lando, “if i were anybody else i’m sure there would be an unfortunate tabloid of ‘how oscar piastri is the most rude f1 driver on the grid’” lando jokes teasingly, yet a hint of seriousness leaks into his tone. 
oscar nods, understanding the underlying warning within the brit’s teasing. he apologizes softly to lando, before glancing back over at you, and can infer that you charmingly informed the man that you have a boyfriend—based on the way you point in his direction. oscar watches the polite smile fade from your face as the man continues to bother you, and the murderous look rises to his face again.
“OKAY”, lando claps abruptly, startling not only oscar, but everyone in a 10 foot radius. lando waves everyone else’s eyes away, smiling like he didn’t do anything, and speaks underneath his breath, “go. i’ll cover for you.”
oscar’s mouth drops open, baffled, “what?”
“leave—get your girlfriend and go,” lando says matter-of-factly, his smile becoming genuine, “zac probably won’t like to hear that you looked particularly murderous, and he definitely won’t like hearing that you slaughtered our sponsors, and that i let it happen.”
oscar snorts before he thanks lando sincerely, and the brit dismisses him, “i’m just looking out for my rookie teammate as the senior driver for our team. i can’t let your horny teenage mindset become common knowledge to our esteemed guests.”
“first of all,” oscar says dryly, his grateful mood dissipating at the mocking, “i didn’t even know you knew the word ‘esteemed' existed,” lando scoffs, “and secondly, you are literally only two years older than me.”
lando looks at oscar with a blank stare and deadpans, “do you want to leave or not?”
oscar daps up his teammate in farewell, and makes his way over to you as quickly as he can without seeming desperate, your glass of water left behind on the counter. your back is facing him as he approaches and you're still unwillingly participating in conversation with the man who can’t take no for an answer. as he gets closer, he can piece together the conversation; the dude doesn’t believe you have a boyfriend and you must be lying to him, and you’re adamant that your boyfriend is very real.
“look, bro. even if i was lying about having a boyfriend, why would i give you my number now? like, i’m just supposed to forget how you’ve been harassing me—“
oscar rests his hand on your side, and when you turn your head to see who’s touching you, he leans down and kisses you. it’s a kiss deep enough to let everyone know who you’re leaving with tonight, but not deep enough to be salacious (he can hear lando’s cackle from the other side of the room).
you melt into his kiss before he pulls away, leaving you dazed and disoriented, stumbling into him. oscar drapes his left arm around your shoulder, guiding you to tuck into his side, while he offers his right hand to the offending man for a handshake. “it seems i haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet. i’m oscar, i drive for mclaren,” he introduces himself, sounding overly pleased.
the man angers, ignoring oscar’s extended hand and cockily states, “you should already know who i am. my family nicely lent you the mclaren you drove here tonight!”
“ah,” oscar smiles viciously, “if ‘your family’ kindly lent me the car, that would explain why i only remember your father’s name–and not his arrogant, disrespectful, and narcissistic trust-fund son’s name.”
the man stomps his foot in rage, like a spoiled brat, and questions, “who do you think you’re talking too?!”
oscar smirks, “nobody important, apparently,” (one of the ladies listening whispers a quiet ‘damn, that’s crazy’), oscar continues, “don’t worry, mate–i’ll make sure your father’s car returns home to him safely. should i bill you for any cleaning, in case i make a mess of it?”
the guy stumbles over a response before he scoffs and stomps away. oscar shrugs uncaring, before addressing the group of ladies who were cliqued to the side watching the whole interaction, “well. if you all don’t mind, i’m just going to steal her away from you ladies, if that’s okay?” (like there’s an option). the ladies fawn over oscar’s protectiveness before they let the two of you go, and then he starts herding you towards the exit.
it’s torture. in every five steps the two of you take, you're interrupted by various guests trying to catch you one last time. oscar feels like they’re all intentionally aggravating him; patting you on the arm, commenting on how eye-catching you look, and using the fact that the two of you are leaving to press a kiss to your hand in goodbye. you two burst out of the main doors and sigh in relief, for different reasons–for you, it’s because oscar didn’t give one of his sponsors brain damage, and for oscar, it’s because he’s one step closer to getting you in his bed.
you grasp at oscar’s hand, and he starts to lead you down the steps towards the valet, and as you fall into step at his side, you speak softly under your breath, “i can understand why you kissed me like that inside because the dude was being an asshole–even though you were marking your territory like some kind of dog–but, please; don’t tear this poor man’s throat out for helping me into the car.”
the australian remains quiet, properly chastised and works on releasing the pent up effect of the annoyances from inside the venue. everything is going well; the valet asks oscar for his parking ticket, and he goes to grab the keys, but stops just before he makes to start heading to the car, and turns back to you two and says, “i don’t know if i told you when you walked in but–you look incredibly beautiful tonight, miss. you could be a model, seriously. like, you should feel so lucky to have a woman like her–”
all attempts of oscar finding his peace are thrown out of the window. he interrupts the dude’s rambling, and bites out, “hey man, y’know what. i can just take the keys to the car. we can walk to it.”
the valet stutters, confused, “a-are you sure, i mean it’s like pretty far in the back. i can run and get it no pro–”
“it’s FINE! i mean, it’s cool, we can use the extra steps, y’know. enjoy the breeze and everything,” oscar says, slightly maniacal. there’s no breeze, it’s warm. the valet’s and your eyes meet for a second and a shared thought of “he’s trippin” is passed telepathically.
the valet concedes, not wanting to upset the f1 driver any farther and tosses him the keys. as the two of you are passing by, oscar hands the man a bill that’s probably too big based on the man’s astonished gasp. you call out to the man, continuing to walk further in the lot, “sorry about him! he just gets a little touchy about strangers driving his car, y’know?” oscar grumbles lowly next to you, and you smack him on the arm, “what did you want me to say? ‘oh sorry, my boyfriend just wants to fuck me really badly to soothe his needless jealousy?’”
“as long as he knows who’s the one who gets to take you home and fuck you.”
“oscar!” you squeak, “we both know we’d die of embarrassment if you said that. i can’t even imagine those words coming out of your mouth, in that order.”
you guys eventually puzzle out where the car is after several remote beeps of the car’s horn, and find that it’s literally tucked away in the last row, far corner with no surrounding cars for two rows.
oscar doesn’t open your door like he usually does, and leads you around to the driver's side. he opens the door, pushes the seat back as far as it goes, and sits down. without saying anything, he loosens his tie and goes to unbuckle his belt before you reach down and grab at his hand, bewildered, “oscar jack! what the fuck are you doing?”
he blinks, “i’m fucking you, right now. it’s too long of a drive back—i’m going to crash the car if you keep sitting next to me in that goddamn outfit. i was going to take you to the bathroom inside, but i figured you’d at least prefer the car. you can be a little louder here.”
your mouth dries, “you said they loaned you an incredibly rare, vintage mclaren, babe. i’m not gonna-“
oscar wrestles his way out of his suit jacket, spreads it underneath him on the leather seat, and pats his lap. “problem solved.”
shifting your weight, you glance around nervously. oscar is right, you would prefer the car over the bathroom. all those people inside who could overhear, gossip, and spread the news of how rookie mclaren, f1 driver, oscar piastri, had you yelling his name in the middle of an event. you’d pass.
“oh, c’mon now, babe. you didn’t think i saw the way you were eating me alive with your eyes inside,” your boyfriend teases, “i know you‘ve at least gotten a little wet for me already, haven’t you?”
that’s all it takes; the australian acting possessive and feening to get inside you is more than enough to have you straddling his lap and pulling the car door shut with a slam.
oscar tugs you into dirty make out, and you get lost in his pink lips, tugging teeth, and explorative tongue. the last of your breath tapers out in a reedy moan, and you break the kiss to pant against his lips, and oscar laughs. his laughter spreads through your chest, and it has your hips rolling against the bulge you feel underneath you. his amusement is cut off, and his hands fly to grip at your hips. he starts tugging you against him in a filthy grind, and choked off moans from the two of you start to fill the car.
you press kisses to oscar’s jaw line, paving a path down to his wide strong neck with your tongue. you suck on small patches of skin, not using enough suction to leave a mark, but enough for oscar to become aware of the fantasization that you could. the aussie gasps at every random suckle of your lips as he scrambles to pull the skirt up your legs. you shift your hips up to make it easier for him, as your hands feel down his torso to his belt. it unbuckles fairly easily, and you shove it out of the way, to unzip the slacks and pull his cock out.
oscar moans, throwing his head back at the feel of your hand on his length, and you get entranced in the trap that his pale thick neck is, again. you hum against his neck, introducing teeth alongside the ache of the suction of your mouth, and bully the collar of his shirt out of the way to find a space to leave a few marks. oscar’s breath freezes at the first hickey he feels you leave, but the rapid inhale he takes next clears his mind enough to have his right hand pull your panties to the side, and move to caress your heat.
you shudder on top of him, your breathy sigh amplified within the car. oscar sinks two fingers inside of you, and a much louder moan is tugged out. your hands fly up to grasp onto his shoulder, and your head tilts backward away from his neck in pleasure. his fingers thrust into you gently for a few beats slowly working to open you up for him and once he feels your cunt starting to relax, his thumb reaches to press at your clit. whines fill the air, as you lean all the way back, resting your back on the steering wheel allowing oscar all the space he needs to stretch you out. his fingers start curling as they drag out of you, and you can feel the pads of his fingers rubbing over a soft spot on the front of your walls. 
oscar’s eyes were stuck marveling over the overwhelmed expression on your face, but once he starts feeling wetness dripping down his arm he glances down, and curses out a rough, “fuck, baby—you’re dripping all over me.” your cheeks burn hot, and you can’t tell if that’s out of humiliation or the effect of his awe-filled voice. your right hand releases his shoulder, and bats at his arm, before tugging at his wrist to pull his fingers out, “that’s enough, mmm, just get in me already.”
