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britneyinthewall · 2 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Formula 1 RPF Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jenson Button/Nico Rosberg Characters: Nico Rosberg, Jenson Button Additional Tags: princess cake, peep the random icarus reference I was feeling angsty, They are gay, and sad, but also happy now, This takes place right before Nico winning the championship Summary:

When he was younger a story that always stuck in his head was the story of Icarus, not because the story was particularly interesting or amazing but because whenever he imagined Icarus falling from the sky it was always in front of the Monaco sun. He imagined the boy falling in front of the cityscape, in front of the low mountains and span of buildings, in front of groups of people and the boats passing by. He imagined Icarus falling with a crowd to watch, he imagined the wax wings melting onto the docs at the harbor, and on the sails of boats before Icarus himself would fall into the blue-green water, lost in the sea for all of Monaco to watch. He also thought of the story a lot because he saw himself in Icarus.

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He feels the first chill in the air

The first frost of the season

He feels how the breezy night air carried by the ocean makes the hairs on his arm stand up, how it swirls his hair out of place and fills his lungs with a chill sensation. He watches as the waves lap lazily in the distance, and a seabird flies past the moon that sheds a blue light on the coastal city, the warm-toned street lights creating a contrast with the cool moonlight. Monaco is never loud at night, no matter what parties are blasting with music or what club has the latest new DJ pounding their music out on mega speakers the streets are always soundless, the only noise to fill them is the stroll of cars and the footsteps of people every so often.

Up on his balcony, it truly is silent, but he relishes in the peace it gives him as he leans out of the rail, watching the empty streets. He knows these streets by heart, from his morning jogs to his lifetime ago wins to his childhood, these streets have shaped him. They have molded him into who he is now, and he thinks while he watches the empty streets he should thank them. He knows Monaco isn't the grandest or the most beautiful city but in his heart, he feels its the best, its business in the day and its sereneness in the night, the sunsets that always picture-worthy, and the bright mornings that gave way to so many wonderful races over the years.

He knows it's late, and that his bedroom clock is blinking a red light of two or three am but outside in the night where his senses reach a place of calm he thinks he could get lost in this moment forever. He thinks that he may want to stay in this moment forever, a peaceful moment that leaves his head in a floaty space forever, where all his worries and troubles don't exist or bother him. He wonders for a passing moment that if he left the world then, dropping from the balcony like Icarus with his melting wings if he would forever be trapped in this moment of tranquility, that maybe even though the night air would keep his wax wings from melting he would drop anyways because perhaps he didn't want to fly anymore, but the thought leaves as fast as it had arrived. He knows a younger version of himself would have actually pondered on that thought, may have even looked over the edge of the rail at the drop into the moonlit garden at the bottom but now with lines on his face and a wiser headspace he doesn't stop to think about it and instead opts to shut his eyes as the breeze picks up again.

“Nico?”

He turns his head to face the voice, and he is met with the face of a sleepy-looking Jenson, whose short hair is up in messy tufts that go in all different directions. As the moonlight highlights Jenson's face, the lines of age dance across his features become more pronounced, along with the three-day-old stubble as the freckles that glide over the highs of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose fade out under the brightness. His warm eyes now tinder with blue are still somewhat shut, and he lets out a yawn before making his way towards the balcony, not waiting for an answer as he slides up behind Nico. He can feel Jensen's warm hands reach under his shirt and press lightly on his stomach, leaving a burning feeling that Nico leans into as Jenson rests his head in the crook of Nico’s shoulder, and the shadows of the figures in the light become a mess of shapes lumped together as one. They stay silent for a while, letting the sounds of the night fill the space instead of their words until Jenson lets out a small yawn and without lifting his head speaks.

“You should be asleep, you need all the rest you can get before next Sunday”

“Can’t” Is all he can muster up, because truly he can't sleep as the second his eyes shut the flash of fears and doubts and worries that twist his organs and clog his head come to life, and this moment had been the only sense of true peace he has felt in a long time. He knows it's not the answer Jenson is looking for, but he also knows it's probably the answer Jenson expected. The taller man lets out a huff and lifts his head up to look at Nico, a soft expression on his face that makes Nico’s heart melt in a way he’s slowly becoming used to and he thinks even with all the lines of age and stress that have become ingrained into Jensons skin the man still looks like the same Jenson he met all those years ago, the same prince charming look to his features that drew Nico in and kept him close.

“Well it's three in the morning so whether you want to or not we are going back to bed”

“We?”

“We.”

Even though Jenson says this neither make the motion to move, and Nico feels like he’s been lulled to sleep standing with the night air on his face and the warmth of Jenson's body on his back, and the way Jenson's arms wrap around his torso and hold him feel better than any kind of blanket he could own, and the way Jenson's head rests against his is more comforting than any pillow he has ever had. Finally, Jenson starts to move back towards the inside of the apartment, and even though the Monaco air is calling his name and the wind tries to trap him where he stood he follows behind Jenson, their hands still interlocked as they move as one.

