#and whilst there will be a time i stop going | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mistywaves98 · 2 days

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I read your rules but I hope that I am not passing any boundaries! Can I request for gamer! Scara who's getting sucked off/fingering reader while playing his game? It's totally okay if you don't want!

Quick-ish little thing because I'm in the mood to write

✧･ﾟ:* ->Gamer! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: NSFW, Blowjob (in the beginning), Oral(m.receiving), Scara is rough, Cockwarming, Implications of Breeding, Pet names (doll), Slight degradation (slut), Exhibitionism?(he makes you wear his headphones unmuted while you sit on his dick)!

You wished you weren't so eager to suck your boyfriend off while played video games. Scaramouche's gaming capabilities weren't to be underestimated, with it nearing the third hour since he got on call to play cod with his friends. And three hours since you were put on your knees with his cock in your mouth.

Your jaw was sore and your knees hurt after digging into the coarse carpet beneath you for so long. You weren't even allowed to move or do anything whilst his dick was in your mouth. Any attempts to pull yourself off of him was met with a hand sharply pushing your head back down, making the tip hit the back of your throat, triggering your gag reflex as your eyes watered. Your only purpose was to sit there and cockwarm him till he was done. Maybe it helps him focus more?

Suddenly, you hear him curse and bang his fist on the desk, he must've died. You already know what this means as his hand reaches down and grabs your hair in a painful grip, making your scalp burn. Your body tenses as he begins to move you back and forth, fucking your throat as a way to relieve his irritation and stress of losing. He leans back in his chair to look down at you, lips twitching upward as he sees how you're struggling to take his aggressive behavior.

"Aww, what's the matter? Had enough of my dick in your mouth? Want a break?" He lets go for a moment, giving you some time to respond. You nod your head early, looking up at him with teary eyes, voice hoarse and strained,"Y-yes... Please, let me have a break..." Scaramouche reaches down and pulls you up to sit on his lap. His cock pressed against your clothed entrance beneath your skirt, and his eyes narrow as he feels the dampness accumulated there.

"What's this? For someone who's begging for me to stop, you're utterly soaked. Just begging to be fucked dumb on my cock, aren't you, doll?" He coos at you in a mocking voice, a hand coming up to trace a path along your jawline to the ring of your lips before prying them apart to admire your now sore throat. Then he grabs your hips and begins moving them in slow circles, making you grind on his dick as jolts of pleasure go up and down your spine.

Your hands come up to grasp his shoulders, holding tightly as your teeth dig into your lower lip. You're all too aware of the limited proximity between you and his microphone. Scaramouche sees how you're trying to hold back your noises in fear of them being broadcasted to the whole server and he grins devilishly as he takes the headphones off and slips them onto your head, the mic right by your mouth,"Oh doll, you have no idea how cute you look wearing my headphones... Even more so when you try not to moan."

In one swift motion, his fingers nudge your panties to the side, allowing his cock to be buried deep within your walls with a wet squelch. The sudden intrusion makes a whine escape your lips, back arching and shoulders tensing as you hide your face in his chest. He chuckles at your reaction, rubbing soothing circles on your ass before picking up his controller,"Fucking hell, you're so tight— Can already feel that sweet cunt clenching around me... Now be doll and sit prettily f'me while I play another round." Scaramouche says in a falsely assuring tone, making sure to unmute his microphone as he starts another match.

You're forced to cockwarm his dick to his heart's content, focused on trying not to move so that you don't make noise, the threat of his unmuted mic hanging over your head. At one point you attempt to remove it, but a sudden sharp jerk of his hips effectively halts your movements. The action elicits a choked moan from you, making you smack a hand over your mouth in horror, face burning with embarrassment. The voices of his friends fill your ears, questions directed at your boyfriend asking what the fuck that noise was.

He simply dismisses them, giving brief responses that leave them suspicious as to what their companion could be up to. After what feels like forever, Scaramouche finally tells his friends that he was logging off for the day. Relief fills your mind as he puts down the controller and turns off the computer, but it's short lived as he grabs your chin to make you look at him. His eyes rove over your flustered and pouty expression, pussy aching and needy for some attention after being stretched out by his cock for so long.

"Well look at you, been keeping my dick warm for barely an hour and you're already looking like a desperate slut..." Scaramouche snides as he grabs your hips and begins to move you up and down his length with unnatural strength. Whimpers and moans of pleasure fall from your agape mouth as he uses you as a fleshlight, the feeling of his tip nudging your sweet spot making your eyes roll back. Your boyfriend absolutely adores the sight, the fact you're still wearing his headphones making it look ten times hotter.

"Shit, I could cum just from the sight of you alone, doll.. Lookin' so fucking hot as I bounce you on my dick like a toy... You bet your ass I'm gonna fill you up till there's no way you aren't gonna get knocked up."

#genshin smut #smut #x reader smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader smut #genshin impact #scaramouche smut #scara smut #scara x reader smut #yandere scaramouche x reader smut

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meichenxi · 2 days

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Language learning: slow learning versus toxic productivity

Or: the process in crisis

Five years ago, all of the productivity advice I read (and gave out) as a successful self-learner of many different languages had one basic premise: that I was not doing enough, and that I could always be doing more.

Several burnouts later, running headlong from one mental illness into another, I'd like to invite you to entertain the exact opposite idea: there is a limit to what you can do. I have run face-first into mine on multiple occasions, and burnt out. At many points I've stopped learning the language at all. Most importantly, I've learnt to be distrustful of the very premise that all of the so-called productivity or optimisation advice is based on.

More is not always more.

Listen to a podcast in the target language whilst you exercise. Exercise to give yourself more energy to learn your target language. Talk to yourself in the shower in your target language. Do Anki whilst eating breakfast. Listen to Glossika whilst walking to work. Change your phone settings to your target language. Bullet journal. Manage your time. Make friends in your target language. Control your time. Write a diary. There's always enough time. These are all things I have done myself and recommended others do, to increase exposure to the language, to increase productivity.

Productivity? What productivity? What, exactly, is it that we are producing? I am producing sentences and words but - for who? Who is listening? Nobody's here, in my room, at 7am on a Sunday. If productivity were just speaking or writing, I'd be productive in my native language too, by virtue of speaking out loud. Or conversely, in language learning circles, should we measure it in terms of input? How many hours did you spend listening to Chinese yesterday? What about today? Is there anything you do in your life, in your daily life, that you could optimise? You're wasting time. There's time here, for those that want it. If you want to get ahead, to be successful, to be a good language learner, you have to know how to use that time. Go online, and debate over which tools are the best; watch your videos. What exactly is it that is being produced?

Productivity is a measuring tool for concrete output: the productivity of a field means how much crop it can yield per harvest. The productivity of a factory is how many mobile phone chargers it can bring to market per year. There are direct and measurable ways to increase this sort of productivity. But what is productivity when it comes to knowledge work? Cal Newport's work, The Minimalists, Essentialism: they all run into the same problem, which is that nobody seems to know what 'productivity' for knowledge workers means at all. You can look at a factory line and see which parts need greasing up, figuratively or literally: it is very difficult, on the other hand, to look at the work of a self-contained writer and tell her where she is going 'wrong'. (And by 'wrong', I mean - slow.) And language learning is an even more particular subset of that particular subset of work.

You could judge a novelists' productivity two ways: by the 'busyness' of her daily writing routine, or the amount of novels she produces. But what exactly is being produced when we learn a language? What is the end product?

In some ways, language learning as a hobby is even more playful than traditionally thought of arts and crafts. (By 'play' I mean something which is done for its own sake, and which is pleasurable, and which may yield next to no monetary reward.) We might think of the poet as sitting on a tree and dangling his feet in the river, a vision of artful indolence, but at the end of the day there is output - a poem. A knitter has a jumper. A potter has a pot. But language learning doesn't follow this [work] + [time] = [tangible output] structure. We can't even use the second metric of 'productivity' to measure it at all. Something is being done, of course - I can learn to speak Greek, and speak it markedly better after two months than one - but my point is you can't look at a day's work and say, this is exactly how much I learnt. Learning is not memorisation in the short term - it's receiving input, and practicing how to wield and use a structure. It doesn't happen over the course of a ten-minute podcast.

Learning happens - encoding happens - when the brain is doing other things. In other words, much like every creative process, you need downtime. You need rest, and sleep, and fun, and brightness and joy in your life. You might 'remember' a bunch of words on Anki, but you need to sleep before you can review them again: that's the whole point.

There is a much wider problem here, a culture of goals and optimising your life and glowing up, and to be honest, I find it disturbing. I think that for a very long time my language learning metrics were a stand-in, a relic, for the kinds of unhealthy and obsessively perfectionist thinking that gave me an eating disorder. How many of us truly believe - genuinely, with every inch of our heart - that we are better people if we 'better' ourselves? Learn more. Exercise more. Study more. How do you feel about yourself at the end of a day, exhausted, because you've completed day 75/100? Do you feel better about yourself because you've achieved? I'm guessing that you do.

For many people - including for myself - this wider culture has spilled over into their hobbies. Hobbies like language learning in particular are a target for this because they are so easily quantifiable - and we are encouraged, if we want to succeed, to quantify them. How else will we know how to improve?

Over the last few years, after burning out, after living off grid and without wifi and doing extreme minimalism and a lot of other lifestyle experiments to try and understand why modern life is so fucking hard, it's become clear that most systems of 'productivity' measure 'optimisation' by getting the most done in a day, but they don't stop to question whether you should be doing those things at all.

They don't stop to ask: what matters? They don't stop to ask: why am I trying to write a novel, finish my dissertation, pursue a romantic relationship, get healthy, learn ice-skating, learn to cook, look after my aging parents, and learn guitar at the same time? They don't ask: how do I prioritise, and where do I find silence? They ask: how do I cram more time in the day? They don't ask: how do I slow time down? They don't ask: how can I know what matters, if I never give myself space to think?

In other words: 'productivity' in language learning is measured by 'busy-work', by how much you can see from the surface.

You can't measure how well the learning is going, exactly, but you can measure how many hours a day you show up and grind. Whether or not that struggle is the best use of your time, or whether you're spending the time on things that will truly bring you value and quality, is a different question altogether.

And it's not one most 'productivity culture' will ever ask.

There will be things in your language learning journey that, to borrow from self-help terminology, no longer serve you. Habits and relics and resources and mindsets that worked for you once, or no longer did. Those books that are too advanced that you feel like you 'should' be able to read. That textbook that's been sitting beside your bed for a year. That habit of scrolling social media in your target language that was helpful when you were at a more intermediate level, but does little for you now that you're advanced.

Take stock of these. Simplify. Do less, but do it better. Productivity culture never stops to ask: what can I do without? It always asks, instead: how can I do more? But maybe - just maybe - the way to do more is to focus on fewer things, but do them well.

Multi-tasking isn't multi-tasking, but switching quickly between different focuses of attention. The average American owns 300,000 things, and watches television for 4-5 hours a day. On average, if you are distracted, it takes you 20 minutes to reach the same level of deep focus: but the average American office worker opens an email within six seconds of receiving it. Are you any better with your phone? How much time do you spend there? If you meditate, that's wonderful, but do you have any time to let yourself think? To walk and to understand how to feel? I don't want to sound like a boomer, but: can you name the birds? Do you live in a place, not just a room?

Stop trying to be 'productive'. Do less. Do it well.

I am now facing a wall in my learning of Chinese, and I'm still not sure how to get around it. The reason for this is because so much of the advice I gave others around language learning, and so much of the advice I found online, is focused on this sort of optimisation. But I no longer want to be listening to something, to be watching something, every second of every day. I have a partner to love and a house to appreciate and I want to spend time, humming and pleasant, alone with my thoughts, and it's summer, dear diary, and I don't want to stay indoors. Routines can keep you afloat, but they can also drown you. Do something different. Do something new. Do something that is not productive, that produces nothing, idle away, walk to work without music and perhaps when you sit down to your language learning that evening, you'll be filled with a renewed vigour and love for it. Do it because you love it, not because you scheduled it in your calendar.

A lesson, related, from my martial arts teacher. He said:

If you are tired, do not train. If you do not train, rest. 'Rest' does not mean go on your phone.

The same principle applies here. If you are tired of learning, which you may well be, rest. Not going on your phone, not watching Netflix. I mean taking a walk and sitting under the tree and looking at the patterning of the sky. I mean lying with your dog and absently scratching his tummy. If you're tired, and you have the luxury to stop - stop. Let yourself be tired. Don't drink caffeine. Sleep.