oscar eagerly draws away; he uses his clean hand to tug his wallet out of his back pocket, and tugs a condom out with a smidge of struggle before handing it to you. you snatch it out of his hand, biting it open and rolling it over his cock, and once it’s on, you tease, “jeez, osc. you really were planning on jumping me in the middle of the event tonight—grabbing a condom and everything; you think i’m that easy?”
he chuckles, satisfied, his hand drenched in your wetness rubbing over his cock to get him slick, and teases back, “you’re about to ride my cock in the parking lot of said event, pretending to be worried about ruining the seats of this vintage car. i’m not calling you easy, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, does it?”
your cheeks are definitely burning from humiliation this time around, but you huff, ignoring him checking you. you tug his hand away, raising your hips, and guide him to your entrance with your own hand, before slowly sinking down. 
twin sets of moans fill the air as he bottoms out; one of his hands reaches to palm at your ass (it’s sticky, so it must be the one he fingered you with), and the other grips at your waist tightly. you squirm on top of him, knees barely managing to find enough room to prop on the seat to give you a stable base. once you feel stable in your cramped position, you give a testing grind of your hips, and from there, it’s lights out.
oscar lets you set the pace for a few thrusts, suffering in the languid rock of your hips; you’re torturously tight around him, and he can only groan at the feeling of you wrapped around him. his chest heaves, before he brings both hands to halt your hips, and starts fucking up into you rough and quick. a scream jostles out of your throat at the unexpected change of speed, but you just take it with no complaints, allowing yourself to go limp against the wheel of the car to hold your body upright. he moves your body for you, pulling you downwards to meet his upward thrusts; and you feel him constantly applying pressure against that one tender spot right under your navel.
your boyfriend revels in the sound of the moans he’s punching out of your throat, admiring the way your head is thrown back—mouth open wide, eyes scrunched tight, lips bruised and bitten to hell. it’s a lewd picture, painted by himself. the car rocks along to his frantic rhythm, windows fogging, and sweat begins to form on both of your skin. the aussie’s core tightens; he won’t last much longer, you’ve had him half-hard the whole night.
a frustrated grunt escapes oscar, and you hum questionably about to ask what’s wrong–but his right hand leaves your waist to furiously start circling your clit, and an ear piercing shriek leaves you. “c’mon now, babe. ah-be good and come f’me yeah? im so close, baby–please,” he babbles, the last shred of sanity leaving him. his hips don’t falter once–to you it feels like they’re moving quicker, every sensitive spot receiving attention from the sharp snaps of them.
you cry out, it’s all too much; your hand reaches down to press against his navel in a feeble attempt to stop him from stroking so deep and roughly, and incoherent pleads try and tumble out of your mouth, “mm! osc–no! ah–too much, baby! it’s too much–hngh–feels weird–s-slow down!” it’s like his ears are filled with cotton; he can hear you begging down at him but can’t make out what your saying over the blood rushing in his ears. he’s trapped staring at your pretty cunt, watching the obscene amount of wetness coming out of you–the suit jacket underneath him is completely ruined, and he off-handedly thinks it won’t be saving the leather upholstery.
your legs start quivering and trembling–it damn near looks like you're freezing to death, even though the car has become as humid as a sauna. your own orgasm shocks you, and your eyes roll back erotically–unable to give oscar any warning. and in your last moment of awareness, you realize that something feels different, but it’s too late.
you choke on your scream of, “oscar, fuck!” as fluid gushes out of your cunt, and the first wave is enough to completely drench oscar’s pants, and oscar finally returns to the moment in amazement. he eagerly brushes his hand against your clit, and shortens his strokes to quick little jabs to force more of your juices out, and you can only ride along. you try to slam your legs shut, to jostle oscar’s hand away, but it’s futile with his torso propping you open for him. you’re sobbing messily, as he forces more liquid to spray from your cunt–and he moans out his own orgasm, ripped from him in surprise. the australian halts his stimulation this time around when you frantically tug his wrist away when the pleasure melds to pain, and allows himself to get a few more jerks of his hips in.
you fall forward, collapsing into his chest–the squelch of your thighs meeting his pant-covered ones has him humming and grinding his hips into you as gently as he can. the two of you shake against each other, hearts rabbiting as you catch your breath. oscar’s hands rise to rub at your back, bringing you down from the aftershocks still trembling over your body. 
“i-i’ve never squirted before,” you whisper into his neck.
your boyfriend hums softly, “did you like it?”
he feels you nod against him shyly.
“then, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he comforts, knowing if he seems approving of it, you’ll be quicker to accept it as something good, “how i’m going to explain the ruined suit and car seat to mclaren on the other hand…”
a shaky laugh from you causes oscar to smile, “i told you you shouldn’t fuck me in the car.”
“how was i supposed to know that tonight would be the night i’d made you gush all over me?! i was hoping that when the time came we’d at least be on a couch,” he whines.
“shut the fuck up,” you joke, “i want a live play by play when you explain the cleaning bill to zac.”
the aussie pauses, faking thoughtfulness, “maybe i should send the bill to the trust-fund baby. zac would back me up–he’s american, he’d probably find it hilarious.”
oscar gently shifts you over to the passenger seat, and you tug your skirt all the way down, and he fights his way out of his slacks that stuck to his thighs with your wetness. he manages to wrangle them off and kicks them to the side of the car floor along with the soiled suit jacket, after fishing the keys out of them, sitting out in his boxers, and glances over to see you adjusting your appearance as best as you possibly can.
“you want a mcflurry?” the aussie offers.
“as long as we can get a fry with it,” you smile at the random shift in conversation, allowing him to hide his embarrassment.
oscar turns the keys in the ignition, and the engine rolls into life with a deep, vibrating hum. he catches your legs pressing together tightly, and you squirm at the purr of the engine under your seat.
“well,” oscar starts nonchalantly as he reverses out of the spot, “you have the time that it takes to get from the drive-through to the flat to finish eating–because as soon as we get home, i’m taking you to bed and learning how to make you squirt, consistently. i don’t care how long it takes, or how many orgasms you have–i’ll keep going ‘til you come dry, babe.”
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© httpsserene 2023
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mrpenguinpants · 9 months
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Turning Red
— He's always so serious that they can't help but wonder what kind of emotions he's hiding underneath. Good thing you're around.
— Dan Heng, Gepard, Blade + Jing Yuan
Slight spoilers for Xianzhou and Kafka's companion quest.
[Masterlist]
I've fallen into the Honkai train, but here we are. Also, I know Jing Yuan doesn't fit this prompt but I like him so who cares.
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Dan Heng
"Dan Heng! We need one more person to play Celestial Jade!" March hollars down the hallway only to receive no response. It makes her pout, biting the inside of her cheek as she taps her foot restless against the floor, "If you don't come soon then I'll be the one in trouble you know!"
Again no response...
She's checked his room and the archives, and yet no sign of the man. The Express is only so big so surely he didn't wander off somewhere outside right? Maybe you know where he is? Dan Heng seems to talk to you more than he does with her, so maybe he gave you a heads-up that he was going somewhere? It's not a solid plan, but it's a plan nonetheless so she marches her way to your room.
"Hey, have you seen Dan Heng anywh-" March starts as she opens your door only to stop mid-sentence since the eyes of the very man she was looking for are staring right back at her. "Ah. Oops."
Her eyes slowly trail down from his and ah- she understands why he was missing. You're curled up around him, arms haphazardly laid across his waist while your head is cushioned by his chest. Dan Heng doesn't seem to find your sleeping position bothersome, if anything it looks like he's trying to slowly nudge you closer without waking you up. One hand is on his phone, probably typing away on the databank, while the other is curled around your waist. His chin rests on top of yours contentedly as his white and turquoise coat is used as a mock blanket, leaving him in the black turtle neck.
Dan Heng looks like he's about to say something but you shift and mumble something in your sleep and they both go still. Scared that they may have accidentally woken you up and the Express doesn't have enough space for March to run and hide from Dan Heng but thankfully, you seem to settle down and return to your dreams. Thus, March and Dan Heng are locked in a staring contest before she slowly reaches into her back pocket without breaking eye contact.
"Don't you dare," Dan Heng whispers as loud as he dares, although his pink cheeks don't do anything to make him look intimidating.
"Oh, I think I dare," she grins too widely as she raises her camera, making sure it's on silent before she starts to bombard her gallery with a pink Dan Heng because he can't stop her unless he gets up. The most he can do is turn his face away but it shows the world his red ears. Once she's satisfied, she's sticking her tongue out and darts out of the room. She expects that two things will happen. Dan Heng will hunt her down and make her delete the pictures, but not before she sends them all to him. As soon as the door closes and March walks down at the end of the hallway she let her mini explosion commence because Geez! That was so cute! Who knew Dan Heng could be so adorable! Why can't she have that with someone special, this isn't fair!!
Gepard
Gepard Landau. The prestigious young captain of the Silvermane Guards who belongs to the noble Landau family. A personality of righteousness, a good family background, and on top of that he sure has a pretty face. The absolute perfect man.
What a boring guy.
That's the only thought that runs through Sampo's mind as he observes the blond hair man talking to his subordinate from a distance. The two of you are supposed to be on break - he knows this because it makes the other Silvermane Guards more relaxed so it's easier for him to run around - and yet Gepard has his back straight and looks as if he's never heard of what a day-off is. What a shame that those pretty blues only have eyes for reports.
"This part here has been causing some issues for our intelligence team," he hears the subordinate say and Sampo's eyes shift to you. He's heard of you before although not as much as Gepard. A simple errand girl who frequently moves between the Silvermane Guards and the Neverwinter Workshop to deliver messages and supplies. Nothing incredibly remarkable but you're a kind person who keeps to themselves. Sampo thinks you and him could get along if you didn't hang around Gepard so often.