The apartment is much stiller, the air is warmer, and while still calm overwhelmed his senses. Jenson leads them to their bedroom, where the moonlight, now dimmer shines over their bedsheets and leaves a glow similar to a halo around their heads and Nico thinks Jenson in the light looks more angelic than any biblical angel ever thought of, and Nico thinks that if he was religious enough to devout his entire beliefs towards one person it would be the man in front of him, the man that is now pulling them both on to the bed. The sheets now cold from his departure earlier in the night chill is skin, but leave a peacefully cool feeling on his head as Jenson grabs the blanket to cover him with a smile small yet peaceful on his lips.

“You were out there for so long, wouldn’t want you to catch a cold” Jenson says as he then pulls the blanket over himself and Nico thinks Jenson is wrong, because he would be happily sick if it meant Jenson would be the one caring for him, but he knows Jenson would disagree with him being sick in the first place so he keeps the blanket over himself. The room is quiet as they become one again, a heap of limb interlocked as the lateness of the night quickly draws in sleep, and while he struggles to keep his eyes open and he hears his partners breath even out while holding him close he thinks of years spent away from one another. He had been off chasing a hopeless dream, a childhood dream that was a dead end, and Jenson had been right there behind.

But he’s here now, and in the serene moment that is them together in bed, where the moonlight creates an aura of blue around his lover and the warmth of their bodies drags him to sleep, he wonders if when icarus fell was there someone to catch him and nurse his wounds, to hold him tight when the burn of the sun much brighter than he could ever be scars him beyond repair, to tell him he was loved even when he fell from his own fault. Nico thinks that Icarus did have that someone and that the someone now holds them both tight in their arms, and never let's go afraid of them falling again.

#yeah i wrote it #lowkey proud of this one #princess cake my beloveds #my blorbos #my everything #they mean so much to me

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acorviart · 4 months

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everyone should attempt an artisan craft at some point in their life because it would cut down the number of comments questioning why handmade goods like ceramics or textile craft or woodworking are so expensive

and this is an unrealistic expectation, but I think the attempt should include seeing through to the end at least one "finished" item, no matter how clumsy or lumpy your first attempts might be. like to me, there's a huge difference in perspective between attempting to learn how to crochet or throw a pot for a few days, acknowledging that it's harder than it looks and giving up, versus committing to finishing that scarf or clay pot you started and working on it for weeks while you painstakingly learn from your mistakes and grow attached to your project while also simultaneously hating it.

once you finish the latter, your perspective changes from "why does this crocheted blanket cost $200" to "holy shit I can't believe they're charging $200 for this crocheted blanket instead of $2000" because you may have known crocheting is hard, you may have easily agreed with the idea that "handmade goods take time and effort" even before attempting a craft, but now you know firsthand the absolute time sink it takes to make things. like yeah dude, that one item took you 2 months to make and probably wasn't even an ultra complex item if it was the first thing you made, now imagine attaching an hourly wage to that time to calculate the cost (and this is ignoring every nuance of the artistic element and master crafters being able to work faster/charge higher because of their years and years of experience)

anyway this rant has been motivated by a comment I saw on someone else's ceramic post asking why a mug was $60 and they understand it's handmade but $60 just seems overpriced, and bro do you know how long ceramics take to make. that mug probably took at minimum 3 weeks between how long it takes to throw the mug, dry partially, trim the mug, dry fully, bisque fire, wait a day for the kiln to cool, sand and paint and glaze, glaze fire, wait a day for the kiln to cool, take product photography of the mug, write description and list the mug online for sale, im not even including the skill needed to complete all these steps without the mug literally exploding or collapsing while also making it an appealing piece of art, aaaaaaaaaaaaa

#$60 is overpriced my ass #if I priced my ceramics by the exact number of hours they took literally no one would buy anything #holding up a plate like oh yeah I started this in uhhhhhhhhhhh august and it finished in december #wrote this intending it to be a rant and delete post but im sending it out into the world

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latimeria-fell-from-heaven · 2 months

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Okay look, I know people are gonna characterize Aventurine as the kind of yandere that manipulates everything behind the scenes and is always coming up with ways to try and make his darling unable to rely on anyone but him. But honestly? I can see him as the desperate needy type who needs to have your attention on him, he NEEDS to be the only man you'll ever want and look at, and GOD, he just desperately needs you to own him in his entirety.

He'll do anything to keep your attention on him and make sure that you at least will keep him around long enough for him to enact his plans of keeping you by his side. You want a dog who does whatever you say and will crawl on hands and knees for your amusement? You want a pretty little toy that you can break over and over? You want him to take the lead and make you unable to think or walk anymore? He'll do it, he'll do whatever you want, he'll do anything to keep your attention on him until he can make you his.

