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[xxrosemixx]

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[agsmicons]

♪～♪～♪ Fufu, fufufu... Let me invite you to a gloomy and tragic nightmareee♪

"Oh my, you're still working? If you're too obsessed with work, you might be dragged off by a ghost haunting the building~"

"Oh my, there isn't much time before the next lesson. Well. Let's take a shortcut."

HI there I'm animog! I make icons for all you're pfp needs!(and maybe more in the futre) don't be afraid to ask if i'm able to do a media that's not said on the white/black lists!

Whitelist

ensemble stars , bang dream , project sekai , guilty gear , bungo stray dogs , danganronpa , genshin , Love Live! + more !

I can do a lot more than whats on my whitelist, but there'll more likely be a higher chance if its one of my faves!(in bold)

Blackilst

Dsmp, irl(unles live action or horror movie),realistic bugs(cartoon/anime is fine),ceirtan SCPS, and others

[genderlessdude92]

A CLEAN MIND

[First part >.<]

PAIRING: Alastor x Wife!Reader SUMMARY: After a long night of doing Lucifer’s Tango with the infamous Radio Demon, limbs sore to the brim, Alastor decides that it’s best to give his darling some proper aftercare. Of course one thing had led to another, but what would they do once they were caught in the net with a knock on the door? WARNINGS: Fem!Reader, reader is sensitive, shower sex, mentions of terrible soreness from the night before, Alastor is a little bit of a rascal 🤓☝️ *snort* (apologies), Nifty almost catching them in the middle of it, sexual content in general, mature language, dubious consent, power dynamics, violent language (not too degrading though), unprotected sex, Exhibitionism, relationship dynamics. LMK if i missed anything!!!

NOTICE: please don't copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But...thanks for liking my work !! >.< Property of @l4zyb0n35 and @genderlessdude92

Requests are open, support is highly appreciated!

WORDS: 1.2k (not including the bonus fic at the end)

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

Y/N was awoken by the weight shift in her shared bed. Slowly, she sat up, stretching the soreness out of her, to see Alastor getting up from bed and walking over to his dresser. Y/N sighed and laid back down in the red silk sheets, but then felt a hand on her forehead one moment later.

“I see you’re awake,” Alastor said, smiling. “How do you feel?”

Y/N groaned and turned her head away. “Not good…”

“Ah, well, I figured so.” Alastor chuckled, running his fingers through her hair. “But I will fix it for you, as always.”

He grabbed her arm and helped her stand up, but Y/N protested. “Just a couple more minutes, Al,” she stated, “I’m sore as a dam’s log…” Alastor laughed softly when he heard her say one of the old sayings from their time.

“Alright… But you need to get up soon, honey. It’s not healthy staying in bed all day…especially without a proper cleaning after last night.” He smiled more softly and leaned down to kiss her lips, then went into the bathroom. Y/N lay back down again, welcoming the feeling of the twisted sheets once more.

After about two minutes, Alastor came back out with a warm washcloth. He bent down next to the bed and gently swipes the cloth on her face, wiping away old sweat or…anything else that might be there. Y/N blushed at the thought, but still let him cleanse her face.

…makeup- he’s wiping off makeup.

When he finished, Alastor tossed the wet rag into the hamper and walked back towards the bedroom, leaving the door open. He stopped right beside the bed. “Get up, sweetheart. We need to take care of your sore muscles and such.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and got off the bed, walking into the bathroom. Alastor followed behind her, closing the door. She stood in front of the mirror as Alastor started the water in the shower. Y/N inspected at herself.

Damn, i looked better when i was alive.

Seeing that Alastor was taking off his unde rgarments, Y/N decided to do the same.

After they were finished with that, Alastor moved his head to the side to look at her, “Let me help you get cleaned up, yes?” Alastor grabbed her shoulders and turned her around.

“Okay.” Y/N nodded and stepped under the showerhead, letting the water pour over her body. Alastor stepped inside, grabbing some body soap and pumping it into his claws.

Alastor ran his hands slowly across her back. He continued to caress her skin until she reached forward, grasping her shoulders and pulling him closer. His hands were still moving, but now against her breasts. He squeezed them lightly, knowing how much it would turn her on.

Y/N gasped, “Alastor!” She looked up to meet his eyes, blushing profusely.

Alastor let out a laugh, “apologies, darling.” he continued to rub soap onto the contents of her body. After washing her front, he washed her backside. Then, he began to massage her neck and shoulders. She moaned in pleasure, causing him to smirk. “Enjoying yourself, love?” he asked teasingly.

Y/N laughed softly, “Does it not show?” she asked sarcastically. Alastor grinned, stepping closer and pressing his lips against hers. Y/N wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him close.

Alastor broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. “I want you,” he whispered. Y/N smiled, leaning in for another kiss. Alastor moved his hands from her shoulders to her hips. He pushed her against the wall, using his strength to hold her there.

Alastor pulled back, looking down at what was happening. His cock was fully erect, sticking straight out like a sword. He smirked and rubbed the tip against her slit.

“Alastor…I’m still a little sensitive from last night…” Y/N worried.

He scoffed, “You’ll be okay darling, I’ll be gentle.” Then, Alastor pushed his cock inside of her in one thrust.

Y/N slapped his shoulder, hissing, “You said you’d be gentle!”

He hushed her, kissing her collarbone, “We just need to be quick dear, yes?” He then suckled on her collarbone after pulling away.

“Wait…why?” Y/N asked.

He groaned and pulled away once again, beginning to thrust slowly, “Because Nifty is supposed to come in and clean in about…” he looked at the picket watch on the counter, “…hm, ten minutes? maybe less.” He smirked and sped up his pace slightly, causing her to grip tightly onto his forearms.

Alastor kissed along her jawline, then made his way back to her lips. The sound of the running water drowned out any sounds that may have been coming from their mouths.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the bathroom door. “Sir?” Nifty called from outside. Alastor pulled away quickly, cursing harshly under his breath. “I have to clean your room early because Charlie is beginning an activity soon…should i give you time in the shower, Sir?”

Y/N groaned, burying her head into the junction of his shoulder, “You can’t be this fucking old to forget Charlie’s plans-“

“Of course, Nif, I’ll be out in a jiffy!” Alastor immediately shoved himself back into Y/N, thrusting violently.

She gasped loudly, gripping tighter onto his forearms. Her legs wrapped around his waist, locking him in place.

Catching her volume, she moaned pathetically quiet, grinding her hips into his. “Faster, please..faster…” she whimpered. Alastor obliged, slamming his cock deeper into her cunt. Y/N groaned, arching her back and hoping for the best the shower’s water was muffling her noises.

Alastor, although, was practically overjoyed could hear her cries even through the sound of rushing water. He picked up speed, pounding harder and harder into her. Y/N squealed, digging her nails into his arms.

He grunted, “Darling, you’re going to leave marks.”

She moaned, “You wanna talk about m-mine?”

His thrusts became erratic as he neared his release. Y/N wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, squeezing every muscle she had left in her legs.

“Shit.” Alastor cursed, thrusting deeper and deeper into her. He slammed into her cervix once more, causing her to squeeze around his cock tightly. He held himself deep inside of her as he filled her womb with cum, groaning in ecstasy.

After a moment of catching each other’s breaths, both failing miserably, he pulled out, “That’s better.” He patted her cheek, setting her down on the ground after seeing that she would refuse to stand on her feet, and turned to turn off the water. He dried himself off and put on his robe, quickly ruffling his hair in a towel and tossing it.

He turned to see Y/N sitting in the shower’s tub, rubbing her hips, “Darling? You need any help getting out?” Alastor walked over to her and bent down, titling his head to the side like talking to a mindless toddler.

Y/N took a moment and sighed, switching the water to go through the bath faucet, and turned on the water to the hottest temperature, “just tell Nifty to skip the bath tub while she cleans.”

Alastor chuckled, “will do.” and turned to leave the bathroom

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

BONUS ☆♪

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

300 words

Nifty hummed to herself as she tidied up the bedroom, her cheerful demeanor contrasting with the unknowingly steamy scene that had just unfolded in the bathroom.

As she finished straightening the sheets, Nifty heard the sound of the bathroom door opening. She glanced up to see Alastor emerging, fully dressed in his signature attire, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Good morning, Nifty,” Alastor greeted her with a smile.

“Morning, Sir,” Nifty replied, eyeing him curiously. “Is everything alright? You seem, um, a little off today?”

Alastor chuckled, a playful twinkle in his eye. “Oh, everything’s just fine, my dear Nifty. Just had a little… unexpected delay in the bathroom.”

Nifty raised an eyebrow, but decided not to pry further. After all, she was used to Alastor’s cryptic comments and eccentricities. “Well, if there’s anything you need, just let me know.”

“Actually, there is one thing,” Alastor said, his smile widening. “Could you do me a favor and skip cleaning the bathtub today? Y/N is… not done with her bathing. A little sore. I’m sure she’ll clean up after herself so don’t bother to wait or come back for when she’s done.”

Nifty’s eye widened in understanding, and she couldn’t suppress a giggle. “Consider it done.”

“Thank you, Nifty. You’re a gem,” Alastor said with a wink before sauntering out of the room, leaving Nifty to finish her cleaning with a knowing smile.

As she worked, Nifty couldn’t help but feel a sense of amusement at the antics of her eccentric employer and his mysterious guest. It was just another day in the Hazbin Hotel, after all.

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

END NOTES: This is even more rushed but do i give a fuck? Heck’s nah. Guys ty for the support in my past posts and thank you to people who have already sent WRITING REQUESTS!!! (I love y’all). Stay tuned, yah??? Notes, Submissions, and support in general is always appreciated :3 And credits to @alastorssimp for requesting this lovely fic!!

-Lynn

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

Masterlist link

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗠𝗬 𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗜𝗦 𝗕𝗥𝗨𝗧𝗨𝗦 max vertsappen  x  dutch! fem! driver! reader ( angst ) fic summary . . . when admiration and worship morphs into an obsession that borders on rivalry and hate, even as it remains tangled with traces of reluctant respect. From studying his every move as a young fan, Yn transforms into his fiercest competitor, driven by the need not just to beat her childhood idol, Max Verstappen, but to utterly dethrone him. (5.7K words)

( main master list | more of max verstappen ) ( requests | taglist )

You pull off your helmet with a fury that blurs your vision, the weight of the day’s mistakes turning everything to red. You’d been so close—so damn close to taking the lead from him, only for Max to pull that brake test, sending both of you into the barriers. Without a second thought, you dropkick your helmet across the gravel, your scream piercing the air.

He’s already out of his car, stalking toward you with that smug, barely-contained anger in his eyes. The type of anger that’s wrapped up in confidence and control, the kind that shows he doesn’t care, not really.

“Are you out of your mind?” he barks, his voice clipped, only the faintest bit breathless. “What the hell was that?”

“You! You were what the hell that was!” you shout back, stepping forward until a marshal wedges between you, holding you both back with outstretched arms. “You pulled that damn stunt! You think you’re untouchable, Verstappen, but you’re not!” Your words echo across the track, catching the attention of everyone nearby.

Max’s lips curl into a mocking smirk. “Untouchable? Coming from the one who can’t seem to finish a race without nearly taking someone out?” His laugh is bitter, biting, and it grates on every nerve you have left.

“When did you turn into such a coward?” you hiss, every word as sharp as the tension in the air. “Or did the idea of losing to me start to get under your skin?”

Max’s face twitches, just for a second, but he covers it up with a shrug, like your words meant nothing. “Get real, Yn. You’re reckless. This sport has no place for someone like you if you’re going to risk both our necks out there.”

But as the marshals pull you apart, each of you going in opposite directions, the heat simmering in your chest turns from anger to something almost painful, a question that’s been lying dormant for too long: When did I start hating him so much?

In the quietness of the shower back in your drivers room, the memories come rushing back.

There was a time when you couldn’t even imagine hating Max. A time that you looked up to Max. You can see it now, your younger self glued to the screen, watching every race, every move he made on the track. Back then, he was a hero, a force you admired, your inspiration as you fought your way through karting, Formula 4, Formula 3.

It was one of those post-race interviews, back in the early days, when a reporter called you “Mini Max.” They’d smiled at you, waiting for your reaction, and you’d laughed, your cheeks flushed as you spoke about how much you looked up to him. It felt like an honor, a small victory, to be compared to him.

But somewhere along the way, admiration soured into frustration. Somewhere along the way, you started to hate him—hate that he seemed so invincible, that he could still overshadow you, that no matter what you did, he was always a step ahead.

Now, the thought of finishing behind him feels like a betrayal to the younger version of you, the girl who once dreamed of standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her hero. No, now it’s no longer enough to be near him. You need to beat him. You need him to feel what it’s like to lose.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

While he was enjoying the off-season, probably relaxing on some distant beach enjoying his winder break, you were here—training, pushing yourself past every limit until your muscles ached, until you couldn’t remember anything but the fire burning inside you. You wanted to be better. You had to be.