Last year, I was able to write 340,000 words of fiction because I focused on one thing: writing my book. Apart from things that I literally needed to do to survive and maintain my health and relationships around me, I didn't set a single other to-do. My daily list looked like: write for three hours. Not a word limit. Not exercise, though I ended up doing that, not learning a language. I imagine that if I had tried to focus on Chinese at the same time that I wouldn't have achieved anywhere near half the result. I still learnt Chinese, a very decent amount - I went to China and Taiwan for three months in total! - but I did it because I wanted to, of a whim, on a Sunday, something fun. It wasn't a must, or anything I was forcing myself to do. Many days I didn't do any Chinese at all. It was so immensely freeing to be able to think, at 11am: I'm finished for today. Even when I was at work, because I knew I was just there to pay the rent, I felt serene. Stressed on a day-to-day level, certainly, because all work is stressful, but - there wasn't any striving. I just did the best I could. And that was enough.

I am writing this, now, as I come out of my first ever information-overload burnout. I've burnt out, but I've never experienced one of these before: even looking at a book, at a phone, physically hurt my eyes. I couldn't bear to listen to people speak and would lock myself away in my room. I physically felt I could not talk, and had to take extensive time off work. Even looking at a pen and a blank page was too much; listening to podcasts was too much; reading the instructions for dinner was too much too. The only way I could heal was by doing absolutely nothing at all. That period shocked me deeply, because it showed me how absolutely dependent I was on having some input of information all of the time. No wonder I was tired.

I know, now, that there are lots of movements built around this same idea, by frustrated learners all over the world: the growing realisation that metrics and Excel and polylogger and tracking tracking tracking can't be the only way to learn. That a list of the number of books you've read in one year is hardly indicative of how well you understood those books, and what you learned from them. You've read 20 books this year already - good job. When do you think about them? What time do you spend on reflection? Why did you choose those books? Which chapters, and which characters, hit you the hardest? Why?

Minimalism, deep work, 'monk mode', essentialism, every writer's dream to run away and write in a cabin in the woods, slow learning, Buddhism, Stoicism, Marie Kondo-ism, the art of less, project 333, my no-buy-year, slow fashion, slow food, slow travel:

What all of these philosophies have in common is the idea that doing things deliberately ('mindfully') means 1) doing things slowly, 2) doing things well, and 3) doing things one at a time.

I am now at a place in my life where I understand the value of time alone with my thoughts. I don't want to listen to podcasts every minute of the waking day, because I need time to think about them. I need time to let the ideas for my novel grow in the dark. Nothing can be heard in noise; so make space for silence. I am a member of the real, living, breathing world, and that means I cannot devote 8 hours a day to Chinese television shows like I could when I was 20. I have to call my father. I have to do the dishes. I want to flex my creative muscles in other ways. Alternatively - I no longer believe that my worth is tied up inherently with how well I do my hobbies.

You're just some guy. There's freedom in that. You, my friend - you suck <3

Let yourself be bad. Let yourself be mediocre. Let yourself 'slide backwards' or regress, because all that means is that you're putting focus somewhere else. It'll come back. It always does.

I'm no longer comfortable, therefore, with the way that the language learning community tackles productivity. Please don't misunderstand; a lot of us have time spare that we could use to do things 'better' for us. I know. But I just believe now that getting rid of things, like the time you spend on your phone, is going to be more helpful in the long run than trying to force yourself into some gruelling, achievement-centric regime that collapses from within after two months of struggle and self-flagellation.

The other realisation I have had is just how much happier I am spending more time being alive, really alive, and less time in front of a screen. For a language like German or Gaelic that's much easier, because you can study with books, but with Chinese you always have to study to some extent with audios, flashcards, computers. Especially if - like me - you can read novels without a dictionary, but cannot handwrite even your Chinese name. So where next?

I don't have any answers. I'm not sure how to pair the two things together, to be honest, because almost all of my language learning has traditionally made use of technology. It's all been goal-orientated, systems-orientated, and despite the fact that I've failed at using these systems every day for years, despite the fact that Anki has NEVER worked for me, despite the fact that I have spent hundreds if not thousands of pounds on courses here, there, a wealth of overwhelm and five thousand words saved on Pleco, did I read that right? Five thousand. No wonder I'm stressed.

Regardless of happiness, it's much easier to achieve a state of deep focus and work when you're not online. After my period of information burnout, I feel actual physical pain from the weight of choices online. It's exhausting. I'm watching a Chinese show, but I want to go on tumblr. I'm on tumblr, but I feel guilty for not watching the Chinese show. I'm constantly torn between doing this and that, never fully committing to anything, seeing a post by Lindie Botes and thinking, damn, she's good. I should be better. But I don't want to compare myself to her. Do you know what? She is good. I admire her immensely. But I don't want to judge my self-worth by some imagined scale of productivity anymore - and, the more time passes, the more I'm not sure what 'productivity' in the context of language learning even means.

Try slow, focused, deep learning. You might just find it works.

There's something refreshing, almost counter-cultural, anti-capitalist, anti-consumerist, anti-rat-race, about this thought. Slow learning. I think there's an answer here, somewhere. It's a problem I've been dancing around for a while; and do you remember how you learnt your first foreign language? For me, it was on the floor, absolutely absorbed in German comic books, flicking through the dictionary furiously and scribbling things down in a notebook. I only had one book, and one dictionary, and one grammar book. I want to go back to that sort of simplicity. There was joy in that.

One again: I don't have any answers. I don't know exactly what direction this blog is going to go in, as I wrestle with these sorts of meta-problems. I'd love to hear your thoughts. And for now, if there's one thing I'd like you to take away from this long and frankly absurdly rambling post (thank you for bearing with me!) it's an alternative answer for the question I get so often, about what you can do to learn the language when you're tired, because:

Yes, you could watch reality TV shows in Chinese, or you could give yourself permission to be human. You could rest.

Thanks guys. Meichenxi out <3

#langblr #language learning #languages #productivity #productivitytips #^ tagging it with all of the above so it reaches the target audience of stressed out 17 year olds #my dudes. my guys. you are loved. or if you are not now - you will be #all will be well

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whathorselegs · 3 days

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Headcanon that Kunikida's the reason Dazai visits Oda's grave.

I truly think that Dazai had never really mourned anyone the way he does Oda before he died. That's not to say he doesn't understand it, he's seen how death affects people. He watched Chuuya mourn his friends for example.

Whilst he can't empathize through personal experience, he knows to be that bit gentler with people, he's learned what people normally say in those situations, he'll offer his quiet solidarity the best he can to people he cares about. But until Oda, he'd never felt what other people were going through when they lost someone.

I think he certainly knew about visiting graves, again through watching other people mourn, he just didn't understand it. It probably crossed his mind more than once to try it when he was in hiding but was too paranoid to actually go.

He left the mafia because of Oda, of course Mori would have eyes on his grave in case Dazai attempted to visit.

I think Kunikida noticed on that first year they were partners, that around the anniversary of Oda's death Dazai started to get more withdrawn. He stopped being as annoying, weirdly enough he showed up more on time to work because he was putting less effort into being late. He'd stare at his paperwork, pencil to paper, not filling it in, but not making any excuse not to do it.

And being no stranger to mourning, Kunikida quickly guessed at what was wrong. During one of their breaks, he offered to buy Dazai lunch, something his partner would have normally made a whole song and dance about, looking up the most expensive place he could to get a reaction out of Kunikida, but he declined, saying he wasn't hungry.

An answer Kunikida did not accept. Once they'd found a quiet corner in a cafe, Kunikida asked him, plain and simple, "Who were they to you?"

It took Dazai by surprise, so much so he couldn't answer at first. Obvious about his feelings wasn't something Dazai was used to being. But the surprise, the weariness, and the genuine concern in Kunikida's gentle tone helped Dazai to be honest.

"A friend." Was all he replied.

Kunikida offered that same quiet solidarity Dazai had to others in the past and Dazai finally understood just how important it was to have it. He didn't have to be alone in his mourning.

They made a detour on the way back to the agency, bought some flowers and for the first time Dazai visited Oda's grave. Something he still didn't quite have the courage for but was able to get through it because he had Kunikida there with him.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #bsd kunikida #kunikidazai #kunidazai #feeling things about their partnership tonight #bsd #bsd headcanons

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fastandcarlos · 7 hours

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Personal Hairdresser : ̗̀➛ Lance Stroll

summary: you finally get the chance to play with lance’s hair and you’re determined to make the most of it

The empty space beside you brought a huff from you, expecting Lance to be there beside you, you were instead greeted by a cold space, leaving you disappointed. Much of the day was already gone, but with you opting to work the late shift you were desperate for rest regardless of what time of day it was.

You stretched your arms up into the air to try and wake yourself up a bit, rubbing your eyes to try and shake off the remaining feeling of sleep. Just outside of the room you could hear some banging and clattering around, not even wanting to imagine what carnage Lance was getting up to around your apartment. You went to shout for him, but your voice was still groggy, so instead you reached across and took your phone out from under your pillow.

Lance’s contact was number one as you pressed it and hoped he’d answer your call.

“Hey sleepyhead,” his familiar voice softly spoke as he answered, “how are you feeling? Bit better now you’ve had a bit of a rest.”

“Why did you leave me?” You groaned, running your free hand through your messy hair. Lance could only chuckle at the desperation in your voice, letting him know that you were still pretty sleepy too.

“I had some things to do,” he chuckled, “we can’t all sleep all day.”

“Hey, some of us have work to do,” you murmured, pulling the duvet even further around your frame. “Everything hurts Lance, I swear this feeling in my stomach better be my period arriving otherwise you’re gonna have to fast track me to hospital like the roads are a formula one track.”

A frown formed on Lance’s face as he listened to you, heart breaking at your anguish. “I’m sorry that it’s hurting love, do you need me to get you anything? I was going to go to the gym and try and get a quick session in, but I can stay here with you instead. I managed to get all my other jobs done whilst you slept,” Lance informed you. He was desperate to get everything sorted so that when you were awake, he was able to place his undivided attention all on you.

You thought for a moment before finding the energy to respond, “I think all that I want is you right now.”

“I can definitely do that,” Lance smiled, moving around the living room and tidying the last few little bits up so that it was exactly how you liked it.

“You know where I am to come and do that.”

“Can’t we stay on the phone?” Lance teased.

Your scoff was so loud that he managed to hear you from the other room.

“I hate you,” you muttered under your breath.

Lance chuckled at your response, “I’m only messing with you babe, I’m coming.”

As soon as your bedroom door opened the expression on your face softened. Lance dropped his phone into his pocket before closing the door behind him and making his way across to you where you laid impatiently.

You shuffled over slightly so that there was enough room for Lance to sit down beside you, brushing his hands through your hair before tracing a delicate trail of kisses along your jawline and against your mouth.

What captures Lance’s attention the most though is the mess of your hair, how some strands have fallen in front of your face, how other strands have knotted together where you’ve tossed and turned, or how some have beads of sweat attached from where you’ve ended up getting too hot whilst you rested.

And the feeling of Lance’s eyes looking at your hair soon made you feel unsettled. “There’s a hairband in my top drawer, I can tie it all back out of the way.”

Lance’s smile dropped into a frown as he realised what he had accidentally done. “No, I didn’t mean it for that love, your hair is fine,” Lance assured you, opening up the drawer and taking the band out of it anyway.

“What are you doing with that then?"

Lance twirls the band between his fingertips a few times before stretching it out and closing it again, he pretends to aim it a few times at you to flick it but quickly stops himself when he meets the fear in your eyes. “These could do some serious damage, how are these not classes as a weapon?” He chuckles to himself, surprised at the resistance in the band. You just stay where you are, watching in disbelief as something so simple ends up fascinating him to no end. There had been plenty of them scattered around his apartment over the years, but Lance had never quite realised how important they were to you, or how strong they really were to hold your hair up so well.

But he’d only seen yours.

You can see him thinking, poking against his arm to capture his attention. “Want to tell me what’s making you smile like that?”

Lance glances across at you, “would you be uncomfortable if I laid down here?”

Lance pointed to the gap between your legs, looking at you with a hopeful grin on his face. You immediately began to worry about what his attentions were, knowing him too well.

It didn’t take long for Lance to realise what it was that you were thinking too. “I’m not going to sleep with you baby, I just thought you might want to try something out.”