#lati thirsts #tw yandere #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere aventurine #aventurine x reader #GOD i just need to write about a needy and clingy yandere that is willing to be your toy just to keep your attention on them #like yeah aventurine could be manipulative and greedy but have you considered him to be INSANELY clingy and needy?#edit: omfg stop liking this I wrote this in the middle of my botany lab pls

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fettuccin-e · 10 months

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Honey-Sweet

Description: You're far too sweet for him. He's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. But one night can change everything, apparently, when Miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, hoooh boy a lotta smut okay, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), riding, doggy, missionary, some fluff bc i'm not completely deranged, light degradation (w/c: 2.1K)

A/N: oh lord the Miguel brainrot is REAL folks okay this is fucking crazy. I WANT THIS MAN TO **** ** **** * ****** ******* okay he has me fuckin frothing at the DAMN MOUTH actin like a DAMN DOG okay so please enjoy a bit of a miguel smutfest

You’re too fucking sweet for him. That’s what he tells himself. Miguel O’Hara doesn’t do sweet.

You’re fucking sweet with the way you bring cookies in for the other Spiders that accompany you on missions. You’re sweet in how you brought in a ridiculous hand-made baby blanket for Mayday when Peter first brought her in, emblazoned with his Spider-Man logo to wrap her up tight in. You’d kissed the baby on the head, whispering tiny sweet nothings into her bright red hair, and Miguel had had to hide the emergence of his fangs at the sight of it.

You’re too sweet, too kind for him. You organize little movie nights at the office, you make him stay a little longer on missions so you can see the tourist spots from different universes. And the way you look at him, all wide-eyed and bright and smiling… it does things to him.

It makes him want to bring you flowers, kiss you on the cheek. It makes him want to plan fucking candle-lit dinners and bake cupcakes with you. All sweet, too sweet.

But, because he apparently can’t stop himself, you also want to make him do decidedly not sweet things. Like grab at your tits through your suit, pinching your nipples until your knees go weak and you whimper his name in your gorgeous little voice. Like force you down on your knees, fucking his cock into your hot mouth while tears leak down your cheeks. Like tying you up with his webs, eating your pretty cunt out while you struggle against them, whining that “it’s too much, too much Miguel.” Like fucking you deep, so fucking deep on his cock, making you squeeze around him while you scream for him, beg for him to fill you up with cum. He thinks about watching it leak out of your achy pussy, dripping down your thighs.

But you’re so goddamn sweet, too gorgeous and lovely, and he can’t ruin you, he can’t.

So when you finally wear him down, finally get him to go to coffee with you, he tries to be just as sweet as you. You hold his fucking hand, you kiss him on the cheek. You smile into his mouth as his lips meet yours in front of your apartment door. Miguel swears that his heart will pop with how much it swells when you’re near him.

He brings you flowers, walks you to your door, brings you lunch while you’re filing post-mission paperwork. And God, it’s beautiful. It’s fantastic and bright and so wonderfully domestic that Miguel wonders if he’s died, gone to some heaven he doesn’t deserve. He’s determined to revel in the domesticity of this… thing he’s created with you, his disgusting fantasies be damned.

He doesn’t like to think about how he has to fuck his hand after he drops you off at your house, his lips still burning with the touch of your soft, soft kiss. He thinks about how your lips would look stretched around his dick.

He’s content. He’s happy. For the first time in so fucking long, he’s happy. And he’ll happily tug on his dick by himself for the rest of damn time if it means that he gets to revel in your soft, pretty, wonderful sweetness for a little bit longer. He will not ruin you.

But.

As he kisses you softly in front of your apartment, the both of you still suited up from your latest mission, you tug him closer. You pull him down into your hungry mouth, and you lick into him like you’re starving for it. He can’t help how he growls at the feeling of it, his big hands coming to clutch at your hips. God, you’re pretty, fucking addicting with the way your tongue tangles with his and how you whimper when his hands cup your ass, tugging you up just that extra inch.

“Take me to bed, Miguel,” you gasp between feverish kisses, and fuck, he’s gone.

He hauls you into his arms, and his knees almost go weak at the way you wrap your thighs tightly around his middle, the way you lick into his mouth all over again.

And Miguel has spent so much time in his head, thinking, no, knowing that you’re sweeter than goddamn pie. It’s in every fucking breath you take, every moment he spends with you.

But that night, as he lays you onto the bed, gently, gently like you deserve, he learns that you’re not as sweet as he thinks you are.

Not at all.

Not with the way you roll him over with your strength, begging for him to disengage his suit, looking at him like you want to devour him as it dissolves around him, leaving him bare to your gaze. You graze a reverent hand up his chest as he heaves under you, whispering, “God, can’t believe I’ve waited this long to have you like this. You’re so pretty, Miguel.”

Pretty. Pretty? He can’t be the pretty one, no, not when you’re unzipping your own suit, and he can see everything. Every inch of supple, soft skin. Your nipples, hard and peaked and begging for his touch. Your pretty, pretty pussy; he can see how you’re practically dripping, the wetness between your legs glistening in the soft lamplight.

And you’re not sweet, not sweet at all, when you nip and suck little marks down his chest and abs, grinning up at him like a damn siren when he gasps at your touch. Fuck, you’re the opposite of everything he thought when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing deeper, deeper until you just can’t anymore, jacking the rest of his cock while you kiss and lick and suck at him.