You’d already stolen one of his records: youngest F1 driver. But it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. You wanted his wins, his titles, his legacy. Every drop of sweat, every missed social event, every sleepless night—all of it was for one thing: to dethrone Max Verstappen.

“You’re pushing too hard,” your performance coach warned one day, watching you with concern as you struggled to complete yet another lap on the simulator, your hands trembling with exhaustion.

“I’m not stopping until I’m faster than him,” you gritted out, voice strained, but you didn’t let up. You couldn’t. Because every time you closed your eyes, you saw him there, his smirk, his arrogant confidence, and it made you push harder, faster, ignoring every ache and pain.

Pre-season testing felt like a curse. The moment you hit the track, frustration settled in like an unwanted passenger, sitting heavy in your chest as you struggled with the car’s every turn. You needed something perfect, something that could carry you past him, but instead, the car felt like it was working against you, resisting every command.

“Is this really the best we can do?” you snapped at your engineer after another failed lap. Your tone was sharp, the bite in your voice making him flinch.

“It’s early, Yn,” he replied cautiously, not quite meeting your eyes. “We still have time to make adjustments.”

Time? You wanted to laugh, but it felt too bitter. There was no time—not when you could feel Max somewhere on the track, clocking in faster times in his rocketship, his team perfecting every detail while you were stuck here, in a car that felt like it was holding you back.

“It needs to be better,” you said quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper, but every ounce of frustration bled through. “I need it to be better if I’m going to beat him.”

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

As the season began, you avoided Max like he was some kind of curse, the plague even. Every time you saw him across the paddock, your jaw clenched, and you turned away. Every glance he threw your way felt like a challenge, and every interview brought questions you hated answering, questions about him, about your rivalry, about your chances against him.

The roar of the crowd was still pounding in your ears as you climbed out of the car, adrenaline coursing through you as every nerve thrummed with frustration. The race had been brutal—more than it should have been. You’d fought for every inch, every corner, only to have Max come up behind you on that last lap, reckless as always, clipping the side of your car and puncturing a hole right near the rear wing.

You tore off your gloves, tossing them to the side before stepping closer to examine the damage. The deep gouge was blatant against the pristine paint, a mark of just how close he’d come to forcing you out completely. Your fingers traced the edges of the hole, the anger simmering hotter with each second as you replayed the moment he veered in your direction, testing you in a move so blatant you couldn’t ignore it if you tried.

A nearby camera crew caught the scene, the lens aimed in your direction as you ripped off your helmet, pushing damp strands of hair from your face. You barely registered the red light on the camera, too consumed by the frustration boiling over.

“He really had to pull that move, didn’t he?” you muttered, voice dripping with bitterness as you wiped sweat from your brow. “Typical Max. God, he’s such a… such a bitch.”

The words came out low, rough, but it was enough for the camera to catch them, the red light blinking like it was in on the joke, laughing with you, or at you, whichever it was. You let out a huff, half-expecting him, Max,  to have heard it somehow, already imagining his response—a smirk, a raised brow, maybe some cocky comment about how close he’d gotten to overtaking.

As you ran a hand over your face, trying to shake off the rage, you felt someone approaching from behind. You didn’t need to turn to know it was him. Max’s presence was unmistakable, like a storm looming over you, too close, too intense.

“What?” you snapped, finally spinning around to face him. He was already out of his helmet, his blue eyes fixed on you with that unreadable look that made your blood boil all over again.

“What? No ‘thank you’ for keeping it interesting?” he replied, his tone light but his gaze sharper, more calculating.

“Oh, sure,” you retorted, a bitter laugh slipping out. “Thank you for trying to send me into the wall with that last move. Real sportsmanship, Max.”

He tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You don’t seem to mind getting a little aggressive when it suits you. Didn’t think you’d be this sensitive about it.”

“Sensitive?” You stepped closer, eyes narrowed. “That was reckless, even for you. I’m not surprised you’d think putting both of us at risk is somehow a good idea.”

Max’s smirk faded, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “If you can’t handle the pressure, maybe—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, words coming out like steel. “Don’t you dare imply that I can’t handle it. I was still ahead of you, even with that stunt. Maybe you should stop hiding behind dirty tactics and see how long you can actually stay in front without them.”

The air was thick with tension, and you barely noticed the media crew and team members pretending to busy themselves nearby, clearly trying to avoid interrupting whatever this was turning into.

Max let out a slow breath, his expression softening just enough that it threw you off for a second. “Believe what you want, Yn. Just remember who crossed the line first.”

His words were like a taunt, but they left a hollow ache in their wake as he turned, walking away without another glance back. You clenched your fists, feeling the heat of the camera still on you, catching everything.

Fine. Let them see, let them know you weren’t about to let him get away with this. If Max Verstappen wanted a rivalry, then that’s exactly what he was going to get.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The roar of the engines echoed around the track, every corner a battle between you and Max. Your car was an extension of you, a machine honed and perfected for moments like this, pushing you to the very edge as you fought for P1 in the sprint race. Max was right there—just inches away, as relentless as ever. Every overtake, every daring cut into the corner, was met with resistance from him, as if he refused to let you have even an inch of track.

“He’s defending like mad,” one of the commentators said, awe in his voice. “You have to wonder if they’re aware of how much this fight feels like Caesar and Brutus. Max as Caesar, of course, with Yn gunning for him like Brutus.”

Your focus sharpened even further, the comparison strangely invigorating, pushing you to take every move with more aggression. If they wanted a Brutus, they’d get one.

When the race ended, you crossed the line right behind Max, fuming and breathless but satisfied with the chase. It was in the media pen afterward, your mind still replaying every maneuver, that an interviewer brought up the commentary.

“Did you catch what they were calling you out there?” the interviewer asked with a sly grin, clearly relishing in the drama.

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head. “No, what?”

“They called you ‘Brutus.’”

You blinked in surprise, a mix of confusion and amusement flitting across your face before you brushed it off with a shrug. “It’s fitting, isn’t it? Brutus was victorious in the end.” You tried offering, looking at the bright side and giving a small smile, letting the interviewer chuckle as you shrugged off the implication. You knew there was a bite to your words, an edge that hinted at more than a friendly rivalry.

Meanwhile, in Max’s own interview, when they informed him of the new nickname, he barely batted an eye. “Yeah?” he said, cocking an eyebrow. Then he gave a small, careless nod. “It’s fitting, ’cause she’s a brute.” There was a half-smirk on his face, and the way he said it was practically a challenge. You could practically hear his voice, even though you were nowhere near him.

The next day, you stepped onto the track with a new kind of energy, a thrill of anticipation in your veins. As you took your position on the grid, a chant from the crowd filtered into your helmet. You could hear it even over the sound of engines revving, the murmur and shout of the crowd growing stronger: “Brutus! Brutus! Brutus!”

The name had taken hold, and there was something about it that set your blood on fire. You embraced it, straightening in your seat as though you were some kind of warrior, sent with purpose to take down Max. It felt like you weren’t just racing for yourself anymore; you were embodying something larger, a symbol of the one who dared to challenge the reigning power.

You glanced to the side where Max’s car sat in P1, his familiar helmet tilted as he prepped, no doubt hearing the same chant. If he looked your way, you didn’t see it, too wrapped up in the energy that was now backing you. You were Brutus, and you were ready to show everyone, including Max, just how fierce you could be.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Each race felt like peeling back another layer, another page in a book you couldn’t stop reading, even as it tore at you. Max had become everything that drove you—every late-night practice, every reckless risk taken, every corner claimed just an inch sharper. You’d built your entire career studying him, dissecting his strengths, cataloging his weaknesses, carving out a strategy with every heartbeat set to match his.

But that irony twisted in your gut like a knife. It was almost poetic, really: you’d spent years learning him, watching him, emulating him until you’d become something terrifyingly similar. It was as if you’d built yourself in his image, shaped your own ambition around his fire, around the relentless hunger he brought to every race. But the thought was bitter, cold. Every time someone compared you, every time they pointed out how alike you were, it felt like a betrayal.

A betrayal to the younger you, to the version of yourself who’d watched him with awe, who’d traced his lines on paper with stars doodled around his name. The one who had once seen him as a symbol of everything good and pure about racing.

Now, he was nothing more than a hurdle you couldn’t ignore, one you refused to let stand in your way.

But no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much you resented him for being the goal you chased, you couldn’t stop. You wouldn’t. Not until every accolade, every win, every record was ripped from his hands. Not until you stood there, victorious, knowing it was your name on everyone’s lips. Even if it meant becoming the very thing you hated.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The music pulsed, pounding through your chest as you leaned over the bar, nursing your drink with an intensity that bordered on dangerous. Tonight had been supposed to be an escape—a distraction from the simmering frustration that came with finishing just behind Max. Again. You could still feel the clench of your hands around the wheel, the image of him just a few seconds ahead as you crossed the finish line etched behind your eyelids. You wanted to forget it all. Lose yourself to the numbing, pounding bass and the warm haze of alcohol.

But that small sense of victory shattered the moment you caught sight of him across the club. Max. His eyes were on you, his presence impossible to ignore as he stood near the VIP section, laughing with friends, drink in hand. You groaned, tipping your drink back in a quick gulp. Of all the places...

You tried to ignore him, focusing on the dance floor, the bodies swaying around you, anything but the fact that he was watching your every move. But the alcohol mixed with the adrenaline still buzzing from the race, and that tiny, vengeful part of you wanted to prove something—to remind yourself you didn’t need to dwell on Max Verstappen.

But then you felt it: a warm, familiar touch wrapping around your waist. An arm pulling you back gently, firmly, into a chest that you knew too well.

"You know," he murmured, voice low, his breath warm against your ear. "You’re just like me."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you hated the way your heart reacted, a mix of anger and something else you didn’t want to name. You tried to wriggle free, stumbling slightly as the room spun around you. “Get off, Max. Go celebrate somewhere else.”

But he didn’t let go, his grip steady, holding you against him. “Come on, Yn,” he whispered, his voice dropping an octave. "Let me take care of you. I'll take care of you."

His words wrapped around you like a taunt, like an invitation. You wanted to resist, to pull away and leave him there, but your head was foggy, your limbs heavy from the drinks, from the heat of his breath. You could barely manage a scowl as he pulled you closer, his hand steady against your waist.

“I don’t need your help,” you muttered, your words slurred but defiant.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice a warm murmur in your ear. “But I’m still here.”

Your mind swirled, the beat of the music fading to a low hum as you let yourself sink into his warmth, barely remembering how you’d stumbled out of the club, your legs unsteady as he led you down the hall to his suite.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The next morning, you woke with a start, your head pounding as the light filtered through the hotel curtains. You groaned, burying your head in the pillow. You weren’t home—this wasn’t your bed. Slowly, memories of last night seeped in, fractured and surreal. The club. The warmth of Max’s arm around your waist. The soft rasp of his voice in your ear.

And then it hit you. The sex, the moaning, the positions, the kissing, biting, fighting, fucking. All of it.

You sat up, rubbing your eyes, only to feel a warm hand on your wrist, pulling you back into the bed. “Leaving already?” Max’s voice was thick with sleep, his blue eyes meeting yours with a soft, unreadable look.

You tried to pull away, the instinct to run screaming through your hazy mind, but he caught your chin gently, tilting your face toward him. “Stay,” he whispered, brushing his lips against yours, soft and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.

Your mind raced, half of you screaming to push him away, but the warmth of his mouth, the way his hand cupped your face—it was both maddening and disarming. Just for a moment, you let yourself lean into him, your guard down, all your reasons to hate him slipping through your fingers like sand.

The aftermath of the kiss felt like whiplash. Your initial hesitation morphed into pure, seething anger, and you shoved Max’s arm off, pulling yourself away. The alcohol may have clouded your thoughts last night, but clarity came barreling through now, sharp and laced with regret. You needed to get out—fast.

Throwing off the covers, you stormed to the other side of the room, grabbing your clothes off the floor with an urgency that matched your pounding heartbeat. As you shoved your legs into your jeans, Max stirred behind you, still sprawled half-asleep, reaching out as if to pull you back down beside him.

“Yn,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. “Why the rush? It’s not like you’ve got anywhere better—”

“Don’t,” you snapped, jamming your arms into your jacket. Your voice was clipped, your hands shaking as you fumbled with the zipper. “Just… don’t. I don’t know what I was thinking last night. This—” you motioned between you two, fingers trembling with irritation “—this was a mistake.”

Max sat up, that grin fading as he registered your expression. “Wait—hey, just hold on,” he muttered, pushing the blankets off and scrambling to find his boxers. You didn’t wait, storming toward the door, but his voice pulled you up short.