“I-I knew that,” you stuttered, trying to brush Lance off, but his eyes rolled, knowing he had read you and that mind of yours perfectly.

Lance moves from where he was sat, positioning himself between your legs and leaning himself back. “I can’t believe you think of me like that.”

You allow Lance to lower himself back, resting your hands against his shoulders to make sure he lays himself in a spot that is comfortable enough for you too. Meanwhile, his hands reach up and brush through his hair.

Slowly you begin to pick up on the hints that Lance has dropped, understanding why he had decided to lay there. “Are you really giving me the chance to play with your hair? You’ve turned me down every time I’ve asked for years.”

Lance nodded nervously, “I’m trusting you, which is very brave of me to do.”

You moved your hands, beginning to brush through the volume of Lance’s hair, “I’m so glad you decided to grow this out now.” Whilst you begin to entertain yourself with Lance’s hair, he picks out his phone from his pocket and begins to read through some of the messages he’s been sent. He’s used to having his hair messed with, despite stubbornly telling people on shoots that his hair is fine, they still protest and use their products to make sure that Lance’s hair looks as good as it possibly can.

Your touch is surprisingly gentle for Lance, you carefully scoop the strands up and twirl the hairband around them. On the odd occasion you pull too hard, he hisses, before assuring you that he doesn’t mind a little bit of pain.

Lance stuns himself with how comfortable he is, almost relaxing into your touch too much, feeling himself having to fend off the urge to go to sleep.

Eventually your attempt is complete. You’ve taken as much of Lance’s hair as you can, tying it into a small ponytail at the top of his head. You couldn’t help but proudly smile at what you had done, although you weren’t sure whether Lance would be as big of a fan of your masterpiece.

“You look amazing,” you chuckled, letting Lance know that you had finished with him.

Straight away he turned the camera of his phone onto himself, keen to see what you’d done. A snigger came from him as he lifted the phone up to see the little bun that you had tied to the top of his hair, loose strands sticking out in all directions where they had either slipped out or hadn’t quite been long enough to reach the band. Lance shakes his head, but you know deep down from his expression that he’s mightily impressed.

Behind him, you’re struggling to hold back your own laughter, impressing yourself with how well it had actually turned out. Lance’s free hand reaches up and brushes his hand over the bun a couple of times. It’s thicker than he imagined, and surprisingly suits him more than he had imagined too. He didn’t want to quite compliment the job you had done, worried that messing with his hair would become a regular occurrence.

“What do you think to showing this to the stylist next time you have a shoot at work?” You proposed, telling just from his shift in posture that Lance’s eyes had widened. “You might start a bit of a trend amongst drivers, I’d go as far to say as you’re not far enough managing to get yourself a manbun here Stroll.”

Lance finally takes the chance to tilt his head and look back at you, his expression full of disbelief. “Something tells me that it might be a little bit tricky for me to be able to put a helmet on if I’ve got this sticking out of the top of my head, I’ll end up ripping half of my hair out or something love.”

As you study Lance, your mind is beginning to fill with all sorts of ideas as to what you could do with him. He could tell your mind was hard at work as he watched you, Lance was slightly fearful as to what came next. However, after hearing your groggy voice earlier, he knew it was worth it to finally be able to see you smile again and hear that cheeriness in your voice that he was so fond of.

You found yourself unable to take your eyes from Lance, he’d hate you for saying it, but he looked cute. Adorable, in fact. “Stop,” he spoke, making you jump. Your smile was only getting bigger which made him sense that more danger was on its way, particularly after he had offered to let you play with his hair.

“I can’t take you seriously like this,” you admitted, reaching to where you had left your phone and opening up the camera. Lance reluctantly smiled as you told him to, snapping a photo of him with his hair still upright, the stubble on his face finishing the look off perfectly for you.

“Is this it? Can I take it out now?” Lance hopefully asked, only to have that snatched away from him when your head shook. You’d managed to get most of his hair in one band, but you were sure that you could do a little bit better.

With one quick movement you took the band out of Lance’s hair let it fall in all sorts of directions around his head.

You turned Lance’s head around so that he was facing the other way again, using your fingertips to part it so that it sat perfectly on either side of his head. “Do I even want to ask what you’re doing?” Lance enquired, catching you reaching for another hairband out of the corner of his eye.

There was a moment before you spoke, wanting to find the perfect answer to catch Lance out. “You don’t need to worry bub, I’m just making you look even more handsome then you already do.”

“What are you trying to say? That I’m not handsome enough.”

“I mean…” you trailed off, “there’s always room for improvement.” In response, Lance reached back as best as he could and tickled against your waist. It took you by surprise as you flinched, accidentally kicking your leg into the small of his back as you tried to move him away. His hair slipped out of your hands as you moved back, letting Lance fall back slightly which made him stop.

You groaned as you tried to recompose yourself again, “what did I even do for you to be so mean to you?”

“You said I wasn’t handsome enough,” Lance huffed as you returned to your job and started to fix Lance’s hair back up again. “This is the point when you tell me that’s not true.”

“Hang on,” you spoke, tying one half of his hair into a hairband, before taking the hair on the other side of his head and tying that up into another band. “Now you’re handsome enough,” you smiled as you moved back and admired your handiwork again, knowing Lance would never quite know how to react to it.

“Babe,” he sighed as he grabbed his phone once again and noticed the two buns now on the top of his head. Lance turned himself around so that he was now facing you, pressing a kiss against your lips. “No one at work would ever take me seriously again if they saw me looking like this.”

“Really? Cause I don’t think you’ve ever looked better,” you couldn’t help but tease.

“At least everyone will know what a nice boyfriend I am if they see that I’ve done this,” Lance tried to reason, searching for a way to make himself feel better.

You hummed in agreement with him as you fixed a few of the strands that weren’t quite where you wanted them to be. “Everyone knows how good of a boyfriend you are, you trend more for your loving gestures then you do for your performances on the track these days. You’re the driver that all the teenage girls wish they could date, that’s got to count for something?”

Lance didn’t tend to involve himself with that side of things too much, but you loved to tease him about it whenever you got the chance.

Some people weren’t particularly fond of others commenting and gushing over their partner’s on social media, but you on the other hand, adored it. You loved knowing that the guy they spoke about was the guy that you got to go home with at night. Or how behind closed doors Lance managed to prove those people wrong – many would never expect Lance to let someone play with his hair, how wrong they were.

“You’re the best,” you suddenly spoke, taking Lance by surprise too as he took a hold of both of your hands.

“Where did that suddenly come from?” He questioned, searching to meet your eyes as he waited for your answer.

“Nowhere, it’s just the truth."

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a while, as embarrassed as Lance wanted to be that he sat with his hair in space buns, he wasn’t. It was a memory that he would hold onto, mostly because of the smile that was on your face. Knowing that you had enjoyed messing around with Lance was by far the most important thing to him.

You snapped a couple more pictures of Lance, moving to take the hairbands out of his hair, only for him to stop you. His grip wasn’t tight, but it was strong enough to move your hands down back into your lap. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but Lance sat proudly in front of you, almost as if to tell you that he was happy for his hair to be left as it was for a little while longer.

You continued to stare for a few moments, expecting Lance to change his mind, but he didn’t. He sat with the same smile on his face, knowing that he had left you in a state of utter bemusement. “You actually don’t mind this?” You eventually asked, finally allowing your smile to reappear. “Does this mean that I’ll get to play with your hair more often now?”

He hated to admit it, he hated to give you the satisfaction, but Lance had surprisingly found it all very relaxing. Now he got it. He got why you always asked him to play with your hair whenever you weren’t feeling yourself.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind if you did it again.”

“I knew it!”

Lance’s head shook, “you really are impossible sometimes.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

#f1 #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 reaction #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll imagine #lance stroll #lance stroll x you #formula 1 x you #formula one imagine #formula 1 fic #formula one #f1 fic

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beenbaanbuun · 9 hours

Text

tied up w/ choi san

words - don’t ask, i don’t know

genre - smut

warnings - restraints, brat!reader, fem!bodied reader, mommy kink, dacryphiliIa, thigh riding, stomach riding

(not proof read)

—————————————————

“you’re a fucking brat, you know that?” san spits through gritted teeth as he stares up at you from the mattress. if his hands weren’t tied to the bedposts maybe you’d care a lot more about the bite in his words. there’s no doubt that if his hands were free, he’s waste no time in pinning you down and fucking you into the mattress, but they’re not free, and all you can do is giggle at him.

“you’re the one that said i could tie you up and do what i wanted to you, sannie,” you bite your lip, holding back a moan. it would’ve only driven him even more insane to hear your sounds of pleasure, and as much as you’d love to hear him growl out yet another threat that won’t come to fruition, you have more to say. you swallow down the pleasure you feel as your clit grinds up against his tensed-up abs, pushing you closer and closer to your second orgasm of the night, “you can’t say things like that and then get mad when i do the thing i’ve been dreaming of for so long.”

you can’t help the little whimper that comes out when his muscles twitch in anger. it’s a more subtle sensation that when you were sitting on his thigh, pinning it down as he desperately tried to wriggle free from his restraints, but it still feels fucking heavenly. who knew that pissing him off would feel so good?

your hands rest either side of his head, making it easy enough for you to drag one over to his neck. you wrap it around, giving it a tiny squeeze. he growls, deep and guttural and perhaps if this were any other situation you’d be intimidated. but you’re in charge, and he’s tied up, and so you just smile down at him as if you haven’t a worry in the world. as if his eyes aren’t blazing with a fire so intense you’ve never seen the likes of it before. you grin wide, clearly proud of yourself and the situation you’d put your boyfriend in.

“well i’m sorry that i thought you were a good girl,” he snarls, lips pulling back like a dangerous animal. you roll your eyes and give him an exaggerated moan. again, his muscles twitch in annoyance and it feels so good; you slow your hips right down to stave off your second orgasm. you don’t want it yet. “yet you won’t fucking touch my cock,” his voice cracks and he sucks in a shuddery breath to calm himself. you watch as the aggression melts away from his expression, giving way to the desperation that lies behind it. your hips stop all together as you watch him crumble; fuck, it’s magnificent. “baby, please, what do i have to do to make you sit on my cock?”

you freeze, never having thought you’d get this far. you were more than prepared to cum a few times then give up and untie him. he’d fuck you into oblivion, releasing all his pent up anger on your already fucked out body before scooping you up into his arms and taking care of your broken form. this was a twist you never expected. you never even considered that he might be the first to fold, but as you watch him blink back his tears of frustration, you realise that it’s you that has the power right now.

you take a moment to consider your options. you could give in, sinking down onto his cock and riding him until he cums deep inside of your walls. it’s the safest option, going back to being his good little pet that responds to his commands with a snap of a finger. its what you know how to do, and whilst you’re enjoying teasing your boyfriend, maybe giving into him and giving him what he wants is the best option. you almost consider it, but then san draws in a sob and you freeze.

any semblance of frustration on his face has melted into nothing, making way for an expression you can only describe as pleading to take its place. his brows are furrowed, and his eyes are wide, the big brown irises that you love so much glazed over with tears. you tug your lip between your teeth as a few spill over his lash line, tumbling down his cheeks pathetically. he looks so pretty like this, you decide. you want to see more.

“you want me to sit on your cock?” you say, voice barely above a whisper. perhaps the shock of seeing him like this, a wet, pathetic mess beneath you, has stunned you into silence. you wouldn’t be surprised; the sadness in his eyes really is beautiful to see. san nods, a tiny whine spilling from his puffy lips. you pout at him condescendingly, in the very same way he does when you’re the one crying beneath him. it feels good. “that’s a shame, sannie, because i don’t think i’m ready to sit on your cock.”

you shift your hips experimentally, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut and sobs once again. his chest heaves as he cries, and holy fuck his abs ripple just like before, sending a bolt of electricity up your spine. you moan, and it draws a pained whimper from your boyfriend’s pout. you can’t help but let yourself grin as you grow more comfortable with this newfound power. it’s easy to see how san gets off on your submission when he looks like this beneath you.