You grab his hand with your free one, and pull it into your hair. You pull up from his cock, and Christ, there’s a line of your spit that connects you to his throbbing tip, and Miguel thinks that he might die.

“Fuck my face, baby?” you rasp, and yes, that’s it, Miguel is going to fucking die here. But he can’t refuse you, with those gorgeous eyes gazing up at him, the tip of his cock on your tongue.

It’s not sweet, not at all, when he forces your head down on his cock, pressing himself deep into your pretty little mouth. And you moan like you love it, just taking it as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. Your spit runs down his shaft, your little whimpers and the way you choke when the tip jams into the back of your throat all echoing in his ears.

He can’t hear himself, but God, you can. You relish the way he growls every time he pushes you down deep, telling you that, “You’re such a good girl, hermosa. Mierda, mi nena perfecta.” Your pussy throbs.

He isn’t soft, isn’t gentle like he told himself to be when he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, and Miguel groans as he pulls you up by your hair, dragging your spit-slick lips to his mouth. He can taste himself on your lips, all sticky and hot and puffy.

You whine against his mouth, murmuring little pleas of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” into him, and his cock twitches, red and aching desperately for your touch.

“Have to make sure you’re ready,” he mumbles, even though he aches, even though his claws threaten to show.

“Nononono,” you whine, and then you sit back, hovering over his cock, fucking monstrous compared to the tiny opening of your dripping pussy, and press down.

Fuck, it’s like heaven inside you, all perfect and wet and hot, and you whine, muttering that, “It’s so fucking big, God, stretches me so perfect, so fucking perfect, so much bigger than I could have dreamed-“

“Nena,” he interrupts you with a hoarse groan of his own, “gotta stop, ‘s gonna, gonna hurt you, oh fuck-“

And you grin at him again, filthy and raunchy and not sweet at all, as you say “I fucking want it to hurt, Miguel. Wanna feel you in the morning, wanna feel you all the time.” And you press yourself the rest of the way down his thick cock, gasping for air, your hips twitching like they can’t decide whether to run away from the sensation or seek it.

“Fuck, wanna feel you all the time,” you murmur and Miguel can’t decide whether you’re actually talking to him or not. “Want you to fuck me so hard I can’t breathe, fill me up so fucking perfect, God, oh my God, ‘m so fucking full,” you roll your hips forward in desperate little circles, a weak attempt at getting him deeper. An endless stream of “fuck me, fuck me, please please please,” starts to leave your lips again, and you sound so desperate, so needy, that Miguel can’t help but roll you over, pinning you underneath him, and fucking his cock so hard and so deep into you that you dig your fingers into his back and sob.

He does what you ask that night. He fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until tears leak from your eyes and your bed is soaked with a mixture of yours and his cum. And God, you scream for him, begging him for more, deeper, harder.

The slick sounds of your bodies meeting over and over must be heard all over the building, but Miguel can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s able to fuck you like this, disgusting and filthy.

How could a sweet, lovely, soft thing like you love this so much?

From that night on, it seems that all bets are off. From that night on, it seems that you make it a mission to show him exactly how not sweet you are.

Fuck, there’s no sweetness to you when you hump your hips into his face the next morning, practically smothering him in your pussy as you squeal and tangle your fingers in his hair. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that he’s sure they’ll bruise, and licks up your juices. Your pussy is honey-sweet on his tongue.

You’re not soft when you ride him into the mattress, throwing yourself down onto his cock and moaning as you stretch yourself out. You drag your nails down his chest as you bounce desperately in his lap, and Miguel kind of hopes you draw blood.

There isn’t an ounce of innocence when you sink down on your knees under his desk when he’s in a goddamn meeting, pulling his cock out and sucking at him until his claws shoot out and leave splintering holes in his desk. He has to hide his fangs from the video camera when you choke.

When he finally, finally cuts the meeting short, feeding the other Spider-Men some bullshit excuse about a new anomaly, he presses your head to the base of his cock and shoots his cum down your throat. He means it as a punishment, but when he pulls you off his cock, and sees you with your eyes all glassy and smiling lazily, he can’t help but bend you over the desk and finger fuck you until you cry and scream and beg for him to fuck you with his cock.

You are so far from sweet when he fucks you on the floor after a mission, tensions run too taut and adrenaline racing through your veins. You throw your ass back onto him with every thrust into your sloppy cunt, moaning as he growls, “Such a fucking slut, can’t get enough of this cock, huh? My sweet, sweet girl, what would the rest of the Spiders say if they knew what a fucking whore you are for me?”

And when you choke on your spit around your screams, he leans down to whisper that, “I know, cariño, I know. I'm gonna take care of you,” before he shoves your face down into the carpet and mounts you, shoving his fat cock down into you again and again and again.

Miguel is positive that he’s died and gone to heaven.

It’s not to say that you’re not the same, sweet girl who brings cookies to the office and holds his hand. No, you’re the same, perfect, sweet girl, only that you let him thank you for the cookies by eating you out on the kitchen floor. You hold his hand while you jerk his cock and swallow his moans with your kiss.