"Let me see..." Gepard mumbles and leans down closer to read the fine print before you turn your head to the side and plant a small kiss on his cheek. Despite the cute gesture, Gepard doesn't change or make any expression. He simply steps back into a polite distance, a hand coming up to loosen his collar as he clears his throat, before reprimanding you on workplace-appropriate jokes. You don't seem to take offense to his lack of response, just adorably hiding your smile behind your paper before waving goodbye to the Captain. Meanwhile, Sampo is coughing violently behind his fist because what the hell was that? So much build-up only for a lackluster ending? As a man of the dramatics, it's too much for him.
"Seriously, there's nothing fun about this guy," Sampo sighs, shrugging his shoulders as if to console himself. He's about to turn and leave but the rushed clinking of armor has him looking back at the Captain.
"Seriously..." Gepard mutters before hiding his face behind his hand. Even from this distance, Sampo can see how red the Captain's ears have gotten just from a simple cheek kiss.
Blade
Kafka thinks you're cute. Really cute.
Everyone in the Stellaron Hunters hides their true emotions behind multiple masks and it's refreshing to meet someone who wears their heart on their sleeve. Although it could also be because you're incredibly bad at hiding your feelings. Even if Kafka wasn't as skilled as she is with reading people, you do a piss poor job. Still, it's fun for her and that's the important part.
"Oh? Back so soon?" Kafka greets you as you step out of the alleyway. Even if your face isn't plastered across the Xianzhou like Kafka's and Blades, it wouldn't look good to be seen conversing with them. Plus you rather like being able to walk in broad daylight without the fear of the Cloud Knights chasing you down to slap some cuffs on you.
"Yes ma'am. We can depart when you're ready," you salute and she can't help but laugh at your cute mannerism. It makes you falter the slightest bit but you hold your pose.
"Good. Good. It must have been hard to pilot a ship so close to the Xianzhou without being detected. Especially given," she makes a gesture at Blade, "recent events."
You only nod at her hidden meaning before she's suddenly stepping into your personal space. You can only make a small noise before her arm is wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to her, and you pointedly ignore how her chest is pressed against yours, and her other hand raises your chin until your lips brush against hers. With her so close, she can see the pink in your cheeks growing and how tense your body is against hers. Your eyes dart from her down to her lip before catching yourself and instead looking behind her. It's cute.
"Would you like a reward?" she whispers next to your ear.
"Don't tease so much."
"Oh," Kafka blinks twice, turning her head to her companion as she lets go of your chin so she can press her fingertips against her mouth like one of those posh ladies when they find out about the latest gossip, "how out of character Bladie."
He doesn't dignify her with a response, just closes his eyes and goes back into his meditation. His face fell into that perfect stone that she could have imagined that he spoke. But those piercing eyes carving their way into her bones are unmistakable that even if they are closed, she still feels watched. But she relents and drops her arms around you before sending you off back to the ship. They'll join you soon.
"That's interesting," Kafka muses, she rolls her fingers as thin magenta strings appear before being flicked away with her wrist. Blade shouldn't be able to register anything but herself and yet, he seemed to notice you.
Jing Yuan
Yanqing has the sneaking suspicion that his General is sneaking off to slack off again. While he knows Jing Yuan is incredibly busy and he tends to do things discreetly, this getting far too strange. The General always has a complacent smile, but recently, it's been a tiny bit more genuine every time he waltzs in. For someone so tall, at least in Yanqing's opinion, he's able to slip past everyone and it's impossible to get in contact with him until he suddenly appears hours later. Yanqing would know, he's blasted the General's phone only to receive a cute emote and a "Surely my lieutenant is more than suitable for this, no?". Does it make Yanqing swell with so much pride that he forgets about Jing Yuan slacking off, maybe, but that's beside the point.
"General, what exactly are you doing in your... "off time"," Yanqing words slowly, unsure of what he was asking is considered a pry into Jing Yuan's personal life and if he will get upset with him.
"You're making it sound as if I'm doing something depraved during this "off time"," Jing Yuan chuckles at how fast Yanqing turns pink at his implications. Yanqing's hands quickly come up in a placating nature as he shakes his head so hard that his ponytail smacks against the wall.
"N-Not at all General! I was just curious- but you don't need to answer if it's something important!" Yanqing struggles through his words but luckily, Jing Yuan doesn't seem to take offense. If anything, he finds it amusing as he rubs Yanqing's head like an overactive puppy. It makes Yanqing huff and shoos away the offending hand before crossing his arms, expectantly waiting for an answer.
"It's not anything that needs to be kept as a secret. I'm simply taking a walk around Xianzhou to distress. You should take some time to do so as well, training every single day without a break will only lead to weary bones and stiff muscles," Jing Yuan advises which Yanqing nods carefully along to. Although Yanqing's eyes drift from the General's eyes to mouth, he seems more...softer around the edges? Even though he's the only one here, it looks like Jing Yuan is speaking to someone else through him.
"Are you sure you're not doing something indecent?" Yanqing deadpans to which the General laughs. He reaches over to ruffle his disciple's hair again before crossing them behind his back and walking ahead. Seriously, Yanqing thinks as he fixes his hair back into place, he can never get a good read on his General.
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lovelytsunoda · 4 months
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nation of two // oscar piastri
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summary: a camping trip in perth, and a set of missing sleeping bags brings together a pair of childhood friends in a way neither of them had quite anticipated
pairing: oscar piastri x female reader
warnings: lando being a little shit, wee lil' age gap (reader is a year and a half older than oscar is), general outdoorsy activities, forced teambuilding. for all intents and purposes, this is in the very beginning of lando and oscar's time as teammates and they don't know each other well yet.
authors note: I was so tempted to make this a fic for a different fandom but knew y’all would hate me if I started dropping top gun fics out of nowhere instead of the f1 goodness you’ve come to expect, and then this prompt was just so perfect for oscar and now here we are
the australian sun beat down as she trekked up the rocky hiking trail, rugged outdoor shoes digging into the dirt and mud beneath her feet. sweat soaked through the back of her concert shirt, her black bucket hat concentrating all of the sun's rays on her scalp.
"jesus, piastri! how much further?" she whined, taking oscar's outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her up the trail.
oscar laughed, looking over and grinning at how ridiculous she looked with her massive backpack and sweat stained shirt, the hot pink of her sports bra showing through the white fabric underneath the words 'duran duran'.
"don't be such a baby!"
"i'm older than you!" she shreiked, feeling the burn in her legs as she rested her weight on the younger boy. "carry me the rest of the way?"
"no! you have to get to the lookout yourself."
she groaned, rolling her eyes. "then where are lando and will? i'll sit in the damn wagon if i have to. how are you not winded?"
she hadnt planned to even be here. oscar had phoned her late the night before, asking if she would be up for a hike. she'd agreed, searching for a reason to get out of the house. it wasnt like she had anything better to do.
she'd known oscar all her life. in elementray school, they waited for the big yellow bus at the same stop, and were in the same homeroom for most of secondary school with oscar taking advanced classes for his age and y/n sinking down a level in maths, despite oscar's many absences. their mothers were in the same knitting club, and many a night teenage oscar would apologetically come to her house and collect his wine-drunk mother from the knitting circle. (despite it all, she loved nicole. how could she not, the woman was an icon)
"because i'm an athlete and you're out of shape?" oscar guessed jokingly, prodding at the cute pudge of her stomach.
the action gave her butterflies, a feeling in her stomach that wasn't welcome when thinking about the younger man she was leaning against.
they'd always been friendly. too friendly, some may say, eyebrows raising when people heard about the age gap. what did a sophisticated older woman want with oscar piastri?
it was simple: she liked stupid men with hearts of gold. and so far, nobody had compared to the 21-year-old. she was 22, so the gap wasn't even that bad.
and oscar didn't really think she was out of shape. he might joke, but that small bit of pudge on her stomach was so adorable, like a kangaroo pouch in his head, and he dreamed about the day he could cuddle up behind her and wrap his arms around it, skin to skin between cotton sheets.
"shut up." she whined, relieved that the group had finally stopped. she flung down her badly-packed and underprepared rucksack and slumped against it, pulling her hat over her eyes. it was getting cooler, though still humid, as the sun began to sink below the horizon.
"i think it's time we think about making camp." mark webber suggested, stretching out his old man limbs, tapping the giant stick he held as a walking aid against a rock. "this is as good a spot as any. lando, do you have the sleeping bags?"
"do i have the sleeping bags?" lando repeated jokingly. "what kind of muppet do you think that i am? of course will and i have the sleeping bags!"
the mclaren driver sidestepped towards the wooden wagon, dramatically ripping back the tarp on top to reveal the cardboard tent box (which had been duct taped back together so many times that it was more tape than cardboard) and the clusters of rolled up sleeping bags.
one by one, lando and will started tossing the bags at the hikers. in almost no time at all, everybody had a sleeping bag.
well, everybody except y/n.
"oi, orlando, what the fuck!" she shouted, deliberately getting his name wrong. "where's my stuff?"
not looking sorry at all, lando shrugged his shoulders, eyes hidden underneath the brim of his bucket hat. "i guess i miscounted."
"you didn't miscount shit." she glared at him, using both of her hands to flash the man her middle fingers.
lando stifled a laugh, looking over at oscar. "are you sure she's the older one?"
"lando, shove off." oscar defended before turning to her. "my sleeping bag is a double, we'll be just fine. as long as lando hasn't lost the second tent."
y/n chuckled darkly, using the rock behind her to push herself to her feet. "the tent is in my rucksack. there's no way in hell that i'm sleeping on the dirt floor."