“So you’re really just going to walk out? Pretend this didn’t happen?” He was struggling into his pants, one leg half in as he hobbled after you.

You turned to him, words cutting through the morning air like a knife. “Yes, Max. I’m walking out because that’s exactly what this was—a mistake I’m leaving behind. We’re nothing alike, no matter what you want to think.”

He swayed, one hand against the wall as he finally managed to get his pants on, his eyes narrowing. “Are you sure that’s what this is? Or are you just scared to admit that you don’t hate me as much as you say you do?”

You paused, heart catching in your throat, looking at him for what felt like a minute before laughing bitterly, hoping your pause wasn’t too long for him to notice. Your heart ached. “You’re delusional. The only reason I was here was because I was too drunk to know better.”

Max took a step closer, eyes glinting with a challenge. “Then why don’t you tell me to stay away? Tell me to stop following you. I will, right now, if that’s what you really want.”

You faltered, your gaze flicking to the door, the pull between you both undeniable and frustrating. You could feel his stare digging into you, asking you to turn back, to stop pretending that he didn’t know you better than you wanted him to.

But instead, you gripped the doorknob and turned it, your knuckles going white. You didn’t say anything. Why didn’t you?

And before you let him say anything, you stepped through, slamming the door behind you.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You were sitting on the couch, eyes glued to the screen as another race played out before you. It wasn’t your own; it was one of Max’s races from a few seasons back. Your thumb hovered over the rewind button, your attention focused solely on catching every turn, every move he made. You leaned forward, squinting as you watched his lines, his techniques—any crack in his armor that might finally give you the edge you needed.

Behind you, your mother and father’s voices clashed in the kitchen.

“If you’d bothered to pick up the dry cleaning like I asked—” “Oh, don’t start. Just because you’re married again doesn’t mean you get to dictate my life, Liza.”

You tuned them out. Their back-and-forth was almost as predictable as Max’s lines around a slow corner; it was white noise now, nothing that could break your concentration.

Just as you spotted something—maybe a half-second hesitation in his approach to the apex—your father walked into the room, arms crossed, a smirk on his face as he eyed you and then the screen. He leaned against the doorframe, clearly amused.

“Still glued to that Verstappen kid, huh?” he teased, shaking his head. “I swear, it’s borderline obsession at this point.” He held something up, something that made your heart skip a beat—a familiar little notebook, worn and creased, with your childish doodles on the cover.

You looked at it, your chest tightening. The old notebook you’d kept as a kid, filled with every scrap of information about Max you could find—techniques, race strategies, his overtakes, his lines…everything.

He walked over, dropping the notebook onto your lap with a chuckle. “Remember this? You used to practically idolize him. Stars, doodles, the works,” he said, a slight hint of nostalgia in his tone. “You’d scribble notes while watching his races, your little hero.”

You swallowed, flipping open the notebook slowly. There it was: your handwriting, a little messy but full of enthusiasm, each page packed with observations about Max’s races. “Quick on the throttle here,” “Stellar defense move,” “Perfect line through Turn 4.” Some sections even had little stars around his name, doodles you’d drawn in the margins. Little hearts you hadn’t even noticed you’d drawn. Back then, he’d been like a god to you, the driver you’d wanted to be like, even surpass one day. The admiration on those pages was almost embarrassing now, a reminder of how innocent and naive you’d once been.

“Maybe I used to admire him,” you muttered, closing the notebook with a slight flush. You looked back at the screen, at the Max on the track, now an opponent, someone you wanted nothing more than to beat. “But that was before I knew what he was really like.”

Your dad laughed, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “Sure, sure, whatever you say. Just keep your obsession in check, alright? Wouldn’t want Max to get a restraining order.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t shake the feeling of those old memories lingering. The stars, the admiration—they were still in the notebook, a record of a time when you’d looked up to Max, and in a way, it reminded you of why you’d wanted to race in the first place. But now, you had something more to prove, and none of those doodles and stars could make you forget that.

The notebook lay open in your lap, one page showing a neatly drawn corner with “Max’s line” scribbled beside it. You had been meticulous, even back then, mapping his every turn, his every strategy like they were holy instructions, some sacred blueprint of how to be the best.

“Honestly, Liza, I’m not the one who left the thermostat set to Arctic!” Your dad’s voice cut through the hum.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I had to run every single thing by you,” your mom snapped back. The sharp clink of a pan hitting the stovetop made you wince, your focus wobbling before you found it again.

You sat down heavily in your sim rig, the notebook clutched in your lap. Flipping through its pages, you skimmed over the small stars and scribbled praises, memories spilling out like ghosts as you stared down at all those words you’d once used to describe Max: quick, flawless, untouchable. A tiny part of you wanted to laugh at yourself; the other part ached, the way you did when you realized something beautiful had soured beyond repair.

You loaded up the AI program, Max’s settings set to the hardest mode. The muffled argument from the kitchen filtered through the walls. Your parents were at it again—voices low but tense, each word prickling at the air, growing louder with each moment.

“And what about last weekend? Who took Kendra to her recital while you were out playing golf with your buddies?” your mom accused, her tone biting.

“Oh, please, because I didn’t already spend hours making sure her car was fixed?”

You shifted your focus to the screen, finally blocking them out as you took off into the first lap. The AI Max was fast—just as aggressive as he was in real life, lunging to take the inside line at every turn, leaving barely an inch between his virtual tires and yours. You held on, matching his speed with ease, remembering every note, every trick you’d taught yourself just to keep up with him. Lap one down. You’d beat him.

“Oh, come on, Frank! If I had a dollar for every time you pulled that excuse,” your mom continued, voice muffled but unmistakable.

“Then go ahead, keep tallying, Liza. I’ve got a list a mile long if we’re counting grudges!” he fired back.

You reset the sim, sending the AI Max to challenge you again. The screen flashed, and you were off, Max’s virtual car zipping ahead as you pushed your own car to keep pace. The tension built lap by lap, each turn taking you closer to a victory over him—even if it was only a pixelated version. A feeling of triumph stirred in your chest as you overtook the AI at the final corner, winning another lap, then another.

Another loud clang from the kitchen pierced the air, followed by your mom’s frustrated,

 “Can we at least agree to stop shouting for once, Liz?”

“Sure, sure, until you find another reason to bite my head off,” 

But by now, it didn’t matter how loud they got; you couldn’t shake the realization sinking in as you felt the weight of the notebook in your lap. You’d beaten him here, again and again. 

Your gaze had dropped back to the pages in your lap, flipping through more of those pages, each one carrying fragments of that old adoration. Back when he was more than an opponent, back when he was someone you idolized, maybe even more than that. You felt your eyes burn as a tear slipped free, catching on your cheek.

You clenched the notebook tightly, fighting to shove down the wave of anger and resentment. When had it shifted? When had this fierce obsession turned into something ugly, something that kept you up at night, wanting nothing more than to knock him off that pedestal and destroy him?

The ache twisted deeper as you whispered, almost to yourself, 

“Why did you have to ruin it, Max?”

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The Abu Dhabi sunset cast an intense glare over the grid, heat rising from the track in waves as the entire circuit buzzed with anticipation. This was it—the final race, the decider. The season had been a brutal, relentless tug of war, and every inch you’d gained had been hard-won, paid for with countless hours and sacrificed peace. Yet all that melted into a charged, quiet tension as you stood on the grid, looking straight into the piercing gaze of Max Verstappen.

He looked calm. Unshaken. A flicker of something unnameable crossed his face as he watched you, that damn smirk just barely tugging at his mouth. It was the same cocky expression that haunted your memories, the one that lit the spark of anger you’d fanned all year. You looked back, hard, steady—fighting the urge to let your lips twist into something bitter. All you wanted, all you needed, was to cross that line first. To watch him falter, just once. You could almost feel the weight of the wish pressing into your chest, every quiet, secret prayer you’d ever made for him to fail. You wanted it so badly that it felt wrong—like holding fire too close to your heart.

Just let him crash, you thought. Just once. You closed your eyes briefly, wishing with all the intensity you’d buried over the years. It was twisted, immoral maybe, but you was past caring. This was yours to win.

The lights went out, and with a roar of engines, you launched forward, you world shrinking to the roar of your own car and the blur of track under your tires. Corner after corner, you battled, inches apart, daring each other to break first. Max was relentless, always in your mirrors, always pushing you to your limits. They danced around each other with a precision that spoke of rivalry, yes, but something more, too—years of watching each other, of studying each other’s moves like rival chess masters waiting for the inevitable mistake.

But it was Max who finally cracked.

A few laps from the end, as you watched him from your mirrors, you saw it happen in real time. He’d miscalculated, his car swinging out too wide, the split-second error sending him straight into the barrier. The force of it made you gasp, the sound of his car hitting the wall ripping through your chest, catching you off guard. Your hand tightened on the wheel, breath coming fast as the seconds dragged on.

“Is he . . . is he okay?” you asked, your voice shaky as you came through the radio. “Max? Is he okay?”

There was a pause, and then your engineer’s voice cut in, calm and steady. “He’s fine, Yn. Focus. Just bring it home.”

Those words, simple as they were, snapped you back into the race. The track blurred around you as you pushed, pushing yourself as hard as your car would allow. When you crossed the finish line, your screams rang out over the radio, your  engineer’s laughter joining you as the reality of it finally sunk in.

“Yn, you did it! You’re the champion!” he shouted, laughter bubbling over the line. “You are the world champion!”

“World champion!” You screamed, slamming your hands on the steering wheel in pure and overflowing euphoria. “Oh my God! We did it!”

You let out another whoop, a wild, unrestrained sound you didn’t recognize. Pulling into parc fermé, you climbed out, eyes bright as you leapt onto you car, your fists thrown in the air as cheers erupted around you. It felt surreal, everything you’d been fighting for finally, finally in your hands. Your team rushed toward you, their faces alight with joy as they lifted you up, your arms outstretched as you soaked in the moment, your heart swelling.

But as you turned to face the crowd, the energy draining just enough for clarity to creep in, your gaze locked on him. Max stood just outside the circle of people, his helmet still in hand, his expression unreadable. You almost froze, the swell of triumph slipping, replaced by something else. You forced yourself to look away, turning back to you team and pulling them in closer, their arms slung around your shoulders as they lifted you onto their shoulders, chanting your name. Their support grounded you, lifting you from the gnawing doubt you hadn’t expected.

As they set you down, your heart hammered, still buzzing from the race. But in that instant, you felt it—a pang of something like regret as you looked at him again, standing alone, just watching you.

Max took a small step forward, a soft, almost hopeful look in his eyes. “Congratulations,— Yn! Congrats—” he called out, his voice barely rising above the roar of the celebration around them.

But you didn’t move toward him. Your team pulled you back into their cheers, and you let yourself be swept up, allowing the thrill of victory to drown out everything else. As your team lifted you onto their shoulders. And as the cameras flashed, the crowd cheered, and your name echoed around the circuit, you held onto the knowledge that you’d won, even if a small, nagging voice reminded you that you’d left something behind in the process.

the Dutch national anthem now plays for you.

this is the longest one shot I've written so far, someone hold me

[lavenderfilledcoffin]

Requesting a fluffy seb fic where we just doodle on his skin with a sharpie. Seb would definitely like the feeling of that and melts in an instant!

Also love your fics 🤌💕 You don't have to write my request if you don't want to!

stains of love

☆ lord have mercy i was extremely nervous when i was writing this because i admire your writing :sob:

•*¨*•.¸¸♪✧•*¨*•.¸¸

Recently, you had taken a liking to drawing.

If you were stuck in Hadal Blacksite, you might as well make the most of it.

As of right now, you were drawing Sebastian.

His hair was easy to draw, reminiscent of a typical 2000's anime protagonist. It was almost uncanny, but at least it looked good on him.

Well, kind of, but that was a discussion for another day.

Sebastian wouldn't mind if you gave him a little tiara, right?

You quickly looked around the room, then back to your forsaken paper.

It felt like this was a dirty secret, as if this small paper alone could cause a worldwide war.

You set the pencil down, picking up the sharpie.

Time for line art.

The more you concentrated on the paper, the more you got lost in it.

The marker glided across the paper, leaving a faint alcohol scent that you thought was nice.

It was refreshing, in a way. Even if you were used to the constant horrific smell of fish and salt.

While you finished up the drawing, Sebastian had somehow slipped right behind you without you noticing.

He peered over your shoulder to see him. With a stupid tiara.

Something clicked in your head, and you drew small cat ears and whiskers on his head.

He flicked his lure down, and the sudden light disturbed you.

All you could do was freeze up. "Hi... Sebastian...!"

His right hand wrapped around your head easily, and he applied some pressure.

"Turn around, and hand me that paper."

"Don't rip it..." You swat his hand away, shamefully picking up the paper.

With a groan, you turned around to face him, sort of.

You held up the paper, and he snatched it from your grip.