You’re just the right kind of sweet for him.

#yeah so #i wrote this in a TRANCE #want this man to throw me around like a ragdoll #can you tell that im ovulating #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #across the spiderverse fic #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader

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sylvies-chen · 1 year

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I think there’s something so deeply and intimately and morbidly true about The Last of Us’s primary thesis which is that humanity’s fatal flaw, in that very Shakespearian way, is that we are destined to care too much about one another so much so that we discard the collective entirely. like we have such a capacity to love the human race and humanity as a whole, to grow our communities and govern cities how we know best and foster such connection with the masses which we are part of, but it’s overtaken by our capacity to love even just a single other person. like one human can come into your life that creates such an intrinsic and passionate love in you— or maybe two people or a family’s worth or any small number— and you suddenly would burn entire villages down just to keep them safe.

joel doesn’t blink twice murdering to find ellie. he doesn’t look back when he decides to do what he does at the hospital later on. he has no remorse about any of it it, because this one girl has grown to mean more to him than any possible greater good could ever mean. and it’s reciprocal. ellie would— and does— do anything she can to help him, save him, protect him, and, eventually, to avenge him. because that’s what you do when you love someone. not when you love people. when you love someone.

and it’s selfish, in a way??? because we love these people and would do so much for them because they mean more to us than other strangers do. it’s exactly like an iteration of the trolley problem, actually. one track has your daughter on it and one track has fifty people. don’t even try telling me you wouldn’t go onto track B if it meant saving your daughter and her puppy dog eyes from the whimpering and pain and fear. The Last of Us says yes, you would. I would. we all would. and like yeah that is our greatest weakness, that we have such a unique ability to love a handful of people so deeply that our compassion towards community and strangers and the bigger collective starts to slip from view. but goddamn what a fucking great fatal flaw it is to have. we are all going to die and the world will burn because we loved another person too much.

#i wrote a poem about this #idk if i should post it bc i dont want to risk someone stealing it #but yeah… this concept has me really thinking #the last of us #the last of us hbo #hbo the last of us #tlou hbo #hbo tlou #tlou #the last of us spoilers #tlou spoilers #joel miller #ellie williams #joel and ellie

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ryssbelle · 26 days

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Brozone reunion concepts for this little thing based on this ask

As stated in the ask idk fully how this moment would go, this concept was mostly building off the premise presented within the ask :D

Bonus:

#my art #trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls 3 #trolls au #n2 au #trolls john dory #trolls clay #trolls poppy #trolls branch #trolls bruce #trolls floyd #brozone #look at them so silly #in the original script i had accidentally wrote John calling Bruce by his preferred name and i was like #he dont know it yet smh #and had to change it back to spruce #which is where the line 'its bruce but imma let it slide'#comes from #i dont think John in the movie and within this purposefully misnames him #i think its just like a force of habit #and its just harder for him to realize hes saying it wrong until hes corrected #cuz you see he doesnt really get mad when corrected he just gets confused the first time #and then just keeps forgetting after #which i think also was from his mindset of #'im the oldest im not allowed to change' so its like #his brains blocking out the change of spruce to bruce #this is unrelated to the comic as a whole it was just the on the spot thoughts i had while typing #but yeah #itd be a touching reunion for sure!

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stargirlrchive · 3 months

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cw: simon riley x fem!reader, smut like barely, um reader wants simon to chase them through the woods w his mask, free use (?) or like talks of it ig (??)

“i want something from you, baby.”

your fingers gently cupped at his already hard cock, gently palming simon as he lets out a soft hiss. your fingers moved gracefully as you begin to work him up, eyes hazy and low as you pout at him.

“anything, pretty girl.”

you laugh quietly, “really? anything?”

his fingers gently dug into your hips at your teasing tone, as if suddenly a bit nervous. his words now not as confident but he repeats himself, “anything.”

your fingers gently roll down his balaclava and point to the skull mask on the coffee table. “can you put it on for me?”

he nodded, brows furrowed softly in confusion but a soft grunt falls from his mouth as you press your warm palm against him firmer. thick fingers placing his skull mask into place.

“i want you to chase me through the woods, in the mask.”

his finger dug into your hips gently, brown eyes swirling with confusion and something else. something warm and hot, burning.

“wh’t, doll?”

you felt your cheeks heat up, staring down at him as you spread your legs a little wider to straddle his waist more comfortably.

“i said-”

“no, i heard you. it was just…unexpected.”

you shrugged softly, gently palming him as your head tilted to the side, “we don’t have to-”

“what do i get when i catch you?”

you could see the way simon’s eyes lit up the more he thought about it, a shiver ran down your spine as heat pooled between your thighs.

“anything you want.” his fingers tightened around your hips, nails digging into your skin, your lips pressed soft kisses over his mask, “you can use me however you want.”

the soft noise that rumbled out of his chest almost had your knees buckling, excitement blooming in your belly.