"princess." lando coughed into his fist, hoping that neither oscar or y/n noticed.
see, lando norris had a plan. a plan that was formed out of one too many rom com nights with his girlfriend, and an impatience born from watching y/n and oscar run circles around each other like horny dogs too nervous to get to humping.
the way lando saw it, hiding the sleeping bag was just going to help that along.
"anyways, im heading out." y/n sighed, getting to her feet and brushing the leaves and twigs off her thighs. "you freaks better not follow me into the woods and watch me piss."
oscar watched her leave with a dreamy expression as she pushed branches out of the way, stumbling over tree roots and branches. he saw her loose her footing in the mud , scraping the side of her knee on the tree bark.
"you okay?" oscar shouted, ready to jump into the woods after her.
"i'm fine!"
when she came back from the woods, legs slightly scratched up from the way she stumbled, hat dangling from the chinstrap around her neck and her sweat-matted hair falling down her shoulders. oscar was setting up the tent, shirtless as he hammered the tent stakes in place. all in all, the tent was fairly well constructed considering that oscar had done it all himself.
"so, your new teammate is a jackass." she laughed. "who suggested this trip?"
"i did. against my better judgment." oscar rolled his eyes, straightening up at dusting off his hands before peeling back the zipper door to the orange tent. "welcome to my humble abode. ladies first, your highness."
"oh, shut up." she laughed, her face turning pink as she ducked into the tent.
it was a large space, backlit by the battery powered lantern from oscar's rucksack. the soft yellow lighting made their shadows dance as she sat down on the double sized sleeping bag, unsure of what to do next.
they hadn't shared a bed since they were sixteen years old on a joint family trip to fiji and they had been so drunk that they fell asleep together on a sun lounger.
it's okay. you can do this.
"can i have the right side?" she asked timidly as oscar followed her in, zipping up the door behind him.
"knock yourself out." oscar said, avoiding eye contact as he reached into his backpack and passing her a bag of cheetos.
the proximity and the rising heat in the tent was starting to make him uncomfortable. no doubt he was also thinking about the sun lounger.
"i'm glad that you came. i missed spending time with you, y/n."
she laughed, popping the bag open and cursing when she spilled orange cheese dust on her leg. "me too. i've been at a loss lately. a crossroads, if you will. this is exactly what i needed to get out of my head."
"remember what mark said? leave your problems at the bottom of the mountain!" oscar laughed. "just put one foot in front of you and keep moving.''
she grinned, popping a crispy cheeto into her mouth. "easier said than done when thinking about the future paralyzes you."
oscar moved his body along the sleeping bag so that he was sitting directly next to her, his thigh touching hers. the sleeping bag took up most of the floor space, neither of them wanting to lean back, lest they cause the whole tent to topple over.
the feeling of his skin against hers made the hair on her arms stand up, goosebumps following in its wake.
"you'll figure it out. i know you will. have some faith in yourself."
the way the led lantern highlighted every pore, every contour of his skin should have been reserved for the film crew on fifty shades of grey. he looked so breathtaking in the dark that it had just that effect: taking all of her breath away. she felt like she'd been hit in the lungs, unable to think about anything except the greek god in front of her.
and she was going to have cheeto breath when she kissed him.
outside the tent, their silhouettes danced in the half light as she leaned towards him, lips moving to whisper something inaudible but that the aussie seemed to understand instantly, wrapping his hands around her waist to pull her closer.
and when oscar kissed her? she forgot all her worries, this airy feeling spreading throughout her body. the skin around their lips would be stained from the cheetos, as would the sleeping bag where the bag toppled over, but neither of them could find it in them to care, too lost in the others touch as oscar's calloused fingers ran up her t-shirt, gently squeezing the part of her stomach that made her the most self-conscious,
"you're beautiful. and smart. and brilliant. and i'm sorry that nobody has ever told you that." he whispered in his kiss, his tongue licking into her mouth. he growled at the taste of cheetos, something that was suddenly so much sexier than he had ever believed it could be.
"shut up." she blushed, kissing him again.
outside the tent, lando and will sat by a crackling fire, watching the embers rise in the air and wondering if the pair knew that the lantern allowed them to see everything through the tent walls.
"i knew he had it in him." lando laughed. "look at the little guy go."
"should we tell him about the lantern?" will chuckled, popping a marshmallow into his mouth.
"nah. they'll figure it out in a minute when we all start wolf whistling."
TAGS
@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck @twinkodium @thatsdemko @userlando @libraryofloveletters @diorleclerc @lorarri
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muddyorbsblr · 5 months
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onyx pt1
See my full list of works here!
Summary: You're stuck in the Avengers Compound because of an injury from your last mission, and you come across an adorable and affectionate little kitten.
Pairing: Loki x Reader
Word Count: 2.3k
Warnings: language (no i'm not sorry, Rogers); talks of explosions and injuries sustained from explosion [let me know if i missed anything!]
Things to be aware of: one-sided crushing (but is it really…?)
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An eerie silence served as your only company in the Avengers Compound the last few days, some of your teammates off to finish the HYDRA mission that left you injured while the others took time off to visit their families over the holidays. With the promise to keep their comms on in case they would be needed until the New Year.
Now all that remained in the Compound with you were a few junior agents that drew the ends of the short stick, Val, and Loki.
Sadly your teammate, friend, and occasional drinking buddy Val was out blissfully spreading holiday cheer throughout New York with her girlfriend.
And Loki? Well, the God of Mischief wasn't exactly on chummy terms with you. Didn't even so much as give you a passing glance when you were at mission briefings.
Which was a damn shame because what you would give just to get lost in those stormy ocean eyes.
You made your way to the pantry in the common room to replenish your stash of snacks, towing along a little wagon to help you on the way back. Every step had you feeling every square inch of bruising on the left side of your body that you got from being unlucky enough to be caught in the blast radius of an explosion at the HYDRA base you were trying to infiltrate with Shaun just a few days ago.
Your phone buzzed with a new message. "Speak of the devil," you muttered to yourself, seeing Xu's name on your screen as soon as you pulled up next to the elaborate barista setup, putting a few Lindor truffles in a small bag for your wagon. "Hey FRIDAY?"
"Yes, Agent Y/L/N?" the AI answered immediately.
"Could you make me a white chocolate mocha with peppermint while I raid the latest Costco delivery for uhh…supplies. Yeah, I'll go with that."
"Right away, Agent Y/L/N." The sound of the barista setup whirring to life filled the kitchen area as you checked on Shaun's message.
Thor just mentioned that he'll ask his brother to take a look at your injuries. Maybe get him to kiss it all better. He finished his text with a smirking emoji, along with some hand gestures that painted a less than family friendly picture, making you roll your eyes at the screen.
You recorded a voice memo for him. "You know that he'd need to actually be willing to look at me so that he could see the damage from the blast, right? And last I checked I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm Medusa reincarnated and I'll turn his Asgardian ass to stone."
You went on to the ridiculously stocked pantry to rummage the delivery that came just a few hours ago, trying to find a bag of Jalapeño Cheetos somewhere in the mix, when you heard a tiny meow from somewhere behind you. You looked to the ground to find a black and white munchkin cat looking up at you with wide blue eyes.
"Hi there, baby…" you cooed, surprised the adorable little creature hadn't hissed or scratched at you yet. Cats normally didn't take to you, which was a shame because you often found yourself fighting the urge to pick one up or stroke its head whenever you crossed paths with one during your errand runs. "How'd you get in here?"
The tiny kitten caught you by surprise with what it did next, walking up to your feet and proceeding to rub its cheek against your ankle, a little purr emanating from its small fluffy body. You decided to risk the hissing and scratching and bent down to pick it up, your heart melting once he placed his paws on your cheek and proceeded to nuzzle your face with his nose.
"Aren't you a complete darling." He settled into your arm as you carried him out of the pantry, a little whine escaping him when you placed him down on the counter. He stood on his hind legs and made grabby hands towards you, blue eyes wide and pleading for you to pick him back up. "Just a second, sweet baby, I'm just getting you something to drink."
You took out a tiny sauce dish and poured some cream into it, pushing it toward the kitten that responded with a slow blink and a meow before licking away at the rich liquid.
"I'm sure your owner's gonna crucify me for giving you that but I can't help spoiling little fur babies especially when they're as adorable as you are." You took a sip of the coffee FRIDAY had finished making before shouting out a question for her. "Hey FRIDAY, you have any clue who this little bub belongs to?"
It took a second for her to answer. "Negative, Agent Y/L/N. There is currently no other agent on the premises looking for their pet. I also see no collar on them and from a preliminary scan they do not seem to have a microchip on them."
Those words stopped the kitten from drinking to look up toward the ceiling and hiss at the source of the voice. He only relaxed once you started stroking his fur again, going back to drinking and letting out a few purrs along the way. "No owner, huh? Does that mean I can invoke Finders Keepers then?"
"It appears so, Agent Y/L/N. What would be your new companion's name?"
The kitten looked up at you, as if expecting your answer. You wondered briefly if he could actually understand what it was that you and FRIDAY were talking about. "How about Onyx? I know I know it's absolute garbage for originality to name a black cat after a black gemstone but--"
His eyes widened before he climbed up your arm, only stopping once he'd reached your shoulder to nuzzle at your neck again. "It seems he likes the name, Agent Y/L/N."
"Then it's settled." You placed a soft kiss on top of his head. "Hello there, Onyx."
You brought your new kitten back to your apartment, setting him down on your bed while you tried to take off your sweatshirt as gently as you could manage.
"Ah, fuck it," you hissed as you felt the bruising around your ribs, letting out a pained sound when you opted to whip the garment over your head as fast as you could instead. Your reflection revealed that the bruising on the left side of your torso was quickly becoming a frightening deep purple.
Onyx meowed from your bed, again standing on his back legs and making grabby hands at you, eyes wide with evident pain.