For a brief few seconds, his eyes glossed over the idiotic drawing you made of him.

You were expecting a torrent of insults, but that didn't come.

"Can you er... Do it on my tail?"

"What..."

Sebastian bit the inside of his cheek, "draw on my tail. Yes or no."

"I... Okay...? Go to your corner." He obliged, slithering to his usual corner while you picked up the marker and followed him.

While you twirled the sharpie around in your fingers, he undid the straps that were on his tail, letting them fall to the floor with a satisfying thud.

"Alright. Go on." He held his hands together, placing them neatly near the hem of his blouse.

You opened the marker, placing the cap on the end. Then, you kneeled down, letting the marker trace all sorts of shapes along his tail.

"Ah... That feels nice." His voice was slightly raspy, and he could feel himself turning into jelly beneath your touch and marker.

Sebastian allowed himself to be turned into your canvas, not just because he enjoyed the feeling, but because he wanted you to be happy.

That's contradicting, but he didn't care.

Suddenly, you stood up. "I wanna draw on your arm now." You innocently smiled up at him, and he just couldn't say no to that cute little face.

Sebastian held out his third arm, in which you looked at the clean gauze. "You finally changed the bandages, huh?"

"Kinda had to." You shrugged it off, taking a seat on his tail.

You took his arm into your hand, beginning to draw on his skin once more.

You happily hummed while drawing the minutes away.

Sebastian intently watched, absolutely melting on the inside.

“Okay, I’ve run out of room!” You looked up at him with a toothy grin, and he lifted his third arm up as best as he could.

Plenty of cats, hearts, and stars were scattered across where skin was exposed. “These actually aren’t horrible.”

“Tha—Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” He looked away from his arm to look back at you, “oh, nothing at all.” He grinned widely, it would be unsettling if the atmosphere wasn’t so comfortable right now.

[catch1ngmoths]

๋࣭⭑: GROAN 𖦹๋࣭⭑:

♪ ༘⋆“And yeah, I wanna spend the night with you. Yeah, I wanna feel a beating, bleeding heart, don't you? Because I've never really known but I pinky-promise you I'm grown, and I wanna know what it feels like” -dazey and the scouts ♪ ༘⋆

SUMMARY: Basically just a joost Klein x Fem!virgin reader fic

WARNINGS: Smut, PIV sex, female anatomy, joost is a flirt, very soft, reader is a virgin, pantie stealing?

NOTE: oh my god…I AM SO SORRY FOR MY 4 MONTH ABSENCE!! I HAVE MISSED YALL SO MUCH, I’ve just been so busy but this concept with this song has been rent free in my head, so here yall go! Also there are 34 requests in my inbox so idk if I’ll make all of them but I might finish some of those, IDK!

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹

Party’s. You hated most of them, they were always too loud or there were too many people. Too much going on. Too much. Which is why you were sat on a random couch in the middle of a party that your friend dragged you to, picking at the skin around your nails. You let out a wince as you peal away some of the skin you relentlessly attacked, furrowing your brows. At least this was an excuse to get up and do something, you thought as you get up to stumble your way through drunk people into the kitchen.

As you look around for a napkin, paper towels, something, you hear someone clear their throat behind you. You turn around with slightly widened eyes to see a tall guy towering a few feet behind you, he had a whitish - blonde short mullet and piercing blue eyes. “Er - are you looking for something?” His accent made your knees weaken. “Oh! Well is there any bandages or paper towels? Something like that?” You ask with a polite smile

“Ah yes, come come, follow me.” He responds, with a smile that calmed any nerves about being here in the first place. You follow him through the drunken crowd of people, trying to be as close behind him as you could. He finally leads you to a small bathroom, looking through the cabinets before smiling back at you and pulling out bandages for you to pick from. Of course you pick the y/f/c one, and wrap it around your finger. “Thank you…..” you trail off, waiting for him to say his name

He chuckles, sitting himself on the edge of the bathtub, motioning you to sit down as well. “My names joost.” He says, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. “That’s a nice name.” You say with a small smile, following his motion and sitting next to him. “And yours?” His accent just makes you weak, mentally cursing yourself for the way you’re reacting to this man you only just met.

You tell him your name with a smile, he repeats your name and mumbles a quiet “mooie” under his breath. You swear your heartbeat is so loud it could be heard through the music that’s thumping through the walls. “Why do you seem so upset? I noticed you earlier… you don’t seem to be enjoying this party too much?” Joost questions, shifting to turn more in your direction.

You smile at him, playing with the bandage on your finger, “I don’t do well with parties, there’s always too much going on for me” you respond, looking back at him and his intoxicating features. “Ah.” He says, his smirk turning into a small smile. “Not one for crowds then?” Joosts eyes scan yours, taking in how much smaller you are compared to him, more fragile. As if one wrong touch and you’ll break into tiny pieces, he’s pulled out of his thoughts with the sound of your voice again.

“What about you, how are you liking this?” you say with a smile and a head turn. “Me? I don’t enjoy it either, I’m only here because the host is one of my friends.” He replies with a shrug and a smile. Joost takes a second to look you up and down, noticing your outfit, how cute you look. “I like your outfit, by the way.” He comments, tilting his head slightly.

You light up at the compliment, a small smile playing on your lips. “Thank you, I wear things like this often.” You say softly, “It suits you, you look….” He pauses to look you up and down - he knew what he was doing, a sorta familiar feeling finding its way to your stomach. His eyes darting to your lips, not as subtly as he thought.

“Is that my turn to give you a compliment?” You tease, noticing his eyes. He looks into your eyes, his smirk never faltering. “Sure, hit me with your best shot, schat.” You hum, seemingly thinking of a compliment. Then after a beat, you speak. “You have really nice lips.” The words come out before you can stop them, it wasn’t really a lie though, but you curse your inner voice for having no filter. His smirk turns into a full on grin at the compliment, his eyes flickering to your lips once more before looking back at you. “You think so?”

“I do.” You say, trying to sound nonchalant about it. A shiver runs down your spine as his gaze lands on your lips, you could feel how he was eating you up just with his eyes. One of his legs was almost pressed completely up against yours, you could feel the heat from him as he leaned slightly closer to you. The air suddenly felt too hot in the room, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You know…you’re very easy to make nervous” he teases as he puts his hand on your knee. You try to speak but it comes out as a stutter, too distracted by his touch. “Y-Yeah?” You say quietly, your heart starting to hammer in your chest as he rubs your knee. He hums in response, his hand moves up further before resting on the inside of your thigh, the touch making your breath hitch again. “Yeah, just look at you getting all worked up by one little touch.”

You could feel heat rush to your cheeks at his words, how true they were. Your thighs instinctively close around his hand as it slowly starts rubbing your inner thigh. “Can’t help it.” You murmur. The only response he gave was a small smirk as he moves to face you completely, his hand now moving to your hip and grabbing it lightly.

You and him are now facing each other, you’re basically sitting on his lap with how close he has you. His hand is on your hip, the other one grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are dilated and staring straight into yours, your body is practically on fire and on edge with how close he is to you. Before he could speak your lips are on his, the drinks you drank earlier making your judgement fuzzy.

As quick as it started you pulled away with wide eyes, “oh god…I’m sor-“ you go to speak until his hands pull your face to his, smashing his lips onto yours. Strong breaths leave both y’all’s lips, whimpers, and moans as well as y’all grab at each other. It’s a desperate tango of lust, “you wanna get out of here.?” He asks against your lips between heated kisses. “Uh huh..” you mumble, not trusting yourself to say words.

Before you knew it, you both were stumbling through the crowd to the front door. Joost was already on the phone with the taxi place as he walked out with you. Some people gave weird looks, some smirked in knowing, but most were too focused on themselves to care about the two pushing past forcefully. As you and joost got outside his lips were on yours once more, it looked like the beginning of a sex scene in a movie.

His hands roam your body feverishly like if he slowed down you’d disappear, while your hands were busy tugging and pulling at the hair on the back of his head. Lips were working on overdrive, a tango of lust and desperation bottled into harsh kisses. Finally the taxi pulls up and both of you part ways, getting in the taxi.

It was a ride full of tension, both you and joost looking over to one another every now and then. His fingers rubbing circles on your thigh, it was odd. You both felt a sense of longing towards one another, for only knowing each other for not even 30 minutes. It was a feeling that both of you felt in your stomachs, a feeling of not just lust but affection.

For you it was multiple feelings deep in your stomach, feelings of excitement, nervousness, awe, and lust. It made your head spin and your brain feel foggy but you didn’t have time to think too deep into these feelings since the taxi had pulled up to what you assumed to be joosts house. You both got out and as soon as your feel hit the floor, joosts hand was interlocked with yours.

You giggle as you get pulled to joosts front door, legs making long strides as smiles paint both y’all’s lips and laughs leave y’all’s mouths. He fumbles with his key as you stand with excitement and fear, you’d never done this before and felt everything inside you yelling to run away from this but your body craved his touch. He opens his door and pulls you inside, you smile against his lips as he connects them again.

You both stumble towards his bedroom, taking off clothes in a frenzy as y’all go. You finally reach the bedroom and are placed on the bed delicately like you were made of glass, I work of art that couldn’t be broken, not in his eyes at least. He leans down to kiss you once more but you furrow your brows and pull away, “joost…wait..” you mumble against his lips

He breathes heavily as he looks down at you, his eyes now flashing concern, “are you ok, do you wanna stop?” He asks, holding your face in his to get his point across that this can stop at the sound of a word. “Yeah - I’ve just, I’ve just never done this before..” you say as you bite the inside of your cheek anxiously, your eyes half lidded. His gaze softens tremendously as he smiles softly at you, “if you don’t want to do this then it’s no problem at-“ you cut him off with the vigorous shake of your head.

“No! I do…I just - you know.!” You blurt out, you had no idea what you were doing, how this would feel, what would happen. He sensed this as he nods at you, pressing a soft kiss to your head, “I’ll be gentle and walk you through it if you’d like..?” Your heart melts and nerves turn to giddiness, you nod and flash him a thankful smile. “I’d really like that..” you mumble against his lips as you press his glossy lips to yours

His shirt is already off and so is yours, you feel his lips licking and kissing at your neck, then the valley of your breasts, your soft tummy, and down until he reaches your skirt. He looks up at you and you swear you can die right here, right now in paradise. “Can I take these off schat?” He asks softly, you give a hum and nod but he doesn’t take that as an answer. “I need a yes or no baby” he smiles at you, he was gonna make sure you were sure about this the whole way through. You squeak out a weak, “please..yes”

He smiles and pulls them off with excitement, licking his lips at the sight of your clothed pussy. He kisses your clit through the fabric, admitting small sounds from you. He kisses and licks through the lace as he groans at the visual of your outlined pussy. He looks up at you once more for confirmation, your voice is shakey as you nod your head. He slowly pulls them off, teasing you before stuffing them in his black jean pocket. He breathes against your cunt before licking a proud stripe right up the center, you let out a whine and grab at his hair. He moans against your pussy, the vibration making your eyes roll back.

He works like he was starving, eating you out like I’d be his last meal but still finding a way to be gentle. His free hand rubbed shaped into your hips in a soothing manner, you could feel his smile against you as you let out a particularly sweet moan that makes him want to stay between your thighs for eternity. You soon feel an unfamiliar sensation in your stomach, grabbing harsher at his hair as you blabber words he couldn’t make out. He knew what was about to happen but didn’t want to make you too sensitive on your first time, he kisses your clit before pulling away.

You whine and shake your head, tears threatening to fall from your eyes in pleasure and frustration. He takes multiple visual pictures of you in this state, hoping to remember this forever. He kisses your cheeks as a not-so-guilty look fills his eyes, “I’m sorry honey, don’t want you to be too sensitive” he mumbles as he pulls off his belt and pants, leaving him in his boxers. You practically droll at the sight of his cock through his boxers, he was huge and you didn’t know how you’d be able to take him.

He sees your wide eyes and whimpers and chuckles, “don’t worry baby, I’ll be slow” he says softly before pulling off his boxers and climbing over you, cooing as he kisses away the sneaky tears that spilled from your eyes. “Are you okay; we can stop right now if you want to” he says cautiously, looking at you seriously. “No no, I want to - just be gentle please” you say softly making him look down at you in awe

“Wouldn’t be anything else with you” he says as he kisses you sweetly, pumping himself a few times before grabbing a condom and slipping it over his dick before asking you if you were ready and kissing your head. After you give him one final confirmation he pushes into you slowly, you wince at the pinching feeling, your eyes watering. He coos and rubs your cheek with his thumb, “shh shhh it’s ok, I’ve got you” he says, nothing but affection in his accent filled voice. He stays still for a few moments, kissing all over your face and mumbling words of encouragement and reassurance in your ear.