“please,” he blathers, voice whiny and sounding almost nothing like his own. it’s music to your ears, fuelling you hips to move faster as you chase your orgasm that lies only just out of reach. you can taste it on the tip of your tongue; just a little more and you’ll be there. “please touch my cock,” god he sounds so pathetic; you almost wish for him to keep rambling, the sound of his sad little voice leading you closer and closer to the edge. “please let me cum… please,” you take in a shaky breath as that know in your stomach tightens. just a little longer and—

“please… mommy.”

the knot snaps in two and you can’t help but topple forwards, hardly managing to catch yourself before your forehead collides with san’s. it lasts a few seconds, sending your brain fuzzy as it wracks through your body. that name… fuck, you want to hear it again. you want san to chant it like a mantra, over and over until his throat is raw and you can’t cum anymore. you barely catch your breath before you sit back up and gaze down at his beautiful form.

“is that it baby?” you purr, a new found confidence taking over, “you want me to ride you? you want mommy to look after you?” you bite your lip as he nods desperately, “such a good boy, asking so politely. for that, i think you get a reward…”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez headcanons #san x reader #san smut

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inurnctdreams · 22 hours

Text

dress - m.l

idol!mark x idol fem!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive, established relationship, one shot, song fic (maybe?? i wouldn’t class it as one but there are references to lyrics and the song inspired the fic so??)

warnings: swearing, very suggestive (grinding, making out, over the clothes stuff but no explicit sex), alcohol, mentions of being tipsy/drunk (mark and reader have been drinking but everything is consensual), pet names (baby, babe, pretty girl, mine/yours, dude (affectionate)), mdni

wc: 3.1k

notes: this entire thing stemmed from this gifset that gave me mark brainrot and made me think of the song dress by taylor swift

you’re pretty sure you’re supposed to be paying attention to the conversation happening in front of you right now. one of the executives for mbc… or was it kbs? whoever it was, they were important in the industry and they were talking at you and your group mates about your latest comeback stage… or maybe next year’s end of year concert that was already in the planning stages? you’d kind of stopped listening about five minutes ago. and it wasn’t your fault, really. you took your career seriously and wouldn’t dream of disrespecting anyone who was showing interest in your group by ignoring them usually, but you’d heard zhong chenle’s signature dolphin laugh across the room and that had been it. he’s here.

it would obviously be absolutely, outrageously scandalous for you to take off mid conversation, make a beeline for the group that had walked in and greet him like you want to. you have some modicum of self control and societal responsibility. and it isn’t a surprise, you knew he’d be here, you’d even gotten updates via text with a rough estimate of when he’d walk in. but you haven’t seen him in person in over three weeks and you’ve been looking forward to this night since the last time he’d kissed you goodbye at your door before sneaking back out of your dorm building to his car. 3am on a tuesday morning had turned out to be the only time the both of you were in the same city and without obligations in months. comebacks, tours, interviews. both of your lives were so hectic, it was difficult enough to get a moment to yourself to breathe, let alone together. now he’s here, in the same room as you, and you can’t do anything about it. the anticipation is killing you.

it hadn’t stopped you from pausing mid sentence when you’d registered his presence, though. disguising it with a cough and a modest apology, you’d finished your words and promptly stopped contributing to the conversation. smiling politely with your best poker face on as you tuned out of whatever was being discussed further and listened out across the room for any sign of him. chenle’s laugh is infectious, so donghyuck’s high pitched giggles soon joined in, audible above the rumble of laughter that had erupted from that corner of the room. but that was it. once the joke had worn off, the usual sounds of casual conversation replaced it, no doubt one of the older members’ doing as they reminded them of their surroundings. the first hour or so of award show after parties tend to be just the thing you’re ignoring: prominent figures in the industry congratulating and backhandedly complimenting idols whilst trying to promote something or take advantage of rookies with less media training by getting them to reveal secrets or agree to things.

once they’ve either gotten what they wanted or given up trying, they make their way out and the real party starts. realising you’re going to get nothing from the indiscernible voices in their direction, you start to work out how long you’ve been here, and how long you have to wait before it won’t be suspicious of you to drag your group over there to greet them. unfortunately, you’re interrupted midway through your mental calculations by something digging into your side. it’s gone before you even register the touch, light and inconspicuous. you glance down momentarily before meeting the eyes of your group mate, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“sorry, i didn’t quite catch that last bit.” your years of experience in the spotlight and exceptional training kick in immediately. you turn back to the middle-aged man in front of you with a practised innocent smile. “what were you saying?”

you smile graciously at the waitress as she hands you a flute of expensive champagne off of the shiny silver tray in her hand. taking a small sip, you school your face into a neutral expression to hide the wince at the acidic taste. you’ve never been much of a fan of the stuff, but it’s always handed out at events so you’ve gotten somewhat used to it in the years you’ve been legally allowed to drink at them. this is your second glass, and yet again you find yourself longing for the boring portion of the night to be over so the alcohol can start flowing more freely. you meet the eyes of your group mate and share a look, she hates champagne too. giggling to yourselves, you almost don’t notice the group of twenty-something boys heading in your direction, led by taeyong.

you’re immediately at full attention, straightening up from the pillar you’d been leaning against and placing your half full champagne flute on the nearest surface as you grin at your friends approaching. it’s almost comical, how the amount of people surrounding you in that moment feels like you’re looking for him in a crowd rather than just among his own group members. but then yuta moves to say hi to your group mate and there he is. god, he looks heavenly. the all black ensemble complimented by silver jewellery, his artfully tousled hair, the hint of gloss that have his lips looking so shiny and kissable it’s taking all of your entire being not to ravish him right here and now in the middle of this crowded room. not that he needs any of it to start up the roaring of butterflies in your stomach or trigger the giddy high you’re feeling. no, mark lee makes you feel like this every time he looks at you. barefaced, old t-shirt and glasses on with a hint of stubble starting to grow in as you sit next to him in the studio. bleary eyed, half asleep and hair sticking up as your phone alarm goes off on his bedside table. hoodie, snapback and face mask hiding most of his face as he slips into your practise room and catches your gaze in the mirror.

“y/n.” and everything just stops. the rest of the room falls away, the roar of conversation as your groups say hi is silenced, all you can see, hear, feel is him. the way he looks you up and down appreciatively that still makes your heart flutter despite it happening every time he sees you. he just has this way of making you feel like you’re the only one his attention would ever be captured by.

“hi, mark.” there’s a smile on your face, and you’re trying to make it your usual polite idol, public appearance smile, but really you have no control and you can feel the corners of your mouth turning up further against your will. you think that if you looked, his would be similar, probably that mischievous half-smirk he does that makes his dimple appear. and you love his dimple, but you’re currently captivated by the lovestruck look in his eyes. in that moment, you’re thankful you’d put your glass down because you would’ve dropped it. your hands shake as you force yourself to hold back from him. your groups are publicly very good friends, having known each other as trainees and debuting within a year of each other. you and mark have been best friends for years, and that’s all it was until the mutual pining hit its peak. there was something so beautiful about being in love with your best friend, with someone who understood how demanding your career was and already knew everything about you and who was still your best friend alongside being your boyfriend. around you, the rest of nct are giving your group mates half-hugs or shoulder nudges, but you don’t move to touch him, knowing you won’t let go if you initiate physical contact.

“y/n!” johnny rips you from your bubble. you have no idea how long you and mark were stood there, staring into each other’s eyes with that look on your faces, but it must’ve been long enough if someone’s intervened. the older idol pulls you into a short hug, but not before leaning down to murmur in your ear. “we know you guys are like, sickeningly in love, but would it kill you to not make it super obvious while there’s still cameras everywhere?”

oops.

“mark!” you whisper. or at least you hope you do, you’re pretty tipsy by this point in the evening. he just laughs, equally inebriated, and continues pulling you down the empty corridor, fingers intertwined. on a scale of zero to having your relationship exposed by dispatch come morning, sneaking off together a mere forty minutes after the industry execs had left the party is probably a solid deniable accusation. not exactly a great idea, but if anyone found out it wouldn’t be the end of the world, just carefully curated excuses in a statement and an earful from management. the first couple of doors he tries are locked, but third time seems to be the charm as you’re pulled into a room and plunged into darkness when the door clicks shut behind you.

“c’mere baby.” and you let go. all the pressure from being around so many people that could ruin your careers with one article, all the stolen glances across the room, all the secret smiles you share, all the patience that had been slowly wearing thin the longer you were in his proximity but not being able to do anything about it. it’s been been building all evening, and the dam finally breaks.

you practically throw yourself into his arms, winding your own around his neck as his wrap around your middle. he holds you to him so tight it hurts a little, but you’re probably slightly choking him with how strong your own grip is. the initial ‘holy shit you’re here and i can touch you without everyone looking’ moment passes and you both relax slightly. he still holds you close but it’s more grounding and comforting than anything. you bury your face into his neck and just let yourself breathe him in. his scent, the underlying notes of mark and home underneath the fancy cologne. the steady, comforting beat of his pulse against you. his arms are your safe place and being held by him makes everything better, even if just a little. you can’t count the number of times you’ve been exhausted or stressed or upset or scared or angry and all he’s had to do is pull you into him. you’ve cried on him, ranted into his chest and listened to him murmur words of encouragement and reassurance and love into your ear. there’s no other place you’d ever want to be. and even when you couldn’t physically be with him, he’s been there on facetime, or phone call, or over text. you’ve done the same for him without hesitation more times than you can imagine. he’s your person, your best friend, your soulmate, your everything, your one and only, your lifeline. you feel him press firm kisses into your hair and smile against his throat, snuggling into him happily.

“missed you.” you mumble. the alcohol in your system is amplifying the giddy feeling that’s thrumming through your entire being. all semblance of public image and self-control come crumbling down in front of him like always until all that’s left is the unguarded, most raw versions of yourselves laid bare for each other. he squeezes your hips and pulls back a little to look you in the eyes. you’ve adjusted to the darkness enough to make out his facial features and that same unfiltered, pure love is staring back at you from earlier but now he’s unabashedly grinning at you and his cheeks are flushed with happiness (and alcohol). his dimple is out in full force as he giggles right back at you. this is your mark, the one reserved for you and you only.

“fuck, you’re so perfect.” he whispers. “wish we could stay in here forever, just us.”

“i know.” you bite your lip, and his eyes zero in on your mouth. “wait, where even are we?”

“i don’t care.” and just as quickly as the wholesome, lovesick feeling had flooded you, the arousal and want flares up, threatening to consume you the second he grabs your face and claims your lips in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. he walks you both backwards until you’re pressed up against the door, gripping the sides of his jacket both for stability and to satiate the overwhelming need to get your hands on him. you whine against his lips as one of his hands slips into your hair and pulls gently, letting your hands roam under his jacket all over his waist and up his chest until they’re holding his shoulders. you use the leverage to push yourself up onto your tiptoes to match his heated, open-mouth kisses with the same carnal energy. he groans, the sound making you shiver and adding to the warmth pooling in your abdomen. the hand that’s not in your hair drops down to slide around you and grab your hip, pulling you even closer so you’re flush against his body. the need for oxygen is beginning to grow, but you’re addicted to the floaty, lightheaded feeling that comes along with it. it soon becomes too much, though, the both of you breathing heavily as you break away for air, but he wastes no time in leaving a trail of kisses down your jaw and neck, each one hotter and more filthy than the last.

“mark.” you whimper, turning your head to the side to grant him more access to your throat. he nips at your pulse point softly, careful not to leave a visible mark, but it makes you gasp and arch into him further all the same.

“my pretty girl.” he pants against your skin. “all mine.”

“mm-hmm.” you agree. “yours.” and you are, fully and irrevocably his in every sense of the word. you thread your own hands into his hair and pull his face back up to kiss him again. you could spend forever kissing him and never be satisfied, never get bored. it doesn’t matter than you know him better than you know yourself, or that you’ve spent hours in this exact same position with him already. there seems to be this endless need inside you for mark lee that started when you met him. you were kids back then, but you always craved his presence, his attention. over the years it’s developed, but the need for him has never wavered, even after he became yours.

“been thinking about this all night, you look incredible.” he confesses between kisses, both hands dropping from around you to wander under your dress and start caressing your thighs. his touch is electrifying, leaving trails of fire in his wake as he slides his hands up to grab your ass and squeeze it. the subsequent jolt of excitement has you whimpering against him and his grip moves to the crease where your ass and thighs meet. he kneads the soft flesh there sensually before squeezing again, and that’s all the warning you get before he lifts you up and presses you back against the door in one fluid motion without even breaking the kiss. you’re quick to wrap your legs around his waist, ankles crossing against his back. not that you think he’ll drop you, it’s never happened before, you just use the leverage to pull him in until you’re happily trapped between the cold, hard surface of the door and your boyfriend’s warm, inviting body. you both groan as his hips roll into yours. whether it was a result of you pulling him in or an intentional movement on his part is unknown, but the way he bites your lip and grinds his crotch into yours again is definitely not an accident. with you now supporting yourself, he’s free to bring one hand up to your chest, groping at your tits through your dress. his hips haven’t stopped moving, and you can feel the way he’s quickly hardening against your underwear. whilst the sensation is incredible, it snaps you out of the trance you’ve been in.