"What's wrong, little baby?" He placed his paws gently on your side when you made your way to him, pressing his nose to the skin near where your bruising began. "Oh don't you worry your pretty little head about those, sweetie. They'll heal…eventually."
He kept on pressing his face to the area, your heart melting for the tiny kitten even more realizing that he was pressing kisses to your wounds.
"You really are such a precious little bub, aren't you?" You picked your new kitten up, placing him on the armchair in your reading nook before setting an alarm for dinner in a few hours and settling into your bed. "Get some sleep, sweet baby Onyx. I'll see you in a few hours."
Your eyes had only closed for a few seconds before you heard another tiny meow followed by a soft thud, immediately making you sit up on the bed looking for the kitten. He'd already made his way to your bedside, standing on his back legs and reaching up trying to climb up the sheets.
"Alrighty then," you mumbled, picking him up and placing him on the pillow beside yours. You rolled over to lay on your right side to remove any pressure to your injuries the best you could, hovering your finger near Onyx's nose once you'd settled in. He leaned up and pressed his nose to your finger, paws kneading on his pillow. "Boop," you giggled. "Sweet dreams, baby."
Just as you'd closed your eyes to try catching an hour or two of rest before you had to eat again and take those pain meds that Banner prescribed you, your phone began to blare Immigrant Song way too loudly by your nightstand. There were only two contacts you gave that ringtone to and one of them was currently out with her girlfriend.
"Talk to me, Thunder," you muttered, groaning when your stretch to reach for your phone made your bruising smart a bit. "You all good over there?"
"Absolutely grand, Lady Y/N," the blond god's voice boomed from the other end. "I was just wondering if you could check on my brother, he refuses to answer his phone yet again."
"That's gonna be a hard pass from me, buddy. I've already been cut and bruised, I'm not too keen to add stabbed to that list. He's probably just practicing spells. Or out on a date." You winced at that last part, an irrational part of you flaring up with unwarranted jealousy at the thought of Loki out with just about anyone. "Just--I don't know, check up on him yourself when you get back. You can take a stab better than me anyways."
Thor sighed loudly, the low rumbling making Onyx step back from his pillow and start hissing at the phone. You stroked the top of his head to calm him down. "Very well then, Lady Y/N. Rest well. We're scheduled to return after nightfall."
"I'll have pizza here waiting for you guys. Bring your own mead." You clicked off and tried to get some sleep, having FRIDAY place an order for pizzas and wings for when the team gets back. Your new kitten padded his way over to you, resting his head on your outstretched arm and letting out a soft purr.
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The sound of the Quinjet coming back roused you from your nap, along with the feel of little paws on your arm and Onyx nuzzling your cheek.
"Looks like everyone's home," you mumbled, pressing a few kisses to the kitten's head before making your way out of bed. "Come on, little baby. Time to meet the team."
With a whole lot of discomfort and groaning, you slipped your sweatshirt back on before presenting your hand to Onyx and patting your shoulder, prompting the kitten to climb up your arm and perch himself on the spot, nuzzling his face behind your ear.
The team had already arrived and filled the common area when you made your way there, some of them helping themselves to the pizza. Barnes and Wilson walked in with coolers, probably filled with chilled bottles of beer inside.
"Hey, there she is!" Shaun exclaimed, pulling out a bottle of Pepsi before making his way over to you and pulling you into an embrace. "How's the healing go--Whoa there." He took a step back as Onyx hissed in his direction. "Where'd you come from, little guy?"
You shh'd the kitten, pressing kisses to his little cheek to calm him down. "It's okay, baby, Shaun is a friend. One of the good guys." You turned back to your mission partner. "Shaun, this is Onyx."
"Always thought you were a dog person, Babes," Natasha spoke up before taking your arm and walking you to the food. "We leave for one day and you become a cat lady. Where'd you even find the time to go to a shelter and get baby blue eyes over here?"
"I didn't, actually," you answered the master assassin. "I just went to the pantry and poof there he was, meowing at my feet. Like the cat distribution system mailed him to me by magic or something." He nuzzled your cheek again before starting to knead at your face.
"And he doesn't belong to anyone? You're sure?" Shaun spoke up, backing up immediately when he tried to pet your new kitten and getting hissed at. "Easy, kitty. I'm a friend, I'm not gonna hurt you." The martial artist turned back to you. "He wasn't collared? Or chipped?"
"Nope. FRIDAY scanned him and everything."
"You wanna think about getting him chipped?"
Onyx hissed again at the question before swishing his tail around to curtain your hair around him, his little body shaking on your shoulder. As if he was silently pleading for you to not take him out to have him chipped.
"Don't you worry, baby. I won't get you chipped, I wouldn't hurt you like that," you cooed, letting out a little giggle as he placed his paws on your cheeks and nuzzled your nose, giving the tip tiny licks. You were so focused on your cat's affections that the bellowing of Thor looking for his brother was a distant muffled noise in the background.
Until he got to where you were standing and his booming voice was impossible to ignore. "What an adorable little beast you have, with you, Lady Y/N." Onyx buried himself in the crook of your neck, shaking at the sound of Thor's voice.
"It's alright, Onyx. It's just Thunder, he may be all big and menacing on the outside but he's just a fluff ball on the inside. Come on, go say hi."
The blond Asgardian approached you, examining your new pet carefully before a knowing grin graced his bearded face. "Hello, Brother."
A chill went down your spine at his words. "What the fuck d'you just say, Blondie?"
He motioned toward the kitten on your shoulder. "This is the explanation for his lack of replies on his phone. His absence from his quarters. Lady Y/N, the little beast hiding himself in your hair…is my brother. That is Loki."
In your stupor, the only words you could manage to say were, "Bitch what?!"
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A/N: Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to the members of SAS, beloved besties, and fellow whores! I've had this idea doing a slow lurky crawl in the microwave that is my writing noggin for the last few months, and I'm so excited that I finally get to share it with y'all! Part 2 is coming in a few days, and then it's a coin toss on whether I'll be trying to end the year with crossing off some things on my writing todo list, or crossing off some titles from my Tumblr TBR 😳👀
everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover
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zeezelweazel · 5 months
Note
Could you write a smut story with a CEO Leah Williamson x reader cuz this pic just gives dom vibes cuz the pics that tonight’s awards gave us were just 🤌🏼
If not it’s totally cool and all is swell xxx
Leah Williamson| Sweet and slow|
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Leah in suits is my Roman empire fr
Turns out Tumblr won't let me edit any ask so I'll have to continue these fics from my pc :(
TW: oral (Leah receiving), praise, fingering (reader receiving), semi public sex
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Dating your boss wasn't really a problem. You two met before you got your job in her company and no matter how much some of your co-workers like to gossip, you got the position you have simply because you deserve it.
As one of the most high ranked people in the company you spent a lot of time with Leah, either in meetings with the rest of the board or alone in her ofice looking over your recent projects.
That's why you weren't surprised when Leah called you in her office. When you entered the room you got to see Leah for the first time at work today. She was wearing an enticing black striped suit with a white undershirt and a black tie. Your girlfriend was sitting in her luxurious leather seat, fingers toying with her tie.
Leah looked at you with a look you immediately recognise, her dark gaze trailing up and down your body. You felt your cunt throb when your eyes met from across the room. You gulped when Leah raised an eyebrow at your lack of words.
"Close the blinds and lock the door."
You did as she said, immediately pressing the button and watched as the room gradually darkened when the blinds fell shut, after hearing the click of the door Leah beckoned you closer.
You could feel just how wet you are while you walk closer to her. When you're close enough Leah takes one of your hands in hers and pulls you to sit on her lap. You gasp after the sudden movement and bite your lip when Leah slowly drags her hand over your hips. She leans closer and places soft kisses on your neck, slowly inching closer to your ear. She bites your ear lobe and you whine when you feel her squeeze at your hips.
"Why don't you get on your knees for me baby? And if you're good I'll give a reward."
It's very pathetic, how fast you fell on your knees for her, but looking up at Leah with her strong gaze and sharp jaw and her blonde hair framing her face the only thing you can think about is how much you're aching for her.
You try not to squeeze your thighs together as you watch from your place on the floor while she slowly unbuttons her trousers. You lick your lips at the sight of her lacy black lingerie and your eyes immediately fall on the wet spot on the fabric. Leah threads a hand through your hair and brings you closer to her dripping pussy. She humms in approval when you go to remove the fabric, not failing to notice the mouth watering way her underwear sticks to her lips from the wetness.
"Be a good girl and eat me out."
You certainly didn't need to be told twice. You drag your tongue through her folds, relishing in Leah's soft moan. Her beautiful sounds only spur you on as you lick her and slurp her sweet juices with vigor. You know not to tease Leah so when her hands tighten in your hair you immediately take her clit in your mouth, sucking softly. Leah's back arches off the chair and her her legs squeeze at your head.
"Fuck, that's it baby. My good girl."
You moan against her cunt at the sweet praise and look up at her only to moan again at the sight of Leah with her blazer completely disregarded and her shirt unbuttoned all the way. Her tie is now loose and hangs between her lacy black bra. Leah is squeezing at her breast through the bra and pulling at her nipple while you continue your ministrations. You know she's close when she starts grinding her pussy on your face, her fingers holding you tight against her when she comes, liquid gushing out against your face while Leah lets out a couple of groans alongside a string of curses.
You pull back when she finally loosens her grip on your head. You smile up at her, face glisening with her slick and Leah groans, pulling you up and connecting your lips on a heated kiss. You push Leah's shirt of her shoulders but when you go to remove her bra she pulls back with a bite on your lower lip, leaving you whining.
"Time for your reward baby doll."
Leah spins you around before you can say anything. Soon she's unzipping your pencil skirt and gropping your chest over your top.