He finally speaks up with a genuine tone, “can I move now?” You look up at him and nod, he raises his eyebrows and smiles at you. “Y-yes, you can” you confirm verbally, he lets out hum of approval before slowly moving in and out. A shakey groan leaves his lips as his mouth falls open as he holds onto your waist, pressing soft kisses on your nose, forehead, and closed eyes. You whine and squirm under him as the feeling of pain slowly disappears and turns into pleasure.

His touch, his eyes, even his voice is gentle, as his dick moves softly inside you. The sound of skin slapping together along with moans and groans fill the room, he whispers words of praise in your ear and makes your heart feel full along with your body. “Your taking me so well Schatje, so so good” he moans out as he interlocks your fingers with his, his body embracing you in every way he could. Your moans get more high pitched, making him smile down at you, kissing your head. “J-joost I-“ you can’t find the words as you feel a weird sensation throughout your body before your eyes squeeze shut, tears flowing from your eyes

Joost thrusts a little faster and deeper, making you whine at the feeling of being so full. You feel a spark of pleasure fill your body as you squirm under him, letting out a loud moan. His thrusts continue but gently making you dumb on his cock. He follows shortly after, the hand that interlocks with yours squeezes as he cums, his brain short circuiting at the feeling of you around him. He mumbles words in his language you can’t make out as he holds onto you tightly.

He holds you in his embrace for a few minutes, both of you trying to catch your breath as you look at one another with adoration. “Are you okay baby?” He asks, making you smile at the pet name, “m’okay” you mumble quietly as he pulls away from you, your body suddenly felt empty and cold at the loss of warmth. “I’ll be right back” he speaks as he heads to the bathroom to grab something to clean you with, he returns with a washcloth and wipes you clean. His lips find your clit once more as he presses soft, loving kisses all over the swollen bud. You whine and he chuckles, “sorry schatje, couldn’t help myself” he speaks as he lends you some of his oversized clothes to wear

You both dress lazily before he pulls you into his warm bed, his arms wrap around you as your face is buried into his chest. His fingers rub your back soothingly as he whispers loving words into your ear, but the only thing you could think about was where this relationship would go from here. You wanted to see him again after this, you didn’t want this to be a onetime thing - neither did he….

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹

[yuff7e]

Hiii!! This is my first time requesting something from ur acc so I'm rlly sorry if I do something wrong. I would like to request demon slayer x reader headcanons (maybe zenitsu, tanjiro, and muichiro?? Idk if you have a character limit 😭😭) where basically the reader has a extremely low self esteem and can't rlly take or believe any compliments given to them? They r always kind of hyperfixated on the way they look and like feeling like they weigh too much. If this idea is upsetting or anything like that you can delete this request totally and please remember to take care of urself!! 💞

𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋 …

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

hi there!! this is such a sweet request. i’d be happy to write it. we all know these guys would totally love you no matter how you look... hope you’re having a lovely day and that you enjoy these headcanons :) ఌ︎

♬♪ -> lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıı

✧.* 𝐙𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐀

— it was dinner time, and you were sitting next to your boyfriend, zenitsu.

— he has this strange habit of watching you eat, i know, it's a bit weird. but hey, it just goes to show how much he adores you!

— and as he watches you, he can’t help but compliment you.

— “[name]-chaann you’re so cute~” he sighs dreamily, his hands resting on his chin as he watches you take another bite out of the rice ball in your hand.

— you glance at him and suddenly feel a strange sense of anxiety at his comment.

— why’s he calling you cute? is he trying to make you feel better because you look bad?

— you try to brush the thoughts away, but you can't help but lean your head down in embarrassment and reluctantly set the rice ball down.

— zenitsu notices this almost immediately. "[name]-chan?! why’d you stop eating?" he whines, reaching out towards one of your thighs.

— "um, i don't know... why are you calling me cute? do i look embarrassing or something?" you blurt out, and he stares at you bewildered.

— "huh?! not at all!! i would never think that!! you look so cute when you eat!! sorry—" he begins to ramble at your reply, urgently assuring you that's not at all what he meant and that he's extremely sorry if it came across like that.

— you just sigh and look down at the plate in front of you. you always worried whether you looked good or not...

— whenever zenitsu compliments you, you can't help but feel like he's just kidding... what if he's only with you because he feels bad for you? or what if he compliments you because he pities you and hopes to make you feel better? or...

— your head swarms with thoughts, but you're quickly snapped out of it as zenitsu repeatedly asks you if you're okay, how you're feeling, and why would you ever think he would think anything like that?!

— you look at him, blinking rapidly to try to regain your senses, and you sigh quietly. "it’s just... what if you don't mean that? like... you’re just complimenting me because... i look bad—"

— but before you could finish, he cuts you off, yelling and grabbing onto your shoulders. "what do you mean?! you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever laid eyes on!! i love you for who you are!! i would never lie to you like that," he rants, which brings a small smile to your face.

— "thank you, zen. i love you," you whisper as you nestle into his shoulder. he giggles nervously, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer.

✧.* 𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐎

— you were training by yourself outside when tanjiro saw you through the window. hurriedly, he finished what he was doing and began to head outside toward you.

— once he got into earshot of you, he noticed your smell.

— you seemed, anxious - perhaps even scared?

— he immediately rushed over to you and asked you what was wrong, but you looked perfectly fine!

— he was a little bit dumbfounded by your scent, and told you what he smelled on you. “something like anxiety, are you okay [name]-chan? we can go inside if this is too much for you.” he assures.

— you shrug it off as no big deal and continue to wack your sword through the air, and he just watches you.

— he couldn't help but feel a little upset that you brushed off the topic because scents never lie; however, realizing that you might not be comfortable talking about it, he decided to leave it at that.

— as his mind wandered, he also couldn't help but think about how beautiful you were, especially when you wielded your sword through the air.

— "your posture is amazing, [name]-chan. you look absolutely beautiful," he compliments, causing you to stiffen as you turn to face him.

— "huh? seriously?" you mumble, stumbling a bit. he catches on and notices a sudden shift in your scent - something's definitely up that you don't want to talk about.

"[name]-chan, are you alright? please, talk to me," he begs. you can't help but sigh at his question. "i’m fine, it's just... do you mean that? that i look good.." you stammer, feeling embarrassed. tanjiro watches your expression with a sad look on his face.

— “what do you mean? i meant exactly what i said, you look stunning when you swing your sword like that.” he adds, causing a small blush to form on your face.

— "what if I'm not good enough?" you ask, your voice wavering. his demeanor changes completely. "what? you’re perfect, [name]-chan," he gasps, rushing over to cup your hands in his. "don’t say that about yourself."

— you smile at his words, feeling a bit better. he notices your scent change to something more relaxing, which puts him at ease.

✧.* 𝐌𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐎

— you were on a walk with muichiro when he stopped you, surrounded by the wisteria trees.

— "yes?" you shyly ask as he lightly grips your wrist, his soft eyes glistening as he scans your features.

— "huh... you look really beautiful next to all the wisteria trees," he compliments, a warm blush spreading across your face.

— "no im not, don’t say things like that," you gulp, and he looks at you quizzically - "what do you mean? it’s true."

— you stare down at the forest floor, the flowers blooming around you both has never made you more amazed until now - if you weren’t trapped in your own thoughts.

— he notices your uneasy behavior and questions you, "sorry, is what I said inappropriate?" cocking his head to the side, you whip your head toward him and quickly reassure him that what he said was fine - its just...

— "i don’t think that... these wisteria trees are much more beautiful than me," you admit. he sends a slightly shocked expression your way. after a moment of staring, he slowly processes his thoughts and gives you a mellow look.

— "don’t say that, you’re much more stunning than any wisteria tree i’ve ever seen," he confesses, and your cheeks tint an even darker shade of blush. "thank you, muichiro. you’re so kind."

— he smiles a small grin, pulling you closer by your wrist. “don’t ever think you aren’t enough, [name].”

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 : 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍

[the-thing-withfeathers]

detention

requested

a/n: yuggghhhh cheerleader!mads brainrot

pairing: cheerleader!madison beer x f!jock!reader

warnings: smuuuut!! cursing, oral & fingering (mads receiving), almost getting caught, public sex.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

“detention!”

your teacher yelled at you as you knocked over the bunsen burner after fooling around with your other teammates. you were meant to be doing an experiment that required you to mix several compounds together.

you and your two other teammates couldn’t be bothered with chemistry, it was one of your weak subjects and you preferred to have fun with it when you could.

when you three mixed together random compounds, you found yourselves creating a concoction that started to overflow out of its beaker. you flooded the entire table with it and while stepping back, you knocked someone else’s bunsen burner & several beakers over.

when the teacher called out your name, you just smiled sheepishly. “sorry miss! we just couldn’t tell which one it was!”

your teacher, ms. johnson, was probably the strictest one in the school, even if it wasn’t your fault, she would have found a way to send you to detention anyways.

“to the principal’s office you go. you need a detention slip and you need to fill out an incident report.” ms. johnson said, grabbing the back of your varsity jacket and throwing you in the direction of the door. “you’ll do detention today after school.”

your girlfriend sat on the opposite side of the room, next to one of the other cheerleaders as well. you walk over to her while walking over to the exit, you lean over the table as an attempt to talk to her.

“i hate keeping my girl waiting but looks like our date is gonna have to wait, baby.” you said, kissing her cheek. you were completely shameless about your love for madison, you wanted everyone to know she was yours at all costs. you revelled in the fact that you managed to get the most beautiful girl in the school to be yours.

“maybe… or maybe not.” she said, her chin being held up by her hand. “i can’t stay away for very long.” she said, biting her lip while turning to look at you.

you looked at her in confusion for a second before you felt the back of your jacket get grabbed again.

your teacher pushed you towards the door, your eyes looked away from madison and at the path in front of you so you wouldn’t trip. suddenly, you heard several instances of glass shattering.

“ms. beer!” ms. johnson exclaimed in fury. beer?!

your eyes shot around to see that madison had deliberately shattered several beakers, holding another one in her hand.

“you two…” the older woman grumbled, “go.” she said, directed at you, “i have to deal with this one here.”

while you got shoved towards the open door, basically stepping outside. you winked at madison, a smirk growing on her face. she matched that smirk and gave you a wave with just her fingers, blowing a kiss right after.

fuck, this girl will be the death of you.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

you had the rest of the day away from madison. your schedules didn’t line up and the principal escorted you to your class so you couldn’t even stall for time to see her at the office.

you sat in the classroom, your homework sitting right in front of you. neither of you had practice today so you were mainly waiting for madison to finish up class, if she had secured that detention from ms. johnson as well.

you thought back to chemistry, a smile growing on your face at how madison would have done absolutely anything to spend time with you. you couldn’t help but be turned on by the idea of rewarding her for it in this very classroom.

the door swung open and there she was, your cheerleader girlfriend in all her glory, escorted in by another teacher to make sure she got there.

ms. johnson was in charge of detention today. she kept you two seperated in different parts of the room. madison was all the way in the front and you were in the very back. that didn’t stop you from staring at her though.

she was testing you. whenever she stretched and her uniform top would rise up a bit too high, revealing the skin of her back. whenever she would shift in her seat and her skirt bunched together or lowered itself, revealing her lacy pink underwear. she was testing how far you were willing to go to please her.

she couldn’t turn around or else she’d get in trouble, she knew that. but she hated not being able to see how hard you were biting your lip to keep yourself contained.

ms. johnson finally cracked and excused herself to go to the bathroom. you knew the staff bathroom was across campus and ms. johnson refused to use student ones.

now was your chance.

you practically sprinted across the room, kneeling down behind madison’s chair.

“hey babygirl…” you whispered, a grin on your face.

“hi there… was it working?” madison chuckled.

“oh yes it was.” you nodded, pushing her hair away from her neck and placing soft kisses. “you’re so fucking pretty.”

“i couldn’t let detention keep us away from each other.” she sighed, craning her neck to let you in closer.

“of course not… i would have missed you too much.” you reached around to grope her breasts over the fabric of her cheerleading uniform. you pulled away for a second. “where did your bra go?” you asked.

“took it off before i came here.” she shrugged.

“you know me too well.” you continued to kiss her neck, your hand slipping under her shirt, massaging one of her boobs.

madison felt heat build up in her lower half, soft moans emitting from her lips. she knew the location wouldn’t stop you no matter how public or risky it was, and she thrived off of the fact that you needed her no matter what.

“c’mere.” you said, standing up and pulling her with you. you pinned her against the teacher’s desk, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss. she wrapped her arms around you and tangled one of her hands in your hair.

“are you about to fuck me on the teacher’s desk?” she asked while still against your lips.

“yes. any protest?” you pulled away, lifting the top half of her uniform to free her unrestrained breasts. you felt yourself moan softly upon seeing them.