“babe.” you moan. “mark, baby, we can’t.”

“you mean we shouldn’t.” he smirks.

“no, i mean someone is going to notice we’re gone soon, if they haven’t already, and come looking for us.” you counter. he stops moving and looks up at you, the fog of arousal starting to clear from his expression. he sighs exasperatedly, knowing you’re right.

“fine.” he lowers you back to your feet. you know you both probably no longer resemble the perfect idol look your stylists and hair and makeup artists crafted before you decided to sneak off for a tipsy make out session in one of the back rooms, so you feel around for a light switch. your eyes squeeze shut as the room is flooded with light, blinking a couple times to readjust your vision. a giggle escapes you as you take in how adorably disheveled mark looks, hair tousled, collar rumpled and the pink hue of your lipstick smudged around his lips. although, you’re sure you look pretty similar.

you spend a couple minutes making yourselves look presentable again before you rejoin the party. “i should probably go first, give you a couple of extra minutes to calm down.” you tease, eyeing the tent in his pants.

“i bet if i checked, you’d still be soaking wet for me.” he retorts, eyes darkening slightly, sending a flush of heat straight to your core. he’s not lying. you take a deep breath to compose yourself before opening the door and stepping out into the corridor. you turn back to your boyfriend.

“behave.”

“the rest of this party’s gonna be torture, having to watch you go around looking like that.” he looks you up and down appreciatively again, though this time it’s a lot less innocent. you’re so glad that your schedules have calmed down enough to allow you more time together for the next month or so, the last couple months without being able to see him properly have been rough.

“well you can show me how much you like it when we get back to yours, later.”

“i plan to.”

“good. ‘cause i only bought this dress so you could take it off.” you smirk as the door shuts behind you.

“not helping, dude!” his voice is muffled as you begin walking back towards the party, giggling to yourself as you go. “i hate you!”

“no you don’t!”

#nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #mark x reader #mark lee x reader #nct scenarios #kpop scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct fanfic #kpop x reader #kpop imagines

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ericshoney · 2 days

Text

Mean Prank ~ Brothers!Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: Your brothers ask you to be in a car video, only to prank you by being really mean.

Warnings: Usual swearing, being mean (for the prank), crying.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nick, Matt and Chris were home in Boston for a while, which you were very happy about. They were there to help you with some school work and let you rant about stuff they would understand more than your parents. They were also there for you to joke around with.

Which resulted in a small prank war.

It started with you and Chris pranking Nick whilst he was asleep. You both put fake birds around his bedroom, much like the one Matt and Chris pranked him with in their earlier YouTube career.

Nick was pissed, so he wanted to get you back. This continued until all of you had something against the other. That was until you pranked all three of them at once. The guys then stepped up their game.

"So what's the prank?" Chris asked.

"We're gonna pretend to film a car video, she's been wanting to do one for a while, but we're going to be really mean to her to see how she reacts." Nick replied, reminding him on the prank.

"Will she get upset?" Matt questioned.

"We'll see if she notices it's a prank or not. If it goes too far we'll stop." Nick answered.

Matt and Chris both nodded as Nick went to find you. All of you then headed to the car, going to the guys usual car park to start the prank. You sat on your phone for a bit while they set up the camera and whilst you were distracted, it gave them the chance to start.

"Kid, get off your phone it's so rude." Chris started.

"I was waiting till we started to film." You mentioned, placing your phone down.

"The camera is all set." Matt said.

You nodded as Nick intro the video, you gave a small wave as he said you were here and what the topic was about.

"Today we have our little sister Y/n here! And today's topic, yes there is a topic, is about sibling fights and disagreements." He said.

"Will be fun." You said.

"Yeah cause you caused most of them." Matt mumbled.

"What?" You called.

"Well your the youngest, always thinking you can get your own way." He responded.

"Fuck off." You grumbled, a small smile on your face, thinking he was joking. Which he was, but held the laugh in for the prank.

"I remember when this motherfucker was born. I had a day planned with mum and she had to ruin it by being born early." Nick mentioned.

"You remember that one time she broke a Wii remote and tried to blame Trevor?" Chris called.

"Or that one time she stole your favourite hoodie and blamed Justin." Matt added.

"What is this, pick on Y/n video?" You called.

"Shut up." Nick replied.

The guys continued, their comments getting ruder and meaner. What broke you was Chris throwing an empty Pepsi can in the back, which hit your shoulder. You sighed and got out the car, walking across the car park.

"Kid get back in the car!" Matt shouted.

"No! Fuck off!" You shouted back.

The three shared a look, whilst also watching you. They noticed how you just went and sat by the store which was closed.

"We better tell her it's a prank." Chris said, making his brothers nod.

The three of them got out and came over to you quickly, Matt holding the camera. As they got closer, they noticed you were crying, but as you saw the camera, you covered it up.

"Sweetheart, it was a prank." Nick said softly.

"Real funny." You muttered.

"We're sorry kid, it's supposed to be a harmless prank. We didn't mean to hurt your feelings, we love you so much." Matt said.

“Why say all that stuff?” You asked quietly.

“We didn’t mean it, bub. It was all for a prank. We’re so sorry.” Chris said.

“We’ll make it up to you. Tomorrow we’ll take you out all day and do whatever you want, deal?” Nick suggested, holding his hand out. You smiled a bit and nodded, shaking his hand.

The guys smiled as they ended the video and you all went back to the car. Each of them saying sorry for the bad prank and knew they had to make it up to you.

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bleedingintogold · 2 days

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The medic leaned over his captain, wiping away the sweat on his forehead with a damp cloth. The man himself was out cold, as he had been for the past day. Tan skin had become a pale shade and a strong body had been reduced to a limp shell of itself. Heavy breathing became the only thing that showed he was still alive and struggling to be.

He wasn't getting better.

The wound had festered and the infection must have gotten into his bloodstream. Medic had been too late to notice and the captain had been too occupied trying to keep as many of his men alive as he could whilst completing their mission. The platoon stopped advancing yesterday when their captain collapsed right in front of them.

But the general had had enough. One man wasn't enough reason to abandon their assignment.

"He can't even sit up by himself, sir! He won't survive if we-" "We aren't bringing him. He will stay here," "With all due respect sir, this platoon needs their medic with them-" "I said that your captain is staying here. Not you," The medic's heart dropped when the general's words started to register. He was being ordered to leave behind his captain. His brother by everything but blood. "Look at him, medic. I doubt he will still be alive by tommorow. You're wasting your supplies," "General! He isn't dead yet! He just needs time-" "Time that we do not have, soldier. We will move by sunrise tommorow. We are advancing without him,"

A small whine answered the general before the medic could, making both men turn to the weak body on the cot. The general sighs as he walks to the young man's side, placing a gentle hand on a too warm forehead. The captain's eyes were hardly open, but he was conscious and had heard the whole conversation. "I'm sorry, son. You were a good soldier and one of my best men. But this mission is of higher importance," "My men...take care of 'em, sir," "I will. For your own good, you need to let go. You don't need to hold on anymore, son. You've done your part," The medic's hand trembled as he watched the two high ranks.

"m' sorry, sir...dying...is not as easy as I thought," "I know. Which is why I will help you. You don't have to suffer like this anymore, son," The general said as he passed the medic a small packet of white powder. "Sir?" "It's cyanide. Mix some into water and feed it to him tonight," "You're...you're asking me to kill him, sir?" "He's in pain, soldier. You're going to do him a favour,"

The captain was partially conscious now but he had seen the powder. Medic made the mistake of meeting the captain's eyes, seeing the fear in them under the haze of sickness. "I will allow you to bury him properly before we depart. Make sure it is done by sunrise," the general said before leaving the tent.

-----

Medic cradled his captain's upper torso, the mixed concoction of poison ready in a canteen. The captain's head laid limp against Medic's shoulder. Medic noticed that his captain was trembling.

No, wait. It was him.

He was trembling.

A weak voice pulled the medic out of his haze. "Medic...I...I don't want to die," a voice he didn't recognize said, soft but shaky. "But...you're in...pain. You won't survive anyway-" "I don't wanna die...please...I'm scared..."

Medic put the canteen down, instead wrapping his arms tightly around his captain. The captain was built bigger than medic, but he seemed incredibly small in his brother's arms. "Okay. Okay. You're not going to die, alright? I'm not...I won't do it," "But...the orders..." "Fuck the orders. I am a medic. Your medic. My task is to keep the men alive, not kill them,"

The captain didn't answer, savouring the warmth of his brother holding him.

#leader whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #leader whump #whump tropes #whump prompt #whump #whumpee #sick whump #team dynamics

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multivcrse · 2 days

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Hunger For All — c. snow | chapter one !

❝ chapter one : reap the young ! ❞

next chapter | previous chapter

pairing : academy! coriolanus snow x fem! academy! oc

warnings : rich capitol kids

summary : reaping day.

navigation | masterlist | series masterlist | wattpad

SITTING ON THE chair of her vanity, Cassandra brushed her hair, untangling the slightest strands of hair that got entangled. Her black dress shirt had small patches of white roses scattered all over it, draping perfectly over her torso.

Being a student at the Academy required uniforms for daily use, but for today's ceremony, the students are expected to be dressed formally in their own way. Of course, it was no problem for Cassandra. Whatever's inside of her wardrobe was something most girls wished for.

Turning her head from the mirror, Cassandra heard a knock from the other side of the door. Must be an avox. "I'll be there in a minute." Her pointer finger met the touch of her lips, smoothing out the natural shade of lipstick she applied on.

The whole family had been sitting on the dining chairs by the time she made it downstairs. The smell of warm bread pudding hit the air. Coriolanus' Favorite. Cassandra slightly shook her head at the thought. Why'd she have to remember?

The girl took a seat next to her younger brother who was in uniform unlike her. Alexandr was two grades lower than Cassandra, which is why he was in that hideous red skirt.

The maid brought up the pan of pudding, cutting a nice and warm slice, sliding it onto Cassandra's plate. The maid then took the glass water jug, pouring the clear liquid onto her glass.

Cassandra silently thanked the older woman who hasn't had her tongue cut off. "Excited for reaping day?” Her father, Theoden spoke up, looking up from his food, still holding the spoon and chewing on the pudding.

As if everyone hadn't known already. Cassandra ignored his statement, knowing exactly where this was going. She took a spoon and started to scrape off the corn syrup that was drizzled on top of the square slice of pudding.

Hell, that was a stupid question. Who would even be excited about watching kids get reaped from their homes to kill one another?

"Cassandra." Father spoke up once again, causing the girl to look up. "Yes?" She raised her eyebrows, making her spoon go through the edge of the pudding.

"What? The Plinth prize? There’s no need to worry, father i guarantee you that i will be the one who wins it." She spoke before eating the piece of pudding. She wasn’t sure if she was joking or not. "Good." Father chuckled. Truly, she wasn't too sure about winning, especially when she had Coriolanus on her tail.

As Cassandra arrived at the Academy building with her brother, they parted ways immediately. Alexandr went to his group of friends in uniform, whilst Cassandra walked up the stairs into the building.

It seems that the other students were waiting for her appearance. She was well aware that she was the prettiest in her grade. Everybody aspired to be her and she was glad. "There she is, Coriolanus' little birdie." Cassandra despised that nickname. Coriolanus wouldn't stop teasing her with it whenever they argued. It used to be sweet and adorable when they were little kids.

Cassandra stood between Festus and Felix, right across Arachne. "Ready to compete with Snow?" Festus chimed in. "Compete with Snow?" Cassandra ironically furrowed her eyebrows, repeating his statement.

"Oh, don't worry birdie. I won't go easy on you." The familiar quiet voice behind Cassandra caused her to roll her eyes. Coriolanus' mouth was just a few inches away from her ear as she could feel his breath. Ugh.

She turned around, glaring at him. A hand was placed on his chest, slightly shoving Coriolanus away from herself. "Finally. The star pupil." Arachne greeted Coriolanus in a not-so friendly way.