"Leah please..."
She smirks against your neck when you plead for her. It turns her on so much when you beg and you know it.
"What do you want love?"
You moan when Leah rubs soft circles over your clothed clit. Her lips still bitting your neck and creating hickies that you don't know if you'll be able to cover.
"I need your fingers Leah, please I need it so bad."
Leah doesn't seem to be in a mood for teasing, this is supposed to be a reward after all, so she removes your underwear and runs her fingers through your wet folds just to make sure they're wet enough before she shoves two in your throbbing pussy.
You moan loudly when Leah moves her fingers in you hard and fast, her second hand coming down to play with your sensitive clit. Her mouth has abandoned your neck to move further up so Leah can whisper soft praises in your ear. Her words only push you closer to the edge. Your moans are louder now but you're too far gone into pleasure to think about the fact that anyone could hear you.
"Fuck, Leah! I'm so close, please, don't stop!"
Leah doesn't stop, instead she moves her fingers much faster than before. You're now bend over the desk as Leah fucks you from behind, her slender hands never letting up in their movements.
It takes a few more thrusts and soon your legs are clamping down, trapping her hand between your thighs as your whole body shakes with the power of your orgasm.
Leah slows down but keeps moving her fingers, helping you ride out your orgasm. You go limp against her desk simply taking a few moments to catch your breath. Leah pecks your cheek and you smile.
"You okay, doll?"
"Fuck, we need to do this more often."
____________________________________________________
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hobicakess · 1 year
Text
RED CHOPSTICKS | Min Yoongi
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SUMMARY: Now everytime you see chopsticks, you'll think of him.
RATING: 18+  (i am not a babysitter, you are in control of what you consume.)
PAIRING: Yoongi x reader
BOOK MENTIONS:  | Violence | Cursing | Gangster Yoongi | Thick Reader | Smut | BackShoots | Choking | Blood mention | Ass Slapping | Cigarettes | Chopstick To The Eye | Reader Body Type Is Heavily Mentioned | Readers Skin Is Brown | Small Shooting Threats | I suck at tags help
A/N: All this yoongi content is driving me insane and I'm a greedy whore so I wrote this little thing, please enjoy.
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Chopping it up with your friends at a restaurant you found while roaming the streets, it felt like a normal Saturday evening. You dropped your chopsticks in the leftover broth from your ramen, going to wipe your face with a random napkin when the ding of a new customer coming in caught your attention. 
The four men of great beauty and intimidating aura as they followed the lead of the long dark-haired man with pretty pale skin dressed in a blue jacket, hands deep in his pockets as his tongue worked the inside of his mouth. He walked down the aisles until his presence loomed over you and your friends. 
Up close, you could see the long scar going up his cheek ,as his eyes ogled you, then his gaze set on your lone pair of chopsticks.His pink tongue appeared as it ran along his lips. “Using this doll?” 
Blinking at him dumbly, you look down at the utensils. “What do you need them for?” his fingers lift your head up tilted in the direction of the stubby older man seated in the corner furthest from you. 
Brows furrowing, you look up at him, but you are met with nothing but a gummy smirk as he slides the red sticks from your bowl, wiping the excess broth from it with the bottom of his white t-shirt. 
“Thanks doll, I’ll take you out somewhere nicer soon” 
His attention turns to your friend group as he sends a wink, their way standing to his full height lazily walking over to said man. Watching his eyes widen in recognition, the conversion was short and looked heated, ending in the black-haired man shoving chopsticks deep into the older one's eye socket. 
Screams rang out through the establishment while everyone rushed outside as fighting between his men and others began.His laughter was loud as his intense gaze set back onto you. Blood splattered in his cheeks as he pointed at you. 
“Soon.” was all he said as he walked calmly through the chaos up the stairs. 
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And find you he did, after weeks of looking over your shoulder in hopes that the man popped up randomly. You thought you were going crazy but the attraction to a cold-blooded murder? Was there? Remembering the way he worked with so much confidence and his face? 
The face of an angel and the actions of a devil. Walking out of your job for a smoke break, you had the bud on your lips as you cursed at your lighter for being dead. “Need a light, dolly?”
You gasp, looking to your left and seeing him, hair flowy and wet jeans ripped, his flower-designed shirt unbuttoned showing his white wife-beater. “It’s you” sounding breathless as he smirked at you with his own cigarette hanging from his lips. 
Realizing you dropped yours, you cursed, “They aren't good for you anyways..” awkwardly laughing as he walked up to you, looming over you with a tilted head as he lit the stick, taking a puff, blowing it at you, causing you to cough.
“Cute.” eyes going over your body, you felt self-concussion, wiping your sweaty palms on your apron.
 “Let's get out of here” he says, this time blowing the smoke to the side. “Like now? I can’t just leave, I have a client coming in an hour.”  you frantically ramble off causing him to hum.
 “You've been waiting for me, haven't you? So let's go now.”
Your face fills with heat, palms turning red and clasping behind your back. “I just can't now, they're looking for a reason to fire me.” 
“Hmm well, I'll just shoot up the place for you when that happens.” Your eyes go wide. 
A hand gripping onto the front of his shirt. “Noo, that's not necessary.”
“I'm joking, doll, live a little”his shoulder-shaking in humor.
 “Hell I'll open a new salon and you'll be in charge or somethin” Giggling, you shake your head, “You’d do that? I don’t even know your name.
“I go by Suga on the streets but you call me Yoongi, you'll be saying it often” a gummy smirk flashed as his eyes fell low and dark. “Oh really now?” 
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You come to find out that Yoongi wasn't a man that didn't keep his word as he had you bent over his bed, one of his hands digging deep into your thick and meaty hips while the other pressed into your back, forcing you to keep your back into a deep arch.
His hips snapping into your ass while all you could do is whine and cry his name as his perfectly curved cock slides through your wet gummy walls. “Fuckk baby, gripping me like you love me.” 
Yoongi eyes so deeply fixated on the sight of your creamy brown pussy gripping his pale cock, sucking him in with the lewdest noises. The feeling of him fucking your guts becomes too much as you wiggle your way off some dick so you can breathe properly, but Mr.Min wasn't having none of it. 
“Dont fucking run, momma”. He smacked your ass, then his arm snaked under you to pull you up to his chest, spreading your thick brown thighs wider, feeling him deep in your stomach. 
 “Take it all like a good girl” ringed fingers gripping your neck, lips capturing yours. You squeal his name when you come, liquid coating both of your lower bodies. He groaned into your mouth, his other hand coming to your full breast squeezing tightly as his hips slowed and  stuttered from your vise grip on his dick. 
“Shit” he hissed, using all his willpower not to cum inside you as he pulled out comin on your pussy instead, he held you there for a second, breathing heavily together the pressed a kiss on your hickey-covered neck. 
When he loosened his grip on you, you fell forward and a tired whine left you as yoongi stood behind you and smacked your sore ass with a chuckle. Wiping you and himself down, he laid beside you with one arm wrapped around you while he held a cigarette in his other hand as you pressed your naked body on his side.
“Yoon” he smiled a bit at the nickname,humming,
“How come you got away with the chopstick thing?” 
“My brothers a cop” makes sense.
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visualtaehyun · 3 months
Text
MY GIRLS ARE FINALLY ON AIR
Disclaimer: not a native Thai speaker, still learning 🙏
Ongsa and Sun
At first, Ongsa wrongly assumes that Sun is older so she calls her พี่ /phi/, speaks respectfully and wais her:
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ขอโทษค่ะพี่ /khaaw thoht kha, phi/
Then they settle into these pronouns:
☀ Sun: เรา /rao/ -> Ongsa (calls her เธอ /ter/ once when she asks her name)
🌐 Ongsa: เรา /rao/ -> Sun
-> เรา /rao/ is an informal 1st pers. pronoun that pretty much all the students in Ongsa's class seem to use
Later, when they're texting, it takes Ongsa entirely too long to catch onto the fact that Sun thinks Earth is a guy because-
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คุยกันมาตั้งนาน เรายังไม่รู้เลยว่านายชื่ออะไร /khui gan maa dtang naan. rao yang mai ruu loei waa naai cheuu a rai/ -> นาย /naai/ is a male 2nd pers. pronoun
While we're talking about their texts, the subs have this weirdly mixed up:
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1 - ฝันดีนะ /fan dee na/ = lit. dream well/good dreams, 'Sweet dreams' 2 - ราตรีสวัสดิ์ /raa dtree sa wat/ = formal, 'Good night' 3 - Similarly, Sun's มอนิ่งนะ /morning na/ is a more informal 'Good morning' compared to formal อรุณสวัสดิ์ /a roon sa wat/ or polite สวัสดีตอนเช้า /sa wat dee dtaawn chaao/
When Ongsa isn't gay-panic hiccupping, she's actually really clever and witty! I'll get to her ig posts in a second but there's also this moment:
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ยังสวยอยู่เลย /yang suay yuu loei/ สวยจะ หมายถึง ซวยอ่ะ /suay ja- maai theung- suay a/
The difference in pronunciation between these two words is just the tone - สวย /suay/ (rising tone) means pretty vs. ซวย /suay/ (middle tone) means unlucky
from.the.earth__
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ถ่ายรูป ด่วน สี-ขาวดำ /thaai ruup duaan see khaao dam/ = urgent/express black-and-white photography caption: ยกกล้องมาถ่ายแทบไม่ทัน /yohk glaawng maa thaai thaaep mai than/ = almost didn't raise the camera in time to snap this
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caption: เงา-เหงา /ngao-ngao/ = shadow-lonely -> เงา ๆ /ngao ngao/ is an expression that means indistinctly, faintly
The difference in pronunciation is, again, in the tones - เงา /ngao/ (middle tone) means shadow vs. เหงา /ngao/ (rising tone) means lonely
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caption: ว้าว! ปลาทับใจจัง /wow! bplaa thap jai jang/
I love this SO much omg It's a pun on ประทับใจ /bpra thap jai/ = impressed, but also a visual pun!!