“no. not at all.” she shook her head. you kissed her again and she pushed your letterman jacket off you. she gripped your arms as you two kissed, she loved how toned you were getting the more you exercised. you lifted her then pushed her down so she was laying on her back on the desk.

you pushed her legs up, bending them so her feet were flat on the desk. you knelt down, you surprised yourself when you realised she wasn’t wearing panties either.

“baby!” you gasped a little. “is that why you took ages to come? were you stripping your clothing away?” you said, running your finger along her soaking slit.

her fingers wrapped around the edge of the desk, she whined softly. “no…! i had class too.”

“too?” you chuckled. “so you were stripping.”

“shut up and just fuck me, will you? we don’t have the time.” madison smacked your arm from where she was, tilting slightly to look at you. “make it quick.” she ordered.

“as my princess wishes.” you leaned forward, wrapping your lips around her aching cunt. your tongue flicked against her clit and you felt her start to rut against your face.

god, she was needy.

you made swift work of sucking and biting her clit, anything to get her closer to her orgasm. you gripped her ankles as you felt them start to shake, planting them down harder so you would have more access. you reached up in between her leg, one of your hands toying with her nipple as you let her noises fill the room.

she was holding onto her other tit, softly whimpering as she ground herself against your face. your nose and chin were covered in her arousal.

“fuck, baby.” she choked out, a sharp inhale following it. “you eat me out so good. love seeing you in between my legs.” her head fell backwards and her eyes rolled into her skull. “feels so fucking good.”

her arousal mixed with your saliva was forming a pool on the desk, you’d never gotten her this wet before. you thought that the risk of being caught at school made it better for her, after all, she loved making sure people knew how good you made her feel.

you slipped two fingers into her hole, moving them without letting her adjust. she gasped, her head jolting up.

“mmmmmm…” she cried out, her bottom lip captured between her teeth. “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” she said with cut off breaths.

“that’s it baby, doing so good. you’ve gotta cum for me now or we’ll both get caught.” you edged her on, feeling her walls clench around your two fingers.

“i wanna get caught with you.” she whispered out through her labored breaths, her chest rising and falling. “wanna make sure everyone knows you fuck me best.”

you chuckled against her clit, you loved how possessive she got at times. the vibrations from your laughter sent her over the edge.

“gonna— gonna cum!” she yelled, her hands flying to your hair and pushing your face deeper into her. “ohh… fuck!” she cried out, her upper body arching backwards as she came all over your face. you stuck your tongue out to help her ride her high out, pulling your fingers out of her and standing up.

you walked over to where her face was, she was practically sprawled across the desk. you put your two fingers against her lips, forcing them into her mouth.

“yeah baby, taste yourself.” you said. her tongue swirled between your digits, licking up her cum.

you heard footsteps approach. you two quickly ran back to your seats. madison struggled, her legs nearly giving out but you assisted her in getting back. she pulled her shirt back down and fixed her shirt. you picked up your jacket and quickly threw it back on, practically falling into your seat.

ms. johnson walked in, glaring at the two of you. you made it look like you were doing work, madison made it look like she was putting her stuff away.

“okay, detention’s over. go home, don’t cause any trouble.” ms. johnson said, leaving the door open for the two of you.

you and madison left the premises hand in hand, her giggling was music to your ears.

“i can’t believe we just did that.” she said.

“i can. you’re too impatient.” you retaliated, nudging her waist with your elbow.

“okay�� fair enough. drive me home?” she asked, smiling up at you with all her teeth out. those pleading eyes were hard to resist. “and stay?”

“mmm… how could i ever say no to that?”

“you can’t.” she shook her head at you, biting her lip.

“okay, i’ll drive you.” you gave in to her too quickly.

“perfect… i’ll even give you a little treat for it.”

“y’know, you say that and always end up fucked out.” you joked, tilting your head at her with raised eyebrows.

“i love being fucked out. especially by you.”

“madison! you kiss your mother with that mouth?!” you exclaimed, walking with her to your car.

“what’re you gonna do about it?”

“fill it.”

[chatlote]

Persona protags and their favorite music ♪♪♪ (Finally finished that tumblr request from a month ago)

[strawberrymochin]

Springtime Fushiguros♪

Context-: exploring the memories of childhood of fushiguros, marking the spring time of you and satoru gojo.

Lost-: satoru loses Megumi while you all visit the firework festival

Your lips form a satisfactory smile as you finally finish tucking Megumi in a kimono with blue dragonflies printed all over, which once belonged to gojo.

Tsumiki was twirling, wearing her new yukata, adorned with sakura prints on the pink fabric, you guys brought her back shopping. You bought one for Megumi too, which was what he supposed to wear today— on Hanabi— the firework festival celebrated in Japan during the summer season.

He would have looked so cute in the kimono you initially chose for him, even with that grumpy face, like a squishy mochi, if not for gojo who threw out the shopping bag containing megumi's kimono mistaking it for trash.

"Aww! Megumiii!!!! He looks just like mee!!!" Gojo squealed in joy, coming into the kids bedroom to take a look at kids. "And oh my gawd! Miki!!!! You look like an angel! Just like—"

"Like me?" You cut gojo's sentence, grinning at him.

"Nah, I was talking about my self!"

"Wha— you're such a sucker!" You scoff at him, while tsumiki giggles.

"Oii no swearing infront of the kids. Wasn't it a rule you made? Who's breaking it now?"

"Shut up!"

"Hey gumi, never thought you could pull off my kimono huh!" Gojo remarked, bending his torso down, to the kid's level to look into his eyes.

"Do you really have to throw it away?" Megumi grumbles, seemingly uninterested to respond to gojo's compliment.

"I told you, i thought it has trash in it."

"Who keeps trash in a shopping bag?" asks Megumi bitterly, turning his head away, noticing you picking up their now-discarded dresses into the laundry basket. However there was a faint blush tainting your plush cheeks, as your eyes crease shyly, excusing yourself out of the room.

"I do. It's basically saving money yk. You don't have to buy trash bags." Gojo says cupping his face, back to him, squeezing his cheeks.

~♡~

This was just a while ago, before gojo messed up. He's damn sure you would never forgive him for this. Nor tsumiki would. The sounds of people passing by; sounds of childrens laughing, running around; sounds of announcements buzzed through his ears.

He had lost Megumi in the crowd.

Now there are only two options:-

1. Tell the truth and beg for your forgiveness

2. Wander around trying to find Megumi

Before he could decide which option to choose—

"How long do you have to take to buy one lemon soda?" Gojo turns around to find you along with tsumiki, sucking on her popsicle.

"Oh...um—" gojo hesitates, panicking inside, as your eyebrows form a frown.

"Where's Megumi?"

"You see— he's....umm—

Announcement-:

A lost kid has been reported named Fushiguro Megumi, age 7 years, wearing a blue kimono with dragonfly prints along with a blue belt. His guardians are requested to gather near the lost and found centre near the main entrance. Thank you.

"Wow! I see how it is..."

"Listen—"

"Have fun doing the laundry the entire week!"

Gojo sighs in defeat, knowing better not to provoke you anymore following you on your way to rescue Megumi.

When you reach the lost and found centre you see Megumi, grim faced, clutching the lemon soda tight in his hands, among the bunch of other lost kids.

His eyes perk up with relief as soon as he saw your silloute, running to you ignoring gojo's existance.

"Next time don't loose my hand." Gojo says, getting hold of him again. " Or maybe next time you don't loose my hand trying to pose for those aunties simping over you."

You dart your eyes at gojo, upon hearing megumi's words, "what?"

"No..no babe. He's lying. I swear." Giving you his innocent pouty victim look trying to melt your heart with his cuteness. "I love you."

"Satoru"

"Yeah?" However, his cuteness didn't work melting you this time.

"Have fun doing the laundry and sleeping on the couch this entire week."

Gojo - (⁠ノ⁠ಥ⁠,⁠_⁠｣⁠ಥ⁠)⁠ノ

~♡~

Back home, you were helping megumi, take off his kimono, an unconscious smile tugged on your lips. Megumi tilted his head to the side as you unwrap his belt taking it off.

"Why are you smiling?" He asks.

"am i? Just remembered something sweet yk...." You reply, folding the belt taking in a deep breath.

"What?" You looked at Megumi, eyes glistening with curiosity. It's rare to see him with such soft expression except when he's asleep.

"This kimono you're wearing holds a precious memory to me." You smile, before continuing, "This was the kimono satoru was wearing when I saw him for the first time. You know that day he saved me from getting killed."

Megumi's eyes widened a bit as his lips parted in a small 'o'.

"It's strange how you're so similar to him. Yk, when he was of your age, this guy barely smiled. God he would have such terrifying blue eyes that kids would stay a mile away from him. Lol."

"Weren't you terrified?"

"Yes....but what I was terrified of was the sheer loneliness that lied behind his eyes, which were devoid of any emotion."

"Oh" Megumi didn't know what else to utter. It's hard for him to imagine gojo as someone who would stay dead serious.

"Though don't tell your sensei about it. He doesn't remembers that incident."

Megumi nods coming closer to you as you take off the kimono from him.

[xxrosemixx]

𓉳　 𓎟　 Griseo Tumblr Layouts! ͜ 　🎙 𓏢

‎ 𓏏 𝄞 　𓈒　for anonymous ! ㅤ̥ㅤ 　 𓈒 　♬ ‎ 𓏲𝄢 　　₊ 　↻ & ♡ to use 　⨾ 4 anon ! ₊ ♪𝅘𝅥𝅯

[fishermanshook]

ASK: hi! i couldn't find if requests are open, sorry if they're closed rn. can i request some composer, orpheus and painter x fem/gn reader fluff?

DATE NITE!

( composer , novelist & painter ) + gn!reader

˙✧˖°🍓 ༘ ⋆｡˚ modern/celeb. au ?? , chars. are considered pretty big in the fine arts department + the world pretty much , silly little dates w/ them , ooc a bit , lower case intended , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

mundane dates for people with too much on their plate.

꒰wc꒱ 1 k

THE COMPOSER ; FREDRICK KRIEGBURG

♫ | when it comes to going on dates with the musician, he much rather prefers something more secluded. something personal between the two of you. that’s why he [politely] turns down any offers on going out to things that are known for having big crowds, like festivals or loud concerts.

♫ | it’s the little things that count to fredrick, truly. the homemade dinner has been platted and served along with dimly lit candles and rose petals scattered across the floor. it’s so romantic and fredrick can’t help but feel so loved by you.

♫ | you’ve got music playing in the background as well. and, once you finish your meal, the two of you sway and dance to the song. the composer kisses your lips and for once, it feels like it’s just you and him, and he wishes he could do this with you every night.

the composer looks at you with playful contempt. “is this my song you're playing?”

you throw your head back in laughter. “of course it is silly, I’d be mad if I didn’t play at least one of your songs tonight.”

♫ | eventually, your dancing leads you to freddrick’s piano in the living room. you sit next to him as he plays you his newest creation. it’s a masterpiece, you tell him, followed by the question of what he’ll name it. fredrick chuckles to himself before revealing to you that it’ll be named after you.

“[name]’s symphony, doesn’t that sound delightful?”

THE NOVELIST ; “ORPHEUS” DEROSS

♪ | orpheus, similar to fredrick, likes to keep things personal. not the biggest fan of crowds, but he’s been in the middle of a few big ones due to book signing. he’s not too picky about what dates you guys go on and enjoys most if not all of the outings you plan together.

♪ | so what’s better than a coffee date followed by book shopping? well, lots of things in reality. orpheus definitely participated in extravagant and expensive activities thanks to his earned riches. but a coffee date makes everything feel normal again, a simpler time when he wasn’t flooded with the need to release the next great book. it’s a great way to spend time with you, he thinks.

♪ | the date is filled with hushed whispers and silent giggles as the two of you browse the library, steaming hot coffees in hand. or maybe it’s hot chocolate in your hand. you're too distracted with reading the back of another book to let him have a better look at your drink.

↳ going to a bookstore as a date was more of a “kill two birds with one stone” kind of deal. you knew that it would be a nice way to spend time together without doing anything too grand, and orpheus gets to look for new inspiration. plus, you get to see if any best sellers catch your eye.

“ooooo I like the sound of this book! I think I’m gonna snag it for myself.”

“lemme see, I can probably get it for you.” [he’s going to steal in and read it himself when you’re not looking]

♪ | you expect him to be engulfed in the books around him, flipping through the pages and seeing what other authors have put on display. instead, he looks at you with a type of fondness only you are graced with. he brings a thumb to your lip to wipe off the excess hot chocolate around your mouth. you smile and lean into his warm embrace.

“sorry, I'm too busy looking at you to notice any of the other books. let’s pick out some more together, ‘k?”

THE PAINTER ; EDGAR VALDEN

♩ | edgar valden is widely known for his skills when it comes to painting. he’s perfected everything, he’s mastered every medium, and his inspiration is seemingly endless. that’s what everyone thinks.