"That's a snazzy shirt, what are those buttons, tesserae?" The Crane girl leaned forward to take a closer look at Coriolanus' probably filthy dress shirt. "Huh. That's why they remind me of the maid's bathroom." Cassandra was trying her best to hold her laughter in as he spoke.

As if his family could even afford to hire a maid. "I'll be congratulating you today, Mr. Snow." Festus cleared his throat as Felix was eating with his bare hands. Cassandra swore she couldn't believe he was the president's son.

"Oh, please. I'll make sure you walk out empty handed, Coryo." Cassandra was practically mocking his dumb little nickname. He took it quite seriously as to who was calling him by that name. Well, she used call him that genuinely.

"That's funny, cause i could've sworn i heard you say you didn't care about the prize awhile back." Coriolanus spat back. Whatever. "Someone's been paying attention." Festus teases with a smug smile on his face.

It was true. The only logical thing to do was not care about the stupid prize. Her family was rich anyway, why would she need it? "Yeah, i don't." Cassandra scoffed, glaring at the group of classmates, seeing that Lysistrata had just approached the group.

She was a nice girl, to say the least. Everything about her was... neat. Cassandra could call her a friend although they interacted at least only 5 times in one semester.

"I just wanted to know if you, needed the prize." Cassandra spoke quiet enough for only Coriolanus to hear. She left him looking at her in slight fear and pure disgust.

She was on the verge of wanting the truth to be everywhere, out and about although, it was killing him. He needed to be careful. He even thought about making amends with her. All for the sake of his own self and family.

Cassandra walked towards the tables and took a glass of water. She walked over to the other side and smoothly swapped the glass of water with a glass of posca. Cassandra walked away, but only to run into her favorite professor.

"Cassandra! Come here." Satyria called out, looking away from the people she was speaking to. Cassandra smiled before approaching the older woman. Satyria was everyone's favorite. She was almost likely to be considered as a friend.

Standing next to Satyria, Cassandra looked up at the people that were speaking to Satyria just a few moments ago. She recognized them to be professors from the Capitol University. "This is the Cassandra i was talking about." The professors nodded and smiled at the girl.

"She's Theoden Sparrow's daughter actually." Satyria added. Cassandra's father a was a well known wealthy man who owned the coal minings at district twelve. Sometimes, he goes to district twelve to help his business run. "It's nice to meet you." Cassandra smiled as she shook the professors' hands.

"She's a top student alongside Crassus Snow's boy." Cassandra tried her best to hide her smile as Satyria mentioned. This was good. Contact with professors from the University was needed. "Good luck with the Plinth prize, Ms. Sparrow." One of the professors spoke up, motioning his glass of posca forward.

Cassandra nodded and took a sip of her water. "Thank you very much." A little while after, the commotion around her gave a signal that it was time for the reaping ceremony to begin.

She made her way towards the seats and saw that the last ones available was next to Clemensia. And Coriolanus. Cassandra sighed before taking off the book bag off of her shoulder.

"Good luck." Clemensia whispered as the two sat down. Coriolanus stayed quiet, trying his best to avoid Cassandra's presence.

The hall went quiet as Dr. Gaul entered the place. She was nothing but a terrifying woman. Cassandra went to her laboratory once, and it was nothing anyone wanted to see. Full of mutated creatures and even humans (avoxes).

Dr. Gaul introduced herself before letting Dean Casca Highbottom take the lead. No one liked that man. He was the creator of the Hunger Games itself after all. The man was attached to morphling.

"There's no prize today. Not anymore." Cassandra overheard Sejanus speak to Coriolanus and she wished she hadn't. What did that even mean? Will 10 years of trying to be the best student mean nothing?

Cassandra's breath hitched as she tried not to turn to Sejanus and react. Dean Highbottom's annoying voice kept going on and on until his words made Cassandra pay attention again.

"The Plinth Prize will no longer be determined by who has the best grades, but by who is the best mentor in the Hunger Games."

It was no need to act surprised. Of course he'd pull some shit like this. She wasn't sure on how she was going to win this. What if she was chosen to mentor a tribute from a poor district or something?

"As the reaping progresses live, i will allocate each District tribute a Capitol mentor." Great. Another competition against Snow. She could only hope for the best. "Also, two lucky students will partner up and mentor one tribute. Together." That was unfair! Some students, including Arachne protested.

But then again, she'd rather work alone than to have a tribute from a poor and weak district. The dean sat himself down, looking up at the television, ready to announce which district each mentors get. "Let the reaping ceremony begin." The dean mutters, pulling out some cards that contained names from his pocket.

"District one, boy, Livia Cardew." The girl couldn't contain her excitement. Cassandra didn’t like her as much. That girl acts like she hates Coriolanus Snow as much as Cassandra does. Cassandra was the only one who could ever hate his guts, why'd she have to intervene?

Well, actually that doesn’t matter at all.

As the dean continued to read out the names, Cassandra felt the desperation rush in. She could only hope for a decent tribute. She did not need a tribute who could barely survive the districts, let alone the Hunger Games.

Cassandra gulped as she didn't get a tribute from neither district one or two like she had hoped for. What was this? There was no way her father didn't know about the changes. She thought he'd at least bribe Highbottom so she could get someone from a higher district.

The boy from district two was assigned to Sejanus. This was no doubt, Strabo Plinth's request. Cassandra couldn't help but think her father did the same thing and decided to give her a tribute from twelve. Please, no. Anything but that, anything!

Two other districts passed. Cassandra's name hasn't been called out yet. The only thing she was relieved about was that Coriolanus hasn't been assigned a tribute yet either. She hoped he'd get the tribute from twelve and not her.

The last hope with a boy from eleven went to Clemensia. No students have been paired up together so far. The only ones left were Cassandra, Coriolanus, Felix and Lysistrata.

Cassandra would rather partner up with the president's not-so bright son than to have Coriolanus as a partner. At least Lysistrata.

Though, it passed. Felix's tribute was a girl from eleven and finally, Lysistrata's tribute was a boy from twelve. Cassandra turned to look at Coriolanus as she felt the sense of fury rush into her mind.

"You'll be happy about this one, Ms. Crane." The dean stood up, walking closer to the televisions. Coriolanus shared a glance with Cassandra. That's it. If Cassandra could, she would storm out of the hall right this second. "District Twelve girl ... Ah, she belongs to the mentors who are chosen to partner up. Coriolanus Snow… and Cassandra Sparrow."

GUYS HI SO IM LIKE NEW TO TS SOO PLS FOLLLOWWWW AND DONT BE SHY TO TALK TO MEEEE !!! my requests r very much open btw also ty very much for the notes on my last post<33

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #tom blyth x reader #series #the hunger games fanfiction #tom blyth #thg #sunrise on the reaping #coryo snow #coriolanus snow x oc #sejanus plinth #lucy gray baird #reaping day #rachel zegler

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gentleandlovingkisses · 2 days

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LABYRINTH - gr63

pairing . . . george russell x fem!reader summary . . . you never actually meant to wish your bother away, but if you wanted him back, you'd have to travel to the goblin king's castle and retrieve him. But maybe you don't go back, maybe the goblin king entices you, and you have to make a decision. warnings . . . literally a labyrinth!au because I watched the movie last night and I watch it consistently every summer, other than that, nothing else. notes . . . i don't remember where this idea came from, I just had the idea of it and decided to make it. also, this is only part 1!! be patient for any other parts. <3

━━━━━━━ YOU HELD YOUR crying younger brother; he was relentless as you pleaded with him to stop. Unbeknownst to you, after you had started your spiel about the goblin king taking him away, you were under watch. Goblins sat around the room in the cover of darkness as you finally laid Toby to rest.

"I wish the goblins would take you away, right now." You spat, flipping off the light and walking away into your room. You paused mere seconds later, silence filled the hall and your father and stepmother's room. Unusual.

The room was the same as before, Toby's crib sat in the middle of the carpet, close to your stepmother's side of the bed. Reaching into the crib whilst expecting the worst, your nightmare came true - Toby was missing.

Suddenly, a flash of lighting elicited an owl to bang against the window of the room you were in. Snarls and weird noises filled the silent air, it left you scared and spinning around in horror. Once the owl broke open the window, it became he.

"You're him, right? You're the Goblin King." Your eyes widened; he stood in all his glory before you. He was different than you expected, a slightly scrawnier man with light blue eyes and fluffy (albeit messy,) brown hair. He was gorgeous.

"I want my brother back, please." You pleaded with him once you regained your composure. Staring into his eyes was hard, seeing as he was more beautiful than you could've ever imagined.

"What's said is said." He had a British accent as he spoke, staring you down from where he stood on the windowsill of your father and stepmothers bay window.

"But I didn't mean it!" You exclaimed, tears filling your eyes. Had George not been the Goblin King who was madly in love with you, after years of watching you, he would've taken pity and returned Toby. How was he supposed to convince you to be his Goblin Queen if you could leave with your brother and be okay with it?

"Oh, you didn't?" He grinned as you stood motionlessly. He was rather intimidating.

"Where is he?" You pleaded with him, trying to drag the answer from his gorgeous lips - why were you staring at his lips?

"You know that very well." He spoke effortlessly, as if he'd done this thousands of times before. He hadn't, but he had dreamt of this moment with you.

"Please, bring him back." A tear slipped from your eye, and George had fought everything in himself to reach forwards and wipe the tear from your face. He had a plan to conduct, making any mistake would be costly.

"Go back to your room, play with your toys and costumes. Forget about the baby." He stepped even slightly closer to you, but you hadn't noticed. Distraught raced over you, Toby could be in danger!

"I cannot." You sighed. It was a quiet understanding you had reached as he spoke; you needed your brother back and you needed him back now.

"I've brought you a gift." George grinned slightly, this was going well, and he knew that. It would lead to an ultimatum you would make in the end, but you didn't know that this was all nearly scripted. You were playing right into his trap.

"What is it?" You were interested, your eyes sparkling with some sort of wonder.

"It is a crystal, nothing more. But, if you turn it this way," he rolled it in his hands again and again, "and look into it, it will show you your dreams. But this is no gift for a girl who takes care of a screaming baby." he was still messing around with the crystal ball, moving it around in a near hypnotizing way.

"Do you want it?" He asked her, she sheepishly nodded, "Then forget the baby." He added. You, however, were stubborn. Toby was still your brother, and you still needed him back.

"I cannot." You sighed, "I do appreciate what you're trying to do for me, but I want my brother back." your eyebrows furrowed instantly, thinking about what he might be going through. "He must be so scared." you worried aloud. George watched, a small grin formulating along his lips.

"Do not defy me, you are no match for me." He stepped forwards, but you stood your ground.

"But I must have my brother back." You felt another tear leave your eye. This time, George was close enough to wipe it off, an intimate gesture that left you flustered and weak in the knees. You shook off the feeling, scolding yourself instantly.

"He's there, in my castle. Do you still want to look for him?" George pointed through the window. The landscape changed instantly, switching from the rainy darkness that once was, to a barren wasteland esque area, filled with an intricate design of twists and turns - the labyrinth.

"Is that the castle beyond the Goblin City?" Your voice shook slightly as you stepped up to the platform, George was not far behind you.

"Turn back, dove." The small nickname sent an unwanted rush of butterflies through your stomach, and you kept your face forwards. "Turn back before it is too late." He added, acting as if he had not just called you an intimate name.

"I cannot. Do you not understand?" You felt like breaking down and sobbing. How selfish of you to say that, to say that and get Toby - oh, the poor baby! He must be horrified! - sent away to a place both of you were unfamiliar with.

"What a pity." George was grinning.

"It doesn't look that far." You noted, scanning the area before you.

"It's further than you think, and time is short. You have thirteen hours to solve the labyrinth before your baby brother becomes one of us forever." His voiced echoed out a "such a pity" before fading out into the distance.

"It doesn't look that hard, c'mon feet." And you were off on the worst mistake of your life, you should have stayed home and accepted defeat, you could've run away and changed everything about you, but you got yourself into this mess, which means you'll have to get yourself out.

━━━━━━━ NEXT PART!

is this too niche I feel like no one really knows this movie anymore

rip David Bowie though </3

#ceciljameswork #formula 1 imagine #george russell #gr63 #gr63 x reader #mercedes amg f1 #formula one imagine #formula 1 #george russell x reader #george russell imagine #canada gp 2024 #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

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certifiedstabber · 3 days

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Nightmare Faints ♤

Summary: Nightmare has never been known to faint, until now at least.