ปลา /bplaa/ = fish + ทับ /thap/ = placed on top of + ใจ /jai/ = heart
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caption: สู้ ๆ นะ เป็นกำลังใจให้ /su su na. bpen gam lang jai hai/ = Fighting! Rooting for/encouraging [you]!
Another visual pun! This one's only funny if you know what peaches are called in Thai: peach = ลูกท้อ /luuk thaaw/ - but the word ท้อ /thaaw/ in there? It means discouraged!
Alpha, Aylin, and Luna
🔝 Alpha is Ongsa's older sister: พี่ /phi/ (used as a 1st pers. pronoun) -> แก /gae/ (informal 2nd pers. pronoun)
👽 Aylin is their cousin, in the same grade as Ongsa, and speaks pretty curtly, almost like someone would on two-way radio: she doesn't use any pronouns apart from this once-
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แกกำลังบุกรุกที่ของฉัน /gae gam lang book rook thee khaawng chan/
Omitting pronouns is possible and not uncommon in Thai but doing so constantly, combined with her monotone speech pattern, low voice, and mostly a lack of ending particles, it does stick out! It doesn't really come across in the subs tbh (apart from including the way she refers to people as humans = มนุษย์ /ma noot/):
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ไม่ต้องแคร์ใคร /mai dtaawng care khrai/ = Don't need to care about anyone.
🌙 Luna, Alpha, the two bullies, and Mawin all seem to be in the same grade because all of them use the impolite pronouns กู/มึง /guu, meung/ (=I/you) amongst each other - how very fun to finally hear some GMMTV girls talk like this :D
I love Alpha and Luna teaming up to beat up scold these two dipshits:
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Alpha: พวกมึงสองคนแกล้งน้องกูออ /phuuak meung saawng khohn glaaeng nong guu aaw/ Mawin, trying to defuse: พวกเธอใจเย็นก่อน /phuuak ter jai yen gaawn/
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While the girls are furious, the guys are clearly fearing for their lives, wai'ing endlessly 😂
Lastly-
Sarah Salola
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I gasped when I saw her name in the credits!! She's this handsome singer-songwriter with a lovely voice who's queer herself - she's talked about her sexuality and style before (interview is in Thai) but this Valentine's she revealed her partner :)
Here's a cover of Nont Tanont's รักแรก (First Love) she did with Jan 💕
youtube
Needless to say, I can't wait for her OST and the accompanying MV that's surely gonna be super cute!
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billys-pretty-babe · 2 months
Text
Favorite Thing You Love To Do
Pairing : Older!Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader
Summary : A simple little gift for Billy gets him unbelievably turned on.
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Warnings : swearing, smut (oral - fem! receiving, unprotected piv, multiple orgasms -> squirting, restraints - under the bed system, billy has a jacob's ladder piercing), age gap (billy is 37, reader is 27) aftercare, billy makes a pegging joke
Word count : 3,740
A/N : this is very dirty and very self indulgent, sorry
Title is inspired by Everything I Wanna Do by Nickelback (X)
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You looked at the pictures that Nancy Wheeler had helped you develop, neither of you letting Jonathan see the raunchy pictures of you on Billy's car. They had a film developing room in their house which you were very fortunate for.
You watched the pictures dry as Nancy stood next to you, her jaw dropping as the first one developed and you laughed. Robin had helped you with the pictures considering she and Billy weren't close in the slightest.
The picture became more and more visible, showing you in one of his white shirts that had oil stains from working on cars for the past ten plus years, your legs were slightly open, showing the black lace underwear that you were wearing. "Hope you liked walking," Nancy said, giggling a little. You laughed and watched the other pictures develop.
She helped you collect them carefully so they wouldn't damage and soon you were on your way back to Billy's house. He stood in the driveway, washing his car, his hair pulled back and shirtless, showing all of the tattoos he had.
He looked at you, winking as he puffed on a cigarette. You got out of your car, walking to him and kissing his bearded jaw. "I'll be back." He nodded and you walked inside, putting the pictures in his room on his bed, spacing them out.
You walked back outside, watching him wash his car. "Think you missed a spot," you said. He glanced at you, turning the hose at you, getting your shirt wet. Your jaw dropped and he laughed, dropping his own jaw to mock you. He finished up, drying his car off and he made you move so he could put his car back into the garage.
He left the garage door open and got out of the car, wiping down his sweaty body. He walked over to you, wiping your face gently from where he sprayed you with hose water. He leaned down slightly, tilting your head up and kissed you. "Got ya somethin'," you said against his lips. He hummed, pecking your lips a few times before pulling away from you.
You grabbed his hand, walking into the house and leading him to his room. "If you're sticking something in my ass, I appreciate the sentiment babe, but you're not sticking anything up there. you're lucky I even put up with you spanking me." You laughed, shaking your head.
"Close your eyes," you said and made sure he shut his eyes before guiding him into the bedroom. You put him in front of the bed and moved so you were behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist, "Open 'em," you said before kissing the birthmark on his shoulder.
He opened his eyes, letting them adjust for a few seconds before he picked up one of the pictures. He held it close to his face, looking at how prominent your features were.
You were laid out on the hood of his car, his shirt right below your breasts, your ass was on the hood, your legs slightly open. He whistled, putting it down gently before picking up the next one. You weren't in this one, but the window was foggy with a heart and two dots in the middle, he knew just from the distance between the dots what created them.
"I took that one myself," you said against his warm skin, your hand running down his toned stomach, your nails scratching at his happy trail that he couldn't be bothered to trim or shave off. He hummed, "That one might have to go in my office." He put it down, picking up a different one.
"Jackpot," he said, looking at the picture of you bent over his hood, your ass on display as you wore his favorite pair of heels. The shirt was wet, the hood of his car was wet, and the shirt was very much see-through, the shirt clinging to your breasts. He continued looking at the pictures and put one on his bedside, putting the others on his desk, mumbling about hanging them up in various places.
He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you into his lap. You laughed when you felt his erection, "I assume you like the pictures." He laughed, "Like is an understatement, babe," he said before peppering a few kisses to your jaw and behind your ear.
"Whatcha want in return, baby," he asked in your ear, placing a kiss on your earlobe. You shivered at his voice, "Whatever you'll give me." He smirked against your skin, his teeth latching onto a spot on your neck as he began sucking at it, his tongue licking where his teeth marks were.
"Should fuck you on the hood of Baby Blue, that'll be for another day," he said, his hands gripping your ass. "Can't believe you did that, you fucking knew the reaction you would get, fuckin' minx." You laughed, grabbing his cheeks and kissing him.
You pulled away, looking at him, "You love it though." He hummed, "Guess so," he said as one of his hands moved before quickly slapping under your ass. He rubbed the spot, peering at you through his lashes. You rubbed his chin, eyes going to the little gray patches.
"Love these," you murmured, gently pulling on them. He hummed, kissing your skin, letting his lips wander to the top of your tits as he licked and sucked on the skin. You pulled his thick hair and he moved, a string of spit connecting his bottom lip to the top of your tit.
"I need you on my face," he said, his voice dripping with lust. That piqued your interest, you had never done that before. "Okay," you murmured. He helped you take off your clothes and he left your underwear on, moving you so you were laying on your back on the large bed. He kissed down your body, grabbing the elastic in between his teeth as he pulled the fabric down, laying a quick kiss to your clit as it peeked between your folds.
He moved so he was laying down in his boxers, throwing the pillows to the ground. "Come 'ere, pretty baby." His voice alone could get you off. He put his hand out to you, a few rings decorated his veiny hands along with a couple of tattoos, miniscule ones that held very little meaning.
You took his hand as he guided you to hover over his face. His hands grabbed your thighs as he looked up at you. "Sit down." You lowered yourself just a little and his eyes squinted, "Sit, don't hover. I don't do that hovering shit. If you suffocate me, then great. Put it on my headstone to let everyone know I went out eating your pussy." You gasped at his vulgarity before lowering yourself more, feeling his nose and he pulled you down the rest of the way.
His tongue was immediately licking up the slick that was dripping from you. Your right hand sat on his forehead as your fingers tangled into his roots, your left hand going to the headboard and holding onto the metal bar.
Two of the straps from the under the bed restraints were threaded through the bars. Your head was already fuzzy as he licked your clit. The sounds were loud, he was moaning against you, the vibrations stimulating your clit. It was messy, you knew that when you heard the squelch of two fingers entering you.
"Billy," you moaned, gripping his hair tighter, your head falling forward to the black wall. Your hips rocked and he pushed you up just a little to catch his breath and speak, "There you go, fuck my face, baby," he said before kissing your thigh, using one of his hands to steadily fuck you with as he lowered you back down with the other.
His teeth lightly grazed your clit before wrapping his lips around it once more. You were sure you were getting beard burn and simultaneously bleaching his beard, but that was a problem for another day. "Billy, please. Oh fuck," you whimpered, moving your hips a little faster, doing your best to keep your composure, while also trying to be mindful of the death grip you had on his hair.
He let go of your clit, kissing it as he pulled his fingers out of you, his hand grabbing your ass and you felt your slick on your warm skin. His tongue licked up the mess you had created. Your thighs were shaking a little and he moved his lips back to your clit, humming around it, his tongue flicking over it a few times.
"Fuck," you moaned loudly, your head going back as your back arched. Your hips slowly slowed down and once they were at a complete stop, you put your head against the wall, trying to catch your breath. He snickered, gently pushing you off of his face, letting you gently fall onto the mattress.