“you get a two minute head start, bunny,” your heart thrummed in excitement, “go.”

#‘when i catch you’ and not ‘if i catch you’ yeah i started barking when i wrote that #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x reader smut #simon riley x female reader #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut

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bakugotrashpanda · 3 months

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Thinking about being a nanny for single parent Dynamight and you’re done for the day, chatting about how everything went. Conversation turns casual and as you’re turning to leave, his son runs up and shouts “LOOK AT THIS!” and then yanks his dad’s shirt up. Chiseled flesh with a perfect amount of a happy trail leading to more that you’ve thought about once or twice. Heat rises to your cheeks and you turn away, but not fast enough and Bakugou catches your lingering gaze.

“Quit it, kid,” he ruffles his son’s hair but doesn’t pull his shirt back down. You make your excuses and leave. Bakugou wishes you a good night and watches you make your way back to your car, flushed.

#this is in no way an exaggeration of or influenced by real events #and I wrote half of it and then watched live action cat in the hat and got my brain melted so ahahhaha #edit: to be CLEAR. the shirt being lifted belong to PRO HERO DYNAMIGHT. MR BAKUGOU. not the son yeah

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ex0rin · 6 months

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SO ANYWAY:

Dirty Downtime (E) - 3k Jack Quaid/Random Man, Jack Quaid/Karl Urban blowjobs, alley blowjobs, wet & messy, facials, come shot, finger sucking, plot what plot/porn without plot, RPF

There’s something to be said for the climb, for the struggle of the industry - or for the perceived climb at least and hell, he missed out on the getting dirty of it all, missed out on the having to beg and scratch and claw for a first role – Which is why he keeps ending up here.

OR: Jack Quaid likes to get on his knees behind seedy bars for the promise of a good word with a producer, not that he needs it.

READ ON AO3 HERE (archive locked)

#the way I am not tagging this though #cara writes #rpf #doe eyed fucking top me please energy #yeah I wrote it #yeah I published it #yeah I DEFINITELY archive locked it #I also didn't edit it so uh you get what you get

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bleedingoptimism · 4 months

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They hear the ‘ding’ of the elevator as they walk inside the very luxurious building and Robin grabs Steve’s hand and makes them run to the door yelling, “Hold! Please!”

A hand covered in rings and with short nails painted black appears from inside and holds the door for them. They get in as Robin breathes out little ‘thank yous’ under her breath and Steve smiles at the gentleman who helped them. His brows go up a little at how handsome the man is. He’s wearing black dress pants and a black silk shirt under an also black suit jacket. The whole look is expensive and the man wears it very well. With his long curly hair tied at the back of his neck, plus the rings, the nails, and the surprising amount of piercings in his ears, he looks like a rockstar. He has a cute nose and full lips that look very enticing and big beautiful brown eyes that are looking back at him.

Steve smiles once more and nods politely figuring he should stop staring. They have to go up like a billion floors or something so this is going to be a long elevator ride. Probably shouldn’t make their traveling companion uncomfortable.

He distracts himself by looking at Robin, fixing her hair behind her ear. She looks great. Slack pants and a tight dress shirt in grey tones with black suspenders adorned with metal cufflinks. Short hair loose and just the right amount of disheveled and a graphic eyeliner so sharp it could cut you. He would know. He did her makeup. They were asked to dress party chick but professional, which neither of them knew what the hell meant but Steve is pretty sure Robin nailed it. He just hopes he did a good job too.

He’s wearing a white thigh shirt of a soft material he couldn’t for the life of him remember the name of and black dress pants, the ones that fit him like a second skin, paired with a big leather belt, just to add a little extra. He tries to inconspicuously check himself out in the mirrors of the elevator but accidentally meets eyes with the well-dressed man again. Who adverts his gaze quickly and Steve realizes he just caught him checking him out. He smiles to himself and looks down bashfully only to be horrified by what he notices because, his white shirt? The stupid fabric he can’t name? Totally sheer. Well not totally, but a little. Like he can see his nipples right now a little.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

“Robin, we need to go.” he suddenly says grabbing Robin by the back of the elbow.

Robin turns to him previously just nervously watching the floor numbers change and frowns worried, “What? We are already here, Steve! What do mean?”

“I need to go home and change Robin! I can’t-” He whispers to her, although he knows it’s in vain, there’s no way the handsome man isn’t about to hear a very embarrassing conversation.

“We are literally in the elevator. We are not going back home so you can change!” Robin huffs annoyed now that she knows it wasn’t anything more serious, “What’s wrong with your clothes?” she asks pinching his shirt between her fingers.

Steve turns his back to the man and crowds Robin, facing her, “Can you see my nipples?” he asks trying to keep his voice low but he hears a cough that sounds suspiciously like a chuckle behind him.

Robin looks at him like he’s lost his mind but, as always she goes with it, “Yes?”

Steve puts his palms over them and gasps and Robin starts laughing “What are you doing?” she says between giggles at the same time Steve exclaims, “I can’t show our new boss my nipples!”