Characters: Dust, Killer, Error, Nightmare's there too but he's useless and lazy and

Words: 1,278

A/N: methinks this was just practising present tense writing?? it's been wayyyyyy too long to know for sure tho ;3;

"What do you mean he fainted?!"

The question lingers in the air as Dust tries to think of a response other than 'I don't know', knowing it wouldn't satiate Killer's anxiety over his Boss.

"He just.. fainted."

The moment the words came out of his mouth Dust was already chastising himself for giving such an awful answer. He was aware he was bad at things like this but to such an extent where he can't even give a fully structured sentence? He was finding it quite pathetic.

"Good job! Do you have any other information or is it just that he fainted, which I already knew because he's on the bed unconscious right in front of me?!" Killer frustratedly yelled at his teammate.

Laying in Dust's bed was Nightmare, the back of his hand covering the upper part of his face as if to protect himself from something. He'd been there for what seemed like hours, but was only a few minutes in actuality.

"No."

"Seriously? Nothing?!"

Dust walks over to Nightmare's side and prods him gently, trying to get a reaction out of him.

"Nothing. We were talking and I turned my back to him for a few seconds whilst grabbing something he asked for and I turned back when I heard him collapse, that's all."

Killer falls backwards into a nearby seat and puts his head into his hands, sighing in irritation.

"He's Nightmare, Dust. Nightmare doesn't just.. faint!" He shouted, taking his head out of his hands to look towards Dust.

"Well he does now! If it's just a normal faint then he'll be alright, but if not.." Dust trails off near the end.

Killer stands up and walks over to Dust, looking between him and Nightmare.

"If not?"

"Then I don't know. Yeah, it's worrying but.. it could just be heat exhaustion." Dust explains, trying to find a plausible explanation to calm Killer down.

"Right.. I dunno if you've noticed but there's no sun here. There's no heat. There's literally nothing here in this AU that could cause heat exhaustion." Killer responds, agitation seeping through his voice.

Dust sighs and walks over to the nearby bookshelf in the corner of his room, the place he'd already checked over dozens of times by now for any reasonable explanation for what could've caused Nightmare's predicament. He begins to check again, flicking through the pages of books which would otherwise go unused.

"Gah-!"

Dust turns to see what caused the noise, seeing Killer pacing back and forth impatiently.

"You're overreacting, he's fine." Dust says, turning back to the books.

He hears Killer stop for a moment. In that moment he thinks of all the things that could happen, from Killer storming out to Killer straight up attacking him.

"I'm overreacting..?" Killer spoke, his voice quiet yet hateful.

Dust closes the book and turns to his teammate, nodding.

"I have known that man for years, so many years- so many more than you have," he began, storming over to Dust, "never in those years have I ever seen him pass out, not even show any sort of symptoms or signs that he needs to or wants to or whatever the Hell else can be said about that. This shit right here-" he gestures towards his Boss, "-is NOT normal and you are underreacting!" He finishes, prodding Dust's chest with his finger.

There's a few moments of silence between the pair, neither of them willing to look away from the other.

"Knock knock!"

They both turned at the familiar sound, seeing a glitchy skeleton pretending to knock on an invisible door.

".. Who's there?" Killer responds.

"Not."

"Not who?"

"Not Nightmare!" He laughs, walking over to a still fainted Nightmare.

Neither Dust nor Killer laugh, instead choosing to ignore their part-teammate part-enemy in favour of glaring at each other.

Error hums for a few moments before lifting Nightmare's arm with a string, waving it around before letting it drop.

"Yup, he's out alright.. any idea what caused this? Rarely see it nowadays.." he murmurs, trailing off near the end of the sentence.

"Nowadays?" Dust inquires, turning his attention to Error.

"Uh, yeah? He used to pass out a [sheep] ton but it's less frequent now that he isn't being a try-hard." Error speaks, standing for a few seconds in silence before he turns his attention towards the portal.

"Fresh! You [beach]! Stop censoring me!" Error screeches towards the portal before it closes.

Killer and Dust look at each other awkwardly for a few seconds, trying to figure out how to go about getting more information from the destroyer without sending him on a rant.

"Alright.. Error, will he be okay?" Dust questions, slowly walking over to where he stood.

"What? Yeah, he'll be fine. Probably out of it for a few minutes but he'll get over it." Error responds, shrugging.

Dust turns to Killer with a smug expression on his face, secretly thankful that he was right about it. Killer growls and crosses his arms in irritation.

"Anything we should get for him when he wakes up?" Dust asks.

"Ugh, no. Hates being helped whenever he passes out. What caused it anyway?" Error responded, repeating his previous question.

"It's Dust's fault!" Killer yells, walking over to Nightmare's side and gently prodding him.

"Is not!" Dust yells back defensively.

"Hey, Error, if Nightmare randomly fainted in Dust's room when Dust wasn't paying attention then surely that would be Dust's fault, right?" Killer asks.

Error crosses his arms and stares between the pair.

"He passed out in Dust's room and you've kept him here in Dust's room?" Error asks, dumbfounded.

"Yeah?" Killer responds, confused.

"Right, so he passed out in a room full of chemicals-" Error gestures towards the numerous bottles sitting at the bottom of the bookshelf, "-and you've kept him here despite not knowing why exactly he passed out? Good thinking skills, guys, if we were in a horror movie I'm sure we'd all survive!" He finishes, opening the door to Dust's room.

"Well-"

"Blah blah blah, I don't wanna hear it. Just pick him up and take him to his office already." Error demands.

Dust and Killer reluctantly pick Nightmare up, trying their hardest not to touch him too much. It was a well known fact within their group that he could be sent into a panicked state if people got too close to him, and if he woke up now..

"He's surprisingly light.." Killer murmured.

"Doesn't have a physical form, just slime.." Dust replies, letting out a slight grunt at the effort involved.

After a while, they manage to drop Nightmare into his office chair.

"Okay.. what now?" Killer questions, turning towards Error who stood in the doorframe of the office, arms still crossed.

"What do you mean? Just leave him to rest. If he doesn't wake up within the next few days then it becomes an issue." He responds, boredom evident in his voice.

"Few days?!"

Error scoffs, walking over to the desk. "Yeah? He's lived for like five hundred years or something, time is different for him so his body doesn't function like ours. Could be minutes, could be days, who knows?" Error spoke, sitting on top of it.

Dust stands there, staring at his Boss as his worries come back. What would happen if he didn't wake up?

Killer screeches from behind him, causing him to jump slightly. It's clear that he's also concerned over the situation, but none of them can do anything about it.

For now, all they can do is keep watch and make sure that their Boss doesn't end up getting sicker, and they're going to take that job incredibly seriously.

#mai writing 🔪🩸#undertale au #nightmare sans #killer sans #error sans #dust sans #bad sanses

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pet-slut-chrissy · 8 hours

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was this sexy or not?

I think this is about the fastest that i have ever done a writeup of a playtime for Mistress @owner-of-pet-slut-chrissy but i can’t stop thinking about it.. this just happened yesterday.. She had been teasing me heavily for over a day, having me wear a knotted crutch rope over panties then having me on no-touch denial except for occasionally touching on Her orders

so She was in a very horny mood.. i was still dressed in a short nightie with a wide belt, holdups and my highest heels, and my pussy was mostly exposed. Mistress supervised while i put in the lush, an inflatable plug so i would have a tail, a vacuum tube on my clit and my wand and wand harness.. then She had me hang a bell on the nipple clamps and put them on my pussy lips tucking the front hem of my nighty in my belt so my pussy was on display to her. By the time dressed to please i was already whimpering when She asked me to pick four rooms.. i chose my office, kitchen, living room and bedroom. This was my first error I forgot my manners and was dragged back down stairs and put in my cage, i found myself getting horny despite being reprimanded and was so desperate for my owner to use me, i apologized pleading to be used worried i was to be left int he cage for the evening, i was fortunate and she allowed me out of the cage and we started in the office, the wand turned on pulses and the dildo (training toy) on my desk. I stood bent at the waist feet apart and accessible She had me sucking and licking, and it wasn’t long before i was whimpering and begging to cum pleading to be allowed to cum for her…I exploded. after my first orgasm we went to the kitchen, me carrying the training toy in my mouth. my first panic came when She wanted me to stick the dildo to the outside of the patio door and go out on the deck.. i begged to stay inside and She said i would owe, wand on pulsing she had me repeating notes she gave me which i was to repeat whilst sucking on the cock, it was so humiliating and a turn on as i told her "I was a filthy cunt lover and wanted her to humiliate and use me" soon I was trembling and moaning to be allowed to cum for Her.. another orgasm and thighs now wet. then into the living room for my third on the floor sucking the toy no less powerful. after each orgasm She turned the wand off to let me catch my breath, before she had me lay on my back holding my ankles and put the wand back on and threatened to go out for dinner and leave me like this, I begged and pleaded not to be left…

very well i wont she offered come along then i got up and was suddenly directed to the front door i suddenly realized as she told me to go to the front door.. wait, what?? i heard a car driving by and became even more nervous. after it was gone She turned the wand back on, opened the door and told me to stand there and cum within 30 seconds if i failed i had to go on the door step and would have to try again. my pussy on display pussy bell tinkling seeming so loud with the wand my second and stronger panic came when i saw people across the street, i jumped back and closed the door trembling, the wand still going.. Mistress asked me if i came and i said no.. i knew i was in trouble, after the people were gone we opened the door again only this time i was only given 20 seconds. because of the thrill and the fact that the wand had been pulsing strong i was able to cum on time and jumped back in, breathing hard. then i was told to get down FDAU and give Her one more, which i did.

so now i am laying on the floor recovering and notice a puddle and splashes by the front door.. apparently when i panicked seeing people across the street i peed myself and didn’t even realize it. Mistress immediately pulled me over to the puddle, my nose right over it and turned the wand back on. i’m scared and shaking, but with the lush going and wand pulsing and it wasn’t long before i felt another orgasm building. i start begging to cum and She says yes but i have to either lick the puddle or stick my face in it when i cum.. oh no, i’m fighting so hard desperate, saying please no but She says i already owe Her so much.. i don’t know what to do, i’m so close, finally i stop thinking and just explode as i drop my head to the floor and my face in the puddle

i had a hard time looking myself in the mirror as i was cleaning myself up, but Mistress said that it was extremely sexy and She was proud of me.. i would love to know if others think this was sexy too

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anonymous-yandere-writer · 2 days

Text

Requested by: @elysiumrealms

Sure! I did think some fleshing out on how the rest of the family acts around them would be cool to write. Sorry this took so long btw, my inbox gets stuffed pretty quickly and it was finals week. Anyway thanks for the ask!

Anon-Yan 💌‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Platonic Yandere Malleus

Pt.3

For you, the time before your punishment was nothing but a blurry mess.

Genuinely you don't remember all your horrible habits and manipulative tactics, you just remember acting on your insticts and not really thinking before you acted.

The few things you do remember is the interactions you had with your other family members.

The most memorable were the ones with Grandpa Lilia, when you were younger he loved cuddling you upside-down. Even if his grip was iron-strong it still felt so warm that you didn't want to leave.

When you got older he would allow you to play with some of his video games, he was always so sweet and helpful. Making sure you never got too frustrated at one certain part before taking the controller from you and completing whatever challenge had you stumped.

Lilia just loves babying you in a way he never got to with either of his original children.

He never failed to make you feel like the spoiled little brat you were.

"Ooh! Don't cry Darling, there's no need for that. Here, do you need Grandpa to help you? Okay sweet-pea. Don't worry, grandpa's here for you"

Then there's uncle Silver, who whose probably the most boring person to hang out with out of everyone in the family.

Don't get me wrong, you enjoyed his company but nothing even vaguely interesting happened whenever you hung around him.

He always really apologetic about it though, even going as far to bring you a little toy everytime he was allowed alone time with you. Typically is just a teddy bear, so that at night when you fell asleep you would think of your uncle Silver.

"Sorry we weren't able to play today. Here, have this. It's so when you fall asleep at night, you'll always remember your uncle Silver."

Your uncle sebek on other hand, he was hard to forget.

He was always loud, his voice commanded battalions after all. So a voice like his would definitely need for job like that.

You and him never played together, in his own words "WAKA-SAMA'S CHILD DESERVES A MUCH BETTER PLAYMATE THAN A LOWRANKING OFFICER SUCH AS MYSELF!"