"Thoroughly fucked out, just the way I like it," he said as he wiped his beard. You glanced at him, "We're so doing that again." He laughed, "Whatever you say, honey." You leaned over and kissed him, your nails going down his chest as you snapped the elastic of his boxers onto his skin.
He shivered, pulling you closer to him as he deepened the kiss, holding you as close as possible. You helped him take his boxers off, your hand immediately gripping his base, the curls decorating it brushed against your hand. The silver balls that decorated his shaft were warm in your hand and he shivered.
The Jacob's Ladder piercing was something stupid Billy got when he was eighteen. His tattoo was to rebel, but so was the piercing. It went from his base to right under his tip, and it provided the best stimulation for you. The first time you slept with him, the same night you lost your virginity to him, you were scared the piercing would hurt you and ripped stuff it wasn't meant to.
He assured you nothing would rip besides your hymen, not once have you regretted losing your virginity to him, you practically begged for another round right after just to feel the jewelry rub against your g-spot.
"Billy," you murmured against his lips before gently biting his bottom lip, pulling a little so it snapped back. He hummed, his eyes fluttering open as he looked at you. Your heart raced with love and lust, needing him inside of you, but also needing to be in his arms, safe and sound.
"Tell me what you need, and you'll get it," he said, his hand rubbing your back. The moment was the calm before the storm, the two of you knew that and you were both soaking in it. "Just need you, all of you," your voice was a little whiny, filled with desperation. He softly hushed you, still rubbing your back.
"Get in whatever position you want." You nodded, moving so you were on your knees, your chest pressed into the mattress. Billy grabbed one of the pillows from the floor. He reached under your chest, gently bringing you up as he put the pillow down so your chest wouldn't hurt that badly. He grabbed the velvet lined restraints, "Can we use these?" You quickly nodded. He leaned over you, pressing his hips against your butt as he grabbed your chin, tilting your head back, "Words baby, you know I need verbal consent." You nodded once again, "I wanna use them."
He nodded, leaning down and kissing the tip of your nose before pecking your lips and he let your chin go as he unwound the restraints from the headboard. You happily put your arms out and he chuckled, taking your left wrist and sliding it through the restraint as he tightened the plastic buckle which in turn tightened the cuff around your wrist.
"Flex your fingers for me." You flexed your fingers. "Do they tingle?" You shook your head, "Uh uh." He nodded, doing your right wrist, doing the same blood flow check. He kissed your cheek and moved behind you once again. He grabbed your hips, moving your knees so your ass was higher in the air.
He leaned over you, kissing the dip between your shoulder blades and you hummed in delight. He moved your legs a little, spreading them a little more and he held the small of your back. "You ready for me, baby?" You nodded quickly and he laid a smack to the side of your ass. "Words, come on. I'm not telling you again." You shivered at his words, feeling a steady leak of your arousal.
"I'm ready, please. I need you so much." He chuckled, gently patting the side of your ass that he had spanked. "Sound so pretty when you're begging," he murmured, dipping his head down to kiss your lower back before he straightened up.
You felt his tip at your entrance and hummed, letting your eyes close as you rested your head on your arms. He slowly pushed in before groaning when you tightened around him. "Baby, relax. I know it's deeper in this position, but I can't move, gripping me like a fuckin' vice."
He licked the pad of his finger, reaching around your thigh and pressing his finger to your clit, rubbing small circles on it. You whined a little, kicking your feet at the unexpected stimulation. He kept pushing his hips forward, "There we go, doing so fucking good baby." You moaned his name when his hips were pressed against your ass.
He used a slow pace at first, letting you get used to everything before he quickened his thrusts. Your fingers gripped the black straps of the restraints. "Billy, oh fuck please," you moaned, your eyes were shut tight. His hands dug into your hips, his fingers would leave bruises, but you didn't care.
"That's it, good girl. Taking my cock so good, huh?" He saw the way your hands were shaking as you grasped the black straps tightly. "Easy baby, ease up on your grip. I don't want you getting hurt," he said as he rubbed the side of your body. He waited until your fingers were detached from the strap before starting his fast pace once more.
He felt the way you clenched around him and he let out a moan of your name. "Go ahead, let go for me." You kicked your right foot, moaning into the mattress as you did what he asked of you. Everything went numb as Billy slowed his pace so as to not overstimulate you too quickly. "There we go, that was good." You lifted your head out of the mattress, your mascara and eyeliner were fucked, but Billy still thought you were the most ethereal woman in the world.
"Keep going, please." He chuckled, rubbing your back. "Didn't plan on stopping," he said before starting his pace back up. It was messy, his skin was sticking to yours, his balls were slapping against your wet clit, in turn making the skin on his sac wet. "God baby, you're so good to me," he moaned, lowering his head slightly to catch his breath and trying to keep his composure.
The way he moaned made you clench again, the loud squelches he was pulling from your body had filled the room with your pretty moans and his desperate moans and grunts. He leaned over you, kissing your back. His pace slowed, but the thrusts were still hard and deep.
They were deep and hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs, each thrust you let out little "uh" sounds. "That's it, making such pretty sounds for me." You whimpered, moving so you were resting on your cheek. He took this chance to move his own head and kiss you. It wasn't the most comfortable position, especially for his back and knees, but he would do anything for you, even if it would cause him pain.
"I love you," he said as he looked into your eyes when he pulled his lips away from yours. You smiled, you were cock drunk and you were pretty sure you looked stupid, but that didn't matter. "I love you too," you said. You attempted to lift your hand up to push his hair out of his face, but the straps got in the way. He moved his right hand to the strap and loosened the plastic buckle and you pulled your arm out of it, pushing his sweaty hair back and you admired him.
Despite this being one of the most intense sexual sessions the two of you have had, it was still filled with love and admiration. His thumb rubbed at the side of your lip, kissing you once more before straightening himself out, giving you a few thrusts that were fast paced. The headboard knocked against the black painted wall, a few chips of paint falling.
You whimpered, attempting to shut your legs. He slowed down, "Talk to me baby," he said as he checked in with you. "Do I need to stop?" You shook your head, "Sensitive." He nodded, "I know baby, I know." He rubbed your back, going back to his slow and hard thrusts. Your ass jiggled against his body, and he watched, deeply enamored with the way your body moved.
He knew by the way you were clenching that you were about to have another orgasm. "Give me another one, babe. Doing so good for me," he praised you. He talked you through your high, rubbing your back and kissing your hot skin.
He slid your arms out of the restraints, tossing the straps backwards as they fell behind the headboard. He gently pulled out, seeing the mess on him and you as he gently rolled you over. He leaned over you, his hand on your face as you felt the pressure of his body on yours. "Hi baby," he said softly, pecking your lips. "Think you can give me one more?" You quickly nodded, not wanting this to end. "Alright babe, just lay there and look pretty for me."
You nodded again and he moved your legs apart, whistling softly. Your clit was puffy, your inner thighs were wet and your slit was steadily dribbling arousal. "Fucking shit," he moaned. He felt his cock twitch. "Where am I cummin' baby?" You hummed, "Inside," you said. Your voice was a little raspy from all of the moans.
He nodded, wrapping your legs around his waist before sliding into you once more. You were unbelievably wet, and you were sure that when your head cleared up you would be embarrassed at the noises your pussy made, but right now you couldn't even think about it.
He began rocking into you, using slow and deep thrusts. You held his face and kissed him before your hands made their way to his back, digging your nails in and scratching as far down as you could reach.
He hissed a little into your mouth before moaning softly. His hips stuttered a little before he stopped, taking a few seconds to collect himself. Billy had a saying in the bedroom, "Good girls cum come first." It was written right above the bed with metal that he had welded together.
He moved, straightening his posture so he could have a good grip on you as he began thrusting like his life depended on it. Your head went back as you gripped one of the metal bars of the headboard. "Let me have it, come on baby." The squelches got louder and something else alarmed you, a warm sensation in your lower belly. "Billy, wait, stop." Alarms went off in his head as he immediately stopped. "What happened? Did I hurt you?" You quickly shook your head, "I think I have to pee," you mumbled. You were embarrassed.
"Hey," he softly said, "It's not pee, baby. I promise, just let yourself go, alright?" You nodded, trusting him. He held your hand, kissing your knuckles before resuming his pace. He watched the way your body twitched and tensed, noting the way your tits were jiggling. You let out a moan that sounded like a borderline cry and he looked down where the two of you were connected.
He watched the way your clit pulsated right before the small gush happened. He moaned, feeling your squirt hit his lower stomach as he twitched inside of you. "Oh fuck baby, I'm cumming." He bowed his head down, his thrusts were sloppy as he came inside of you. It was warm and you moaned with the twitch of his cock.
When he was done, he gently pulled out, watching as the white substance had pooled to your entrance. He used two of his fingers to fuck it back into you before pulling them out. He moved up to you, tapping your lips and you opened your mouth, accepting the fingers before greedily sucking them.
He pulled his fingers from your mouth, shivering as your teeth grazed his pads. He leaned down and kissed you, pulling you close to his body. He did a quick inspection, seeing if he was too rough with any part of your body. He rubbed the little bruises on your hips and your inner thighs.
"I'll be right back." He got up, slipped into a pair of shorts as he walked into the bathroom, wet a rag with warm water as he rung it out before walking to you and wiping you down. He tossed the rag in a hamper and pulled you close. "Gotta pee," you said. He nodded, "I know baby, just lay here for a few minutes to calm down." You nodded, holding onto him and he kissed the top of your head.
"Was I too rough?" You shook your head, snuggling up to him so your head was right under his chin as you closed your eyes, letting your body get warmed up by his. Your breathing evened out after a few minutes and he laughed, knowing you had fallen asleep. He rubbed your back gently as he grabbed the blanket he had thrown onto the floor as he covered the two of you up with it. "I love you," he murmured, holding you close as his hands gently kneaded at some of your muscles.
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