↳ edgar lets you in on probably one of his darkest secrets one night, lying in bed: he hasn’t mastered every single medium there is. his inspiration runs out quicker than most would think. and yes, he hasn’t truly perfected everything when it comes to the arts [mostly saying painting]. the reality of it all rains down on him with the pressure to fulfill such beliefs, but you let him know that it’s okay not to. no one should be expected to accomplish such a feat.

♩ | that’s why little dates like these are the ones he probably cherishes the most, despite how embarrassed and anxious he is walking into the art studio.

“they were 5 dollars a person! I thought it could be nice because we could both work on our art skills.”

“[NAME] WHAT IF SOMEONE NOTICES ME?!?!?”

♩ | that’s why he’s so nervous. the edgar valden, in a beginner's art class, learning how to make pottery? don’t the people expect more of him? you tell him no and that, they shouldn’t because he’s human.

↳ legit started hiding his face at the start of the session ‘cause he was so afraid someone would comment about him being here. you had to pry his hands away from his face.

♩ | it isn’t until maybe halfway through the class he starts to get the hang of things, and you're not far behind either. his beautiful, hand-crafted bowl looks stunning, you tell him. Well, not really. it looks more like a pinch pot, but you think it’s best to keep that to yourself.

↳ neither of you is good at pottery, and it just makes learning it that much more fun for the both of you. [edgar refuses to admit smh] he’s secretly dedicated to making a vase to replace the broken one in your apartment. he’ll paint it your favorite color and doodle your favorite flowers all across it. although, he can’t say that this is looking that much like a vase…

♩ | the two of you are complete messes at the end of it. colorful paint splattered across your face along with dried clay stuck and chipped off underneath your fingernails. you walk out having done your first of many pottery classes that day.

“thank you for planning this out. I enjoyed it a lot more than I thought I would, really.” edgar states before leaving a fleeting kiss on your cheek.

note: his my fishies…🤭🤭🤭 hope you all are having an amazing day / night. enjoy this short little request i got <3

© fishermanshook — no stealing , translating , plagiarizing or reposting my work on other any other sites + reblogs adored !!

[genderlessdude92]

PRECIOUS

PAIRINGS: Alastor x Reader

SUMMARY: You and Alastor get into a fight because you’re just worried he got hurt after a fight with Vox. He snaps at you and…well, you isolate yourself. whoopsies!

WARNINGS: Emotional abuse, Toxic relationship dynamics (but they both love each other dw), Intense emotional distress, Language, Potential Triggers, Donestic conflict. (MAJOR FLUFF AT THE END THOUGH!!! ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP!!!) They were a couple alive too if you don’t mind idk i suck at writing- USAGE OF Y/N I ALMOST FORGOT AHHH- Lmk if i missed anything :3

NOTICE: please don't copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But...thanks for liking my work !! >.< Property of @l4zyb0n35 and @genderlessdude92

Requests are open, support is highly appreciated!

WORDS: 1.7k

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

“Alastor, are you serious?!” You yelled as Alastor started to walk away from you, mid conversation.

Alastor had just gotten into a big fight with Vox, luckily survived, though. The frustrating part is, he won’t even let you heal him. Or know what the battle was even about?!

Which made you really, really paranoid.

“Alastor, don’t walk away from me, that’s rude.” You caught up with him and began to match his pace and he walked to the halls of the hotel to lucifer knows where. “We need to talk about this.” You say firmly. “I’m going to find out one way or another.” You add, raising your voice slightly.

Alastor stopped walking and turned around to face you. He was looking down at you, which always made you feel so small. Even if he wasn’t actually looking at you, you could still feel it.

“Well, then.” His voice was calm, but a hint of annoyance was there. “Aren’t you just invested in my little public hiccup.”He crossed his arms, waiting for your response.

“Yes I am. And I think we should talk about it, instead of you getting defensive.” You looked him dead in the eye and kept talking. “And why you didn’t tell me.” Your voice went quieter again.

Alastor hid a chuckle, “I thought you would care more about me surviving, than knowing how many lives I took today.” He raised his eyebrow, mocking you. “Or maybe, I don’t want to share this kind of information with someone who will judge me for it.” He was now fully annoyed by you.

You stepped closer to him, trying to keep him from leaving again. “Alastor, please stop. I’m just trying to help. I don’t…” You trailed off nervously. “I don’t want us fighting.”

Alastor smirked at you, “Oh, don’t worry love. We aren’t fighting. Yet.” His tone was harsh and he leaned down to look you in the eyes. “But I will if you continue to harass me about this.”

You felt yourself start to panic, but tried your best to hide it. “I’m sorry Alastor, I just…” You couldn’t finish your sentence, as he interrupted you.

“No. Don’t ‘just’ anything. You know I hate that word.” He said with a cold smile. “Now leave me alone before I get upset with you.”

“…You know,” You began, standing in your place as Alastor walked away, “You should at least act like you care about my opinion, maybe act like a husband, as well.” You snapped back, but in a more calm, collected tone. (minus the shakiness in your voice.)

“That’s rich coming from you.” Alastor snapped back, turning around to face you again. “What did I ever do to deserve such a self-righteous wife?” He raised his voice a bit, but not enough for others to hear. “How dare you assume things about me without even asking. How dare you come here and make demands of me. How dare you try to control me.” He continued yelling, walking towards you. “You have no right to tell me what to do! I don’t have to explain myself to you!”

“I’m not trying to control you. I’m just saying, maybe you could at least consider what I have to say sometimes…” You tried to say bravely, but failed at the end. You felt so small. So insignificant.

You felt like nothing.

Alastor was now right in front of you, towering above you. His height and stature were intimidating, but his voice was worse. It was rough and demanding, making you feel like you weren’t worth anything. “You are nothing, nothing compared to me.” He sneered. “I don’t give a damn about what you think. What you say. What you do. You’re just a pathetic little sinner who has no idea what real power feels like. You’re not worthy of my time. You’re not worthy of my attention. You’re not worthy of my love.” He spat out the last word like it tasted sour in his mouth.

His words were cutting through your heart, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

You dashed away to the nearest staircase, needing to get to your office. Your only safe space.

***

It has been about a week now since the fight you and Alastor had.

It had also been a week since you came out of your office.

You didn’t really leave your office because, one, it had a fridge of food and other things. Two, you had a makeshift bed with the couch. And three, why would you even go out there?

Only problem is, you’ve cried everyday, and that made you feel like complete imp-shit.

You really wanted to see Alastor, but you knew it wouldn’t end well.

You also didn’t want to be around anyone else, either.

***

Alastor was a gentleman to all women who deserved so.

An example he would give you is Rosie. He’s a gentleman to her because she’s nice to him and has manners. She deserves it.

But, if he was near Velvette, he would call her cruel names and shred all her ‘designer masterpieces’.

But, now he was confused.

What happened with Y/N?

He had never fought like that with her before no, usually she would be next to him in bed right now.

He was starting to miss her.

…he needed to give her an apology.

But he knew he wasn’t good with words.

So, he brainstormed.

“I could probably give her a heart…” He thought, stepping out of bed and pondering for a moment, “…no, no….maybe…some flowers?…” he looked over to his bayou. “…Allergies.”

He slumped onto his armchair and looked around his room for any ideas at all.

“…maybe some candy? No.” He thought, “She doesn’t eat much sweets.”

He sat there for a while longer, thinking.

Then it hit him.

***

You heard footsteps outside your door, and immediately froze. You looked around your room for any escape route, and found none. You decided to sit back down on your couch, and began to wait for whoever was there to leave.

The footsteps stopped outside your door, and a knock sounded out. “Y/N, open the door.” Alastor’s voice was stern and commanding. “I know you’re in there.” He added.

You opened the door slowly, and peeked out to see who it was.

“Hello, darling.” Alastor said with a warm smile. “Can I come in?”

You just stared at him, saying nothing

‘fuck’, he thought, ‘i caused this.”

“Y/N, I just want to apologize.” He finally said, breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I was wrong.”

“…you don’t mean that.” You replied, still not moving.

“I do mean it, darling. Please jsut…let me in.” Alastor said sincerely, taking a step forward.

You hesitated for a moment, then moved aside to let him in. He closed the door behind him and stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, unsure of what to do or say next.

Then, your eyes wandered to the large picture album he was holding to his side.

“Alastor…what’s that?” You asked, taking a step back cautiously.

“…it’s our picture album.” He looked at you, remaining calm. “…from…when we were alive. You know, with all those crappy photos.” He smiled softly.

You looked up at him, “…I’m scared.”

Alastor knew exactly why, as well.

He sighed, “I promise…I will keep myself contained if i ever, ever lash out like that… ever again.” He claimed, tears building up in his eyes.

“What i said back there was not true at all. You are everything to me, you are worth so much, and most of all, I love you.” He dropped the book to the floor and held out his arms to hug you.

You didn’t move, “…I don’t want to be here…” You said, letting a tear fall.

He nodded, “That’s okay, dear, let’s go to our room, okay?” He reassured, picking the book back up and holding you tight to his waist as the shadows consumed you both, talking you to his room.

***

You and Alastor missed this.

Limbs tangled together in bed, holding each other close, breathing in each other’s scents, you wish you had this sooner.

Alastor flipped a page of the album, “Oh look,” He noticed, pointing his claws to the first picture in the album, “It’s our cat, oh, what was his name again?” He asked, looking at you.

You were still crying.

He took a deep breath, “Y/n,” he exhaled, “It’s okay, dear…please don’t think about it.”

You looked at him, “w-what?” you said, wiping your cheek.

He ran a claw through your hair, “Nothing.” He said, smiling softly.

You put your head on his shoulder, “Okay,” you mumbled into his chest, closing your eyes and enjoying his scent.

He stroked your hair, “Do you remember our wedding day?” He asked.

You shook your head, “…no, I don’t…it was too long ago…” you said, sniffling.

He kissed the top of your head, “That’s alright, sweetheart, we have plenty of time to talk about it.” He assured you, pulling you closer to him.

You closed your eyes, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. You felt safe in his arms. Safe and loved.

Alastor flipped the pages until he found the wedding pictures, “Oh, here we are. Look, see how my mother walked you through the aisle?” He rubbed the picture with his thumb, rethinking back the memory.

“…yeah…I remember now…” You snuggled closer into him, trying to control your ragged breathing.

“…just breathe daring.” He reminded you, “Look here, you see how much you’ve changed?” He laughed softly, flipping another page, “See here? Here you are at our anniversary dinner, you wore that beautiful dress that made your legs look amazing.” He blushed lightly, “I remember you told me I was the only one allowed to see it.”

You giggled, “…that was a joke, silly.” You said, opening your eyes and smiling up at him.

“Ah, yes, I know.” He smiled back,

“…You’re so precious to me, y’know that?” He said, leaning down and kissing your forehead.

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

END NOTES: Idk what i was thinking when i made this fic erm…! Idk I’ve been going thru some shit rn but I’ve gotta impress the community because the notes/likes/comments/reblogs on my posts aren’t doing to good rn!! Oh no!!! (that is a sign from my greedy ass) And i just started a multi-chapter fic so like idk why i’m typing this- support is appreciated. BAI!!![![![11!

-Lynn ¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩ Masterlist Link

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝟱 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗦𝗘𝗦, 𝗠𝗩𝟭 max verstappen x fem! reader (fluff) “. . . using his five senses, these are his favourite things about you.”

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests | taglist )

Sight

his blue eyes appreciate anything and everything you give him.

He already thinks of you as eye candy or an angel right from a rococo painting.

But what it does for him is seeing you do something you enjoy.

If you’re playing video games or playing with his cats.

He sometimes takes videos or photos secretly so he can watch later or just to open and randomly appreciate you when he’s travelling and misses you.

“They’re so pretty,” You giggled as you watched the dolphin swim around in its tank. Max was glad he was already filming your excitement because one of the mammals noticed you and was playing with you. Sliding right and left, Max knew he was going to set the video as his lock screen later if he doesn't record for over three minutes like he always does.

Touch

One of Max's favorite things ever is hugging you or holding you in any way.

It helps keep him grounded other than the fact that you’re warm and he loves having contact with you.

You’re one of the first people he hugs after a race, an anchor helping him return to the world.

You’re the first thing he reaches for when he wakes up in the morning or before going to sleep at night.

It’s also the reason it’s difficult for him to travel without you because you’re his safe person and his source of comfort.

“All we are missing now is-” You paused, lifting your eyes from the shopping list to the hand, trying to uncross your legs. You didn’t question it, sitting properly so the blond can gently hold your thigh as he wished. Max was driving with you in the passenger seat so he couldn’t really turn and see why you paused. “Schat, I can’t read your handwriting- but we need cat food.” Max nodded in agreement, his thumb gently caressing your thigh as he made a left turn.