Or whatever that was supposed to mean. You never really understood his way of thinking. While he was screaming his head off about not being good enough for you, you had sit and listen to him whilst daydreaming of all the video games Grandpa Lilia would play with you later.

It was boring, and eventually as you grew older you learned to tune him out.

Though I guess that wasn't the greatest idea, because within a week of learning how tune out his voice he came to you sobbing on his hands and knees begging for forgiveness.

"PLEASE FORGIVE ME WAKA-SAMA'S CHILD! WHATEVER SLIGHT HAVE DONE TO YOU, I BEG FOR YOUR FORGIVENESS AND MERCY! JUST PLEASE STOP IGNORING ME MY LEIGE!"

But I guess that all leads you to where you are now. Stuck in a boring old rickety tower. Stuck studying and doing chores all day. At least Father allowed for your family to visit from time to time.

Their faces and voices make the endless cycle you've been going through day-to-day slightly more bareable. But to be perfectly honest, with every passing moment that you're stuck here; in this damned tower made to be your prison, you lose a small peice of your sanity.

A peice of your mind that can never be returned to it's owner.

Trully a cruel thing to do, especially to your own child. Isolating them from everyone and everything they've ever known to prove a point, when it wasn't even truly their own faults that caused such a mess? Foolish, and downright cruel if anyone asked you.

Ah, but what can you do?

You did do this to yourself after all, might as well own up to your mistakes and pay the price.

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zerokurokawa · 3 days

Note

Could you possibly make a bonten!Sanzu x partnerincrime!Reader ?

Whenever I think of Sanzu I immediately think of a heist or a bank robbing of sorts so could you do Sanzu and reader leaving in a getaway car shortly after a heist whilst still feeling the adrenaline rush from nearly escaping a shootout?

I also feel like Sanzu would get a little sentimental with reader since they've been by his side for such a long time. I feel like he would somewhat question Readers loyalty after the adrenaline wears off too so since it's so bizarre for someone to dedicate their life to him yk?

Also I don't know if you heard this song but LOYALTY. FEAT. RIHANNA. by Kendrick Lamar is where I got most of my inspiration for this ask

Loyalty | Bonten!Sanzu x Reader (Partner In Crime)

It was the heist of a century that you and Sanzu had pulled off. You two were assigned to take down and rob a local up and coming rival gang in the area that threatened Bonten and their reputation.

"Take everything. Money, drugs, everything..." Mikey's words would ring through your head as you held a gun to the rivals head as Sanzu packed everything up in multiple duffle bags and carried them out the car. You both had tied up and duck taped everybody's mouth shut, killing one guy just to make a statement. Once Sanzu finished packing, you both left in a hurry, pure adrenaline coursing through your veins.

In the back of the car, Sanzu turns to you with a wild expression on his face.

"We did it, just us, again!" He smiled and took out some pills from his pocket. You were still aware of his drug addiction and knew that he had a problem. You tried to convince him to stop, but he wouldn't. He loved trouble, even if it was reeling and passing out within his own mind.

He was taking the pain pills to calm his nerves. You knew what he was doing. He would offer you one, but you declined.

"Sanzu..." You let out a whisper as you were trying to catch your breath from what just happened. You were currently trying to wrap your head around the fact that you had just taken down another rival gang and stole all of their stuff while going ninety miles per hour down the highway back to headquarters.

___________________________________________________________________________

It had been about an hour since you reached Bonten's headquarters and given report back to Mikey. You both were dismissed, leaving you two alone in the commons room while Sanzu looked through all of the drugs that were stolen. He then looked up at you with sudden grievance on his face, seeming to of been thinking about something.

"Y/n..." He said, leaning over the table of set between you both, "You'd never leave of betray me, right?" He tilted his head, scars illuminating in the light as he let off a sadistic smile.

"Of course not..." You trailed off. You loved Sanzu. You needed him in your life, which is why you were so worried about his batshit attitude and his addiction to copious amounts of drugs.

"I need you by my side. No matter what, promise me you'll always be by me." He stood up, moving to sit next to you. His suit was dirty as his pink hair was stained with the blood of the rivals.

"I will never leave you, or Bonten. You have my loyalty forever." You reassured him. He then placed his hand on your knee, leaning his head on your shoulder at your words. He was at your mercy. He was always super protective over you on missions as well; always making sure to watch your back and even jumped in front of a bullet for you at one point. You've done the same, but yet, here he is, questioning your loyalty again.

"I just can't lose you." He nuzzled his head into your neck. This wasn't odd for Sanzu. He would always get sentimental after extreme missions like this. Even though you two weren't a couple, you could tell that Sanzu felt something for you that he felt for nobody else. You weren't quite sure what it was, but you felt the same thing. You couldn't lose him either.

"I would never leave you, nor would I ever let anybody hurt you." You lifted his face which was now inches away from your own. His eyes were droopy and dilated from all of the narcotics he had taken.

"I'm sorry, I just... can't help but to question it sometimes - your loyalty to me, I mean." He said in a whisper. You could feel his breath on your own as he began to slowly fade away into sleepiness.

You held him close, wrapping your arms around him and letting him lay on your chest, "I would never..."

"I know. You mean everything to me, y/n."

There's not telling what was running through his system right now, and you knew that he was fucked up in some way. Still, you knew that his words ran true.

(A/N: Still feeling sick, but getting better. I hope you enjoy <3)

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auggieblogs · 52 minutes

Text

Delicious | MV1

Max Verstappen x fem! reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, 18+, fingering (f receiving) This content is not suitable for all audiences. MDNI

Author’s note: Soooo…my second time writing smut and I think I’m getting a hang of it. Still not completely satisfied with the writing, think I’ll keep trying. That being said, I hope all of you are doing good and happy reading, my loves💗

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

Max must have sensed your apprehension because he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "You okay?" he asked softly, his voice comforting.

"Yeah, just a little nervous," you admitted, your fingers twisting in the sheets beneath you.

"Hey," he murmured, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to. Just tell me what you're comfortable with, and we'll go from there."

His reassurance eased some of your anxiety, and you nodded, taking a deep breath. "I want this, Max. I trust you."

With that, he kissed you again, deeper this time, his lips moving against yours with a gentle urgency. As his hand slid up your side, you felt the warmth of his touch through the thin fabric of your shirt. He tugged it up, and you lifted your arms to help him remove it, leaving you in just your bra. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, and he leaned down to press kisses along your collarbone, his hands deftly unclasping your bra and tossing it aside.

His kisses trailed lower, and you gasped as his tongue flicked over your nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. "Max," you breathed, arching into him.

"I've got you," he murmured against your skin, his hand sliding down your body to rest on the waistband of your pants. "Can I?"

"Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He unbuttoned your pants and slowly slid them down, taking your underwear with them. You tensed for a moment, your nerves getting the better of you.

"Just relax," he murmured, his lips grazing your earlobe. His fingers slid beneath the fabric, finding your folds and gently exploring the slickness there. "You're so wet already."

You bit your lip, feeling a little embarrassed, "Max..."

He kissed your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "It's a good thing, love. It means you're ready."

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to relax as he slowly inserted one finger inside you. It felt strange, an unfamiliar stretch that was almost uncomfortable.

Too much?" he asked, his voice low and filled with concern.

“A little,” you admitted, biting your lip.

He kissed your nose. "That's alright," he said softly. "We'll take it slow."

He kept his movements gentle, allowing you to adjust to the feeling of his finger inside you. Gradually, the discomfort faded, replaced by a sense of pleasure as he began to move, curling his finger slightly with each thrust.

He added a second finger, stretching you, filling you, and you couldn’t help the needy sounds that spilt from your lips. The room was filled with the wet, lewd sounds of his fingers moving inside you.

Max curled his two fingers upwards, looking for the one spot that would finally send you over the edge and then he hit it. An almost pornographic scream escaped your lips, vision blurry with tears.

"Found it," he whispers, a small smile tugging at his lips. He dives his fingers deeper and deeper into you, curling them, pressing his thumb against your clit and it's enough to make your eyes roll, whilst your head hits back the pillow.

“Max, I’m—” you tried to warn him, but he knew. He could feel it in the way your walls clenched around his fingers.

Max's mouth captured yours in a heated kiss, his fingers never faltering. "Come for me, baby".

With one final, perfect stroke, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you. You cried out Max's name, your body shaking. Max didn’t stop until you were completely spent, your body going limp beneath him.

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, his eyes locked on yours as he brought them to his mouth and sucked them clean.

"Delicious," he said with a grin, licking his fingers clean.

"Wow, slut," you joked breathlessly, a giggle escaping your lips.

Max chuckled, leaning in to kiss you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "Only for you," he murmured against your mouth.

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laura1633 · 1 day

Text

Omegaverse short snippets - prompts and rules below

I am currently in the middle of writing some multi chapter stories so I am not posting as many one shots as normal. I thought whilst I am working on those longer stories I would like to write some short omegaverse snippets. These probably aren't going to be full stories, more in the 1000 word ballpark.

Rules:

Send me an ask with the prompt number and the name of two drivers (or three drivers if the prompt calls for three characters)

If you have a preference for who is the Omega and who is the Alpha please also specify this in the ask.

I won't be able to write them all so please don't think I am ignoring you if I can't get around to your request (I love you all, I just have limited capacity). I will be writing these and posting them Friday, Saturday and Sunday this week.

My favourite ship is Lestappen but I am open to people prompting other pairings for this game if people want. The majority of the ones I complete will likely be Max/Charles though (or at least have Max or Charles involved) but you never know, a certain pairing might spark my interest.

Prompts

An Omega asks another omega to teach them how to build a nest.

An Alpha discovers their clothing in an Omega’s nest and confronts them about it.

An Alpha gives another Alpha a courting gift.

An Alpha goes into rut in public and possessively picks up their omega and carries them off to the nest.

A possessive Omega makes sure their scent is all over their Alpha before they go out for the day.

An Alpha accidentally uses their Alpha voice and makes an Omega cry.

An Alpha somehow gets impregnated by another Alpha.

An Omega can’t stop producing slick whenever they are around a particular alpha and it’s actually starting to become a problem.

An alpha’s scent suppressants fail and they suddenly find themselves surrounded by omegas much to their actual Omega’s annoyance.

An Alpha discovers an Omega is faking their heat.

An Omega steals an Alpha’s top because the Alpha’s scent makes them feel safe.

An Omega gets sick and is cared for by their alpha

An Omega is knotted for the first time and panics and their alpha has to pin them down to stop them hurting themselves.

An Alpha is so turned on that their knot does not deflate and they are stuck inside their Omega.

An Omega finds an unknown alpha’s top and instantly falling in love with the mysterious alpha's scent.

An Omega goes into heat in a public space and panics until an Alpha helps them get somewhere safe.

A young Alpha is nervous about their first attempt at trying to court an omega.

An Omega suffers from separation anxiety after their alpha breaks up with them. They are comforted by another alpha.

An Omega is insecure about the way they look and tries to make themselves look pretty just like the other omegas. Their alpha reassures them they are perfect as they are.

An Omega wets themselves when they get a little too excited around an Alpha they like.

An Omega seeks out and clings hold of a familiar alpha when they get scared.

Rather than get aggressive or aroused during his rut an alpha get clingy and wants lots of cuddles.

A pregnant Omega suddenly starts getting pregnancy cravings but its not for food, they are craving the scent of an alpha who doesn’t belong to them.

An Omega has been successfully hiding their secondary gender for years but accidentally lets it slip during a moment of weakness.

A young Omega gets teased when they present as an Omega for the first time.

An Alpha loves being dominated in the bedroom by his pretty little Omega.

An Omega is so happy when they kiss an Alpha they have had a crush on for the longest time that they literally can not stop purring for days. It’s actually rather exhausting.

An Omega who gets pregnant in a poly relationship finds out which alpha the pup belongs to and is nervous about breaking the news to the other Alpha.

An Omega tries to protect their Omega mate when they are attacked by an Alpha but ends up getting hurt themselves.

Other - feel free to request something different but keep in mind these are going to be short little drabble style stories so nothing plot intensive.

If this works well then I might try the same thing with non-omegaverse and alternative universe at some point. ❤️

Alongside this I will also be finishing off the second chapter of "Pretty Little Monaco Race Winner" which will be posted soon!

#F1 fanfiction #Lestappen fanfiction

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