“Steve, what?! I thought it was on purpose! You know, just a peek, a little chess hair, a little nipple.” Robin says still laughing but stops when she sees Steve is looking actually distressed.

She huffs and runs her hands up and down his arms comfortingly.

“Why would I want to show them my nipples!” Steve groans and Robin shrugs.

“It’s sexy? We were asked to dress for a party”

“Why would I want to look sexy for work?” Steve asks again, still trying to convince Robin to let him go home and change.

But Robin tilts her head to the side, “But you can’t turn that off, though? Like, you are always sexy.”

Instantly his mood changes and he smiles and coos at her, “Aww, that’s so sweet, babe! But you are biased…”

Robin scoffs at being babied and raises an eyebrow, “How am I biased?”

“Because you love me!” Steve answers like it’s obvious. And Robin nods as if taking in the information.

“Okay. I see your biases and I raise you the following point: It’s objective. Because I’m a lesbian.”

Steve laughs, but he’s not the only one. For a second, Steve had forgotten they had an audience member. A very handsome audience member. He blushes, the guy must think he’s such an idiot. But at least he thinks they are funny. He turns back to his side and smiles at him again.

But Robin suddenly jumps a little beside him, like she had just noticed him, and says, “Stranger! Opinion?”

“Rob, no-” Steve starts but Robin leans over him to talk to the man, “Shirt. Good? Bad?” She says moving her hands in front of Steve as if she was showcasing him. Steve blushes some more and tries to keep a neutral face. So he ends up just white-man smiling awkwardly.

The man chuckles again and then looks at Steve from top to bottom and back again, “You look good,” he says smirking.

And Steve's blush deepens. But Robin either doesn’t notice or is enjoying it, because she keeps questioning him, “Good. What are thinking? Slutty or sexy?”

The man leans his head to the side, his eyes roaming over Steve's chest and Steve has to resist the urge to cover his nipples again.

“It’s sexy.” he says, voice deep and serious as if this was an important conversation and not Robin and Steve being dumbasses, “Like, sophisticated sexy.”

Steve shakes himself to try to make his blush go away and addresses the man, “I- well, thank you, first. And second, I’m sorry you were dragged into this. But would you want to look sexy meeting your new boss?” he asks him.

He taps his chin in thought and then says, “Your friend is right though, are already here. Just don’t flirt with them and you'll be fine!”

At that Steve purses lips and Robin snorts rudely. “That might be a problem,” she says.

The man laughs surprised and Steve can’t help but think he has a really nice laugh, “How?” he asks them.

“Steve has a little miscommunication problem,” Robin explains, “When he tries to be charming people think he's flirting.”

Steve crosses his arms and huffs making the few locks that fall on his forehead lift a bit and fall back down, “I have no idea what I’m doing wrong! I’m just trying to be nice..”

The man is looking at him with raised eyebrows and he blinks a couple of times before snickering, “Looks like your friend is right, again. You just can’t turn sexy off, uh?”

Robin laughs really hard at that and Steve goes back to full tomato status.

“I could've tried!” he says, not even sure what are they arguing about anymore.

“How?” Robin asks him amused.

“I don’t know, a big sweater? Something knitted, comfy?” he tries but they both shake their head at him.

“That sounds sexy too,” The man says and Steve frowns,

“Literally. How?”

“It gives off fuck vibes. Like you are really fuckable,” he says, and then his eyes go wide and he bites his lips.

Robin’s eyes go wide too and she snorts, looking at Steve who is just staring at the guy with his mouth hanging slightly open.

“Sorry!” the man says, raising his hands in mock surrender, “That was so out of line- I- oh! Saved by the bell it seems,” he says when the elevator dings, “This is my floor”

The doors open and Argyle and Jon are on the other side and Steve realizes, this is also their floor.

“Eddie!” Argyle says as the man moves towards him and they shake hands enthusiastically.

“Steve, Robin” Jon greets them with a smile as they slowly walk out of the elevator, watching Eddie’s deer-in-the-headlights expression.

“Ah! I hope you had a pleasant elevator ride and didn’t do anything awkward!” Argyle jokes completely oblivious, “I’m a little sad I didn’t get to introduce you guys!”

“...What do you mean?” Robin asks with a forced smile.

“Steve, Robin: This Eddie Munson!” Argyle says moving behind Steve and Robin and hugging them by the shoulders so they stand directly in front of Eddie, “Your new boss!”