Smell

One of Max’’s favourite things is when you put on lotion

It has a certain sweet stubble scent that’s quite calming

he considers it your signature scent. only yours.

he also likes it when he randomly smells you on his things, like his shirts or jackts, msybe his controller or his car. it makes him all giddy

He always tells you ‘that smells nice’ and other times he just holds your hand to take a whiff

“Did you put sunscreen on?” You ask as you make sure you packed everything you need. “I don’t need it.” He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence because you already squeezed a bit and started gently rubbing it on his face. Max rolls his eyes for a second before scrunching his nose. “The sun screen covers your lotion.” He complains disappointed, making you playfully shake your head.

Hearing

max adores hearing you calling him pet names,

whether it's something like love, sweetheart, maxie, baby, darling, sweets,

or something sweet in french; amore, mon core, mon cher,

It gets worse if you speak dutch. Liefje, honing, schat, schatje.

It makes his heart go ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum and his thoughts get all tangled up and mushy

"Maxie, Shatje," You call from somewhere far in the apartment, making the blond turn around instantly, his big blue eyes searching for you and your voice. He hopped out of his chair and abandoned his sim in favour of finding you. “Amour?” “Yea?” “Liefje, can you zip up this dress for me.” Oh you got him right in his excited heart.

Taste

Max is not a huge coffee or juice drinker. All he ever drinks or needs are in his protein shakes or his red bull fridge.

But if you’re making a smoothie or experimenting with coffee and offer him a sip for his opinion or to show him how good it turned out,

he takes it as an honor,

especially if he’s drinking it out of your hand.

“Woo!” is the first thing he hears from the kitchen a few seconds after the loud noise of the blender stops. He peeks his head out of the bathroom still wet from his shower when he hears your excited hops/sprinting to his direction. “Maxie!” You hold up the glass with the pinkish smoothie he can assume is strawberries and something else. “Try?” You offer, and Max doesn't hesitate to lean forward, taking a sip, his eyes lighting up at the taste of bananas and a hint of mandarin. “That’s too good, I’m keeping this,” He teases, gently taking the glass from your hands, continuing to drink the smoothie while you follow the half-naked dutch in protest.

[arminsumi]

ahh i’ve never made a request before but was just thinkin about dom/softdom reader teasing/edging armin with a bullet vibe by going through all the settings n then overstimulating him when he finishes 😵‍💫😅

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒꒱ pretty boy

ARMIN x f.reader

A/N: thank u for ur yummy request my head was SPINNING over this idea!! 🤤

♪ NOW PLAYING: baby, slow down

Wc: >900

Overview; edging and overstimulating your pretty boy with a bullet vibe!

Content; smut, pre-established relationship (bf/gf)

Warnings; 🔞mdni, mommy kink, dom/sub, begging, teasing, edging, toy usage (bullet vibe), overstimulation, dirty talk, cumshot, pns – good boy and pretty boy, sensitive boy Arlert! 🤭

arminsumi's library

You've got him laid between your thighs, panting and sweating like crazy; your left hand's delicately moving the buzzing toy in stroking motions against his flushed red length while your other is stroking his head — he needs that comfort so bad when he's this sensitive.

" fuck — fuuuck — oh, fuuuuuuck — 'm gonna cum! I — I'm gonna cum s'much I can't — " he whines, his voice getting higher and higher pitched.

He bucks his slender hips up into the air and stutters a repetition of feathery fucks as his high builds up up up until you suddenly steal his satisfaction away and remove the vibe from his cock. The slick of his precum glistens on the hole of his throbbing cockhead.

"Nooo! — ohmygod — 'lemmecumplease — I've been g–good! Haven't I, mommy?"

He almost cries; there's tears welling in his pretty blue eyes as he looks up at you through his dampened bangs.

"Not yet, 'gotta work for it. Tell me how badly you want it." you demand, looking down at him with a naughty smile that makes his cock twitch.

"Please!"

The strain in his voice tells you just how badly he needs relief. How badly he needs to squirt out ropes of creamy cum all over himself.

You shake your head at him, "Nuh-uh, not good enough for me."

"God — fuck — mommy — Y/n — I need it so bad." he says, squirming his hips all over the bed.

His cock's so hard and needy that it jumps and twitches; there's now a long string of precum glistening down the underside. It tingles from tip to base, all because of that stupidly good toy you insisted on trying out today. Today, when he was especially horny and sensitive.

"You need what so bad?"

" 'needa cum! I n–needa cum so fucking bad!"

"Oh yeah? My pretty boy has so much cum stored up for me, doesn't he?"

"Mhm! Y–yeah, yes — fuck I have s'much cum for mommy! Lemme give it to you, please!"

Your satisfied expression makes his heart lurch. "Good boy." you praise.

Since he's earned it, you reapply the buzzing toy back to his cock, this time just to his cockhead; your hand that was previously comfortingly stroking his head now engulfed his shaft and slowly pumped up and down.

"Fuck!" he almost screams, and squirms harder than before. "Oh — yesyesyes — that's so good, please don't stop."

Rubbing the very tip of the vibe back and forth across his tip's hole earns a sharp hiss from Armin. "Fuuuck I'm gonna cuuum — I'm gonna — gonna — oh mommy — ahhhh ahh fuckmefuckmefuckme!"

Watching the buildup to his orgasm is always your favorite part.

It's so endearing; the way he absolutely falls apart, the way he chants a jumbled mix of your nickname and curses. Lust-glazed eyes pinch shut as hot cum spurts out his oversensitive cock; the first ribbon the thickest, spilling to form a puddle on his pelvic region, then the last few ribbons becoming watery.

You coo in his ear, bringing the vibrator to rest against his underside — seriously, you saved the most sensitive spot for last? That spot was basically like his G-spot. When he'd jerk himself off for you, he'd always play with that spot first.

" ohmygod — Y/n, Y/n — 's too much, I can't take mooore — uhhh fuck!" he mewls, arching his back for you, squirming his legs all over the bed, backing up into you to get away from the overstimulating vibe.

"C'mon, can't you give me 'nother? You're so cute when you cum, mommy just wants to see it again."

His heart flutters at your choice of words. You always worded yourself just right for his mind to descend into nasty fantasies.

Armin gasps and moans like he can't piece himself together after falling apart from that orgasm. "F–fuck... fuck okay. I'll give you 'nother one, momm–yyy — 'cause I love you."

"What's that? What'd you say, angel?" you smile.

The end of his sentence got merged with a moan, but you still heard it clear as day. Armin was so shy of saying those three words to you, even though he felt them very deeply. This was a big deal.

" 'said... 'said I love you." he breathes.

His eyes were pinched shut for most of the session, but now they peaked open. "I love you." he repeats, and then he goes on and on as you increase the bullet vibe's intensity with your phone.

You lay a much-desired kiss on his lips. " 'love you too, pretty boy. Now cum again for me. Let go n' feel good."

"Fuck — fuck, yes, okay — god I'm already close — 'm close 'm clooose!" he whines in the highest pitch yet.

"There we go, keep chasing it, get that relief, such a pretty boy." you coo in his ear.

Your cooing voice, the buzzing vibrator, your fingers wrapping around the base of his overstimulated cock and hand stroking up and down it; it's all too much. Way too much.

" 'cumminggg!"

He can barely get that out before he dissolves into another orgasm, this one more shaky than the last. You feel him tremble as he shoots out streaks of creamy cum, thin stripes of white decorating his skin, stretching from abdomen to tummy.

[earlysunshines]

full of you

minatozaki sana x fem!reader ; pure fluff

summary: sleepy girlfriend, tired girlfriend, girlfriends sleepy together, girlfriends tired together.

wc: 1.1k

sana ver. of this was requested, so i had to deliver!! (i love writing for sana sm.)

a/n: i'm going to start linking songs because almost all of my works are titled by songs that fit the drabble.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ : full of you by so soo bin

-

the blue-light glasses you wear slide down your nose and you push them back up again, then go back to typing at your laptop.

the hours passed by in the blink of an eye, and the only thing you remembered before finishing up your work was hearing the sweet voice of your girlfriend telling you that she'd be home late. sana's "make sure you eat!" had echoed through your head, and you felt bad for drowning yourself in work instead of munching on something. it's fine, you had a big lunch anyway.

You roll your shoulders and move your neck around before sinking back into the couch, letting out a slow breath.

there's a small sound coming from where the entrance is, and your face lights up when you realize it's your girlfriend unlocking the door. your head turns to face her, you smile immediately. sana sets her bag down on the table and her grin is so bright, she rushes to the couch to lean down and kiss your lips.

"i missed you so much," sana mutters in between kisses, "i couldn't stop thinking about you."

you laugh and sana pulls away, your face is cupped in her hands as if you were the most precious thing in the world (which, you are in sana's eyes).

"i missed you too, definitely more." you grin. sana pouts playfully and kisses your nose,

"definitely not," she argues. you roll your eyes at her response and laugh. sana peeks over at your laptop screen, then smiles at the sight of you in your plaid pajama pants, loose t-shirt, and glasses. "you're still working?"

"yeah," you sigh, "finishing something for my coworker, but they'll still pay me for overtime," you add, trying to lighten up the mood. sana rubs a thumb on your cheek,

"how long have you been working?" sana questions.

"two hours now, maybe three," you respond, stretching your arms out as she pulls her hands away from your cheeks.

"did you eat?" worry and concern laced in her tone–your jaw tenses.

"i lost track of time." you shrug, "i'll eat a lot tomorrow? i already showered and brushed my teeth." and your attempt at easing her worries fails.

sana pouts and it's not her cute playful pout–it's the one that breaks your heart a bit.

"you better eat everything i cook for you tomorrow, then." sana says, though it's more of a demand and she's practically threatening you in a way. you just nod and giggle at how cute she looks,

"alright alright, now go shower, you stink." you say, but you're lying so hard because you can smell the wonderful scent of roses and citrus from that signature perfume she uses.

sana hits you with a pillow,

you laugh.

- twenty minutes pass and the feeling of someone plopping down next to you on the couch makes you jump, your shoulders move upwards. sana laughs and kisses you on the cheek; it's nice and grounding. the scent of lavender fills your nose as your girlfriend leans against your shoulder, immediately relaxing into you and sighing contently. you laugh at the way she unwinds against you and turn to kiss her head.

the only thing that fills the silent room is the click of your keyboard as you tap at it, and sana's low breathing as she cuddles against you. every couple of minutes you glance over at her, and she's been scrolling through some online clothing shop; of course, she's shopping online again. you plant kisses on her head here and there before going back to whatever project you were covering for your coworker, desperately trying to get it done quickly so you could fall asleep with your girlfriend in your arms.

a yawn escapes your lips as you type out the last line of code, and you quickly move tabs to email your coworker and your boss. sana smiles brightly as you shut down your laptop and set it down on the couch somewhere, and now you can fully focus on your girlfriend.

"done?" sana murmurs. you nod and hum, leaning back into the couch lazily and putting your arm around sana, which makes her nestle against you more. your hand gently caresses her cheek and rubs against it softly, making sana hum.

"how was dinner?" you question.

sana yawns before setting her phone down and answering. "good, good. i just got caught up with nayeon, momo, and mina. nayeon asked where you were."

"i see," you mutter softly, "sorry i couldn't make it."

"it's okay." sana assures. her eyes slowly close and her arm wraps around you, "i just missed you a lot, haven't seen you much today."

"tomorrow is saturday, we can spend all day together then."

your girlfriend yawns again and her breathing starts to settle down, "mhm, and i'll cook you breakfast." she trails off. you can tell she's getting sleepy with the way she almost slurs out her words, and how her body is completely limp against yours. your slender fingers make their way to play with her hair, running through the dark-brown strands and then making your way to massage her shoulder lightly.

sana mumbles something incoherent and you mutter a small "what?" in response, she opens her eyes just barely and you manage to make out her small request:

"carry me to the bed? sleepy…" she murmurs into your neck, closing her eyes again. you laugh at her words,

"okay lovely."

you shift over a little so your arms can pull sana onto you, and she's already clinging to you lazily. her arms wrap around your neck and her legs lock around your hips too as you stand up, she plants a small kiss behind your ear. the lightbulb that illuminates the small living room shuts off as you flip the switch, and you head into the room with your girlfriend who's clinging onto you like a koala.

sana is set down onto the mattress gently, then take off your glasses and put them on the wooden nightstand beside the bed. a groan escapes your lips as you stretch your arms out, then you rub your eyes slightly before climbing into bed with the love of your life.

the purple blanket is pulled over the two of you, and you let sana snuggle closer to your body–and you're ninety percent sure she's doing it while she's fully asleep, but it doesn't matter whether she's awake or not because you just wrap your arms around her, pulling her closer.

your eyelids get heavier with each slow, tired breath, and your eyes flutter shut.

"love you," you murmur sleepily, pressing your lips against her forehead lazily.

the two of you doze off together, and there's no place you'd rather be.