#stranger things #steddie #meet cute #but awkward #kinda #i wrote something #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve is bringing sexy back (yeah)#eddie doesnt know how to act (yeah)

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anna-scribbles · 9 days

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if the agrestes weren't rich i think that gabriel would be the normal one. like gabe's problem is that he stopped running into natural limits due to absurd wealth and his obsessive nature led him to develop some kind of god complex where he won't accept that anything is out of his control. I think that if gabe was broke again and just simply couldn't afford to go on an international goose chase for ancient magic artifacts of untold power, if he had to work a 9-5 to live and couldn't just disappear into his basement lair to commit domestic terrorism and say evil monologues to himself, then he would be way more normal. he'd just be some guy. he might even let himself have a mowhawk again. but I think that emilie would be way LESS normal if they weren't rich. like emilie needs so many people to be obsessed with her so much all the time in order for her to function. and gabe would still have his toxic codependent obsession with her, sure, but that wouldn't be nearly enough. emilie has to be at the center of the world's spotlight at all times because she doesn't know how to exist if she's not performing. anyway all this to say I am so certain that if the agrestes were not disgustingly wealthy, emilie agreste would one million percent be running a massive family vlogger youtube channel

#this post is sponsored by the version of emilie agreste who lives in my mind #in this scenario adrien still exists so maybe he's a normal baby somehow. but the important thing is that he's still exploited #this is just an exercise for me in thinking about how much of the agreste family dynamic you could preserve if they were middle class #how much wealth is an enabler of the terrible things happening in that house #but yeah agreste family vloggers au. I guess.#where adrien shows up at school and everybody knows him because his mom posted his potty training videos online and everything since #he has no secrets every milestone he's ever had has been packaged up and sold to the public #until he becomes chat noir of course. etc #oh god emilie would vlog her own death😭 help #get ready with me to die and haunt the narrative🤩#ml #anna rambles #I wrote this because im not finishing my homework:(

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rendevok · 9 months

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“Take my hand” pages 12-15

1 - 2 - day 3 - 💙free day❤️ - 4

#nmweek23 #narumitsu #wrightworth #they’re so in love in this it makes my stomach turn because OOHHHHH MY GOODDDDDDDDD #I WANT. WHAT THEY HAVE! WHEN WILL IT BE ME #SMOOCHES #YALL SHOULD HAVE KNOWN IT WAS COMIN FROM ME #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #aa #fan art #fan comic #past me wrote this comic like YEAH IM GONNA PUT IN ALL THESE THINGS I LIKE #and now im like [sets myself on fire] [sets myself on fire] [sets myself on fi #I’M SO EMBARRASSSSEEEDDDDDDDDD how the hell do any of you share your work i literally feel like im cutting out my heart for you #my two favorite panels are the 4th one on page 12 and the 3rd one on page 15…. framing them #i hope i was able to make it worth the wait! everyone’s support has meant so much to me as i worked :’^)#rendevok #please imagine them making out from now until the time it takes me to share the next part bc that is what they will be doing in my head

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astraystayyh · 7 months

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hyunjin is your friend except you're making out in his car backseat. very suggestive so mdni. inspired by the song strangers.

"you want me to tell you how this will go between us?" you whisper, as hyunjin's nose brushes against yours softly.

"please," he says just as quietly, his thumb grazing your bottom lip in an agonizingly slow manner.

"we get in your car..." you begin, fingers reaching up to trace the contour of his face. so pretty for you. "and you'll lean to kiss me..." you let out breathlessly, and a curious smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth.

"like this, you mean?" he says, before pressing your lips onto his softly. you sigh, as goosebumps rise upon your skin. he tastes so sweet, so addicting. you missed this little game you both had on.

"what next?" he questions, eyes still closed, chest heaving from the emotion coursing through him.

"we'll talk for hours..." you gently wipe the corners of his mouth, now tainted with your cherry lipstick. "and we'll lay on the backseat."

"oh, yeah?" he smiles, his dimple peeking on his right cheek. adorable, if not for the fact that he's lowering you on the said backseat now, before hovering over you. his arms are on either side of your body, caging you in, not that you'd ever dream of escaping.

"and then one random night, when everything changes, you won't reply..." you pout, as you entwine his golden necklace between your fingers, tugging him slowly towards you. "and we'll go back to strangers."

"is that what you think will happen, pretty? that I'd forget you?" he asks, his thumb brushing against your cheek tenderly. then your chin. then the curve of your neck, down to your collarbones. it's a featherlight touch, but the anticipation of what it might turn into is killing you.

"won't you? forget me, i mean?" you grin cheekily, as you interlock your hands behind his neck, bringing his face, much, much closer to yours.

"i won't," he says with a sincerity that catches you off guard. "not when you're you."

a newfound emotion tugs at your heartstrings. it's not lust, no, this is... warm and nice and you don't want to dive into it, into the consequences of what it might change between you both.

"well, i don't know. maybe i will be the one forgetting you," you smile teasingly, as his necklace dangles over your face.

"then i have to give you something to remember me by, don't i?"

"you do," you sigh dreamily, as his lips suddenly suck on the tender skin of your neck. your hands are tangled in his soft black hair, and you know you're lying. you couldn't ever forget him. not when he's hyunjin and you're in the backseat of his car. and his plump lips are on you alone.

#this song has been stuck in my head #i wrote this in five minutes so not proofread but yeah #my official application to make out with hyunjin #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz smut #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #me struggling to tag this as always #we need a tag for suggestive stuff #accidentally sexy as anya would describe it #stray kids smut #hyunjin smut #hyunjin hard thoughts #hyunjin hard hours

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